The Last Time

Chapter 22

It was a warm spring day, and Hermione was lying on an old quilt under the shade of a tree by the lake. Harry and Ron were supposed to meet her there; they were going to catch up on some studying for the N.E.W.T.s and then spend the rest of the afternoon goofing off. She took off her shoes and socks, and the cool grass tickled her bare feet, hanging off the edge of the quilt. Her books were stacked neatly beside her, but she didn't open them; she lay back on the quilt and looked up at the leaves of the tree above her, blowing gently in the breeze.

She must have dozed off at some point, because the next thing she knew, the sun was much lower in the sky. Harry and Ron were nowhere to be found. A quick glance at her gold watch told her that they should have been there two hours ago.

Where were they?

She looked around. There was no one to be seen anywhere. The lake was ominously still; not even a sign of the giant squid marred the gleaming surface of the water. The breeze had stopped, and it was strangely quiet. No birds singing, no voices coming from the castle.

Just a thick, heavy silence, so weighty it was oppressive.

Hermione's heart began to pound. Without stopping to put on her shoes, she jumped up and ran towards the castle. The gravel of the path cut painfully into her feet but she ignored it, determined to find Ron and Harry. She dashed up the wide stone steps and yanked the handle of the massive wooden doors.

They wouldn't open.

Perhaps the doors had been charmed? A simple Alohomora should do the trick. She reached for her wand.

It wasn't there.

Hermione had never been without her wand at school before...where was it? Knowing she didn't have it made her frightened.

She beat on the door, screaming, "Let me in!" but no one answered.

As she pounded on the door, the sunlight caught the watch at her wrist, and suddenly the watch began to burn into her flesh. She fumbled with the clasp; the metal grew hotter and hotter, searing her skin, and she cried out in pain as the sickening smell of burning flesh assaulted her nose. Finally she loosened the clasp and dropped the watch, clutching her burned wrist with her other hand.

The white face flipped open to reveal the enchanted green dial underneath. She could see the tiny script where the numbers would normally be: Quidditch, Hogwarts, Home, Work, Travelling, Hospital, Mortal Peril. The HG hand pointed to Hogwarts, but the HP and RW hands did not.

They pointed to Mortal Peril.

She screamed.

Hermione scrambled to sit up, struggling to catch her breath.

She was in bed in the hospital wing. Her gown was stuck to her skin with a thin layer of clammy sweat, and her hands shook as she pulled it away from her body.

It was dark; the only light came from two flickering torches at the far end of the room, by the door. The clock on the wall showed three am. All of the other beds were empty, but she wasn't the only person in the room. Harry was sprawled in a chair near her bed; sound asleep, still dressed in his grass- and dirt-stained Quidditch gear. He had a long graze down the side of his face, and one wrist was wrapped in white bandages.

What had happened? Why was she in the hospital wing?

How did Harry get hurt?

Where was Ron?

Ron.

Oh God.

Everything came flooding back to her: the sight of the Bludger slamming into Ron...him falling backward and hitting the goal post...Harry and Ron crashing to the ground...Ron's limp body sprawled on the pitch...the blood, the broken bones....

Oh God.

She let out a harsh, broken cry and flopped back down on the bed, burying her face in the pillow. Ron had been hurt badly, but he wasn't here in the hospital wing; that could only mean...no...it's not possible...please no....

"Hermione?" Harry's voice was tentative.

She was afraid to look at him, fearful of what his face might tell her about Ron.

He took her hand. "Hermione, I know what you're thinking - but don't. Ron...he's alive...he's at St. Mungo's."

Her first reaction was thank God he's alive, but her next thought was if he's at St. Mungo's, he must be in very bad shape.

Harry sat on the edge of the bed, still holding her hand. "You remember what happened at the match, right?"

She nodded.

"Well, when you got down to the field, you tried to use your healing magic on him. I tried to get him to breathe - probably didn't do it right, I just saw someone doing it on television once, but I didn't know what else to do." Harry was very pale, and his voice shook slightly. "It was like you were in a trance; your hands started to glow with this white light, and then - then you started to disappear."

"What?"

"Not disappear, really, but I could almost see through you or something. Like you were fading in and out. Professor McGonagall started screaming - she didn't know what you were doing. I think you gave her a heart attack. Bill and George tried to pull you off of Ron, but Professor Dumbledore had got there then and he made them stop. That's when you passed out. I reckon you were trying to do too much. Whatever this thing is you can do, you don't know enough about it yet, and you pushed yourself too hard."

That's an understatement. "What happened to Ron?"

"St. Mungo's has an ambulance. Works kind of like the Knight Bus. It got there right after you collapsed. They took Ron to St. Mungo's. Mr. Weasley and Bill went with him. Madam Pomfrey got us - you and me, plus Mrs. Weasley, who fainted in the stands, and Ginny, who was absolutely hysterical - down here to the hospital wing. Percy, George, and Fred helped her."

"Harry, I don't care how we got here, or who went where - what happened to Ron?"

Harry started to say something, but was interrupted by Madam Pomfrey, who bustled in with a bottle of purple potion in her hand.

"Miss Granger! What are you doing awake? And Mr. Potter - I told you to go back to Gryffindor and get out of those filthy clothes!"

"I didn't want to leave until Hermione woke up," said Harry.

"Well, she's awake now," said Madam Pomfrey, "and she shouldn't be. Now you get yourself cleaned up and get some sleep unless you want to be my next patient. You can come back in the morning. Shoo!"

Harry gave Hermione's hand a final squeeze and kissed her on the forehead. "I'll see you in the morning, okay?" As he walked away, Hermione noticed he was limping slightly.

Madam Pomfrey poured some of the potion into a goblet. "It's Dreamless Sleep Potion. Drink it all, and get some rest."

Hermione held the goblet but didn't drink it. "What happened to Ron?"

"You can find out in the morning. Now drink your potion." Madam Pomfrey avoided meeting her eye, which was very unusual for her.

"I want to know what happened to my friend!"

"Miss Granger," she said, not unkindly, "please don't get hysterical. We don't know anything about Mr. Weasley yet. He was in very bad shape when they took him to St. Mungo's. He's alive, that's the important thing. If you'll get some rest tonight, and Professor Dumbledore approves, you may be able to go and visit Mr. Weasley tomorrow." She looked meaningfully at the goblet of potion. "Drink."

Hermione reluctantly drank the slightly bitter potion, and before she could put the goblet down, everything faded to black.

*****

The next morning, Madam Pomfrey let Hermione out of the hospital wing with strict instructions to take it easy for the next few days. She went back to Gryffindor, took a shower and changed clothes, and went down to the Great Hall, where various students were gathered for breakfast, talking in subdued voices.

Harry was sitting with the rest of the Gryffindor team, pushing food around on his plate and not eating it.

"I talked to Dumbledore earlier this morning," he said to Hermione as she sat down beside him. "He said to come to his office when we're ready to go see Ron."

Hermione forced down a few bites of food, but had no real appetite. She kept thinking about the dream she'd had; the image of Ron's and Harry's watch hands on Mortal Peril would not go away, and neither would the image of Ron's limp body sprawled on the Quidditch pitch.

Eventually Harry and Hermione gave up all pretence of eating and left the Great Hall for Dumbledore's office. Harry took her hand and held it tightly as they walked; and Hermione was eerily reminded of the night she and Ron had followed Madam Pomfrey to the infirmary, with Harry on a stretcher, the night they thought they had lost Harry.

Harry on a stretcher...

Ron on the Quidditch pitch...

Hands on Mortal Peril...

Professor Dumbledore looked very serious when they entered his office. "How are you this morning?"

"Tired and worried," said Hermione, and Harry nodded in agreement.

"I'm very proud of you both for your attempts to help Mr. Weasley yesterday," he said. "But Miss Granger, your actions could have had very serious consequences for you. I'm afraid it's my fault - I was the one who invited Master Raymond here to teach you; I should have been more diligent in assuring that you learned how to use this ability safely. It takes something of yourself, you see, when you use it; if you overextend yourself, or use it too often, you could end up worse off than the person you're trying to help."

Hermione swallowed hard. "So that's why I passed out?" she asked in a small voice.

"I believe so," said Dumbledore. "I find that sometimes Gryffindors tend to rush ahead bravely, which is admirable, but without thinking of the consequences, which is regrettable and sometimes foolish. You must promise not to use your ability again until we find a way to help you learn about it."

"I promise," she said, nodding.

"You will receive fifty points for assisting a fellow student. However, I must caution you to be more careful in the future so as not to endanger yourself." He patted her shoulder gently. "And Mr. Potter - it was noble of you to go after Mr. Weasley instead of the Snitch. You will also receive fifty points."

"Thank you, sir," said Harry.

"Very well, then," said Dumbledore, taking a small object from his desk. It was black, the size of a deck of cards, with a silver button in the centre. "Here is your Portkey to St. Mungo's. It is a bit different than a normal Portkey; you must press the button to activate it. It will take you to the front lobby of St. Mungo's, and you may use it when you are ready to return, as well. It will bring you to the castle entrance."

Hermione took the Portkey, and she and Harry each held onto it with one hand, their other hands still tightly clasped together.

"Ready?" Harry asked.

She nodded and pushed the silver button with her thumb.

There was a strong jerking sensation behind her navel, and Hermione was reminded why she hated to travel by Portkey.

*****

The lobby of St. Mungo's was quiet and calming; done in shades of cream, taupe, and dark blue, with large, squashy chairs along the walls and a pleasantly splashing fountain in the middle of the room. It reminded Hermione of a Muggle hospital in a way, but less intimidating. It looked nothing like it had looked when they visited Mr. Weasley there two years ago. A massive circular desk sat just on the other side of the fountain, and a short witch in a white robe sat behind it, writing efficiently with a silver quill.

She looked up as Harry and Hermione approached. "May I help you?"

"We're here to see Ron Weasley," said Harry.

The witch consulted a long sheet of parchment. "Yes...Mr. Weasley is in room 687," she said, handing them a map of the hospital. It was enchanted, similar to the Marauder's Map; but it didn't list the names of everyone in the hospital. Instead, there was a large green dot on room 687 and a red arrow labelled "You are Here" marking the spot where Harry and Hermione stood. The red arrow moved through the halls just as they did, making it difficult to get lost.

Hermione and Harry walked the halls in silence. Hermione's mind was too full of questions to say anything.

Surely, Ron is going to be all right...if anything bad had happened overnight, someone would have told us, wouldn't they? I hope I didn't do anything to make his injuries worse....

Harry seemed to know what she was thinking. "He's going to be okay, Hermione," he said, but his voice lacked conviction.

Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, Bill, and Percy were sitting in the corridor outside Ron's room. Mrs. Weasley jumped up when she saw Harry and Hermione.

"Oh, thank goodness you're all right," she said, smothering them both in a tight hug. "I was so worried...." She let them go and wiped her eyes with a handkerchief. "I don't know what you did, Hermione, but - the mediwizards said that if you hadn't...well...Ron might be...." She began to cry in earnest, and Bill steered her back to her chair.

"Dad and the twins are in with him right now," said Ginny. "We can't all go in at once."

"How is he?" asked Harry.

There was a dreadful silence, during which Bill, Ginny, and Percy looked at each other and Mrs. Weasley cried even harder.

"He hasn't come to yet," said Percy finally. "But when he hit the goalpost, he...."

Hermione's heart sank. She'd been afraid of this. "He hurt his back, didn't he?"

Percy nodded. "They said - they said he might not be able to walk again. Or fly."

No! That can't be! Ron will be devastated if he can't....

Harry made a strange noise and squeezed Hermione's hand very hard.

"But they don't know that for sure," said Ginny quickly. "They're just guessing. They won't know till he wakes up."

"You mean if he wakes up," said Percy.

"No, when he wakes up," snapped Ginny. "He's going to be okay. He's got to be."

Percy looked very frightened. Hermione had never seen him look less than absolutely self-assured. "Don't go getting your hopes up, Ginny."

"I know he's going to be okay! He is!" She got up from her seat and stomped down the hall.

Percy made to go after her, but Bill grabbed his sleeve. "Just leave her alone for a while. She'll be okay. You know how close she and Ron are."

"Can we see him?" asked Hermione.

Mrs. Weasley nodded. "Just go on in, dears."

Hermione didn't know what to expect, and was prepared for the worst; but Ron simply looked as if he were sleeping. His bright hair was tousled on the crisp white pillow, and his freckles stood out on his pale face, but there was no indication of the injuries he'd sustained. There was a slight crackle of magic in the air from the observation and monitoring charms that had been set up, but unlike a Muggle hospital, there were no beeping and hissing machines.

Mr. Weasley and the twins were talking quietly, and looked up as Harry and Hermione entered. Mr. Weasley looked very old and tired. He didn't say anything to Harry and Hermione, but patted them both on the back as he left the room, with Fred and George in his wake.

They sat down on either side of Ron's bed, not speaking for a while. Hermione took Ron's hand; it was warm, but oddly limp. Out of the corner of her eye she saw that Harry had taken Ron's other hand, and looked as if he were about to cry.

"I'm sorry, Ron," Hermione whispered. "I'm sorry I couldn't help you more...."

"You did what you could," said Harry gently. "He was lucky you were there."

I wish I could help him...if there's something I can do, I should do it...I have the ability to help him. I have to do something.

"Don't even think about it," said Harry, as if he had read her mind. "Remember what Dumbledore said."

"I don't care what he said, Harry!" she said fiercely, keeping her voice low as not to alarm any of the Weasleys or disturb Ron. "What if Ron never walks again? Do you know what that's going to do to him? And if he can't fly? You know how excited he was about playing pro Quidditch."

"And what about the danger to you? You nearly killed yourself last time!"

"D'you think Ron cared about the danger to himself when he let that giant chess queen bash him over the head so we could go after Snape? What about when he stood up with us on his broken leg in the Shrieking Shack?"

"Hermione - "

She ignored him and kept talking. "You didn't care about the danger to yourself when you went after Ginny in the Chamber of Secrets, or when you dove after Ron at the Quidditch match, now did you? D'you think you and Ron are the only ones who can be brave?"

Harry shook his head. "You know I don't. You're one of the bravest people I know. But this is different - this is not like mending a cracked knuckle or a busted nose or even saving me from my nightmares. This is much bigger than that."

"Don't patronize me, Harry. I'm smart enough to figure things out for myself."

"I know you are." He ran his free hand through his hair in a gesture of frustration, making it stand wildly on end. "Look, Hermione, you need to rest. You promised Dumbledore you wouldn't use your ability again until you learned more about it. You know he's right. Wait till Ron wakes up, and then - "

"What if he wakes up and he's paralyzed? D'you think these doctors are going to be able to do anything for him? If they could, they would have already! And d'you think he's going to let me help him if he thinks there's the slightest chance something will happen to me? Too right he won't. He's too proud. That's why he's mad at us, remember? His pride." Hermione felt quite hysterical by this time, and she clutched Ron's hand tightly.

"Yeah, his pride. But how did his pride get hurt? Because you helped me without thinking of the consequences to yourself. Me and my stupid nightmares - you had a good thing going with Ron, and you took care of me without thinking how it would affect you and him!"

"How was I supposed to know he was coming back so soon?" snapped Hermione, not bothering to keep her voice down anymore. "And how was I to know he'd misunderstand? You're not blaming this on me, are you? Because I don't remember you kicking me out of your room that night!"

"Of course I'm not blaming it on you!" Harry wasn't keeping his voice down either. "I'm just telling you to stop and think about yourself for a change instead of jumping in feet first like a bloody noble Gryffindor!"

"But you do the same thing, Harry! Why is it okay for you and Ron to jump in like that, and not me? Huh? Because I'm a girl? Is that it?"

"No! For God's sake, have we ever - " Harry stopped suddenly, his eyes big and round and fixed on Ron.

"What?"

"Don't you feel that?" Harry's voice was barely more than a whisper.

"Feel what?" She looked down at her fingers, entwined with Ron's - and then she felt it.

Ron was squeezing her hand.