Title: In my Arms
Author: Sensibly Insane
Rated: T
Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling, and therefore nothing that you recognise is mine. sigh
Summary: Hermione thinks that all she will have to worry about that night is homework when a sound brings her whole world crashing down.
I was working on my potions essay when it happened.
I was alone at that moment; Harry and Ron were at Hogsmeade, choosing to forget their rapidly growing pile of homework with as much Honeydukes chocolate as they could buy. And with Harry, that's a lot.
I bent my head over the parchment, trying to ignore Fred and George's demonstration of their latest invention. I had no interest in what it was, only that it was making a lot of noise.
I was checking over my notes to make sure that my essay was completely correct when a noise jolted me out of my thought train. An explosion so be precise.
I turned from my work to give the twins a talking to, half annoyed that they had disturbed me, half glad that they had given me a reason to make them stop. I opened my mouth angrily, then shut it again as I realised that the explosion had not, in fact, come from Fred and George.
The entirety of Gryffindor house (those that weren't at Hogsmeade, at least) were staring around in bewilderment, as confused as I was as to the origin of that sound.
I moved to the window in my search for the explosion, thinking that one of Hagrid's monsters may have gone haywire. I was pleasantly surprised when I found the hut intact. However, that pleasant feeling was soon replaced by dread as my eyes wandered to the village of Hogsmeade.
In that moment, my breath caught in my throat and the air around me suddenly went cold as I saw it.
The Dark Mark was hovering over the very place where my two best friends were right now.
Suddenly the properties of wormwood weren't so important anymore.
My thoughts were instantly for Harry. Not that I have any favouritism towards him over Ron, but with that vendetta You-Know-Who had against him; Harry was easily in the most danger.
I had to know if they were alright, I couldn't stand just waiting around. I knew that I could get to Hogsmeade through the secret passage that Harry had once shown me on the Marauders' Map, but I also knew that the chances of getting there undetected were extremely slim.
No, my best chance was to wait for them in the Hospital Wing, and as much as I hated to admit it, I needed the help of the twins.
If I was to get to the Hospital Wing and remain there, I would need to appear sick. Sure, I could probably research a spell with that purpose, but that would take too long. I needed one of Fred and George's Skiving Snack boxes.
Oh the horror.
Obtaining the Snack boxes wasn't too hard, I was really becoming much too practised at the art of blackmail. Those two really are scared of their mother.
Soon enough I had obtained what I needed, a Fever Fudge, or something of the like. I chewed one end of it immediately so that my excuse would be valid in case I ran into a teacher on the way.
The effect was instantaneous. As soon as the Snack box slid down my throat, I felt my body temperature rise and my eyes glaze over.
Nobody stopped me on my way; everyone was too preoccupied with the ongoing attack on the village. And even if I was noticed, who would suspect perfect Hermione of breaking the rules? The idea was incomprehensible.
I opened the Hospital Wing door slowly, unnoticed at first by the mediwitch. Madame Pomphey was speaking to a man I didn't recognise, but I could tell he was a healer by his uniform. I couldn't clearly hear their conversation, but from the way the flames remained green I guessed that Madame had set up a connection with St. Mungo's in light of the attack.
I quietly coughed to let the nurse know of my presence and she spun around with wide eyes. However, when she realised that I wasn't a victim of the attack, she made her way over to the potions cabinet and pulled out what I recognised to be a fever reducing potion.
When the nurse handed me the potion I wondered how she knew, then I remembered that she must treat dozens of fevers every year.
I poured the potion into the nearest pot plant and swallowed the rest of the Snack box, instantly feeling the effects of the antidote. I expected the nurse to usher me out then to free up more space, but I guess she forgot about me.
I scanned the beds, checking for injured students, but none were there. That worried me.
Why wasn't anyone else here? Were they having trouble getting away from the Death Eaters? Were they even coming?
I watched the nurse, and from her body language I could tell that she was thinking along the same lines as I was. She was wringing her hands frequently, and her eyes kept on darting between the door and the glowing green skull visible through the window.
I heard the click of the Hospital Wing door opening and I immediately turned to see who it was.
It was Hannah Abbott, a Hufflepuff in our year. She was sporting a gash across her cheek, but nothing more serious than that. Madame Pomphey gave her a potion to heal the wound, and sent her into the fireplace so that St. Mungo's could check for unseen spell damage.
After that the students steadily started to enter the Hospital Wing. I was even shocked to see some teachers that had been caught in the attack.
The flow of students began to thin but there was still no sign of Harry or Ron. Where were they? I must admit that I began to think the worst.
After what seemed like hours, but couldn't have been more than twenty minutes, they arrived.
The Hospital Wing door had been charmed to stay open to save the students the effort of opening it themselves, so I didn't have any warning, save for a horrified gasp from Madame Pomphey. I turned around to see the new arrivals, and then I recognised them.
Ron was standing wide-eyed in the doorway, covered in blood. This confused me as I couldn't see any visible damage on him, but I didn't have time to dwell on it. For in his arms, was Harry.
For a moment I thought he was dead. Oh Merlin, he looked it. He was covered in cuts and a nasty bruise stood out on his too-pale skin on his temple, which was probably the cause of his current state of unconsciousness. His glasses were cracked and askew. But worst of all was the gash that marred on his hairline. Blood was pouring from it at an alarming rate, and blood settled into the groove of his famous scar, highlighting it.
For a moment, the shocked nurse did nothing. Then her senses kicked in and Madame Pomphey went into nurse-mode.
"Put him there, on the bed." She ordered sternly, and Ron didn't hesitate to obey. I think he was on the verge of shock.
As Madame Pomphey worked on our best friend, Ron hovered near me. I didn't pay much attention to him; I was too busy worrying about Harry. I had already figured out that Harry was much too badly injured to be moved, and that was why he wasn't being sent to St. Mungo's.
I was more terrified in those moments than I had been in my entire life. I watched as Harry's life hung in the balance. His breathing stopped a few times, but Madame Pomphey quickly revived him. Even so, I was sure that he wasn't going to make it.
I don't know how long it had taken her, but the nurse finally stabilised him. It was the best feeling ever when Madame Pomphey told us Harry was going to make it. My eyes filled up with tears as I rushed over to my friend's bedside, while Ron collapsed into a chair with a sigh of relief.
I was sure that Madame Pomphey was going to tell me to give him some room or something, but I guess she understood how I was feeling because she just told me that he probably wasn't going to wake up for a few hours. Imagine my surprise when he opened his eyes right then and there!
"Ron?"
"No, it's Hermione." I replied. "And you need to get some rest, you almost died!"
"Where's Ron?" He asked.
"He's right over there." I gestured roughly to where the chair that Ron was in was. "He's fine, but you really need to get some rest!"
Harry must've been satisfied with my answer, because he promptly closed his eyes and fell asleep.
"Ron." I said, turning around to my other friend. "He's made it! He's going to be al..." I stopped.
Ron was smiling at me weakly, but that wasn't what made me stop. No, what made me stop was the growing pool of blood around him.
"That's great, Hermione..." He said weakly, snapping me out of my shock.
Madame Pomphey quickly realised that she had another patient and pulled out her wand, levitating him to a bed. I quickly rushed to his side, ignoring the nurse's insistence that I leave. In the end she decided to focus her attention only onto Ron.
"Why, Ron?" I choked through my tears. "Why didn't you tell us that you were hurt?"
"He needed help more than I do." He replied as simply as he could. "And the world needs him more than it needs me."
I was about to reply when Madame Pomphey pulled open his robes, which had been glued together with his sticky blood. That was the reason we hadn't noticed his injury. We hadn't noticed it then, but now it was impossible to miss.
Running from his right shoulder, across his chest and ending at his hip was the source of the blood. It was a gash, obviously the result of some kind of cutting curse. It was deep.
I watched as Madame Pomphey worked to close it, but it wasn't working.
"Why isn't it closing?" I asked, panicked.
"It's been made with some kind of dark curse; I've never seen it before. I'm sorry, but I can't fix this." She looked at me with a sad look in her eye, and I knew what she was going to say.
"No!" I yelled at her, refusing to believe that Ron couldn't be saved. I looked down at my dying friend. "Ron, the world needs you as much as it needs Harry. You have to hold on!"
Ron looked at me sadly and gave a humourless chuckle which ended in a coughing fit.
"Hermione..." He breathed after he recovered. "You know as well as I do that that's not true..."
"Well, even if the world doesn't... I still need you Ron!" I cried, holding onto him tightly. Ron barely managed a smile this time.
"Thanks... Hermione." Ron whispered, so softly that I could barely hear him. "You don't know... How much that means to me..."
That's when he gave his final breath, and died in my arms.
A/N: Yeah... That was my first fic, yes it was depressing. A plot bunny that attacked me at four in the morning. This is the result. Let me know how it was. What was good about it? What was bad? Criticism is welcome and will be used to better my writing.