Protests barely had a chance to form themselves on Harry's gasping lips. His condition had deteriorated to the point where he lost the ability to form coherent thoughts in his head, let alone aloud. Renewed fear wore down all brash attempts at pretending he was fine. He couldn't keep up multiple acts, least of all lying to himself. He knew, having experienced it once before, that he was close to death. He could feel in the epicentre of the hot, burning pain in his chest that his heart, with his magic dwindled to borrowed embers, was struggling to keep him alive.

He'd feared death before and overcame it in an act of heroic bravery. He didn't feel brave anymore. He was in great pain and scared. He hated that he couldn't hide his pain, hated that he couldn't hide his fear, but he was human and, like all humans, he was also mortal.

But he didn't regret it. He made the right choice. If he hadn't acted as he had, it would be Hermione suffering in his place. As much as he was barely able to hold on, he knew that there was no way he'd be able to handle seeing her in such a way. Not while also knowing it was his fault.

Without much choice, his life in the balance and in the hands of those he had to trust, he didn't fight or argue. He let Kingsley lay him on the board, struggling to prepare himself for what he was about to experience. He thought of Mr Weasley being gathered up, bleeding out from gushing snake bites, and deposited on a board just like it. He faintly wondered if the man felt just how Harry was feeling - scared for his life.

The belts across his upper body and thighs frightened him almost as much as the prospect he was facing. Helplessness had him grasping for comfort, holding Hermione's warm hand. His fingers met Sirius's animagus form, threading through fur. As the flames seared bright green, he flinched instinctively. Green light always tugged at his trauma at the best of times but as he was, his walls and his guards were ripping apart at the seams.

As he was brought into the floo, his panic surged into life. Lurching through the swirling fire, Harry lost hold of his anchors. He lost hold of any semblance of anything. The horrible light was too much. Harry screwed his eyes shut, cutting off one source overwhelming his senses. Light still stabbed through his eyelids, then in a second, he was sent into a swell of noise. Over the screaming alarms in his own head, Harry couldn't focus on anything.

His hands gripped air while he felt himself surging forwards at a more rapid pace. When he realised he had absolutely no control over where he was going or what was happening to him, terror screamed through him out of nowhere. His hands spasmed as he tried to call out, but the pain in his chest burned all the air out of his lungs. His mind skittered to a complete halt. All he could do was bend his arms at the elbows, the rest of him held down.

It screeched through his thoughts, scattering what vague sense he managed to form. Panic roared through him, the alarm wiping out all his senses. His hearing had gone, lost under a wall of noise that made no sense. His vision was a blurred blackness behind his desperately scrunched up eyes. All he really could feel was pain and pressure. Something heavy weighed down on him, making him feel crushed between two surfaces. Rushing in his ears drowned out everything, sounding like he was underwater… which explained why he couldn't breathe.

Was he drowning?

Voices… he could make out some of them, loud and shouting, desperate and full of fear.

"...clear the way NOW!"

Harry's eyes peeled open, colours burning in swirls through a screen of tears.

"Stay with us, Mr Potter. Hold on!"

"Harry!"

Hermione's voice cut through the erratic voices of strangers that swelled around him. Harry tried to reach for her.

"Don't move. Just breathe. Breathe for us."

Something cold suddenly pushed against his mouth, cheeks and nose. Air then rushed past his gaping lips, pushing his lungs to capacity before gusting out. The screaming in his mind ebbed a little, enough for sound to start to split and separate. Another rush of air pushed into his mouth and down his waiting windpipe. He became aware of fingers touching him, urgent and purposeful as they worked to secure whatever they put on his face in place. He focused on breathing, each lungful driving back that screaming terror.

"Come away, Hermione. Let them do their jobs."

Harry moaned at the voice, not wanting them to keep Hermione back. He tried to find her, but his vision was obscured by lots of lime-green and flesh coloured blurs.

"Off the board now. Together on three." A firm voice ordered the blurs from somewhere next to Harry's head. "One, two, three."

Suddenly, the straps grounding him in place vanished, as did the surface he was laying upon. His back arched slightly and the barest movement jostled the spear of fire lodged in his chest. Before he could even try to control himself, Harry was screaming out, his voice weirdly distorted. He went to convulse, but the air around him suddenly softened and supported him. He sunk downward onto an impossibly squishy surface that was so light and comfortable, it was as if he'd been placed upon a cloud.

"Mr Potter, Harry, I need you to focus on me."

The stern voice addressed him, coming from right above his face. Harry tried to widen his eyes but his face felt stiffened by a grimace that he couldn't seem to relax. He peered up at a fleshy blur, finding eyes, a nose and a mouth. Details then sharpened, enough for him to see a woman standing over him. He flinched instinctively when a wand came between his eyes.

"You experienced a seizure upon arrival. The stress has put too much strain on your injured heart and you are currently having a cardiac arrest." The woman informed him.

Horror filled him. He was having a heart attack. He looked down, seeing then a shimmery mask positioned over his nose, mouth and chin. It was giving him air but he couldn't see what it was connected to.

He was dying. He was actually dying. Again.

"Your friend will join you soon but we need to work on stabilising your condition first."

Harry then finally managed to understand that the woman talking to him was a Healer.

She then addressed someone else, likely the throng of lime-green smudges around him. "On top of a ignis cruxus, we have severe magical exhaustion and minor fractures but these are superficial. His heart injury is critical. Heart failure is imminent unless we get that electrum now. "

Harry gasped at the air being pushed into his lungs, terror screaming through him. Heart failure?

"You'll feel a slight scratch, Mr Potter. Don't be alarmed - it is how we administer potions."

Another voice addressed him, male this time. Harry went to look over but he didn't know what to look for, not until he felt something stab into his left arm, just above the crook. It was a needle, just a needle, but terror seared through his mind.

The knife was coming and he couldn't escape it. Ropes cut into him, tighter and tighter, muffled sounds escaping him as he struggled. Cloth tore open under the blade, the cold tip pushed against his skin. Pain… more pain… hot and cruel…

"Blood of the enemy… forcibly taken…"

He thrashed, his arms whipping upwards of their own accord. There were shouts at once, hands coming over him, touching his arms.

"Harry, stay still." Remus was suddenly there, his face coming into view. "The healers are here to help you and you have an army of aurors positioned outside. You're safe."

Light bled through the darkness, returning him back. Harry drew in quick breaths, the flashback leaving him panicked. Then a warm hand enveloped his. He desperately looked over, finding a familiar Hermione-shaped blur.

"I'm here, Harry, and so is Snuffles."

The Healer was back, careful hands moving his face so he was looking up. He swallowed, shaking as he tried to convince himself that he was safe.

I'm in a hospital. They are healers. I'm having a heart attack and they're saving my life. Voldemort isn't here… he's not here… I got away.

"I will overlook the unorthodox methods to get Harry this far as they have evidently saved his life." The woman was saying. "The vampire dust has stimulated his healing but not enough to combat the damage to his heart…"

Harry was distinctly aware that he couldn't move his head. Whatever he was resting upon now supported his head on either side. It was like he'd been set in a mould of his own body, supported at all sides to keep him steady. Then he felt the bandages around his chest come away, air striking the raw wounds over his heart. Something was then pressed down over the centre. He tried to get away, sending more blazes of pain through him. The pain he'd been doing his best to ignore suddenly peaked.

"Ah!" He cried aloud, his free hand spasming upwards towards the healer. "Heart… my heart…"

"Open the valves now. He needs pain relief now before he burns out his core again."

Harry gasped out, needing to hear that there would be some relief from the pain. He didn't think he could handle it for any longer. He blinked, trying to clear some of the disorientation, his faculties shifting slowly back into place. It was so hard for him to think, to even remember how he ended up on that cloud… when the Healer appeared in front of him or how he even made it into wherever he was. Any sense of what happened was in complete disarray.

Just pain and fear.

Something suddenly pulsed into his chest, a distinctive rhythm. His body rocked with it, the pulsing continuing, a steady 'thm-thmp'. Harry had no idea what was happening to him, his eyes roving around, looking for the source. Above his head, he then saw something suspended, something pulsating with red light. It looked like… a heart. He stared at it, not believing his eyes, focusing on what looked like a glowing heart hovering in the air. Two dark strands ran down from it. His gaze followed, leading to his chest which he couldn't see past the healers leaned over him.

Whatever they were doing to him, it was working. The crushing pressure eased, making it much easier to breathe. His vision started to get clearer, less muddled, and found edges to what had previously just been nothingness. His peripheral vision returned. He could see that he was in a pristine room with white walls and a white floor. He was propped up on a bed, head supported on a pillow. His arms were flat at his sides, his left bearing a bracer of some sort where a tube ran upwards to what looked like something from an old-fashioned chemistry set. Three flasks were set up on a stand, all upside down with tubes joining the one leading into his arm. All of them had potions, bubbling as they were being fed directly into his bloodstream.

He'd never seen anything like it in the Hospital Wing.

"I'm starting you on a strong pain blocker and a blood replenisher. Getting you stable and comfortable is my priority first, then we will add a sleeping potion to your dose." Fingers were brushing over his chin and the strange light presence over his mouth shifted. He blinked, finding the woman taking up most of his vision again. "You are very lucky to be alive and we are going to keep you that way. Your heart is currently too damaged to beat on its own. In any other situation, your magic would have taken over, but your core is depleted. We have connected your heart to an Electrum, which you can see above your head."

Harry glanced upwards to the glowing, pulsing red thing above him.

"It generates pulses of energy and these pulses are currently stimulating your heart. We will need to keep it connected until your heart is strong enough to beat on its own."

Shocked, Harry stared up at the thing keeping him alive. The healers then retreated back from him, making him dip his chin as much as he could to look down at himself. He let out a moan of horror, looking away. He didn't need to see the wires entering his body at two points. The healer had said that his heart was 'connected'. He didn't think it would be literal. He had things inside his body.

"Your glasses are on the stand by your left hand." Someone told him, tapping the back of his hand. Harry glanced over, spotting a table or sorts attached to his bed frame that was within reach. "Now just try to stay calm and breathe. We're going to get you comfortable."

Harry started to calm down out of no effort of his own. His head sunk back against the pillowy cloud of a bed he found himself resting in. He then caught a dark shape, a dog… Sirius. He extended the fingers out of his left hand.

"Your canine friend can stay." The statement came from the Healer-in-charge. Harry tensed in alarm, looking up at her, seeing her standing over him with her arms folded.

"You have my word he is no danger to any of your patients, Esther." Kingsley's deep voice assured her from somewhere else in the room.

She then turned her attention back down to Harry. He had to squint to see her, conscious then that the other healers were changing his trousers and underwear in the same way Pomfrey did, swapping them for pyjamas. He ignored them for the moment, looking at the woman who just saved his life.

He only then noticed that she wasn't looking at him. Her eyes were vacant and cloudy. They were angled at some point near his ear. She was blind.

"Your visitors can stay while you are in intensive care but they will have to observe visitation rules just like anyone else when you are well enough to be moved. Except for Miss Granger who will be staying here until recovered as well."

He heard a sniff, turning to see that Hermione still had his right hand clutched in hers. She was perched on the floor, looking up at him, her eyes shining and her face pink. He gasped as he could see her distress even without his glasses.

He closed his eyes. He didn't want to begin to imagine what state he was in. Clinging to life by a thread with wires running out of him… tubes feeding him potions…

The blind Healer then suddenly brought her hand under his chin, angling his head up to look at her.

"I will start your sleeping potion now. You will drift into a natural healing stasis on your own." She told him. "Open the last valve."

The healer closest to the weird magical IV stand fiddled with the flasks, cranking on what had to be valves that fed into the main tube. He looked away, seeking Hermione. As he did, the effects of the sleeping potion made themselves known pretty quickly. He found himself sinking, reality blurring as he sunk into the cloud of comfort. Hermione's hand followed him down as he descended into the blissful silence of a dreamless sleep.

He's alive. He's stable. He's safe.

The comforting thought reassured Hermione enough to finally allow herself to follow the Healer's orders and get into her own bed. As the pristine private room in St Mungo's subterranean emergency unit finally quietened, she dared to trust that the danger was over. Before resigning herself to agreeing that she definitely did need to get some sleep, she made sure to be facing Harry.

His face was visible. A pillow was plumped up around his head, cradling him as if he was a fragile object set in a mould. She had to commit how he looked to her memory before slipping herself into a deep sleep.

It had been very different when they had been spat out of the floo into the emergency response area within St Mungo's. Kingsley had done his job impeccably, ensuring that there were plenty of bodies ready to defend Harry with their lives against any threats. He'd done it too well. Harry had been completely surrounded when at his most vulnerable, the rushing activity around him setting off a terrible panic attack. Hermione fought against the throng to stay as close to Harry as she could, practically shouting over the din that he was alright and safe. She jostled between shoulders dressed in either lime-green Healer robes or red Auror robes. She kept in pace with the manic rush to get Harry treated as soon as magically possible.

The situation turned critical in a matter of seconds. Remus took Hermione by the arms, practically dragging her from Harry so the Healers could do their jobs. She fell into a daze, watching on, horrified through a haze of tears. She barely registered what was happening, hearing Sirius whine at her side as Harry started to convulse. He then stopped breathing.

Spells surged out of the Healers wands as they worked to stabilise Harry. In total, Harry had six well-trained Healers knitting together magic unlike Hermione had ever witnessed, the haze of blue and sparkling gold shimmering over Harry's straining body. It all centred around his chest, pulsing as it entered him, glowing under his ribs.

"Francine, maintain oxygen. We need an electrum - he's going critical. Lewis, go, quickly or we lose Harry Potter tonight. Clear the way NOW!"

In the stampede, some bystanders ended up stunned when they blurted out Harry's name. Sirius growled, haunches raised, appearing as menacing as a Grim as he acted as a very convincing guard dog.

The orders came from a woman Hermione would soon realise was the Head Healer at St Mungo's. Her green robes were accented with golden lapels. It was thanks to her lead that meant Harry was deep in a healing sleep, his condition stable. Proof of the fact stood at his bedside. Hermione turned her attention to the apparatus that regulated Harry's heartbeat. The 'electrum' hung from a brass stand beside Harry's bed. Like an IV, there were lines leading from it to Harry, only they weren't set in his veins, supplying medicine or blood. They were wires connected directly to his heart, rigged up to what appeared to be a large crystal, only it pulsed with red light. The pulses stimulated a heartbeat, Harry's heart beat. The magic in the crystal was powering Harry's heart directly, keeping him alive.

"You really should rest." A soft voice spoke from Hermione's right. She turned her weary gaze to where Remus was half-reclined in the seat at her bedside. In response to her words, there was a gruff, half bark. Sirius was curled up in the seat next to Harry.

She blinked, fighting the need to sleep for a little longer. She watched the Head Healer for a little longer. The Head Healer's milky eyes were fixed at a point away from Harry, but her wand traced precise, intricate patterns over Harry's chest. He remained oblivious of her healing, his eyes moving minutely under his eyelids, a sign that he was in a very deep sleep indeed.

"We are at war once more then." The Head Healer spoke, addressing the room in general. "Why else would Fudge declare a state of national emergency if not."

"We have been at war for some time, just not everyone was willing to admit the truth." Remus responded, sounding extremely exhausted. He rubbed a hand over his face.

"Hmm… and are we sending our children to fight in it once more?"

Head Healer Esther McKinnon straightened, lowering her wand. The last healer remaining in the room gathered up a tray with empty vials, carrying it away to the door. The moment the door clicked shut and Kingsley moved to stand guard again, the Head Healer turned her head over in Sirius's direction.

"Now that we are alone… I am to assume that there is a very good explanation for you being here, Sirius."

Hermione stirred from her position on her side, alarmed. Yet Remus didn't appear panicked or threatened that the Healer knew that they had a wanted wizard with them. Kingsley, still positioned at the door, made no move or motion. Instead, the only real response came from Sirius himself as he suddenly transformed. He shook his hair out as he lengthened into his human form, stretching out his legs as if he'd just woken from a nap. His wary look gave away that he was just as emotionally drained as the rest of them.

"I'm his godfather." Sirius stated simply. Hermione watched as he looked past the Healer to where Kingsley was standing guard. She'd seen the number of Aurors and Hit Wizards under his command, all who had set up a secure security perimeter outside the private room. Yet all of them were under orders to use deadly force against Sirius on sight. Unless that, along with so much, had changed overnight.

"That gives you a right to family privileges of a patient though I do tend to draw the line with escaped convicts of Azkaban."

Sirius let out a dry snort. "Only there?"

"He is my responsibility." Kingsley then stepped in, his deep voice firm. "And I believe after tonight, a few troublesome arrest warrants will find themselves erased from record. Much has changed, Esther."

Hermione's curiosity about the Head Healer mounted but she said nothing, leaving the conversation to unfold without her interruption.

"Contrary to the obvious, I am not blind to the truth." Esther's unseeing eyes remained pointing away but it was clear her other senses more than made up for her loss of sight. "I knew well that we were facing dark times again. Disappearances followed by deaths… the only difference has been the denials. Covering up the symptoms does not treat the cancer."

Her head then turned to Hermione's direction.

"It is a catastrophic failure when children are the ones who are called to war and yet, we never learn."

Sirius then sharply looked over to Remus. Hermione saw the man stiffen in his seat.

"Age doesn't protect us from the evils of this world." Remus said tightly.

The Head Healer sighed, her shoulders dropping as she fed her wand through the slot at her belt.

"Indeed it does not." She turned her face in Remus's direction. "It is touching to feel both of your auras in the same room once more, though the absence of those who should be here is keenly felt. You were so young… we were so young…"

Remus sighed, sitting back where he shared a look with Sirius. He rubbed at his face, ashen with exhaustion.

"It's a shame we have to meet like this after all these years." Sirius said heavily. "I didn't know that you were Head Healer."

"It's a recent appointment." She then came to approach Hermione's bed, her head tilting towards her. She sighed softly. "Just in time to be put to the test. My expertise in dark curses will be greatly needed."

She stopped to stand over Hermione's bed.

"Recovering from a dark curse is no small feat, young lady. Recovering from a traumatic ordeal no less so. You need rest. Here, I will permit a sleeping potion for you to help you along the way." Hermione tried to sit up but the woman shot her a frown, hearing her attempt at once. "You all need rest."

Sirius laughed dryly. "Oh, we do, but I'm not taking my eyes off Harry until he's able to protect himself. Not after I nearly lost him… again…"

His smile drained off his face. He leaned forwards, reaching for Harry's hand. Hermione looked away the moment Sirius broke, his head dropping down. His other hand came up to cover his face but the jerking of his shoulders gave him away. Remus got up, his robes softly rustling as he went over to comfort his brother-in-arms. Sirius didn't react when Remus joined him. He clutched at Harry's hand, letting out soft gasping sounds as he worked hard to keep his emotions in check.

"He's going to be okay." Remus murmured under his breath. "He's got us and he's got his friends."

A clinking sound at Hermione's table brought her attention away from the deeply private moment. Esther McKinnon held a bottle containing a purple potion, matching one of the concoctions that had been delivered into Harry's magical equivalent of an IV drip. Hermione glanced over at the bubbling potions, the strange mixture of magical and alchemical methods coming together in a way she'd never witnessed before. It awed her to see it up close for the first time, especially when she saw it save Harry's life.

She brought her focus back to the Healer as she poured a dose of the sleeping potion into a cup much like what Pomfrey used to hand out medicine. Her eyes were swimming with tears, doing her best to not pay attention to Sirius's crying. The healer kindly brushed a hand over her shoulder comfortingly. Her smile was fond. Hermione glanced over to Sirius and Remus, her breath hitching a little when she saw Sirius with his head buried against Remus's chest. She looked away.

The Head Healer then settled down in the seat where Remus had been. She took Hermione by surprise when she then took her hand.

"I promise you, we will take care of him. Both of you have been through a terrible ordeal. You need to rest mentally and physically. Trust me on this."

She then put the cup of sleeping potion in Hermione's hand.

"Harry will be here when you wake up. If he's anything like his father, he'll be trying to get out of his awful fate of forced bedrest." She said with a mild smile. She then nodded at the cup. "Get some sleep, young lady."

Left with no other choice, Hermione stole a glance over to Harry. Still peacefully sleeping, he was oblivious to how his godfather cried over him. She swallowed tightly, finding herself suddenly desperately needing to be oblivious as well.

"Thank you." She whispered to the healer who just nodded in response. She tipped the potion into her mouth. It acted fast, making her barely aware of having the cup taken away. Hands rested on her shoulders, guiding her back to lay down. A gentle touch on her forehead made her lean into the pillow, eyes gazing upwards at the white wash of the ceiling.

Then at last, she closed her eyes and followed Harry into a deep sleep.