To Her

Surprises

"No, NO!"

Harry screamed as he simultaneously sweated and shivered almost every night.

However, Ginny couldn't wake him. Neither could Hermione nor Ron. No matter how bad the dreams got. Even the Aurors couldn't wake him, and they tried everything they knew.

On a Saturday morning, Ginny and Ron had gone home to change and shower while Hermione stayed.

"Harry," she whispered near his ear while laying a hand beside him. Receiving no response, she sighed. "What's going on in that head of yours?"

Her heart ached to see him in such a state, she couldn't begin to imagine how Ginny felt. Seeing Harry like this reminded her of all those times she saw him in the hospital wing when Madam Pomfrey had to tuck his blankets back in every 30 mins, due to his constant tossing and turning. And when he was at the Burrow and she was about to wake him, he would be sweating profusely, eyes darting back and forth under his eyelids, and breathing harshly. Because of the nearly ten-year friendship her and Harry held, she knew what these symptoms meant.

There was nothing else in the world that could be affecting Harry like this. She was in denial, of course. Who wouldn't be? This wasn't an assumption that should be made lightly, this wasn't a rumour to spread. She needed to gather more evidence to be completely, undeniably sure.

Looking back at her friend, she decided to inspect him. When feeling his forehead, she was met with a lower than average temperature. 37° Celsius was approximately the average human body temperature, she remembered this from when she aided to those in the War alongside Madam Pomfrey. With the thermometer she found on the desk at hand, she began to take his temperature.

"Don't tell me you've taken up being a healer as a hobby." A familiar voice rang through her ears, making her whip around out of fear, thinking one of the healers were back as she couldn't quite place the voice.

However, her eyes were met with light blue ones belonging to someone who leaned against the doorframe of Harry's room, wearing the most casual clothes again. Hermione's nerves got the best of her as she instantly turned back to Harry and froze at his side, "I've only just noticed his temperature seems to be below average." She blurted.

"Compared to what, that of a wuss? What's he done to himself now?" He smirked, seeming proud of the comment.

Her eyebrows furrowing and blood boiling, she turned back to him, "You brainless arse." A bit sensitive on the topic of Harry, she walked toward him with the same fire in her chest she felt when he'd first stepped foot into her office, "He's sick you bloody dimwit, can't you see that?! He hasn't been conscious for 4 days. If all you came here to do was annoy me and talk down on him, feel free to leave. Meanwhile, I'd like to get back to taking care of my friend!" She yelled. What was he even doing here? Of all places in the entire hospital, he chose this room in this wing to spend his time in. Doesn't he have somewhere else to be? Anywhere else at all?

Draco heard Potter was in the hospital for some unknown reason via a brief scan through the Prophet that his friend snuck to him and the healers' whispers of gossip. He'd deducted that's why she'd had paid a visit to the hospital and unconsciously ended up outside his room in the psych wing. Only he assumed Potter had hurt himself in a stupid way as he had many times in their youth. Since he had nothing else to do, he wondered about the hospital on his free hour hoping to come across a sea of raggedy gingers or a bushy-haired, no-longer-buck-toothed girl.

However, he was taken aback by her speech and peered behind her to take a better look at Potter. He was out cold; sweating, shaking. It was then that he realized the severity of the situation, when he processed the words she spoke.