At Her Bedside

Please Don't Be Dead

The world had suddenly stopped. He could feel his heart thumping against the wall of his chest, the blood rushing through his veins, and the ringing in his ears as if his very soul was letting him know that it had lost something beyond precious. Only one thought made its way through his mind: Please don't let her be dead.

He could have been struck down by anything but nothing seemed to move him from his spot as he watched his best friend lay motionless on the floor, her eyes closed. Despite everything in his mind telling him to do something, he could only watch her, begging for something, anything to keep her alive.

"Dat's a pulse, I'b sure of it, Harry," he heard his other friend, Neville, say to him.

Instantly, the world began its revolution again. Everything moved at the speed it was supposed to and his alertness came back in full force as his the stranglehold on his heart had been loosened only slightly. He rushed to her side, lifting her head onto his lap as he knelt, and thanked Merlin for blessing him. In that moment, the boy made one vow. She would never get hurt again.
———
The night ended much worse than he could have expected. While Hermione was currently safe and sound in the hospital wing, he would be without his godfather for the rest of his life. His godfather who came to rescue him because he was foolish enough to run headstrong into the ministry without even listening to his best friend. This was happening because of him. She nearly died because of him. His godfather DID die because of him. Still, he couldn't bring himself to leave her bedside in the hospital wing. Even if the guilt was consuming from the inside out like a parasite.

"Mister Potter, it is getting late," Madam Pomfrey told him, "it is time for you to go to your dormitory."

"I'll stay here tonight," the boy in question monotonously replied while his eyes continued to sweep over Hermione's peaceful body.

"Mister Potter, it is not permitted..." Madam Pomfrey began before Harry delivered a cold unrelenting gaze to her, stopping her dead in her tracks. She was going to have to levitate him out of this wing if she wanted him to leave.

"I'll sleep in the chair," he ordered, rather than told the nurse.

He watched as she merely nodded in acquiescence before leaving his sight and leaving him to his own wonderments. This was the closest he came to losing his best friend and something inside of him snapped. As his she lay peacefully in the bed, his own mind waged war with itself, arguing whether or not she'd ever be safe by his side again. Voldemort was getting bolder, his death eaters the same and, somehow, he was in the middle of all of it. There was no denying the fact that she was his most trusted friend and the one person who constantly stuck by his side, but it was getting to be too much now. The days had grown darker and he nearly lost her because of it. He needed to let go of her even if it meant losing a part of himself.

Harry knew sleep would not come and settled himself into his chair, content to keep vigil over her. Soon, his thoughts found a way to escape his head and ventured past his lips into the real world.

"I'm sorry," he confessed, "I'm sorry, Hermione." He took a deep breath that shook his very being before continuing, "Merlin knows I wouldn't be able to do half of this without you. I can't remember a time when I didn't have you next to me, when we didn't work together and solved another problem. I was dumb, I thought," he was now stroking her cheek with the back of his hand, "I thought I could still have you with me even as Voldemort grew stronger. I thought I could keep you safe even as the days grew darker and the world seemed determined to destroy me."

His tears had a mind of their own as they hurriedly raced down his cheeks, splattering onto his jumper because he couldn't care enough to wipe them. "I was wrong, Hermione. I was wrong about Voldemort, I was wrong about Sirius, and," he shuddered with the force of his sobs, "I was wrong about you."

The boy didn't know how, but he found the strength to kneel by her bedside and take her palm into his hands, as if praying to her like she was a divine being of the highest order. In some ways, she was. He didn't deserve her, he knew. Despite her reservations, despite her doubts, she chose to follow him headfirst into danger. "I hope you'll understand when you wake. I hope you aren't angry, I hope you aren't hurt when I tell you what's about to happen. What NEEDS to happen. This is my fight, Hermione. It always has been," he kissed her knuckles reverently, not caring for the implications of it, "I can't have you near me anymore. Someday you'll understand."

He expected a weight to be lifted off his shoulders at his confession but nothing of the sort occurred. Instead, he found his heart sinking as if weighed down by an anchor. He didn't know what to make of this feeling and chose to disregard it, needing to convince himself that he was making the right call. Slowly, he rose to his feet and reassumed his position on his chair to keep a vigil over her.

When sleep finally came, it brought nothing but nightmares to him. Instead of the usual visions of Voldemort, he was treated to the same memory of her being struck down over and over again with him being powerless to do anything. Then, as if his mind knew how to torture him, it would show him her crumbing to the ground even as he rushed to save her with everything in his power.

Finally, Harry woke with a start as the dreams became too much for his already distressed brain to handle. Sweat covered his brow and his head felt as if it were being beaten in by a bludger but his eyes refocused on Hermione. The mere sight of her caused the pain to instantly evaporate before he laid his head down on her bed. Tonight was going to be a rough night, he admitted mentally. Nevertheless, he was determined to be the first thing she saw when she woke up.