Disorientated, Hermione blinked slowly awake as the last remnants of the sleeping potion released her from her slumber. Soft light filled her vision, not too bright, setting her immediately at ease as she gradually woke up. She was very comfortable, the bed warm and soft, cotton sheets weighing gently on her. Relaxed and calm, she expelled a long breath, shifting from where she'd slept on her side. It took a few moments for her brain to fully wake up, content to just idle while empty of thought. Until the world around her did the waking up for her, her surroundings getting her attention.
It took one glance around to confirm that her surroundings were unfamiliar. Soft cream walls, enchanted window, cabinets stacked against the right side… then another bed on her left next to her. It wasn't Parvati occupying the bed, nor was it one of the four-poster beds from the dormitory. It was a large, squashy hospital bed that had been positioned so the occupant was sitting up rather than laying completely flat. She blinked, startled to see that the occupant wasn't one of the girls who she'd shared the dormitory with for the past five years at all.
It was Harry.
"Harry?" She gasped out at once, her voice roughened by sleep. His head flicked over to look at her, confirming that it was most definitely him. He wasn't alone. Sitting next to him on the edge of his bed was a man with shaggy, shoulder-length hair. Sirius.
Both their faces split into grins at the same time. Hermione found herself smiling back out of pure instinct, still very confused as to why they were in a room together. She then extracted her arms slowly from under the bed sheet, staring down at the sleeves of unfamiliar pyjamas.
Then all at once, everything became clear. Her head snapped back around to look at Harry, her gaze seeking out the instrument that saved his life. Sure enough, suspended above his head, hanging from a shiny metal stand, was the electrum. From where Harry was sitting up, she could see the wires poking under the bandages that covered his torso and injuries from view. Sirius said something but she missed it as he rested a hand on Harry's shoulder, gently pushing him back down to lay back against his pillows.
Hermione pushed her hands down on the bed, squirming herself upright and kicking her legs free from the bedsheets. Harry was unable to go to her, but she could still go to him. Swinging her legs out from under the covers, she extracted herself from the confines of the bed and hopped to her feet.
"Hey, take it easy." She heard Sirius say. She, however, was of the firm opinion that she'd taken it easy enough having slept for however long she had. Attention fixed on Harry, she went instead to sit on the armchair set up between their beds.
"Morning," she breathed out the moment she sat down, perched on the edge of the seat. She gazed at Harry, reaching out instinctively to touch him. Her hand tentatively touched his bare arm, taking care to not jostle him.
"It's actually late afternoon," Harry corrected for her, smiling. The improvement compared to how he'd been after rendered unconscious was overwhelming. His breathing was even and regular, not shallow where he suffered in pain. He was relaxed, at ease, seemingly pain-free. She looked past him, just next to Sirius where there was a second stand beside his bed with a tube that connected to a leather bracer around Harry's left arm. The tube was full of a dull blue liquid, a cocktail of potions still being fed steadily into him from the bottles set in the stand.
"How are you feeling?" She asked, awed to see the effects of the healing. Harry gave a small shrug, his smile fading where his eyes dimmed a little.
"Better but it's only because of the potions I'm taking," he said honestly, looking up to the mysterious alchemical crystal that kept him alive, acting like a magical pacemaker. "I have to stay in this bed until my heart's fixed itself. How about you? No… um… lasting effects?"
Harry's hand lifted up, his eyes taking on a soft, sad look that Hermione definitely didn't like to see, not when she knew what he was thinking. He was inwardly blaming himself for any harm that had come to her. She took his hand, returning it back down to the bed.
"No… I'm fine," she assured him, then looked around the room, frowning at the absence of any healers. "Where is everyone?"
"Kingsley is about - keeping this room secure - and Remus is, well, he could be anywhere really. And Esther will likely be here at any moment now that you're awake to give you an assessment," Sirius answered, giving her a warm smile while pointedly glancing over to the door.
She looked over, then went to search for her wand, finding it on the table beside her bed where she left it. Despite the security, it felt prudent to keep her wand with her. There was a light knock at the door. Hermione looked around sharply, hand tightening around her wand. The door swung open, just wide enough for the Head Healer to enter.
Esther McKinnon bowed her head in greeting as her blind eyes stared off past Hermione's shoulder.
"How did you sleep, Miss Granger?" Esther asked in a way of greeting, sweeping inside the room without any hindrance. "Given that you have abandoned your bed with such haste, I will assume that you feel well-rested."
A polite smile graced the Head Healer's face as she joined them. Rather than turn her attention to the critically injured patient in the room, she brought her focus on Hermione. Forcing down her immediate response to protest, Hermione sat still as Esther's wand was soon emitting streams of golden magic that hung around her head.
"I believe she asked you a question," Harry said after a while. Hermione's face heated at once, glancing over to Harry to see his amused look.
"I… um… slept well," Hermione said, a little embarrassed. Esther gave a nod in response.
"Good. Now… I must be the bearer of good and bad news," she said in her calm, professional manner. "I can detect no residual trace of dark magic which informs me that you no longer ail from the side effects of the Cruciatus Curse. Your own magic has driven it out, healing the lingering nerve damage which you would have experienced as spasms, slight tremors and residual pain. You are healed, Miss Granger. So therefore I have to discharge you as a patient."
Hermione listened, feeling colder and colder as she clutched at her wand. She glanced over at Harry who went to shift himself more upright, bringing his hands down.
"But Hermione can still stay?" Harry asked.
"I can make for some allowances where your godfather is concerned, but the rules I used to keep the Minister from seeing you must also apply for everyone else," Esther said gravely. "You are a critical case, Harry. Only close and immediate family are permitted to visit you. Sirius may stay, but Hermione is not close or immediate family. And, as she is underage and a student at Hogwarts, she has to return to the school."
"But- uh!"
Harry's protest was cut off as his breath suddenly choked in his throat. His right hand twitched up to his chest, face grimacing in intense discomfort. Above his head, the electrum changed from red to an alarming bright orange where it pulsed quickly.
"Hey, hey… calm down," Sirius said to Harry quickly, taking his hand and guiding it back down to the bed. "You'll only be apart for a day at the most."
Harry looked away from Sirius, the hand that he just guided back down was reaching out for Hermione. She took his hand at once, her thumb rubbing the pad of his palm. The electrum flushed red again, slowing to a steady beat.
"Once I send my report to Hogwarts, one of the professors will arrive to escort Hermione safely back to the school. You may stay together until then." Esther said, at least sounding sympathetic. She then turned her face over to Hermione. "Once it is safe for Harry to be removed from critical care, he'll be transferred to the Hospital wing where he can recover his health at Hogwarts."
Hermione's stomach was churning. She felt sick at the prospect of parting from Harry, even if it was only for a short while. It felt so very wrong. She couldn't leave him. The thought alone was painful.
"You won't be apart for long," Sirius assured her. She looked up, seeing his concern plain on his face. "Having you admitted as a patient was the only way we could keep you together while things were dicey. Now that they aren't, we have to follow the rules of the host."
"I'm not allowed to stay but you are even though you're a wanted man?" Hermione asked, clenching her jaw angrily. She winced, immediately flushing at how she sounded. She expected Sirius to bristle at her words. Instead, he just appeared resigned. He jerked his head in the direction of the door.
"Actually, I can't leave. I'm currently under arrest and in Kingsley's custody," Sirius said lightly, glancing over in the direction where the Aurors were standing guard outside the room. "A little compromise so that I'd be able to stay with Harry while he's under Ministry protection. The moment he's well enough to go back to Hogwarts…"
Her anger dwindled at once, slumping back against the chair. Harry's face was pinched with discomfort as the electrum above his head flickered between red and orange. Sirius noticed, rubbing Harry's shoulder.
"You're handing yourself in?" Hermione asked, staring at Sirius.
"It's the only way to clear my name," he said with a grimace, "and the only way to officially get custody of my godson."
Hermione let out a long breath, trying to quell the churning in her stomach. Compared to Sirius's plight, hers was rather inconsequential. She felt suddenly very ridiculous, confused by the ferocity of her emotions. Her need to stay at Harry's side was so strong. Her feelings towards him were overwhelming. Had they only just manifested? Was she always so protective? She had charged into certain danger for him, but that had been out of loyalty because she knew he wouldn't hesitate to do the same for her.
Was it because he risked his life to save hers?
Was it because she spent those agonising moments, watching him fight for his life? All the while thinking that losing him would crack the world asunder?
"You'll have at least an hour," Esther said softly. Her hand gently pressed on Hermione's shoulder just before she turned to leave. "I'll ensure no one enters so you have complete privacy."
"Thank you, Esther," Sirius said a little hoarsely, "truly."
Hermione peered over her shoulder at the Healer, seeing her nod in response. Her milky eyes swept over to Harry, then she let out a soft sigh.
"I will be alerted if Harry's heart rate escalates dangerously." She informed them before turning away and striding over to the door. Hermione watched her leave, anguished at the thought that she had just an hour. When the door snapped shut behind her, she flinched at the suddenness of it.
"Hey," Harry breathed out, snagging her attention at once. His hand squeezed hers. "I'm going to be… okay. You should go to the others where you'll… be safe. I'll join you soon."
Sirius settled himself back down on Harry's bed where he'd been sitting before Esther appeared. He returned to rubbing Harry's bare arm, comforting him. Harry's eyelids drooped at the contact, expelling a breath as he worked on relaxing again. To Hermione's astonishment, Harry appeared to be falling asleep.
"He's been sedated," Sirius explained to her softly as Harry's head started to loll back, losing his grasp of his lucidity. "I expect if he wasn't under the influence of a strong calming draught, he'd be trying to get out of bed and fight to have you stay here with him."
Hermione sighed sadly as she watched Harry drift off, his chest rising and falling with slow, regular breaths. Harry then squeezed her hand, his eyes flickering open again. His green eyes were unfocused as he peered at her, but then he blinked.
"Sorry… hard to stay awake," he mumbled. He leaned his head towards her. "You'll be able to see Ron and the others… and find out what's going on."
"I'd rather stay right here," Hermione said quietly, watching him intently as he fought to stay focused on her, combating the drugs that were keeping him calm and under control. Harry's fingers flexed against hers.
"I know and… that means a lot," he said, his voice oddly breathy and soft. "You… you do so much for me. So much. I… I'm really rubbish at showing what it means to me but… I do notice… and I do feel it."
His eyes had gone wide as he spoke, staring at her as if he couldn't quite believe that she was in front of him. Hermione glanced worriedly at Sirius, understanding then why the older wizard had told her that Harry was sedated. He was under the influence of a lot of strong potions being fed directly into his bloodstream.
"Harry, you… don't know what you're saying right now. You're on a lot of potions."
Harry let out a soft laugh, pushing his fingers between hers, looking down at their hands as he went to properly hold hers.
"Yeah, I know… I'm really out of it. I have to be drugged up so I don't have another heart attack." He said with an odd cheery air as if his critical condition was something to make light of. "Need to stay as calm as possible so… not fighting the imperius…"
"The imperius?" Hermione repeated, unable to keep the alarm out of her voice.
"Hmmhm… this feels a lot like being under it. Sort of… warm and weightless," Harry said quietly, "comfortable and safe… but this is real. I know, I'm comfortable and safe."
"That's right," Sirius said softly. Hermione glanced up at him, witnessing a tender look on his face as he gazed down at his godson. "He's alright, Hermione. Moments of clarity come and go. He's been like this since he woke up about a couple of hours before you did. It's side effect of the potions he's taking."
"I'm right here," Harry said, scowling at them, "just because I'm all spaced out right now doesn't mean I can't hear you."
Sirius chuckled lightly. "No inhibitions either, it seems. Careful, Harry. You were in danger of starting a conversation that you very much should have while sober and not in a hospital bed."
"I'm probably not going to remember much of this, am I?" Harry said, bringing his left hand up to his face. His attention went to the leather bracer buckled around his forearm which kept the needle in his vein secured from any attempt to tamper with it. Sighing, he lowered his arm back down on the bed. "How long do I have to be kept like this again?"
"For as long as you have the electrum connected to your heart," Sirius reminded him, his eyes briefly meeting Hermione's. She saw a flicker of worry on Sirius's face.
"Oh yeah," Harry said drowsily, his eyelids flickering shut again. "I forgot."
"Wow, he really is out of it," Hermione breathed out, "is this necessary?"
In response, Harry's head slumped against his pillow, eyes shut.
"I'm afraid so," Sirius whispered as Harry started to drift off asleep again. "We should probably let him sleep. He's fighting it so he can talk to you, but he really needs to rest so he can heal. I know it appears that he's doing well, but his heart is very fragile right now."
Harry's breathing changed as he fell back under, exhaling deeply through his mouth. Sirius moved his hand from where he was touching Harry's shoulder and drew back from him. He cautiously eyed where Harry and Hermione still held hands. Harry's fingers had gone slack where he'd fallen asleep.
Silence fell between them as they both then just watched Harry sleeping. Hermione found herself paying close attention to the line of his jaw where it sloped to meet his neck. She noticed his pulse jumping under his skin, the artificial beat being sent into his body from the crystal above him.
If Harry hadn't taken the curse, would I have survived it?
The thought came unbidden to her as she glanced over to Sirius. If she had been cursed by Dolohov, Sirius wouldn't have jumped to action as he did for Harry. But then… they wouldn't have whisked her away from Dumbledore like they did with Harry. While she appreciated that Sirius's timely actions had saved Harry's life, dabbling in the Dark Arts to give Harry magic to keep himself alive, she didn't doubt that Dumbledore had greater knowledge when it came to healing. He was the greatest wizard alive, the only one to give Voldemort pause.
Doubts started to cloud her mind then. Had it been the right decision to take Harry away from Dumbledore's protection? Would he have been spared some suffering if he'd been delivered into experienced hands sooner?
But then, had they not left with Harry before Voldemort appeared, would Dumbledore have been able to save Harry while also protecting him from Voldemort?
Minutes of silence passed. In that time, Harry had fallen into a deeper sleep.
"Hermione?" Sirius broke the silence. She pulled herself from her turbulent thoughts, finding his pensive grey eyes watching her. "You know, I expect, that when someone saves the life of another at great cost to their own, it forms a magical bond of sorts."
She stared at him, bringing a hand up to her breast where her heart had just started to race.
"I owe Harry a life debt?"
Sirius looked away, sighing softly.
"We can't know for certain. Magic itself will be the judge. In truth, we will only know when a time comes where you hold Harry's life in your hands."
"But I would do anything to protect him," she said softly, then she blinked when she realised what she had just said. "I don't need a life debt to give me a reason. Why am I only realising this now?"
"It's always been there and it only took a dire situation to bring it out. That's how it always is. We only truly understand how important something is to us when it's about to be taken away from us… forever."
She looked across at Sirius, seeing the sorrow lining his prematurely aged face. Though he regained much which Azkaban had taken from him, he still carried that haunted, gaunt look that would never go away.
"Why are you telling me this?" She asked quietly, feeling unsettled.
He looked across at her and the hollowness left his eyes, warmth and kindness taking over. His eyes glimmered for a moment before he looked away from her.
"I'm telling you this because if there is anything Harry deserves the most, it's love," he said softly. "Love and family."
A tear slipped free from her eye, making her jump a little in surprise. Still holding Harry's hand, she rubbed a circle with her thumb. As she looked down, she could see the scars on his skin. Anger frazzled through her at once as she read the words that they spelled out, cruelly carved into his hand.
I must not tell lies.
Under her thumb was evidence that Harry had endured more abuses in his life than he had comforts. He experienced more acts of cruelty than he had acts of love. It wasn't right. No, it was a crime. An injustice.
And to think that he could have died… gone so soon and so young before he had the chance to live and love like any person had the right to.
She nearly lost Harry.
Her eyes dewed with more tears. Before she could get control of her emotions, she was crying openly. She hastily went to wipe at her face with her free hand, swiping her sleeve over her face. Across from her, Sirius conjuried a handkerchief, handing it over to her quietly. She took it gratefully, mopping up the tears before Harry woke up to see her bawling at his bedside.
"Why did he do it?" She gasped out once her face was dried. "Why did he throw his life away for me like that?"
"You know why," Sirius said softly, "it's the same reason why you can't bear to leave his side. It's also the reason why Harry fell for the trick Voldemort put in his head… and why, when I heard he was in danger, I went after him."
It was so simple. Love.
Harry pushed her out of danger and shielded her with his own body because he loved her. She couldn't stand to leave him while he was hurt because she loved him.
"Oh, I see…" She said faintly, lowering the handkerchief from her face. Then she gazed down at Harry's hand again, still limp in her hold as she gently rubbed his scarred skin.
Falling silent again, Sirius gathered Harry's other hand in both of his, sighing softly. Hermione glanced over at him, feeling considerably guilty for all the things she had said about Sirius over the past year. While he was prone to recklessness, he would never do something to endanger Harry. Never . He was willing to hand himself over to the authorities, back even to the dementors, for Harry's sake. All so he could give Harry the security of a family that he had been lacking all of his life.
It was all Harry ever wanted. A family.
The moment that she was dreading soon arrived with a gentle tapping at the door. Wheeling around, Hermione instinctively clutched at her wand again. Yet, just as before, the arrival was the Head Healer of Saint Mungo's.
"It's time," she said from the doorway. "You can have some time to say your goodbyes."
Hermione let out a shaky breath, miserably looking back over to where Harry slept so peacefully. She glanced up at the electrum to where it was pulsing in the steady, regular beat that kept Harry living and breathing. Sirius slowly stood up, taking extra care to not disturb Harry from his slumber. Her heart ached as she extracted her hand from Harry's, painstakingly doing her best to not wake him up either. Then she got up from her chair, drawing up to Harry's head. As she leaned over him, her hair swung down. She held her breath, not catching the curtains of curls in time. They brushed over Harry's face.
His eyes fluttered open. Slightly unfocused, they sought out hers at once. He didn't startle in fright at finding her hovering over him upon waking. Instead, a sleepy smile spread over his face. A soft hum thrummed out from him, a content and comfortable sound. Not one she often heard him make.
"'Lo Hermione," he mumbled, his hand idly shifting towards her. "Did I fall asleep in Binns's class again?"
Then his eyes roved around, rolling back, drifting off again. Before he was off sleeping again, Hermione brought her hands up to his face. His eyes returned back to her, pupils dilating as he started to come back to full consciousness. He stared at her, gradually coming to his senses.
"What's happened?" He asked her quietly. "I… my head feels weird."
"Y-you had an accident," Hermione lied softly, not wanting to distress him, "but you're going to be okay. You just need to rest."
Harry accepted her words without any hesitation, just smiling in response. "O-okay. Accident… rest… got it. Hmm… this bed is nice."
"I have to go," she told him, making him focus on her again. His brow creased a little.
"You'll be back though?" He asked, his eyes not leaving hers. "With… um… Ron and someone…" He then laughed. "Whoa… spinny."
Esther had appeared, her lime-green robes swishing as she reached the bed. Hermione glanced over to her, desperately worried that Harry appeared even more disorientated.
"Harry?" She joined Hermione, her hand gently resting on her arm. Harry then looked over to her, his gaze clear with recognition.
"Hello," he said softly, "oh… oh. I'm getting confused again, aren't I?" He let out another breathy laugh. "Sorry, Hermione. What were you saying?"
"I have to go," she said again, her chest aching. Seeing him so confused was difficult, but the alternative meant stressing him out and his health was too delicate to tax. "Visitor hours are up."
Harry's face crumpled a little, his bottom lip poking out. "Oh. See you later then," he said, then smiled warmly. "Thanks for everything. I don't say it enough… and I should, really." Then his smile faded and a serious look squeezed the corners of his eyes. He pushed himself off from the pillows, staring intently at her. "Thank you. F-for coming with me to Umbridge's office. You're… my best friend. The best friend I could hope for."
Hermione realised that she had her hands on his face, her fingers touching his cheeks. Their faces were so close.
"You're welcome," she said, his voice close to breaking. "Goodbye… for now."
She brought her face closer to him, making Harry give a little gasp in surprise. Closing her eyes, she pressed her lips on his cheek, kissing him there just as she once did when she said her last, painful goodbye on the platform at Kings' Cross Station. Drawing back, she saw the flush rise in Harry's face and felt the heat off his skin. He looked at her, confused, but she said nothing else, straightening.
"Get some rest," she said softly, her body shaking with the effort to keep her emotions contained. Harry's eyes drooped almost automatically.
Within seconds, he was asleep.
Surveying the writhing worm at his feet with disgust, he paced around his prostrate form. His moans and whimpers served only to irritate. They gave no pleasure nor any pity. Just pathetic sounds of a weak excuse of a wizard rapidly wearing out his usefulness. His laboured breathing suggested that maybe his body was weakening along with the rest of him, character and magic. Perhaps a slow, degrading death would serve as a reminder to all the others what price failure brought.
Though, he did have to admit that Wormtail hadn't failed him quite as spectacularly as those he trusted to secure his prize. Twelve of his best… his most loyal followers… had failed him.
Fury roared through him again in a black, caustic wave. Red light danced at the tip of his wand. Once more, screams rang out, shrill in his ears. His teeth grated against each other, hatred and anger burning in his veins. He did not keep up the torture for long. Just enough to release, to give some catharsis. The true targets of his ire were beyond his reach.
Except one.
"My lord…" She dared to whisper from where she'd been kneeling behind him, her face flat to the floor where he left her.
"Your cousin interests me, Bellatrix."
He left Wormtail snivelling on the floor, sweeping around to where Bellatrix huddled on the floor, her robes spread around her. She raised her head from the floor, tangled hair wild around her pale face that was all angles and madness.
"Of all Dumbledore's silly little soldiers, he is the most dangerous, my lord. He is a Black, blood traitor or not." He felt a brief flicker of appraisal. Though her voice shook, she showed no sign of weakness… unlike the rat. "My Aunt taught him our ways, even if he hated them."
"Not above using the Dark Arts… that would explain how Potter lives even when I felt him dying…"
"My lord?"
"The boy was seen being brought into St Mungo's," he mused, "on Death's door if eyewitnesses are to be believed… with a large black dog bearing an alarming similarity to a Grim. I must admit, Black's animagus form is… interesting."
He gripped his wand, keeping his anger smouldering under the surface where his magic roiled in a whirling storm of hatred.
"Dolohov's cruxus is a death sentence. We all saw it strike the boy true," Bellatrix panted from the floor, "he should be dead."
"So you must agree then. Your cousin used Dark Magic to ensure his survival. A blood ritual, perhaps?"
Bellatrix lifted her face, the light from the candles above in the chandelier casting the stark angles of her face in sharp relief.
"He would have knowledge of our sacred rites," she said lowly, "a magical exchange could have saved the brat."
"And now he is recovering under Auror guard… outside of Dumbledore's direct influence." He turned sharply back to where Wormtail shivered on the floor. "An interesting change of events. Almost… as if Black does not trust the old man."
"H-he never trusted him," Wormtail gasped, "he never trusted anyone with authority. He's a rebel, my lord. It always made him unpredictable. I-I believe that is why Dumbledore was so quick to believe he was the traitor…"
Dark amusement tangled in with his anger, mouth twisting in some semblance of a smile. His amusement soon dwindled as he reminded himself that Sirius Black no longer served as a useful scapegoat with his innocence likely to be proven now that his own return had been exposed.
"Our losses are unacceptable. This failure… I will not tolerate another. There is much work to be done to recover…
Cold air pushed against his lips.
"... to remind them all why they cower in fear…"
Heat was building, focused at two separate points. Thoughts were splintering, images blurring. Light rippled over the vision of a dark room, bathed in candlelight. Boiling hatred turned suddenly molten in his body and pain detonated.
He couldn't breathe.
His hands were planted flat on a soft, yielding surface. Arms shaking and shuddering with the exertion of arching his back off against the surface under him.
Then he felt it. Red-hot pain pressed against his forehead. It drove through his skin, deep into his brain…
Turning, he pressed a hand on his brow. It was faint, an itch or a ghost of a brand touching his skin. Pain lingered out of reach, vibrating on the other end of that connection that he explored only to deceive the boy with the fake vision. Bellatrix and Wormtail were forgotten as he curiously touched the mental link.
Sensations that weren't his own surged through. Pain, anguish, fear…
He smiled.
"Hello Harry…"
Harry opened his eyes, his mouth gaped open as air rushed down his throat. His eyes were stinging at once. Light burned his streaming eyes, pressure pushing at them as they were practically bulging. Straining for breath, he gripped his hands into fists. Lime green smudges were all around him, hands touching him…
Voices were quaking in his ears. Speaking to him…
"Dying on me again… that isn't polite…"
Air pushed down into his lungs, forcing his head back as his back arched again. Searing heat blistered through his scar. His scream was lost as he hung, suspended in a frazzled state of agony. His chest kicked, pulsing.
"Stay with us, Harry!" A woman shouted at him, her breath huffing in his face where she was right in front of him. He blinked, finding a face hovering over him. Blurred behind a film of tears, he couldn't make out the features, but he focused on the pair of milky eyes.
The blind Healer… the one who was saving his life…
"Keep the oxygen coming in," she snapped, no longer talking to him, "he's not ready to breathe on his own."
Cold laughter layered over the sounds around him. Harry screwed his eyes shut as it built up in his mind. His splintering consciousness was falling apart, unable to differentiate between his reality and…
Voldemort.
Harry heaved in at the air being forced into his lungs, the magic saturating him, making his body work for him. Very suddenly, he was cold. He shivered, skin chilled as he became aware that he was drenched in sweat. He didn't have a chance to figure out what was happening to him. Fingers were angling his head back for him, moving something against his face. Cold air gusted over his lips, sweet air that rushed in and out of him. His arms then gave out and he collapsed back against the bed.
Exhaustion washed over him, the pain in his scar dialling away, frazzles shooting through.
"Stay awake, Harry… open your eyes…"
He couldn't. His energy had left him completely. He couldn't even twitch his fingers. Gentle fingers explored his face, touching his eyelids carefully. They were pulled up, flooding them with light.
"Pupil responses are normal. Vitals are stabilising…"
Something wet butted against his hand. Harry peeked one eye open, peering out through the screen of his eyelashes. Through a gap between the bodies garbed in lime green, he could see something dark… a dog. He heard whines under the urgent voices that buzzed around him. He twitched his fingers outwards, using that scrap of energy to touch him…
Sirius…
"...history of epilepsy? It should have come up on his Hogwarts medical report…"
Snippets of what was being said around him sharpened into clarity but then was lost as he found himself sinking into that muffled, confusing haze of general dizziness and disorientation. He simply was too drained to concentrate.
"We know what we just witnessed. It wasn't an epileptic fit nor a panic attack. It was magical in nature - not psychological or physiological - and also incredibly classified."
Laying still, Harry found himself lulled into a strange suspended state by the rhythmic pulsing of his forced heartbeat. His regulated breathing fell into a pattern alongside. There wasn't anything for him to do other than just lay sedate, just functioning. He didn't know if he was awake or asleep, feeling only the nose that nuzzled into his hand, pushing so his hand covered the dog's head, fingers flexing into the fur.
"He's staying ventilated… increase level of sedation… comfortable as possible…"
Soft pillows were being readjusted around his head and neck, keeping him in position. The clammy layer of sweat sticking all over him disappeared, his skin drying as soft cotton settled over him. Hands gently lifted his arms for him, placing them flat at his sides.
"... fluids and nutrition intravenously…"
As he felt something prick at his right arm, he made the conscious decision to pass out. It was like rolling sideways, sinking into blissful nothingness on the other side.
Only to lurch right back out of it in a blink.
Harry cracked an eye open. Immediately his head swam. Nausea clenched his insides and he flexed his hands to ground himself to the solid yet soft surface under him. His mouth was bone dry, lips sticking together where they were gummy. His eyes, too, felt horribly dry. He sniffed, then flexed his nose as he felt something on his face. It shifted as he wrinkled his nose. He heard movement, going to turn his head. As he did, the world shifted under him again, making him feel very sick.
"There you are," a soft voice greeted him, warm and familiar, "take it slow… you've had a setback, but you're on the mend again now."
Harry twitched his hand, finding the nose and the fur missing. Rough fingers pushed under his twitching fingers instead. He went to turn, to look, but neck had different ideas. He trembled, glancing over, peeking both eyes open. His glasses were missing off his face, but he could see well enough what was immediately in front of him. Sirius.
He tilted his head to as far as he could see over on his right. A pang went through him, reminding himself that Hermione was already gone. Misery seared through him at her absence. He could barely remember her leaving, the potions he was taking making it so bloody hard to stay aware and awake. The only thing that stood out was how she kissed his cheek.
Before he fell asleep again, only to wake with her gone and riddled with guilt that he'd wasted the time they had together sleeping. Again.
"Wh-wha… happened…?" Harry asked, mortified at how hard it was to speak. He was utterly exhausted. He'd never felt so drained before.
"You were sleeping normally and then started to thrash around. You were having another seizure and I… didn't realise that your scar was the cause." Sirius said, sounding as tired as he felt.
"A scar that is not an ordinary curse scar… not in the slightest."
Movement at the foot of Harry's bed dragged his attention away to the other speaker. He squinted, seeing a figure in lime green robes. He heard her low sigh as she moved to his right side. Harry watched as she moved into his range of vision. As he looked at her milky, unseeing eyes, he dropped his gaze, even though he knew she couldn't see him staring. Her lips were pressed in a thin line, her expression serious. Grave, even. It wasn't an expression that boded well. Harry glanced upwards, seeing in his poor vision that at least the electrum was still working. It pulsed in red, rhythmic flashes. Then he followed the lines down to his chest. A bed sheet had been pulled up to his armpits, his arms laid out on top. He grimaced as he saw his right arm now had a matching bracer where there was a tube leading up to another stand. From it, he was being given some clear liquid from a glass flask.
Harry closed his eyes, trying to pull his thoughts back into order from where they were in just hopeless disarray. He could barely figure out where he was before it slipped out of his mind. He felt more aware than he had done when Hermione spoke to him. His head had been so spaced, it was as if he'd taken several bludgers face on.
His bed sloped suddenly as the Head Healer sat down next to him, perching down on the very edge. He opened his eyes, finding her carefully rolling her sleeves back.
Slowly, she brought up her hands, flexing her fingers as she did.
"All healers are attuned to magic. It's not a skill that can be learned but a gift that you either have a talent for… or you do not. Simply put, some are just born with a sensitivity to magic."
Harry watched her, weakly stirring on the bed, blinking slowly as he rode out the waves of nausea. He did his best to focus on her, especially as she leaned over him, her hands hovering over his face. Her eyes narrowed in concentration, staring off blankly. Her fingers then moved over his forehead. He knew, if not for the potions forcing him into a state of calm, he'd experience fear and anxiety.
"For a patient with severe magical exhaustion, you are completely saturated in magic… but it isn't your own," she said as her fingers twitched over his face. She sighed sadly, her shoulders sagging down. "Your whole body is infused with it… in your very skin. It's… beautiful… and so… heartbreaking because I know who is responsible for this protective magic. Lily… your mother."
Esther's fingers then hovered just above his scar.
"Then… there is magic that is the complete opposite. Centralised here. It's contained, at least, and hasn't caused any corruption as dark magic has the tendency to do to anything pure. But it is very much present… very powerful."
She took her hands away, her milky orbs then somehow finding his eyes, looking at him directly.
"And very much alive."