"Hermione, I think she wants me to go upstairs with her." Harry's face was thin and tired, but there was excitement in his eyes. Maybe they had finally found what they needed to destroy the Horcrux.
Hermione eyed Bathilda suspiciously. She didn't like the idea of going deeper into the house with her. But there was no getting around the fact they needed Gryffindor's sword.
"Okay let's go." She agreed.
Bathilda shook her head, gesturing only to Harry.
"I think she wants only me to go with her."
Hermione hesitated before nodding reluctantly. She wrapped her arms around herself unease creeping in on her at the thought of separating from Harry even briefly. She watched as Harry went upstairs with the creepy woman, ignoring the part of herself that was saying it was a mistake. They both faded from her view up the darkened stairs, the soft thuds of their footsteps quieting until Hermione couldn't hear them at all.
Silence descended, and even the flames crackling in the fireplace seemed subdued. Hermione was straining to hear anything when a rapid thumping noise from upstairs made her jump.
"Harry?" Hermione called. Her heart was beating so hard in her chest that it felt like it would burst. She approached the stairway looking up into the darkness, unable to see anything. "Harry!"
Fear burst inside her like a bomb, propelling her into motion, and she ran up the stairs.
She shouldn't have let him go alone! Why had she let him go alone? She burst into the room with the door open and saw Harry. Nagini was wrapped around him, the snake's mouth enclosing his entire neck, and Harry's blank green eyes stared in her direction.
Hermione, grief-stricken, started screaming hysterically, "Harry!"
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2006 Present
Bang. Bang!
The dream blended with reality as Hermione's eyes shot open, taking in the darkened bedroom in confusion. Where was Harry?
Her heart beat so hard in her chest it hurt and she couldn't seem to suck in a breath, her throat tight. There was a forceful bang against the door and her mind supplied the image of Nagini's large body writhing against the door, trying to break it down so she could kill Hermione, too.
The door cracked as the frightening banging continued hammering against the wood. Wood cracked and pieces of the door fell to the floor. Had she left Harry somehow in her panic? The door shuddered, breaking, until it finally splintered into pieces, allowing the monster in. A dark figure rushed in as the remainder of the door slammed into the wall violently.
Hermione rolled off the side of the bed, trying not to pass out as she gasped for air. Her hands moved frantically around her, trying to find her wand as she crouched behind the bed for cover. Where was Nagini? Where was Harry's body? Her eyes burned as she tried to see through the darkness and a rough inhale cut off in a despairing sob when she realized she wasn't going to find her wand in time. She'd failed Harry.
She screamed as she felt hands touch her, fighting desperately. "Let me go! Let me go! Harry!"
The hands grabbed her tightly, crushing her against a hard chest, trapping her. "I'm here, you're okay. Hermione, it's me. It's Harry. I've got you."
Suddenly, the room brightened as candles along the walls burst into flame. Reality came back to her slowly. Hermione tried to jerk back several times from Harry's embrace, but he tightened his arms, not letting her pull away. Finally giving up, her breathing slowed as she leaned against him, his skin hot against her cheek. Harry had always felt warm to her. When everyone else had been cold, he would be wearing a light jacket or no coat at all.
Hermione's hand came up to rest on his chest, over the scar she had given him when she had cut the locket off him. Tears slipped slowly down her face, and she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to control her emotions. Harry's hand came up, trying to get her to raise her face to look at him, but she turned away.
Hermione wanted the Harry she remembered. Without looking at him, seeing the changes in his face, it was easier to pretend he was still the Harry she knew and not some stranger who said he was her husband.
Harry sighed above her head, not trying to make her look at him again. Instead, she felt a slight pressure on top of her head as he pressed a kiss against her.
She cried against him quietly for a long time until she felt empty and numb. Only his arms tight around her kept her from collapsing into a puddle on the floor.
"Turn off the candles, please." She whispered.
Harry made no movement or sound, but suddenly all the candles in the room stuttered out. Hermione licked her lips, swallowing hard. She knew she wouldn't sleep again without someone with her. For some dumb reason, she had thought with everything that the nightmares would leave her alone. Usually, Ron comforted her after the nightmares.
It was a little embarrassing now that she knew it was fake Harry comforting her. In the dark, though, he felt more like hers, she thought, taking a deep breath. The scent of him was the same, the warmth of him. That still felt like her Harry. A shiver went through her and he tightened his arms around her, keeping her together.
Hermione took a deep breath, her face pressed against him. He still smelled like her Harry despite his behavior, sunshine, and the wind, the faint smell of wood from his love of flying. Her Harry. Her best friend. That familiar scent, and the way his arms wrapped around her as they had so many times before, made it easier to admit what she needed from him. "I don't want to be alone."
"Then you won't be." He told her reassuringly.
Harry lifted her and carried her to the bed, yanking the covers from where they had been dragged off to the side by her. He pulled her close, tucking her against his chest and arranging the covers over her before wrapping his arms around her.
It was reminiscent of their time in the tent before she had ruined everything. Lying together in the dark, with Harry's arms wrapped around her, the slow movement of his thumb along her forearm while the rest of his hand remained still. Her mind supplied her with the creaking of the trees from the Forest of Dean, the wind whistling through the branches.
Reality twisted and blurred for Hermione, the memories too recent, the nightmare too fresh. She was in the dark tent again with Harry, huddling with him while they hid from death eaters. As she felt the slow glide of his thumb along her skin, she wondered what he would do if she turned around and kissed him.
Her muscles relaxed as her mind drifted further, stress and exhaustion pulling at her. The memories kept coming, set to the sensation of his warmth behind her. The memory of how it felt when his hands gripped her hips, holding her still as he moved inside her. His hot breath against the curve of her throat as he panted above her.
Hermione fell asleep dreaming of Harry and that one night that had changed everything.
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Present 2006
The next day, Harry found Hermione inspecting the drawing room where their movie collection had been set up. A large television took up most of the far wall and it was surrounded by shelving holding DVDs and other little mementos.
She glanced at him when he entered before turning back to look at the collection set up along the wall. "Wow, you always seemed to dislike the telly! There are so many movies here."
"We changed our minds." Hermione didn't reply to him as she inspected the titles of the DVDs.
"What happened last night?" Harry waited, but Hermione acted as if she hadn't heard him. He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, "Hermione. What happened?"
Hermione paused in front of a collection of Lord of the Rings DVDs and mementos that were prominent on the shelf, with a little figurine of the Balrog roaring in front of it. She poked at the strange little animal with fire around it. It looked almost cute.
"I don't remember." She told Harry without looking at him. "What kind of animal is this?"
Did Hermione think he couldn't tell when she was lying? He was her husband. Harry wanted to go shake some answers out of her and, at the same time, he wanted to go wrap his arms around her and comfort her. The cautions from the bloody healers whirled in his head. "It's called a Balrog. It's a fictional magical creature."
"It almost looks like a humanoid-type dragon."
"Yes." He drew in a slow breath, saying carefully to her, "If you don't want to talk about something, say that, don't lie to me, Hermione."
"Fine, I don't want to talk about it." She snapped back quickly, her lips tightening.
"Okay." Harry paused. "I need to go do a few things for MLE, but I shouldn't be gone all day. I'm going to have Ginny come stay with you."
"I don't want anyone babysitting me."
"She's not babysitting you, she's… keeping you company."
"I don't need your ex-girlfriend keeping me company." The words came out with a bite.
Harry looked at her curiously. Hermione had never acted jealous in the slightest when they had visited the Burrow and interacted with Ginny before her injury. Yet the bitter bite in her words was unmistakably jealousy. Harry wasn't sure how to take that, considering she acted like she could barely stand to look at him.
"Do you want someone else? We can try Luna or Fleur although—"
"I am perfectly capable of looking after myself—I'm—I'm—" her voice stuttered, and she finished quietly. "Twenty-six, I think."
Harry stepped closer, reaching for her to comfort her. "Twenty-seven."
"No." Hermione held out her hand, stopping him from getting closer, her face averted. "So then yes. I can look after myself."
"You're not staying by yourself, Hermione."
Hermione rubbed her head as if she had a headache before turning and looking at him, her brown eyes darker than normal. "I'd like to be alone, please. I can keep a communication mirror on me so you can check on me whenever you want."
Harry didn't like this compromise, but he also wanted Hermione to know he would do whatever he needed to so that she was happy. Fine. He'd work with the mirrors.
"Keep it near you and answer it, okay?"
"Yes." She turned back to the shelf full of movies, sliding out the first Lord of the Rings movie and looking at the back.
"You want company? We can watch it all again together."
"What?" She gave him a quizzical glance before sliding it back in. "No, this movie looks so long. I wouldn't want to waste that much time on something kind of pointless."
Harry watched her walk out before his gaze went back to the display for her favorite movie trilogy. The fear of losing her bit at him again.
Think of her mind like a castle … parts of her castle are gone now.
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Past 2006
Right After Hermione's Injury- Day 1
Harry sat in the waiting room at St Mungos, his knee bouncing up and down, a rapid tattoo he couldn't help. Her name kept repeating over and over again in his head like a prayer.
Hermione. Hermione. Hermione.
What would he do if—No, she was fine. They would fix her and everything was fine.
Hermione.
Everything was going to be fine.
Harry put his head in his hands and thought about people to call. Andromeda. Molly. Arthur. Ron. Luna. Neville.
His and Hermione's circle was so small, their lives had been working and Teddy. The Weasleys still considered them family despite Harry breaking up with Ginny and Hermione breaking up with Ron. Still, it was a bit different, and Harry couldn't make himself reach out to them quite yet. He couldn't. He didn't want to face any of them telling them how Hermione had gotten hurt. Harry could barely hold himself together while he waited for the bloody healer.
He looked up when he heard the steps and saw a somber-faced healer coming into the waiting room and his heart dropped.
Hermione.
"Auror Potter." The healer paused. "Harry."
Harry opened his mouth and nothing came out and he shut it with a snap, fear crawling through him suddenly at what the healer might say. After a long beat of silence, the healer realized Harry wasn't going to say anything and continued. "Your wife had some cuts and bruises that were healed relatively easily–but the object—it was a snitch, actually—did you have the chance to see?"
Harry stared at the healer mutely. Did it fucking matter it was a snitch?
The healer cleared his throat. "Yes, well, the blast — we're not sure how exactly, but we can confirm it has impacted her brain function. It's a bit complicated because we don't know the exact nature of the enchantment on the snitch. The remnants recovered are being examined by our specialists here for countermeasures. However, the magic appears to have been exhausted or damaged in the explosion described in the report we received. So while we do know her brain was impacted, until she wakes up, we won't know the extent of the injury and we won't be able to evaluate further."
"When will she wake up?" Speaking felt like it was pulling a spike up through his throat. It hurt.
At this question, the healer looked a bit uncomfortable. "We're not sure. We've tried various methods to rouse her, but we cannot use magical means or we risk possibly doing more damage to her brain function. After extensive discussion amongst several of us with expertise in magical brain injuries. We recommend waiting and letting her wake naturally as possible."
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Day 2
"I can't believe you didn't call me immediately." Ron's voice was sharp as he stood at the foot of Hermione's hospital bed, staring down at her. She looked like she was just asleep and could wake up at any moment.
Harry didn't even look up at Ron. His gaze focused on Hermione's even breathing as magical diagnostic spells spun in the air above her, providing evaluations of her health.
Ron sighed, obviously letting go of his anger and walking up behind Harry. Ron gave him half a hug while Harry sat like a stone, not acknowledging it. "No matter the shit in your head, mate, I'm here for you both and I always will be. Are you hungry? My mum's coming and you know she's going to lose her shit if you aren't eating."
Harry shrugged off Ron's touch. "Yeah, I ate."
"When?"
"I don't remember."
Ron sighed, staring down at Harry for a minute, wishing things could be different. When they had been younger, he had often thought he was the tie that kept the three of them together. Harry was so closed off and Hermione was so academically focused, it had tickled him to be the one between the two that made them all work.
That had changed with the war and as adults. Now it was Hermione who held their friendship together. Ron didn't know what either he or Harry would do if something were to happen to her. He reached out, squeezing her foot, silently willing her to get better. "I'm going to get you some food. She wouldn't like it if she woke up, and you looked like a skeleton, mate."
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Day 10
Harry scratched at his beard. He hadn't shaved in days. He didn't know exactly how many. They all blended together. He was starting to look like some wild man. Instead of going home, he cast scourgifies and various cleaning charms so he could stay right by Hermione's side.
Hermione was so still as she lay in the hospital bed Harry had to keep his hand on hers, or on the curve of her neck so he could feel her heartbeat. He pulled out his wand and shifted her slightly on the bed before casting an elevation charm. Her upper half rose and her mass of curly tangles hung underneath her. Harry placed his wand to the side and scooted closer, starting to carefully untangle each strand and then braiding it neatly. Hermione liked chignons, but when she slept she liked braids.
When he was finished, Harry lowered her slowly, flipping her braid over her shoulder and tucking the sheet into her sides. Unwillingly, a sob broke out of his mouth as his hand shot back toward her neck, desperately feeling for her heartbeat.
Hermione.
Get it together, he admonished himself.
Harry sucked in a deep breath, pushing the emotions back, using occlumency to bury them so he could function. The feelings of grief receded just as he heard soft footsteps at the door and looked up to see Teddy standing there uncertainly. Teddy's hair flashed into different colors rapidly, showing his distress, and his lips trembled as his eyes darted from Hermione to Harry.
Harry held his arms out, and Teddy ran to him, crying. "When will she wake up?"
"Soon." He lied, rubbing the boy's back, trying not to notice as Teddy's hair wavered to Hermione's dark brown, the strands twisting into curls.
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Day 35
Even the occlumency didn't help when the emotion seemed to consume his entire being. Instead, occlumency took the heat from his rage, turning it icy, vengeful. Harry had the healer pinned against the wall, his wand shoved against his throat. His voice was dangerously quiet as he asked, "What the fuck did you say to me?"
This green-robed hack dared way too much to say those words to him.
"Harry. Harry!" Ron yelled, pulling at him, trying to get him to release the healer, but Harry paid no attention to Ron, his eyes fixed on the healer.
The healer didn't even have the intelligence to look afraid of Harry. He stared at Harry compassionately as he repeated himself. "Your wife may never wake up. You have to prepare yourself for the possibility."
Harry's hand clenched on his wand and the windows behind him blew out in succession, loud bangs echoing as the glass exploded outward.
"Don't fucking ever come near me or my wife again!" Harry told him viciously, throwing the healer to the side. He let him hit the floor like rubbish before walking into Hermione's room and slamming the door shut so hard it cracked.
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Day 62
"I don't want you here anymore." Harry didn't look away from Hermione as he said it to Ron, who was sitting on her other side.
"What? Why?" Ron stood up, bewildered.
Harry swallowed hard, feeling like there was a knot in his throat. "I can't—you just—I need you to go away, Ron."
"This isn't just about you mate–she's my best friend too–I have just as much right–"
"She's my fucking wife! My wife! Mine! You have no rights! I don't want you in the fucking room!"
Ron's nostrils flared, and his face turned redder as his temper raged in response. "I told you when this started and I'm fucking telling you again–you need to get your shit together! You're not helping her spiraling like a fucking cunt!"
Harry stood up abruptly, his chair slamming back into the wall and shoving Ron backward. They both kept very active lives, and neither had let go of their love of playing quidditch. So Ron barely staggered when Harry shoved him and came back at Harry, shoving him hard in response.
That was all it took — like a match to gasoline—they began to whale on each other. Harry slammed his fist as hard as he could into Ron's face as he struggled to block him and punch him back. Even when Ron got in a good hit on his side, Harry welcomed the pain.
Every hit, every slam of a fist against flesh was gratifying to Harry. They slammed into the wall as they pummeled each savagely. The healers came running to the sounds of their loud fight.
"Break it up!" One of the smaller witches roared, doing a great impression of a Hungarian Horntail (Harry would know).
Harry and Ron broke apart panting, neither looking at each other, both bleeding and bruised. Ron stood up, each movement angry, pausing before he walked out. "Fuck you, mate."
Harry's lips tightened, but he didn't respond.
Fuck you, too.
Harry glanced back at the bed, and his heart skipped a beat. Hermione was so still and pale he couldn't make out the rise of her chest. He rushed toward her, almost stumbling when his ribs twinged. He grabbed her wrist, feeling for the pulse of her heartbeat.
I'm falling to pieces.
Come back to me, Hermione.
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Day 96
"Are you trying to make her think she's Rip Van Winkle?"
Harry was startled, looking towards the door. Ginny stood there with a bag on her shoulder.
"What?"
"Your beard almost rivals Dumbledore's. How long has it been since you trimmed it? She's going to think she's been asleep for years if she wakes up to you looking like that."
Harry patted his beard self-consciously. "Did Ron send you?"
Ginny shrugged, not responding, looking at Hermione sleeping. "She looks like some kind of sleeping beauty."
Hermione's hair had grown longer, and he hadn't cut it, partly because it was calming to brush and braid it for her. But her skin had paled from so many days being in nothing but a too white hospital room.
"Have you thought about maybe taking her outside?"
Harry stared at Ginny, his brow creased. No, he hadn't.
"I know they said we couldn't use magical remedies to help wake her, but for me–being outside is so comforting, feeling the wind and the sun on my face."
"I like that idea." His voice was rusty and scratchy. Harry barely spoke, sitting there like a mute worshiper at Hermione's bedside. Convincing himself over and over that she was going to wake up any minute and then everything would be okay. She'd look at him and give him that smile he loved so much. And everything would be okay.
Everything would be okay. He turned back from Ginny, looking at Hermione, his hand stroking her wrist.
"I'll talk to them. I'm not sure how they will allow her to be moved, but I'm sure we can figure something out." Ginny turned to walk out.
"Thanks." He called out softly, still not looking as he heard Ginny walk away.
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Day 103
Harry walked quickly down the corridor back to his wife's room. He hated leaving her, but Teddy had been struggling since her injury too and Harry had needed to go visit him. After Andromeda had told him how Teddy cried for hours, each time he left the hospital, Harry had instead been trying to leave occasionally to give Teddy updates and spend a little time with him. Although it made Harry paranoid about leaving Hermione even for short periods.
As he approached her door, though, there were several healers outside the room. "What's going on?"
"Your wife has woken up."
"And you didn't call me immediately? Get the hell out of my way."
"We need to finish the evaluation—"
"You need to get the FUCK OUT OF MY WAY!" Harry had absolutely no patience for this bullshit. They needed to get the fuck out of his way or he was moving them out of his way.
The healers tried to cast calming and freezing charms at him, and Harry batted them away easily. He cast at them, quickly slamming into the wall and sticking them there with charms on either side of the doorway. Fuckers, he'd leave them stuck there as decorations.
He burst into the room and, for the first time in one hundred and three days, met his wife's gaze.
Hermione.
His heart leaped as the tightness in his chest finally loosened. Everything was going to be okay.
Other healers had joined the fray and were trying to grab at Harry, but he shook them off roughly, rushing to his wife's side and carefully pulling her up against him. Her hands trembled as she grabbed onto him and he had never felt so fucking relieved in his entire fucking life.
One of the healers came up behind him, directing him firmly. "Auror Potter, the evaluation is not yet finished. We need you to leave the room."
Harry glanced over his shoulder and them, angry they would even suggest something so stupid. "I am not leaving my wife."
He could feel the tremors in Hermione's hands increase and felt the pressure as she gently pushed against him. He backed off a bit, looking down at her, concerned.
"Hermione?"
The look she gave him made his blood freeze. Like she was uncomfortable with him so close. Like she didn't want him next to her.
Like she didn't even fucking love him.
He felt the healer's hands dig into his arms, dragging him away, and he let them, his eyes never leaving hers.