DISCLAIMER. None of the characters used are a creation of mine. They belong solely to JK Rowling.

Was she dying?

No. No, she couldn't be.

There was a throbbing pain searing its way up through the entirety of her body, a burning flame licking at her skin. It was inside her and over her and wound so closely around her she wanted nothing more than to just give in and surrender.

What was this darkness that swirled around her, trapping her in her own mind, setting ablaze whatever came in its way?

Was she long gone from the living world?

Was her fight over?

No, she reiterated to herself. She couldn't die. Not after how hard she had tried to crawl her way out of her prison. She had done it for him. She needed to find her way back to him.

Harry.

She had done it for him.

She would live. She couldn't die. Not just yet. She had to see it until the very end.

She couldn't die on him.

'.. I'm not sure.. oh, dear.. I've never seen anything like it before..'

'.. Miss Evans, you must regain your bearings.. go on, go along and help Poppy with whatever she needs.. Your friend needs you to..'

'.. how can you possibly expect me to heal her if you keep hindering my work on my patient, Mr Oakswood. You must leave for her sake..'

'.. you're not helping anyone, Padfoot..'

'.. Rab, I'll take care of it. You don't have to worry about a thing.. I'll take care of it.. you just stay here with her..'

There was a clatter of noises all around her. Or was it the ringing of her own ears?

The burn had been replaced by an icy chill, frost like cold spreading through her veins like a vineyard of icicles.

"Just because it's taken you three years to notice, Ron, doesn't mean no one else has spotted I'm a girl!"

Snippets of memories long past surfaced, pulling her asunder.

There was rage.

"I'm hoping to do some good in the world!"

There was innocence.

"Nobody in my family's magic at all – I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?'

There was pain.

"Assuming I survive our hunt for the Horcruxes, I'll find Mum and Dad and lift the enchantment. If I don't – well.."

There was grief.

He was meant to live! Reggie was meant to live!

And there was Death.

Hush now, my love.

'.. she will fight through it, Poppy, don't you worry. Miss Lestrange here has seen many a strange thing. I'm certain she will be coming through to us very soon. You have done well as always, fret not too much..'

'.. at least Narcissa's condition seems to have stabilised.. for a moment there I'd gotten worried both the girls would be lost to us before their time.. However I do believe that deeming Miss Lestrange to be out of dangerous waters wouldn't entirely be wrong.. things could go very, very wrong, Professor..'

There was a deep resounding sigh. 'Things have taken a most unexpected turn indeed.'

She felt like she was falling, tumbling through a long dark tunnel with no conceivable end. A hand ghosted over her head, guiding her through this cage like vortex.

Hermione felt the exhilaration one might feel when running but she knew it in her limbs that her body remained motionless. Was it her spirit that was running away, then? Running away from what? Where was she headed? Where did this darkness lead? Where did it end?

There was a dull ache in her core.

Her mind, laden with despair, wanted to shut down, go to sleep and never have to wake up.

She was slowly regaining a semblance of consciousness, the feeling in her limbs beginning to surface. She tried to move, she really did but her body would just not budge, fighting incessantly against her will, drained thoroughly of whatever energy she might have had left.

She didn't want to be trapped inside her head any longer. But she didn't have to.

For that was when the sounds came.

Clear as a crystal.

Haunted.

Tired.

Pleading.

Repentant.

Sounds of people she had loved. People sharing their pain she didn't want them to feel anymore.

Lily combed her fingers gently through Hermione's hair, tying them swiftly into a braid, acutely aware of Harry's eyes trained at her back.

He hadn't left the woman's side for a minute. He had stood vigil for the last few days, all of them spent holding her hand, his eyes staring vacantly into her face. If somebody came he'd be quick to let go and move over to the corner or sometimes stand in the doorframe, silently allowing others to talk to her and read to her or even just to sit by her side, always respectful of their space but never letting her out of his sight, a strange kind of fear rampant in his eyes. He was nothing short of catatonic as he lingered around.

Lily inhaled deeply, feeling for Hermione's temperature as she did, her gaze falling over the bandages that wrapped around her midsection. Madame Pomfrey had cleared away the blood and the pus, working her magic through the irredeemable curses locked into them. Hermione's scars looked as if they were marked upon her ages ago, such was the nature of magic and yet Lily knew they'd never feel that way to the girl in question. She'd always carry them like they were only but a day old.

'She looks almost peaceful this way, doesn't she?'

Her eyes whipped to her left where Remus now stood, his brows puckered and his lips drawn into a frown.

'It's a morbid thought if you think what she'd look like otherwise,' she replied, staring into the fire crackling upwards, the flames illuminating the room just so, the morning light barely helping.

Remus placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, handing her a cup of tea. 'How is she doing? Any signs?'

Lily mumbled incoherently under her breath as her fingers once again reached over absently to Hermione's forearm for there lay the scar that concerned her the most. It seemed like it had healed a long time ago, even the word itself faded although starkly visible against her skin. What made it more worrisome was how frantically Harry had begged them to cover it up using a simple cloth when nobody was looking.

His face had become a fierce mask as he had almost thundered, 'She shouldn't have to explain any more than she absolutely has to! She shouldn't have to relive it! I won't allow it!'

'Her vitals are stable for now,' she answered mechanically as she had been for everyone in the house. 'Doesn't look like her fever will spike anymore.'

'Is that all?'

'Well, Madame Pomfrey did as good a job she could without consulting a specialised healer. Being only a trainee I can't do much for her either other than keep her posted about any moderations or at best periodically changing her dressings.' She shook her head in frustration. 'What a time to be useless.'

'Don't say that,' Remus chided her gently. 'You're doing the best you can. We all are.'

'And look where it's got us,' she gazed at him, her eyes tumultuous, a storm brewing amidst the green.

He cleared his throat, suddenly uncomfortable. His eyes wnadered around, stopping at Harry, finding him facing towards the wall and appearing to all of the world as a statue in study.

He decided to settle down in an armchair he had dragged across from the corner, sitting down so he could look Lily clearly in the eye.

'Things could have been a lot worse.'

'That's a false platitude,' she said bluntly.

Smiling sadly, Remus merely patted her awkwardly before moving closer to Hermione's side, wondering if there was anything he could do for either of the women.

It tug at his heartstrings to see what had become of the girl who had been the first to accept him for he was, the first to deem him worthy of friendship and love. The girl he remembered from so long ago had lost herself somewhere and he had been too late to realise.

Her body looked frail and weary now, almost corpse like in its appearance. The unnatural stillness she lay with unnerved him.

He even remembered the night he had been tortured under her wand, both of them turned helpless by a war they didn't want. He hadn't felt betrayed. No. He had known it would be far more painful a feat for her than it would be for him and that was saying something. Even making the hard choice for the right reasons could disrupt your psyche and it always took a heavier toll on you than anyone else.

With the world the way it was memories more often than not chased away any possibility of bringing nostalgic relief, Remus thought to himself. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he stretched his back, still recovering from the full moon a day before, recently opened up scars screaming at him, an unbidden gasp filtering out of his mouth.

Lily looked at him with an apology written all over her face, unable to offer him any relief.

They sat huddled there all throughout morning, silence weighing in on them but never feeling like a burden. Neither one could shake away the feeling of not being enough, their shared pain a solace.

As the bell chimed twelve, Lily got to her feet and began preparing the potions. She saw from the corner of her eyes as Harry walked over swiftly to Hermione's side, his hands gentle and careful as he propped the pillows around her head, elevating her from the midsection up.

'It's okay, Harry,' Lily said, mindful of how he wouldn't listen. 'I can do it by myself.'

Remus watched as Harry's frown deepened, a silent plea in his eyes, his gaze never faltering from the woman in his arms. It struck him then just how much he had never known about Hermione. It had taken him months to find out Hermione was on the side of the Order but it had only been because of the nature of his own mission that resembled hers greatly. But he had never known about this stranger she had loved more deeply than she did perhaps even her own brother.

While Hermione had been guiding her friends her own needs had been so painfully overlooked.

Lily tipped the contents of four different potions into Hermione's mouth as she slowly massaged her throat. Muttering a quick spell under her breath she discarded the empty vials and set about to change her dressings, barely sparing a glance in Harry's direction as he made himself scarce, not a single word spoken to either of the two present in his company, having done his duty and waiting once again for the room to empty so he could have her to himself.

She had to laud him for his loyalty. She wondered if she'd ever seen a person care about someone more than Harry did for Hermione. But she also worried. Harry was isolating himself, barricading himself and putting up insurmountable walls.

She stopped midstep as her anxiety turned her restless. Shakign her head, she rid herself of these thoughts.

Lily was glad to notice that Hermione required no replacement for her dressings just yet. The bleeding had subsided greatly over the last night. She was healing well.

'Do you think she'd want us here when she wakes up?' Remus began slowly, hesitant.

'I know I wouldn't,' Lily glanced at him furtively, seating herself down in the chair she had vacated. 'We don't deserve her kindness.'

Remus found himself nodding to her, agreeing wholeheartedly.

'We don't deserve your kindness either,' she went on, surprising him.

Realisation dawned on him as he recalled the day Hermione had been captured. He had been ordered to remove himself from Greyback's pack immediately. It had been a long, long night.

'We owe you an apology too.'

'Already forgiven, Lily,' he smiled sadly.

'Too quickly,' she remarked. 'You should have let us grovel further.'

'There's no point holding onto grudges you don't mean to keep.'

'Doesn't mean we get to b..'

A flurry of movements caused Lily to pause. There was the sound of multiple people Apparating just outside.

'Good, the meeting's over then,' Remus observed, rising onto his feet and moving quietly into the foyer, Lily hot on his heels.

Harry watched them leave with disinterest, his feet taking him along a well worn path by now.

It always ended like this.

Nobody stuck around for too long. Maybe for an hour or two. Maybe half a day. Everyone had somebody to go back to, somebody to run to.

Harry and Hermione had no-one. They were completely and terrifyingly alone, with only each other for themselves. But here he was, sat beside the limp body of his last remaining family, helpless and defeated, unable to help her or himself.

It was near dark when James and Peter walked inside Hermione's room in the tiny cottage.

James heard Peter mutter a small incantation to levitate a set of chairs around her bed. But before he could have sat down he noticed something strange.

Unlike any other time he had been here Harry was no longer standing straight, staunch like a sentinel guarding his treasure. He was slid down against the wall, his head in his hands, slight tremors running up his back

The sight left a pang in his heart. This was probably the first time the man was getting any amount of sleep.

'Prongs, do you want to make a little..,' Peter began but quietened down as he saw James put a finger against his lips.

He saw as the bespectacled man cast a silent Muffliato and conjured up a comforter, walking swiftly over to Harry and covering him up as snugly as he could.

There was a slight commotion as Sirius entered, looking haggard and exhausted.

Peter quickly made some space for him.

'I put him to bed,' Sirius stated tiredly. 'No easy feat forcing a werewolf to sleep. He wanted to be with us. Assured him everything was fine and it was only a skirmish of a fight.'

'Well, he couldn't have expected a routine meeting to end up in a facedown with angry Death Eaters,' James remarked, plopping down beside his best mate. 'Lily was almost hysterical too. Guess this entire ordeal has everyone on edge.'

Sirius nodded along with whatever he said, not really listening. He had eyes only for Hermione.

She was still just lying there, lifeless and weary. Her skin was pale, almost translucent. The bruising around her wrists, wrapped where they'd been cut raw from being cuffed, and a few cuts on her face seemed to be glaring at him.

Maybe if he had put his foot down the night he had rescued her from the members of the Resistance. Maybe he could have forced her to stay if he had pleaded with her just a while longer.

It struck him how she could have died without knowing how much he loved her. He swore to himself then that he would never let that happen. Not again.

'I swear to whatever gods are looking over this messed up world that I'll kill that bitch,' Sirius declared, a cold fury flicking through his words. 'She's a raving madwoman. I don't care who tosses Voldemort. Bellatrix is mine to finish.'

'Padfoot,' James cried out, fearful of the hatred Sirius was beginning to let fester inside his mind. 'You can't afford to think like that. It's going to mess with your head.'

'Do you expect me to let her walk free?' He whispered furiously.

'No, I'm asking you to let someone else handle it,' he reasoned. 'It's beyond personal for you. It'd be dangerous for you to go after her. You won't be objective about it and recklessness isn't exactly outside your domain.'

Sirius huffed, his chest rising and falling with a tumultuous effort, anger barely restrained.

'She'll get what she deserves,' Peter said. 'But I agree that I'd hate it if all she ended up with was Azkaban. She deserves to feel all the pain she's ever inflicted upon others.'

James sighed. Why did he have to be the voice of reason? Where was Lily when you needed her. Scrunching up his brows and his hands wringing through his hair, he rose to his feet. 'Well, justice isn't always served as you'd wish for it to. Life isn't fair. Make of it whatever you will. But if you let this anger cloud your judgment then you won't be the only ones to suffer from it.'

'The very thought of her makes my blood boil, Prongs,' he said, Sirius's voice was pleading. 'I see her face every night before I sleep. All I want to do is wrap my fingers around her throat and crush her! End her life for everything that she's done! I'm ashamed to share my name with her. I am shamed of everything my name stands for.

'Look at her,' he screamed in agony, his long fingers pointing at Hermione's unconscious form. 'Look at what that bitch has reduced her to! Look at her, Prongs! Almost a week and no sign of her waking up. What if she never does? What if she always stays like this? What then? What did she do to deserve this? She was saving our necks all this time! Then why does she have to be the one fighting for her life?'

James looked tense, his eyes seeking out Peter's asking for help.

Sirius couldn't stop seeing red. The vision of Bellatrix's hooded eyes refused to leave his mind.

'My brother.. Reggie, my little boy died because of her. She dragged him to Voldemort, offering him like he was some kind of trophy. She sacrificed my little brother to that monster! What reason do I have let her walk free?'

He saw as Sirius muttered a string of curses under his breath, beginning to pace across the length of the room, trying to release some pent up energy. He almost exhaled in relief seeing as his chest deflated, the fight leaving him.

James averted his eyes as Sirius collapsed onto the floor.

The three Marauders sat in silence, a feat nobody would ever expect from them considering their boisterous and mischievous nature.

'She asked Rab to save me,' Peter mumbled quietly. 'I'm sorry I was the catalyst to all the pain she's been put under. I wish it had been me instead. She saved me.. and I can't even thank her.'

James flinched at the raw emotion in his voice. 'Mate, come on..'

'No,' Peter shook his head, his hand reaching out to hold Hermione's. 'No, don't do that. Don't absolve me of my guilt. It's rightly placed. If it hadn't been for my stupidity.. if I hadn't allowed myself to caught, this would never have happened. She would have remained unhurt. She shouldn't have had to face what she did.'

'We've got to be the best friends of the year,' Sirius snarked. 'We misjudged two of our own family. We misplaced our trust. How .. how could we have let this happen? How could we have been so self involved? So pitiful?'

'I'd spend my entire life making up to them,' James said, his voice the softest and the gentlest of them all.

Sirius traced the outline of her palm with his fingers. 'I failed her,' he declared sadly. 'What kind of love is this where I messed up so magnanimously? I left her behind, almost losing her in the process.'

Peter clapped him on the back, seeing as his eyes darkened and his lips pressed into a thin line.

'You'll keep going around in circles if you do that,' James said somberly. 'If we'd been careful in the first place she'd never have had to be alone at all. We could have helped. Made things better. But the fact of the matter is we didn't. We need to accept that and learn. At this point that's all we can do because it's not about us. It's about her! Own up to our mistakes, that's what we've got to do. We've got to move on and be better people for when she wakes up and needs someone to lean on.'

'I wish we could just go back to how things were before,' Peter bit out from between gritted teeth.

'Before when?' James began. 'Before we chose to sit by and watch helplessly? Before we threw away Hermione's friendship in an instant just because she snapped and we couldn't come up with a better explanation? Or before the war ever began? How far back do you want to go? How far until it's enough? We can never undo what we've done.'

'Then how in the world could we ever salvage our friendship,' Sirius pleaded.

'We are a family,' they heard Rab say softly from the doorframe. He ventured into the room quietly, observing each of the three men gathered around his sister, staring into their eyes to make sure they understood. 'I know it doesn't feel like one at the moment. Everything seems fractured and distanced. But we were a family before and we can be a family now.'

Sirius looked away, pained. 'I threw away your kindness in your face, Rab,' he said, apologetic.

'Then you make sure not to do it again,' Rab shrugged his shoulders, smiling slightly. 'You can't afford to trust your gut and put faith in just anyone when in the middle of a war. Besides she didn't give you much reason to trust her in the end, did she? She was openly siding with the Death Eaters. You did what anybody would have. You were smart. Don't beat yourself over it. Nobody can blame you for doing the smart thing.'

The men remained speechless, looking at each other, none of them sure what to do next. Rab hadn't exactly made his distaste of them a secret. He had openly scowled at them, his eyes always screaming fury when cast upon them. He may not have put it into words but it was clear as the day that Rab did not want them anywhere near Hermione.

The older Lestrange pulled at Peter's shoulders, steering him out of the room as he did so, his other arm slung around James. He looked back briefly, 'Come on, Sirius. Don't make me go as far as tucking you into bed.'

Sirius, surprisingly, didn't put up resistance. Squeezing Hermione's fingers one last time, he let go.

Rab saw as the three huddled along the stairs, their footsteps sluggish and heavy.

'Forgiveness will come,' he called out, comfortingly. 'It took me what? A month? It won't take her a day.' He smiled sadly, shaking his head fondly in Hermione's direction as he ambled through the door and inside the tiny bedroom.

He remained standing to the side.

He'd spent countless hours beside her already and yet every time he lay his eyes on her weary body, marred by wounds he wished never to see on anyone least of all her, a part of him would always feel crushed.

His sister had been his responsibility.

His sister had been his responsibility and he had let everything go up in flames. He should have fought her. He should have put his foot down the moment she deiced to join that deranged bastard. His carelessness, his negligence had led them here.

Closing his eyes he tried to remember what it was like at the beginning. He pictured Hermione as the little girl she had been, cocooned by his side in bed as he read her a story. A reluctant smile broke out on his face as he imagined a much younger version of his brother who had spent countless hours teaching him and Hermione the subtle ways to outwit their governess.

But there was no brother Rab had anymore and his sister had been reduced to something akin to a broken marionette.

He felt his eyes well up with tears.

Conflict seemed to have flawlessly merged with his soul. Conflict about the feelings of loss he felt deep within when the thoughts of his brothers plagued his mind and the subsequent rage that would follow, thinking about all the sins he had previously conjured.

The handsome face of Rodolphus Lestrange would forever be marred by the dying visage of his grandfather.

He inhaled deeply, telling himself over and over again that there'd be time to grieve when tomorrow came. At present he had to be strong. He had to be strong for Hermione's sake.

He fell to his knees, knotting his fingers with those of Hermione's, still cold to the touch. A wave of anguish rolled over him as silent tears slipped past his eyes. Drawing in a deep breath, he blew it out from his nose, steadying himself against the onslaught of emotions.

'Narcissa's fine, if you're still worried which I bet you are, even in this state,' he chuckled sadly. 'She's stable now. We'll be seeing the child very soon too now or so Madame Pomfrey says. Don't leave me all alone, Mi,' he whispered, bringing their intertwined hands to his lips, dropping a gentle kiss softly against her skin. 'Papa's gone.. so is Rolf. I can't just stand here and watch you leave me too.'

He drew in a deep breath, his knees wobbling.

'If nothing else, hold on for his sake,' he murmured, his eyes glancing at Harry's sleeping form by the window. 'There's a whole lot of the world left for you to see, love. A whole lot of things that need to be done. Don't give up.. I beg of you but don't you dare give up..'

Why wouldn't she say something?

The quiet was unnerving, the stillness in her body even more so.

'Everything has been so hard without you here. I need you. Had to tell Sirius about Reggie all by myself too. He kept asking me to help pull him out of Voldemort's ranks. The man was inconsolable when he found out. But what could he have done? He wrapped up his grief, stuffed it deep inside him like anybody would in these times, ripe for a later time to be assessed. How pathetic is it, Mi? The dead deserve to be mourned. We don't even get to do that.

'Everyone has questions.. so many of them. Harry won't give them any answers. Understandably so. It's all fallen onto me. I keep giving them vague explanations but they won't hold for much longer now. So please.. please don't leave me alone.'

He stroked her hair lovingly, his eyes glossing over with thick emotion.

'Harry.. he's .. he's a changed man.. won't eat, won't talk to anyone. He just sits there. The sight of him freezes me to my core, Mi.. I don't know how to help him. But you do,' he murmured. 'Losing someone.. that kind of pain carries on with you. But he always lets it be his guiding light so nobody else has to bear its weight. And Merlin knows he's lost enough. Do you have it in you.. do you have it in you to add to the list, love? Come back.. not for anybody else .. but for his sake.. please don't go, Mi..'

There was no end to this war as far as he could see. Even if all the horcruxes could be destroyed there was no way they could come out of this unscathed. Harry and Hermione already carried scars from their previous life that he knew nothing about. He wondered what path he'd be plunged down upon as the war intensified for surely it would. It must. That was the nature of it.

Remembering Harry vacant eyed and slack jawed on the floor reaffirmed his fears. That was not what a man ought to look like. No. There seemed to appear no life in him anymore. No joy. He was broken and had been for a while now. How? Just how did someone come back from that? Hermione hadn't. Even years after waking up into this new timeline Hermione had had nightmares almost every night and Rab knew it best. He couldn't begin to imagine the horrors the two had had to face. He wondered if it had been worse than what Hermione had been forced to face over the course of the last few days. He wondered how, then, could she have possibly held onto hope, her courage never wavering.

His eyes moved to settle on Harry of their own accord. Finding him awake, Rab startled a little with a yip of surprise. He wanted to call out to him, to pull his attention away from the corpse like body of his sister and towards himself but no words came to him. He had never seen him like this before. He had certainly not known just how deeply rooted their love had been, so utterly unadulterated.

Harry folded his arms around his chest, hugging himself, protecting himself from everything that lay outside.

'You look miserable,' Rab said bluntly because there was nothing else to it, nothing he could say to make him feel better, nothing that he could do for him.

Harry barely registered him though, nodding his head dismissively.

'What are you doing, mate? Hovering around like a ghost. It's like you've given up already,' Rab croaked, his voice thick with emotion. He wanted to reach out but he dared not move. He had tried talking to him before but Harry had remained catatonic. This was the first time he had even considered somebody's presence other than for his best friend.

Putting his hands on his sides, Harry rose to his feet, his body leaning against the wall.

'Harry, please talk to me,' he pleaded, a touch of desperation in his voice. 'I know you're hurting. I know I could never understand the extent of your pain but you still have me in your corner, mate.'

Disappointment riddled his mind as he watched him stare straight ahead, at what he could not say, a distant look in his deadened eyes. Rab knew he was falling farther and deeper into his pit of grief and anguish and there was nothing anybody could have done to bring him back.

'Do you wish to be alone with her? I know you barely get the time to during the day. They almost never leave, do they?'

Harry still didn't respond, the numbness that surrounded him like a fortress still unbreakable.

'Harry..,' Rab's voice broke. 'She'll make it.. you said so yourself.. she's going to fight through it and come out stronger .. she has to.. my sist-'

'No.' Harry gritted out, his features contorted by agony. The emptiness hanging around his eyes intensifying, 'She's mine.. my sister.'

Rab flinched at the harshness in his tone however immediately forgiving him. He knew nothing about how deep their love ran. Perhaps he really was an intruder to their relationship. What did he know? He had failed as a brother. Hermione deserved better anyway.

He let out a deep breath, disentangling himself from Hermione and slowly turning around to exit the room. He spared one last glance at his sister, sending out yet another prayer.

It could have been the hundredth. Or perhaps the thousandth. Who could tell?

He had lost count days ago.

It was more painful than anything else to hear their apologies.

She wanted to tell them there was nothing be sorry for. She wanted to console them, tell them they'd already been forgiven but her body wouldn't let her.

The words never stopped.

People were always saying something.

Sometimes it was Madame Pomfrey. Others it was Lily or the boys. It was especially comforting when Rab spoke to her, her heart reaching out to him.

But she knew peace only when there was Harry.

She could feel him. She could feel him so close to herself but he never said anything. Not a word. There was radio silence when it came to him. Nothing other than his hand holding hers. She was cold where he was warm, the only tether she had remaining to the world of the living.

But it also hurt to be with him. His silence grated at her nerves. It terrified her. It frightened her to think of the darkness growing inside his head. It hurt even more when he drew in shuddering breaths, sobs wracking his body when he thought nobody was listening.

But she was.

She was always, always listening, painfully aware of his grief.

Hermione was crying.

She was screaming, trapped and with nowhere to run to, ghosts surrounding her on all sides.

She was drowning.

What good was Hermione Granger if she couldn't help Harry Potter?

Harry stared hard at the faded letters on the worn out book Hermione had carried everywhere what felt like a time ages and ages ago. He had found it in her charmed bag and clutched it tighter than he could have imagined possible.

He saw as her chest rose and fell steadily, although much too slow for what could be deemed normal. But she was still breathing. That had to count for something, didn't it? What scared him was that if she stopped, he would too.

He missed the days when things had been simpler.

Hermione would be nose deep in Hogwarts: a History. Ron would be defeating him at wizarding chess. Ginny would be somewhere close by, always within his sight. Fred and George would be creating a ruckus as the Common Room erupted into an applause at their escapades. Where did that time go? How did he get here?

Why?

Why could he not go back to those days?

It felt unreal at times. It was like walking into a tiny caricature of a life he hadn't wanted. How could any of this be happening? He wasn't supposed to be here. Perhaps he had died too. Perhaps he was dead and this was hell for him, constantly and continuously losing more and more of himself.

Why did it have to be him? Why did it all have to come down to him? He had never asked for this life. He had never wished for this fame. Not if it meant this endless brokenness. He couldn't recall the last time he had felt whole. Perhaps it had never been. His life, after all, had always been a tragedy.

He shut his eyes, the weariness creeping up his back. He was trying to fight the tears back down. He was sick of it. He was sick of crying all the time. It wasn't helping her. He swiped angrily under his eyes.

He had seen too many die. He had been stronger then. He had been stronger so why was it so difficult to contain himself? The fear of loneliness, the fear of losing his very last family was chilling. He didn't want to face another day, not if it meant Hermione wasn't by his side.

He couldn't hold it in. He had tried.

He had thought she'd be perfectly fine by now. But it had been seven days already and there was not even a single sign of her surfacing. Was she even coming back? Had she forsaken the promises she'd made him?

His knees gave out and he slid to the floor, his face buried in his hands. He cried silently, tears spilling down his face and burrowing into his palms. His temples throbbed with the weight of his anguish, his stomach churning in knots. He retched into the quiet, his head spinning. He was falling apart, a little more every day and there was nobody that could help him. Nobody but her.

Her eyes slid open. She tried to blink away the bleariness, the grey fog blinding her vision beginning to clear up.

She could feel her head pounding. The darkness fell heavy around her, punctuated only by the glow of the fire burning warm to the side. Her body felt heavy and weightless all at once, numbness being the only sensation she could feel.

She blinked several times, the memories rushing in one painful sliver at a time.

Pain. Torture. Fire and ice.

Tears.

Someone was crying. Someone had been crying for a long time now. Who had it been? Why was it making Hermione feel like she had been gutted?

She moved her arms, trying to feel around herself, every movement a painstaking task. She rose up, mustering up as much strength as she could, her lungs almost collapsing under own weight, her back burning up. But there he was..

Harry was sobbing, his knees hugged close to his chest and his body shivering from the cold.

Hermione lost all semblance of reason, launching into the small space separating them but she had clearly overestimated herself. She hoisted herself on her wrists, choosing to ignore the shooting pains up her arms. There was a ringing set of noise that erupted as she fell onto the floor, her legs turning into jelly, several instruments that had lain on her bedside table now haplessly strewn about her.

Harry startled into a defensive pose, his wand raised. His face morphed into that of disbelief, green eyes widened and mouth gaping, as he took in Hermione's slight form doubled over and gasping.

'Mione.. you.. I ca-'

Hermione tried to reach out to him, extending her arms towards him clumsily. The tracks of his tears stood out to her even against the dark. She felt her lips curve into a smile but knew that it had probably come off as a grimace judging from the intense fire running its course up throughout her body.

Harry wasted no time in lowering into a crouch, scooping her up and laying her down gently onto her bed, settling down right beside her, her small body wrapped in his tight embrace. He felt as her own tears combined with his, loud sobs adding onto his own. Something much like a heavy weight drifted away from over him..

Relieved was not how he would have described himself as. No word in any conceivable language could measure up to what he felt. It almost seemed as if he had been sliced open and revived in a single breath. He felt as her breaths mingled with his, her arms slowly weaving their way around his torso.

All was right in the world again.

The crippling fear from her days in that prison like cage holed up miles and miles away surfaced, every tormenting memory and dying face coming to the forefront of her mind. She felt a different kind of numbness surround her. Her ears rang with the ghost of her own screams that she had heard far too many times to count. She had only ever wanted to be held in those days. She didn't want to get out. She just wanted Harry to be close. So as her fingertips grazed against his skin she couldn't help but cling to him like he was her life support, which she certainly knew to be true.

She felt her body recoil from itself. She felt so, so small. How many times did she have to get battered and get back up again?

It was exhausting.

'I.. I am so,' she croaked, her voice hoarse from disuse,' so tired..'

She remembered Bellatrix's face. Both the times the witch had mercilessly tortured her itno oblivion. Shivers ran down the length of her spine as her face hovered before Hermione's vision. She had cried and begged to be let go, things she'd never have thought her Gryffindor pride could have allowed her.

She could feel the multitude of cuts and bruises across her skin, stitches sliding against each other on her abdomen.

Hermione longed to see the outside. She longed to see the Sun. But more than anything else she wanted to stay like this forever, pressed close to Harry's side, his heartbeat against hers.

She sniffled, snot and tears running down her face. She let out a watery chuckle as she wiped against her eyes, the very movement feeling foreign to her. It had been days since she had felt true happiness but the knowledge of it only drove her to cry harder.

Harry pulled her even closer, burying his nose into her hair, breathing her in, letting her entire being surround him.

This is real, he kept telling himself over and over again. She's home.

She scooted back from him finally as his sharp intakes of breath turned into a calmer rhythm. A spell of dizziness was threatening to overcome her again but she willed herself to last longer. She didn't want to be pulled asunder. She didn't want to be prodded at again by the darkness.

They lay beside each other for several long minutes, waiting patiently for the shaking to subside. Their hearts still beat against their ribcages wildly like a beast released, the euphorbic rush not quite leaving them alone just yet.

'Never. Do. That. Again.'

Hermione felt herself tear up once again as she heard the unadulterated fury in his voice.

'You hear me, Hermione?' Harry breathed out, his voice raspy. 'I will tear apart anything that comes in my way. Nobody is going to take you away from me.' The rough pads of his fingers brushed away against her red cheeks, gentle and grounding.

She nodded numbly against his chest, her panic subsiding.

She coulf fix herself again. She could do anything for Harry and she would.

Hermione felt him lean down as he pressed his chin closer into her shoulder, the vacant dark taking hold of her again. She was drifting away, her eyes shutting close of their own accord as her breathing evened and her fingers lay still against his jaw, her only thoughts revolving around a small raven haired, bespectacled boy hugging a tiny bushy haired witch close.