Hermione lay in a hospital bed. Physically, she was mostly fine somehow, even after the height of the battle she'd been in the center of.

Some stranger was rambling nonsense at her. Something about a poke and remembering who she is, and that she'd be okay.

Not that it mattered. At the moment, there was little she cared about. So long as he didn't some bother her again, all would be well.

Unsure why she was still even in the hospital, being 'fine' after all, she turned her head and paid the scantest bit of attention to the young witch in the weird white jacket. She was smiling.

"This might sting a bit, but it won't for long." The witch said in a bright voice.

"Whatever. Do what you must and get me the hell out of here, please."

A knowing grin was her only reply. It was a bit frustrating.

The witch poked a small needle through the back of Hermione's hand and she winced a bit. Before she could bother to say something about it, her eyelids were suddenly rather heavy, and she drifted off into a deep sleep.

The next thing Hermione was aware of, she was standing in a grand library. Everything was pristine and perfectly organized. It made her happy. A place for everything among the countless shelves, and everything in its place.

As it should be.

Wandering through the stacks she'd suddenly found herself adrift in, she eventually made her way to the end of a line and found a large aisle.

There were rows and rows of volumes stretching as far as she'd care to look. Everything was meticulously aligned on the shelves, and the leather-bound volumes were all uniform.

She wandered for a few minutes, content to take in the smell of leather and parchment, clean carpet, ink, wood polish from the shelves, and a few tables she passed in her musings. She felt at home here. Given the opportunity, she might spend a long time here, reading whatever she might find interest in.

Coming to the end of a block of shelves, she saw something that didn't feel quite right.

Something out of place.

As she looked more closely, she realized that many of the titles were not organized appropriately.

She attempted to remove one from its shelf, intending to put it in its rightful place, but discovered that the tome would not budge, as if someone had glued it firmly to the shelf.

This was indeed a curious library.

She then noticed the sound of something familiar and followed the noise to the end of another row of shelves.

It was a roaring fireplace, of which she'd encountered a few so far, but on the rich walnut table before it, the others of which had been vacant and polished nearly to a mirrored finish, there three or four volumes strewn about.

Definitely out of place.

She approached the table, and sat down in a comfortable chair next to it, then pulled a book onto her lap.

—X—X—X—

As it opened, she barely had time to be startled before a flash of golden light drew her into it. It was as if she'd fallen through some sort of extra dimension contained only within the pages of the book.

She found herself on the Hogwarts Express. Sitting in a compartment across from a young red-headed boy.

There was a knock on the door, and a younger version of herself slid into the doorway. "Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one."

The redhead sitting across from her explained to the younger Hermione that they hadn't seen the toad.

As the younger version of herself walked away from her, she realized she was sitting where Harry had been that day nearly 8 years ago. Her heart raced in a way she wasn't familiar with, and she felt a sense of wonder that wasn't entirely her own.

It was an odd feeling for her to find her younger self nearly bewildering. It hadn't struck her quite like that initially, but there she was… A muggle-born witch, only 11 years old, facing one of the most daunting and exciting changes in her short life… Leaving her family and everything she knows to enter a world of magic and wonder. And what does she do? Instead of asking real young witches and wizards a plethora of questions about the magical world, she spends her train ride helping a complete stranger try to find a lost pet.

It was disorienting to have facts and observations about herself enter her mind for the first time, yet it felt distantly familiar.

She is a kind, caring person. She cares about people by default, strangers or otherwise…

Suddenly, she found herself rising rapidly up through the roof of the train compartment, and once again sitting in that strange, pristine library.

The book she'd just been inside, closed of its own accord and a white flash of energy seemed to seal it shut. A moment later, it levitated and drifted away from her, heading off toward the stacks to her right.

As she traced its progress, she noticed now that there were other books on the shelves around her moving on their own, sorting and shuffling themselves.

Again, a book on her table captured her attention and as she opened it, the same flash of light greeted her.

Only this time she was a little older…

It was the second or third day of class of her second year, and she was making her way from the Great Hall to the Gryffindor common room after breakfast. She was walking next to her younger self once more.

Climbing up the frustrating changing staircases, she felt a moment of exasperation flash through Harry's mind as he reached out to stop her former self hopping off a staircase headed toward a dead end. He let out a small sigh and immediately made the snap decision to follow, not wanting them to be separated. She noted for a moment, a feeling she didn't remember from that day. Odd as it was, he was terribly uncomfortable to be separated from her.

A moment later, she observed what had caught the attention of her doppelgänger.

A trio of exceedingly young looking and distraught Hufflepuffs were pouring over a schedule. "Hey! Are you lot lost?" She heard herself ask in a caring tone.

A boy with sandy blonde hair and a smile revealing somewhat cooked teeth nodded nervously at her. "Th-the staircases! This is all so confusing!"

The spokesman of the group seemed at wit's end, and his companions were a mixture of confused and scared.

"Not quite used to all this magic stuff yet, yeah? I was just like you last year." Smiling warmly, she replied in a tone that was only slightly bossy, told the group to follow her to the stairs. She spent a few minutes discovering that the three young students were all muggle-born, and had met just a few days ago on the train. She explained her parents were both muggles, and shared a few tricks that she'd learned in Hogwarts, A History that made the stairs easier to understand and navigate.

After a few minutes, she'd gotten all three of them to open up a bit, and they seemed excited to try out the tips she'd given them.

She is an empathetic person, able to see and understand the plights of others. She is happy to aid those in need.

After a brief float through the ceiling of the castle corridor, Hermione sat in that same library. Her latest 'read' sealed itself, and started migrating off to the shelves somewhere.

Looking around this time, though, she noticed entire shelves rearranging themselves, nearly the same way as the stairs at Hogwarts. Some entire cabinets were slowly floating, trading spaces with each other, while others were stationary while individual shelves swapped themselves from top to bottom.

She noticed for the first time that she was feelingdifferent. The somewhat dazed sensation she'd had when she first appeared in the library was gone. Faint memories of the moments leading up to her arrival surfaced. In hindsight, she'd been rather rude to… who even was that woman? She'd seemed unfazed by her curtness, but Hermione still retroactively felt guilty for how she'd acted.

Unsure precisely what was going on with this process, but certain that it seemed to affect her tangibly, Hermione continued to the next large tome on the table.

She immediately recognized the corridor outside the Room of Requirement. Again, she was walking next to herself, and Ron was a few paces behind. The trio entered the room and readied themselves for a meeting as others trickled in over the next 15 minutes.

When the group finished streaming in and the other Hermione called the meeting to order, she felt an unfamiliar sense of pride and admiration for the way she had conducted herself. To be fair, from this angle, she'd done an excellent job. Her introductory speech was free from any awkward pauses or telltale "um's, ah's and er's", and she smoothly and concisely covered the salient details from their meeting two weeks ago. In general, she projected confidence… Not only did the girl in front of her know what she was doing, but she knew she knew what she was doing.

After the introduction, she felt a foreign, relaxed and confident feeling as she addressed the gathered members of the DA. It was odd… apparently being in the mind of someone else as they were giving a speech she didn't remember. It was intriguing to witness and partake in the event from his perspective.

A few idle minutes in Harry's head, chatting with Ron and wandering the room, passed before she saw herself helping a few third years with incantations. Not just teaching, but teaching students a class or two ahead of her. She noticed the way she held herself. Confident, but also accessible. Powerful, but also intuitive.

As she watched her former self make a circuit of the room, she noted a few things. Even the older students seemed to respect her for one. She'd never noted that before. Second, she didn't apply the same teaching style to each student or scenario. Her approach varied from student to student and from circumstance to circumstance. She seemed to know and truly understand that not everyone learned the same way. That was likely something she learned from spending as much time with Harry and Ron as she did…

She realized, with a bit of a rush, that she was actually a rather fantastic teacher. Not only could she quickly identify the issues her peers were having, but she'd learned over the years how to communicate advice in a friendly and approachable manner. Gone was the little girl of 11 years, eager to prove her knowledge in and of a foreign world.

She was no longer timid or trying to prove herself, as she had been when she first entered the magical world. When she first arrived at Hogwarts, she had figured that if she showcased her extensive knowledge, she would be more readily accepted as a muggle-born. It worried her that being a newcomer might lead her classmates to think she was less than they were, and she was determined to prove otherwise.

The version of herself in front of her, though, was no longer trying to prove anything.

Through Harry's eyes, she saw a surprisingly confident and competent witch. A girl who knew what she was doing and it showed. It was no longer an act, and it was that fact alone which gained her the admiration, attention, and respect of her peers. She didn't need to prove anything any longer. All she needed to be was herself. It was clear she already was everything that she needed to be for the ones who mattered to respect her.

She is a confident, competent, and talented person. She needn't act like it.

A flash and a moment later, she was back in her library, which she now realized was some sort of analog of her mind. Something had happened that shuffled her faculties around. Whatever this process was, it seemed to be aimed at mending her. The latest tome sealed itself and flew off to the shelves. The air was nearly thick with books moving from one area to the other, but the shelves themselves seemed to have settled in their ultimate places.

She had another flash of memory. Harry lie dead and broken in the courtyard and her heart wanted to grind to a halt in her chest. Then after a sudden flash of white light he was there, staring down Voldemort. She remembered experiencing pure elation at his miraculous return, but couldn't yet remember much after that moment, other than... Dueling Bellatrix side by side with Neville while Harry fought Voldemort.

The tomes on the table beckoned to her. She needed more pieces of what she didn't have.

A feeling of comfort and normalcy washed over her, and she was feeling much more herself. She remembered, this is some sort of magical treatment she's undergoing and she's actually laying in a hospital bed.

She'd never studied much on healing beyond spells and charms that could be used to triage and treat injuries one might acquire in a duel. This was something else entirely, and she found it utterly fascinating.

She was remembering much more now.

Her own magic… She knew it had been affected somehow but didn't know how or how significantly.

Voldemort had killed Hagrid. Murdered him, right in the courtyard in front of everyone at the castle.

She remembered feeling utterly shattered as he'd walked to the castle with a lifeless Harry in his arms.

Closing her eyes, she shook her head to rid herself of that particular memory, but couldn't.

Next, she recalled the shock of white light and Harry's miraculous return to her. Happy tears streamed down her face and she suppressed a sob, but only barely. She'd thought she'd lost him, but he'd somehow returned to her again.

Tonks was dead. She remembered vaguely that Harry had told her, and that for some reason he'd been taken away immediately after he shared that with her.

Looking at her table, there was only one book left for her. If she wanted all the answers, she'd have to finish. And as always, she did indeed want all the answers.

With a satisfied smile at her progress so far, she opened the last of the tomes to a familiar golden flash of light.

Suddenly, snow crunched beneath her feet, and she immediately shivered as her nearly threadbare pullover was hardly sufficient to quell the piercing cold of the evening. The sun was half hidden beyond the horizon, and the small village they were walking through seemed nearly vacant, as most in the village were retreating into their homes to share a warm meal with family and enjoy the spirit of a holiday.

A pleasant warmth to her right captured her attention, and she realized from Harry's perspective that she was walking arm-in-arm with herself. They made their way down a quaint and almost entirely deserted street toward the sparsely populated town square.

Immediately, as she took in her surroundings, she realized where she'd appeared. It was Christmas Eve, and Harry and Hermione had just apparated to Godric's Hollow. Neither had been there before, but they knew his family's former home was nearby somewhere, so they set to looking for it.

At the time, she'd thought it was nice to walk like this, like there wasn't a war raging in secret around them. Like they were just a normal, dare she think, 'couple' out and about on a holiday evening, taking in the picturesque little village.

When Hermione at her side squeezed Harry's arm and stopped walking, she could feel as his heart fluttered for a moment. Immediately after, an overwhelming wave of fear and anxiety startled her, accompanied by an incredible urge to push the Hermione from Harry's memory into an empty storefront entryway and shield her physically from whatever she had sensed.

Whatever healing process she was undergoing was working. Profound lightheadedness broke her focus on Harry's barely contained 'fight' response, and as it did, a more profound sense of self began taking hold within her. It was easier for her to realize and sense the feelings that were just latent in the memory as compared to the ones that were her own. For a moment, it shocked her that Harry had been so jumpy and eager to defend her. She hadn't noticed it at all the first time.

After Harry's moment of well-concealed near-panic, he had noticed where Hermione was looking. About 20 yards ahead of them and across the street, there was a small child walking slowly. The little one appeared to be far younger than what would typically be allowed anywhere on their own, especially at night.

Hermione watched through Harry's eyes as the memory played out from a perspective she'd not seen before. She saw herself dart across the street, and chuckled to herself as Harry reflexively clicked his tongue in exasperation. She started walking closer and after about half a minute, she could hear herself talking to the child.

"Hi there!" She said in a friendly voice. "Are you lost, little one?" Her voice carried well in the cold air, but Harry moved to close the distance she'd created between them.

The maybe-4-year-old was wearing little denim jeans, a puffy, bright-pink winter coat, and a purple stocking cap with a white pom-pom on the top. Her eyes widened at Hermione's query.

"It's okay dear, I'll help you find your mummy, okay?" Hermione maintained her friendly, soft and higher-pitched voice. "My name is… Annie. What's yours?"

"Ummm." The little girl replied in a tentative, small voice. "Izzy."

"Well hi there, Izzy. Do you know where your mummy might be?"

"Mmmm… pad-dah." The little girl replied.

Back in Harry's head, Hermione remembered with a shudder some details of this night she'd forgotten. The girl was trying to say 'Potter', they just didn't know it yet.

"Her- Annie?" Harry got her attention, smiling at his near miss of her fresh alias. "I don't think it'll be too difficult to find them tonight. There aren't many people out and the ones who are will probably be looking for their lost daughter, or at least perhaps know her. It's not a large village."

Hermione nodded, then in a quick motion, took Izzy under the armpits and hoisted her up into the air, catching her in a hold on her right hip. The little girl giggled and wrapped and grabbed Hermione's neck with one arm. "Alright Izzy, let's go find mummy and daddy." She said with a smile.

Watching from Harry's perspective, she noticed as a strange feeling came over him. She felt his emotions move from anxiety to admiration, then to desperate longing, and finally settle on sorrow and regret. He was a little shaky, but voiced nothing to her, simply coming up on Hermione's left side and taking her arm, as he had earlier.

It was a strange juxtaposition for her, feeling Harry's heart accelerate while watching from his perspective, feeling his odd progression of emotion. Hermione didn't see anything at all worthy of such a response. It was inexplicable.

They continued walking for a block or two before coming to a corner storefront.

It had one of those entry ways directly on the corner of the building, jutting out a bit into the walk. Glass lined the exterior of the small vestibule, and there were a few fliers and notices secured to the inside of the glass, facing outward.

It was at this point that Harry did something that she hadn't seen months ago the first time she lived through this evening. He discreetly used his left hand, the hand hidden from Hermione's original perspective as she stood on his right, and wiped a few small, silent tears from his eyes.

Holding Izzy, Hermione had been distracted and didn't notice.

In Harry's head, Hermione took stock once more of her surroundings, and was nearly blindsided at a realization.

She looked once more at the storefront, not paying any mind to the fliers this time.

Staring back at her, reflected in the clean glass of the storefront, she saw a young family together. Harry and Hermione walking arm-in-arm looking very much a couple, and Izzy on her hip made three. They looked good like that. Natural like that. In their element.

Having only her thoughts in Harry's head, her heart swelled at the realization. That reflection was something he wanted dearly to be a reality one day. But then, why the sorrow? That possibility wasn't out of his reach, was it? Certainly they were quite young for children, but they wouldn't always be. They were together, getting on well as ever, and…

If she'd have had control of her eyes from within this memory state, they'd have been tear filled. One more realization set in and it entirely broke her heart. Even months ago, before Nagini attacked them, before Xenophilius Lovegood betrayed them, before Malfoy Manor, before Gringotts, Harry had already resigned to the idea that he wouldn't live to see the end of the war.

She was wrenched from her tragic thought process by Harry patting her shoulder.

"I think I hear someone looking for her." Harry whispered in her ear, gesturing around the corner they were standing on.

Looking down the street, she could see a small group of people gathered at the side of the street, holding a vigil of some kind. There was a white marble monument set back from the road. It was a bit distant to see clearly, but she knew exactly what it was. The Potter Monument.

"I'll stay back and you can bring Izzy over. I don't want to risk being seen or recognized." Harry whispered. Hermione nodded and continued down the sidewalk with Izzy still perched on her hip.

As she left his side, Harry squatted down and put his elbows on his knees, exhaling sharply.

"Bloody hell." He whispered to himself, stress clear in his tone. "Hold yourself together, Potter." He rubbed his eyes and forehead, then ran his fingers through his hair, freshening up a bit. "…At least until it's over." He added, and the sound dripped with sarcasm. "…If you ever see the other side."

Hermione faltered as the man himself confirmed her educated guess about Harry's mindset from earlier. How had she not noticed he was that depressed? That lost? She'd always thought she could read him pretty well. It turned out he was good, too good, at hiding things, important things, from her. That would need to be addressed at some point.

She watched through Harry's eyes as he noticed Hermione found Izzy's parents. They appeared clearly thrilled with her, which put Harry at ease. And Hermione was shocked to learn that while she had been talking to Izzy's parents, Harry secretly went down a side street and put on his father's invisibility cloak.

Harry nearly sprinted down the street, doubling back a block or two to a building she'd not taken specific note of earlier. It was a small town hall building, and it showed no signs of life or activity. Not surprising at this hour on Christmas Eve.

He made his way around to the side of the building and reached his destination. Hermione hadn't even noticed it initially, but she had been entertaining Izzy when they'd passed before. A large oak tree, magically modified with about half a dozen large cavities perfectly suited to house owls, stood there.

He clicked his tongue a few times, and immediately one flew out of the tree and perched on a small box affixed to the main building. Harry dropped the hood of his cloak and reached a hand into his jacket, producing a small pouch and an envelope.

Hermione could see it clearly but couldn't quite believe it. It was addressed to Gringott's bank, specifically the legal and estate planning divisions. He'd clearly been thinking of doing this for some time. Long enough to have a letter drafted in secret. She had a theory of the sort of message he might have put in the envelope, too. She really didn't want to think about that though.

He put a few coins in the box on the building and the owl gave a soft hoot, extending its leg. Harry secured the envelope and told the Owl where to go, and watched it take off into the still night. "I'm sorry but that's the best I can do, Hermione." He said tearfully, before replacing his hood over his head and making a beeline back toward where he'd left Hermione. He'd been gone less than five minutes.

It had almost been long enough for him to be missed.

Hermione of the memory was walking slowly back toward where she'd left him, and he intentionally made a soft noise to alert her to his invisible presence. He nudged her to the street corner where they could be away from any curious eyes and removed his cloak.

"A successful mission, it seems." Harry stated.

"Yes Harry, they'd only just noticed she had wandered off." Hermione confirmed. "Not surprisingly, they were thrilled to see her again."

"I'm sure." His tone was… off. He was upset about something.

Her eyes narrowed at him. "What is it Harry?"

"I'm not upset Hermione. Really. You are an incredible, compassionate, empathetic, and kind person. Truly, I wouldn't have it any other way."

"You're buttering me up, Potter." She said with a playful grin. "Let's have it then."

"That was a risk, Hermione." His tone was more pleading than angry. "It is a holiday. This is a place that's important to me. We'd agreed to minimize our profile here."

He clearly didn't think they should have left Izzy alone in the snowy night, but he was nervous and wanted confirmation there wouldn't be any more deviations.

"Harry," Hermione smiled and put a hand on each of his shoulders, centering her gaze and fixing her eyes on his. "It's important we remember what we're fighting for."

He beamed at her for a moment, then looked down. "That's… An excellent point, Hermione. Thank you."

No matter the stakes or circumstance, she stays true to her calling. Yet, even when her trials are looming high over her head, she doesn't lose sight of the small things that are worth fighting for. After all, it is the small things that matter most, and make all of life's epic battles worth fighting.

With that, she found herself once more floating upward in a familiar though still off-putting way.

Upon regaining consciousness in the library, she was shocked to see that only a few more books were sorting themselves out. Her table was empty as well.

She watched the last of the books float to their homes and shielded her eyes as a blinding flash of while light took over her vision.

—X—X—X—

The next thing she was aware of was a sensation of fatigue and calm relaxation. It was pleasant, and she was comfortable. It felt like she was just waking up from an incredibly strange dream. She was groggy, and laying in a comfortable bed with her head inclined, almost to the point she was sitting up.

Someone was holding her left hand. She squeezed it gently, and heard its owner hold a deep breath.

Smiling sleepily, she could already tell who it was. She opened her eyes, squinting slightly at the sterile white light in the room.

"Harry." She exhaled. "You came back to me."

The grip on her hand tightened significantly.

"And I'm never leaving you again." Harry replied as their eyes met.

Beaming at him, she replied "I think we have a few things to discuss, yeah?"

"I think you're right… Not much of a surprise there, though." He smiled back, and noticed a delicately concerned look on her face.

"Harry, I don't know if-" she started carefully, cautiously. A wan smile didn't reach her eyes.

"Hermione." He cut her off and squeezed her hand again. "I meant it, back at the castle. I meant every last word." The concern left her eyes as he'd accurately guessed it's cause. Worry that he'd been in such a state as to not be fully in control of himself. Worry he'd run himself thin enough in his grief to let slip words he didn't mean.

"I… I was obviously dealing with some things…" he chuckled softly in an attempt to lighten the heaviness in the air between them. "I don't deny that, but you must believe me when I say the only regret I have is not saying anything sooner." He carefully rolled onto his uninjured side to face her.

Tears filled her eyes as her beautiful smile returned. "I believe you, Harry. And I did too… I meant all of it. It was just so… There was so much, all at once. I thought I'd never…"

Harry released her hand and reached up, tucking an errant strand of hair behind her ear, then wiping her tears away with a gentle touch.

"So did I, Hermione. But I'm right here now, and I'm not going anywhere." He turned his head into his pillow a bit to blot some water from his eye.

"You'd best not, Harry. Not ever."

"Good then. We are in agreement." Harry said with a smile.

"I think we are."

"So does that mean then, that you're my girlfriend?"

"Hmm. I do like the sound of that… And that would make you my boyfriend then, too."

"And I like the sound of that… Quite a lot, Hermione."

They shared a laugh as some of the tension that had been present in both of them since their separation dissipated.

"Plus, I did quite enjoy kissing you." Harry said after a moment. He had a look in his eye she'd seen a few times before, but she hadn't known what to make of it. Now, it was obvious.

"Is that so?" she smirked. "Then might I suggest you do it again?"

"You always have the best ideas." He moved to put himself closer to her, and immediately winced as the hole in his side radiated another wave of sharp, burning pain.

Her smirk vanished in a heartbeat. "What's wrong Harry?" She asked with urgency.

It was only then that she took full stock of him. In her grogginess and relief, she hadn't bothered to take in the room she was in. She realized her vague assumption that Harry was simply in a bed to relax waiting for her recovery was dashed to pieces as she saw him wearing patient's robes.

"Harry! You're hurt! What happened?" She sat up properly on the bed as Harry clutched his aching side.

Exhaling sharply as he relaxed back onto his bed, he took a few breaths. "Well…" he shifted uncomfortably, "You weren't the only one of us Tom and that trusty elder wand hit with a curse."

Her hand shot to her mouth and Harry tried to reassure her. "My healer seems confident they'll get me sorted soon. I'm okay, really. It just hurts when I move… well, at all really."

He was worrying her, and he really didn't want to be.

"Hermione, really, I'm alright. My healer said I'll be okay, eventually. They're still working on a solution. I've got a bit of a hole in my side that's not wanting to heal."

"A hole, you say?" Her eyes widened in concern.

"Hermione, I love that you're so concerned for me after I almost got your mind erased, but yes. I'm told they're coordinating with healers in about 4 countries to get me sorted. My healer, Morris, is doing a great job…"

Hermione hesitated for a moment. "Four countries, Harry? That doesn't sound like they've got it all under control… And I'm glad you like your healer, but still, I'm not risking anything with you." She gave him a look that didn't broker any argument as she touched the rune that would call a healer to them.

"Well, the doctor wanted to see you, anyway. Thought it might be easier on you to wake up without an audience you're not familiar with."

Hermione gave him a curious look at the word 'doctor' but said nothing about it.

A moment later, a soft knock on the door signaled Milly's arrival.

"Hey you two! It is a pleasure to meet you properly, Hermione. I am Doctor Milly Tipton, but you can call me Milly.

Hermione smiled, tilting her head as she considered the woman in the door. "I remember meeting you... Before."

"Excellent! Sometimes it can take a little while for memory directly around the infusion to restore to normal. You're ahead of the curve, young lady. You can expect memory to keep coming back to you over the next day or so."

"She's always been ahead of the curve." Harry interjected with a smile.

Hermione gave his shoulder a gentle swat, and he couldn't help but smile. The old Hermione was indeed back.

"I remember… I was rude to you Milly, and you were just trying to help me. I'm sorry about that."

"Hermione, please don't worry about it. You were not yourself, and it does sort of come with the territory in my line of work." Milly smiled genuinely. "I'm just glad to see that things worked out perfectly. You had this young man in a bit of a tizzy."

"Speaking of this one," Hermione patted Harry on the hand. "can we get him any sort of pain reliever? He seems a bit uncomfortable."

"I am certain he's current on all his dosages, unfortunately." Milly replied, looking him over. "but I bet Morris will be in soon. Are you alright, Harry?"

"I'm just fine, really. She's only fussing." Harry smiled.

Hermione shot him a side-eye that might have put him in the hospital on its own had he not already been there.

"Which, I suppose, is not at all unreasonable, given the circumstances." Harry added, silently admitting it wasn't quite the time for levity.

In reply, she rolled her eyes a bit but smiled at him, moving her hand to interlace their fingers.

Meanwhile, Milly was smiling widely, observing their banter.

"Oh Harry, I wanted to return this to you." Milly held out the vial that had contained Harry's thoughts and memory of Hermione. "This was the parts I couldn't use in the infusion."

"Why couldn't you use them?" Harry asked, curious, as he noticed Hermione recognizing the vial.

"Well, it was remarkable how much was perfect for what I needed, but as you said earlier, there were some aspects of this that were decidedly the tale of one Harry Potter falling head over heels in love with Hermione here."

Harry's color deepened at that and he felt a gentle squeeze on his hand.

"I couldn't use those parts of the memory to repair the damage done, lest I run the risk of accidentally programming her to be drawn to you."

"Programming?" Harry tilted his head, and Hermione looked curious.

"Indeed. Were I to use memory like that - one laced with blatantly romantic overtones - to do what I just did, it would likely have an effect that would make the best made amorentia on the planet seem like tonic water by comparison. Ethical obligations on my end aside, I'm certain neither of you wants that sort of business between the two of you."

Harry blanched. "Certainly not. No. Not at all."

"It's an odd line to explain." Milly continued easily. "I used the memories that were more observational, wherein you witnessed or made note of personality traits and characteristics... There was one that perhaps cut it a bit close, but I compensated for it by making it the last in the sequence. She saw and would have absorbed it when she was mostly herself and not as malleable."

"Which one was that?" Harry asked, suspecting he might know the answer. He was certain that if he was right, he'd have some questions to answer.

Milly looked at Hermione, and she concentrated for a few moments. "The last one was Christmas Eve." She shot Harry a heavy look. "It's strange. I know I just witnessed them, but they're a bit foggy in my head."

"That's perfectly normal after an infusion of this sort." Milly had moved to Hermione's right side and was working to remove the IV from her hand.

"What did you do on Christmas Eve, Harry? What was that letter?" Hermione was unsure she wanted the answer, but she had to know.

"Only what I felt the need to at the time, Hermione. I will tell you everything, perhaps when it's just the two of us?"

"Well, I think I should give you two some time to catch up then, eh?" Milly smiled and turned to look at Hermione straight on. "Though I suggest you look at that vial once you're settled a bit. This young man beside you, if I may say, loves you dearly and for all the sweetest reasons."

She then turned to Harry before continuing, "And Harry, with me leaving those out, you can rest assured that anything she feels for you now are genuine and has nothing to do with her treatment today."

—X—X—X—

Milly left the room and encountered Tolliver just outside the door, shattering their immediate hopes for a bit of privacy.

"I was wondering where you've gotten off to, Harry. Do you want me to move you some place a bit more private?"

He very much did at the moment, but figured Hermione might just try to finish what Tom had started if he tried to hide this from her.

"No... It's alright. She can see it." Harry exhaled slowly and looked at Hermione. "Try not to freak out too badly when you see it. I trust Morris here is going to have me sorted just fine."

Morris stepped over to Harry's left side, opposite Hermione.

"The usual suspect first, Harry." he said, handing Harry a familiar pain relief potion. Harry took it in one swift gulp like it was a shot of firewhiskey.

"I think this will be the final iteration, Harry." he handed Harry a second vial and turning to Hermione, he said "If you wouldn't mind releasing his hand for a few moments. Anyone contacting him while I'm running a diagnostic may interfere with its results."

"Of course!" Hermione replied immediately, giving his hand one more quick squeeze before dis-entwining her fingers from his.

"Here comes the cold, then Harry." Morris cast the diagnostics and the familiar bubble appeared over his head. A chill set into his bones once more, and after a moment, the familiar pins and needles of the magical diagnostic spread over his body, except for the area around the wound. The area felt slightly bigger still than it had last time.

Morris uncovered Harry's abdomen, and when he removed the bandage, he winced. Not because of the cool room air contacting his open wound, but because of the pained sound that escaped from Hermione as she saw the damage he'd sustained.

"Go ahead and drink it, Harry."

Harry drank the potion once more. It still had that flower and honey flavor he remembered from last time, but there was a noticeable hint of an herbal, licorice-like taste to this new batch.

Relaxing himself back onto his bed, he made a feeble attempt to avoid the concerned and nearly angry eyes of Hermione. It was possible he may have undersold his injury before, but only because he didn't want to worry her so soon after her mind was mended.

He felt the tingly feeling from the diagnostic fade to almost nothing, and looked down to see the dark and angry looking bruising around the hole in him lighten significantly, almost back to his normal skin tone. The hole even receded ever so slightly, looking as though it was trying to pull itself closed.

"Perfect." Morris said with a smile. "That's exactly what I'd been hoping for."

"Are we done then?" Harry asked optimistically.

"Heavens no, but I know exactly how we're going to get this thing dealt with, Harry." Morris smiled widely at the solved puzzle. "I'll leave you two for a bit and gather the rest of what I need, then I'll share everything with you once I return."

"Thank you, Morris." Harry said with a smile.

As soon as the healer left the room, Hermione made herself unavoidable.

"That, Harry... Was NOT 'A BIT' of a hole!" Her earlier trace of anger had faded, and she looked to be on the verge of tears.

She finally couldn't contain herself, and buried her face into his chest, taking care to avoid the wound she'd just seen as her desire to be closer to him finally overwhelmed her. She needed to be as close as she could be, for as long as time and the fates would allow.

The few hours she'd been apart from him had felt like decades. Then, when she saw his lifeless form in Hagrid's arms, the seconds ticked by like centuries. That morning she'd lived lifetimes in his absence and she wasn't about to do that again.

He wrapped her in a tight hug as she practically glued herself to his body, and he kissed the top of her head, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply. The subtle scent of her, the warmth she radiated, and the feel of her messy curls on his skin soothed him.

"I know, Hermione, and I'm sorry. I didn't want to worry you right away, but then he came and I figured you'd rather know all of it."

"Harry, I don't think you understand. You didn't take runes with me." She said, wiping her eyes.

"You mean you could read the diagnostic?"

"Not all of it, no. But I recognized when your magic was almost fully grounded out... Right around the time the wound healed up a little."

"What are you saying, Hermione?"

"I don't know for certain, but it looked to me like the curse is using your own magic to try to consume your body."

—X—X—X—

You always thought that I left myself open

But you didn't know I was already broken

I told myself that it wouldn't be so bad

But pulling away it took everything I had

You tried to lie and say I was everything

I remember when I said "I'm nothing without you"

I'm nothing without you

Track: Lost In You

Album: Life Starts Now

Artist: Three Days Grace