Remind Me

"There," Poppy Pomfrey said, as she finished rebandaging Hermione's arm, "That's better. If it starts hurting like that again, though, come and see me straight away, is that clear?"

Hermione sighed, but nodded. "If you insist, Poppy. Really, though, it wasn't that bad. It could have waited until morning, rather than us disturbing you in the middle of the night." She shot a pointed glare at her husband which clearly warned: You're not off the hook yet, Ronald Weasley.

Ron met her gaze, undaunted. "Hermione, you were in agony. It could not have waited until morning. You wouldn't have slept a wink." Really, he thought, Hermione was just far too stubborn for her own good. She'd injured that arm in a battle almost a month ago, and it still wasn't fully healed; it had been some new, unknown curse which Poppy couldn't do much to counter. The wound seemed to flare up occasionally, like tonight, even though Hermione was slowly starting to recover.

No doubt Hermione would spend the next day or two snapping at him for dragging her up to the hospital wing in the middle of the night, but he'd take an angry Hermione over a suffering Hermione any day. He could cope with Hermione shouting at him - after all, he'd had years of practice. But seeing her pale and withdrawn, biting her lip to keep from crying out - no, that was something he couldn't deal with, not when there was anything he could do about it.

"You should listen to your husband, Hermione," Madam Pomfrey said sternly. "An injury like this should be treated immediately if it flares up. Ron, just you bring her to me if it happens again."

Hermione raised her good arm in defeat. "Fine! Thank you, Ron, for forcing me up here in the middle of the night. Happy now? And thank you, Poppy. Sorry for waking you." She got to her feet as she spoke, taking Ron's hand in her good one. "We'll head back to bed now, and let you return to yours."

Before they could move towards the door, however, Remus Lupin Portkeyed into the hospital wing directly in front of them, forcing them both to jump backwards. But Ron's irritated exclamation was cut off when he saw the unconscious figure in Lupin's arms.

"Harry!" Hermione gasped, and Ron felt her grip on his hand tighten convulsively. "Oh no, what happened? Poppy!"

The nurse was already there, shooing the two of them back as Remus lowered Harry onto the nearest bed.

"Dementors," Remus said tersely. "Dozens of them, Poppy, and he was unconscious when we reached him, it seems pretty bad..."

"Back!" the nurse commanded, reaching out to feel Harry's forehead and then pulling out her wand.

"Remus, what happened?" Ron demanded, without taking his eyes off his friend's pale face.

"Harry sent a message to say that his mission in Romania had been successful," Remus explained distractedly, also still focused on Harry. "He went to ground at a safe-house in Austria - hoped he could throw the Death Eaters off his trail by staying there for a day or so before coming back here. Somehow, Voldemort must have found out where he was. Luckily, Harry managed to get out one distress signal before the Dementors closed in. We don't know how long he held them off before they overwhelmed him; a while, I imagine, but no one can sustain a Patronus for ever."

"They didn't - you know - " Hermione broke off, her hand digging into Ron's more tightly than ever.

"No, Hermione," Remus hastened to reassure her. "We got there in time - they were just about to perform the Kiss as we arrived. But having so many Dementors around him, feeding off him, for that length of time..." He trailed off, watching the nurse work. "Poppy?"

"If I could be given peace to work, Remus Lupin, I am trying to wake him up so that I can treat him properly," Poppy replied, annoyance lacing her tones.

Ron released Hermione's hand so that he could put his arm around her; she pressed closer to him, all of her earlier irritation forgotten. Together they watched as the nurse murmured a final incantation, and Harry took a sudden, sharp breath, his eyes blinking open.

"Harry?" Ron asked urgently. "Harry, are you okay?"

Harry didn't reply; he was still very pale and his eyes, though open, were unfocused. Nonetheless, Madam Pomfrey was already trying to feed him a small piece of chocolate. "Come on, Harry, eat this, it'll help. That's it..."

Clearly dazed, Harry nonetheless swallowed the chocolate obediently. Ron held his breath, but instead of suddenly improving, Harry began to shiver violently, curling up on himself as if seeking warmth.

"I thought chocolate was supposed to help him, not make him worse!" Ron exclaimed, horrified.

"It is helping," Madam Pomfrey said sternly, bustling from bed to bed, fetching more blankets and piling them around Harry. "His temperature had dropped so low that he had stopped shivering, which is very dangerous. The chocolate has improved his condition enough for him to shiver again - it's the body's way of generating heat, Ronald Weasley, so believe me, this is progress. Remus, would you please fetch a Warming Potion from my store-cupboard?"

Remus obeyed at once, while the nurse started setting up Warming Charms around the bed.

"So he's recovering? He's going to be okay?" Ron persisted.

Madam Pomfrey sighed, and took the bottle Remus handed her. "It's too early to say. Over-exposure to Dementors can have very unpleasant effects. The physical aspects I can treat; his body temperature should slowly rise and stabilise. But there's very little I can do about the psychological impact."

"What exactly are you referring to, Poppy?" Hermione asked, her voice aiming for calm but wavering slightly.

"The two of you have both encountered Dementors, surely?" Poppy responded. "They don't just make you feel physically cold - it penetrates inside, too, into your heart and mind. They feed on your happy memories and emotions until you're left with nothing but your worst experiences. That's why so many prisoners went mad in Azkaban. And even after briefer exposures - people don't just bounce back from this kind of thing, you know. How well and how quickly he recovers depends on how long he was exposed to the Dementors."

"Isn't there any way to counter it?" Hermione asked. "Surely there's something we can do to help..."

The nurse recapped the bottle and felt Harry's forehead again. He was still shivering violently, and to Ron's eyes he almost looked worse, not better. "Well, there's certainly nothing I can do for him, Hermione. I can only heal physical ailments, not minds and hearts. The two of you... perhaps. The presence of his loved ones, those who make him feel safe and happy, who can remind him of his better memories... that might help his recovery, yes. I'll make an exception and allow you to stay, if you like. But Remus," Madam Pomfrey continued, taking his arm and steering him towards the door, "You've clearly had a very exhausting night, and there's nothing you can do here just now. Off, now, to bed with you. You can come back in the morning."

Ron started towards the bed where Harry was curled up beneath the mound of blankets, but paused as he realised Hermione had not moved. "Hermione?"

Hermione's eyes snapped back into focus. "Stay here with him, Ron, I have to fetch - I'll be right back, okay?"

"What?!" Ron demanded in confusion. "Hermione!"

But Hermione was already off and running out the door.

Ron stared after her for a long moment, then stepped up to the bed and awkwardly took his friend's cold hand. Harry still seemed too out of it to notice or react.

"Harry, can you hear me? It's me, Ron. Everything's going to be okay, Harry..."

~*~

Hermione took the stairs two at a time, thankful that it was the middle of the night and she was unlikely to run into anyone coming from the opposite direction.

She hated doing this, hated to have to go to him of all people, but she knew it was necessary. She owed it to Harry. She could still hear his voice in her head, see the shy smile as he'd confessed: He makes me happier than I thought was possible, Hermione...

Hermione gritted her teeth. Oh, he might be a valued member of the Order now, but that didn't change the fact that Draco Malfoy was still a right royal git. That was one thing which would never change.

Still. For some unfathomable reason, poor Harry had fallen in love with the bastard. And if she was honest with herself, as shocking and unnatural as the idea was, Malfoy almost seemed capable of genuine human emotion where Harry was concerned. Somehow, he made Harry happy, and that was the only thing that really mattered to Hermione. Especially right now.

She rounded the corner into the dungeons, hoping she could remember where Malfoy's rooms were located. He'd definitely insisted on sleeping down here, of that much she was certain. Hogwarts might be the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix rather than a school these days, but not all of the Order's members had put their house affiliations behind them. His room had to be down here somewhere.

~*~

Draco turned over restlessly for what felt like the thousandth time that night, and finally flung off his covers in disgust, clambering out of bed and lighting a candle. He turned to glare balefully at the empty bed.

"Stupid bloody pillows," he muttered sullenly. "Shoddy quality, it's no wonder I can't sleep."

He paced across the room, adamantly trying not to think about the warm Gryffindor who usually served as a much more comfortable pillow, then gave up and sank down onto his armchair.

Good grief, Draco, it's a sorry state of affairs when you can't even sleep without him, he told himself. How utterly pathetic. And it's only for another couple of nights! If all goes well, he might even be back tomorrow night. And if he ever finds out you couldn't sleep while he was gone, he'll either mock you mercilessly, or worse, think it's cute, Merlin help you -

Draco's thoughts were interrupted by a loud knock on the door, and he stared at it. Who would come here in the middle of the night? Unless -

"Malfoy! Malfoy, wake up and open this door, it's important!"

Granger?

Draco crossed to the door and opened it, scowling at Granger, but felt his scowl fading as he took in how flushed she was from running and the concern in her eyes.

"Granger, what in Merlin's name is -"

She cut him off. "It's Harry."

Draco felt the world stutter to a halt around him and took a sharp breath. "What's happened? Where is he? Is he - he can't be -"

"No, he's alive," Granger added hastily, and Draco felt his heart pick up again. "But he was attacked by Dementors, he's in the hospital wing..."

Draco didn't wait to hear more, instead pushing past her and running as quickly as he could towards the stairs leading up out of the dungeons.

Dementors. If there was one thing Harry hated almost as much as Voldemort, it was Dementors. An attack bad enough to leave him in the hospital wing... Draco started to climb the stairs, shuddering at the thought. Harry had once told him, after a particularly nasty battle involving a number of Dementors, exactly what he heard when one came too close, and how it had changed over the years: from his mother's death, to Voldemort's return, and then the death of his godfather.

And Draco hadn't forgotten how tightly Harry had clung to him that night, either. Remind me, Draco. Remind me how it feels to be happy...

Finally, the doors to the hospital wing loomed in front of him, and he pulled them open to see Ron Weasley standing next to what looked like a small mountain of blankets.

Well, this probably wasn't how Harry had wanted his best friend to find out about their relationship, but Weasley's reaction was the least of Draco's concerns right now. He headed straight for the bed.

Harry was curled up, shivering desperately, beneath a huge pile of blankets. As Draco reached the bedside, he could feel the Warming Charms that the nurse must have put in place. But he knew from experience that Warming Charms alone would be of little help in overcoming the Dementors' chill.

Weasley's horrified reaction was growing in volume, but Draco ignored him completely. He reached out to touch Harry's face, gently tracing the curve of his jaw and then brushing his fingers against the blue-tinged lips. Remind me, Draco...

Harry's eyes fluttered open at the caress, and Draco bit his own lip as he saw how dazed Harry appeared, struggling to focus. Then Harry seemed to relax slightly, soundlessly mouthing Draco's name against his fingers.

Draco was only distantly aware that Granger had arrived and was physically dragging Weasley away from the bed, that the curtains around the bed were being drawn shut to leave him alone with Harry, that Weasley's hysterical exclamations had just cut off as the door to the hospital wing closed. His attention was on Harry.

He lifted the pile of covers as best he could and slipped beneath them, wincing slightly at how cold Harry felt as Draco wound himself around him. Draco rested his forehead against Harry's, relishing the spark of recognition in Harry's green eyes, and then brought their lips together.

Remind me how it feels to be happy...

When Draco finally broke away again, Harry's arms were tangled around his neck, and Draco took a deep breath of relief as Harry smiled up at him. He was still shivering in Draco's arms, but already seemed much less dazed than before.

Draco smiled back, and leaned down to whisper in Harry's ear. "I hope you realise that I haven't had a single wink of sleep while you've been away. I don't plan to let my favourite pillow out of my sight again, is that clear?"

"Mmmmm," Harry murmured, burying his face against Draco's neck. "Sounds like a good plan to me - hold on." He pulled back to meet Draco's eyes. "You couldn't sleep without me?" He began to laugh softly. "Draco, that's so sweet!"

Draco scowled down at him horribly. "A Malfoy is never sweet, Potter, as I'll thank you to remember. Or do you need me to remind you?"

At those words, something shifted in Harry's eyes, the laughter fading to leave a sudden vulnerability. He shivered again, his arms tightening around Draco's neck, and his voice was barely audible as he whispered, "Remind me, Draco..."

Remind me...

And so Draco did.