Ceremonials

You Are the Morning When It's Clear

A/N: This one's for tumblr user camxriv who asked me about Hermione's thoughts in chapter 35 when she wakes up in St. Mungo's from the dementor attack. Hope you enjoy!

-----------------------------------------------

Thirst woke her. All the hydration spells in the world couldn't compete with a glass of water. Hermione registered her parched lips, then her prone position, then the unfamiliar sheets covering her body. Warm, but not quite comfortable.

Though more comfortable than freezing on the forest floor.

Draco.

Her eyes shot open. She quickly catalogued her surroundings: Harry, Ginny, Ron.

No sign of the person she needed to see the most.

She tried to sit up but her vision swam and she clutched her head.

"Where's Draco?" she rasped.

"Hermione slow down, slow down," cautioned Harry. Someone shoved a glass in her hand and she gulped it as quickly as she could.

"Where is he? Harry there were Dementors! We—"

"I know. Listen Hermione, he's fine, I'm pretty sure. You're in St. Mungo's now, I've already spoken to the French officials."

Gods, she loathed this, this helpless feeling of having to play catch-up.

"What do you mean you're pretty sure? What happened?"

If he was hurt, if he was...

She'd never forgive herself.

"As far as I know, Malfoy is fine. You were both transferred here immediately, he's probably just in a separate ward."

She shut her eyes as her memory conjured her final moment with him before she'd succumbed to unconsciousness : "Granger... Granger please..."

Her name from his frantic, desperate lips might have been the last thing she ever heard from him.

"But is he all right?"

"Hermione, you were worse when they brought you in and you're going to be fine, so I reckon he's okay," Harry said.

"No, I need to see him now."

"No you need to rest now."

The exhaustion, weakness, and Harry's refusal of her one request coalesced into a wave of crushing despair, overriding her composure.

She burst into tears.

Arms suddenly wrapped around her as Ginny rushed forward to provide physical comfort. Hermione didn't have the strength to raise her arms to return the embrace and just cried into her friend's shoulder.

When she'd had more water and hiccoughed a few breaths, she quickly ran through the details of what landed her and Draco in St. Mungo's, hoping that the faster she explained, the faster she'd be allowed to see him.

The fairy colony, the Dementors, the biting cold...

Hermione kept her eyes on Harry as she spoke, Ginny's hand running soothingly up and down her arm all the while. Hermione caught Ron's gaze a few times during her story, and though she could see the guilt etched on his face and concern for her well-being, she didn't have the energy to spare him a thought.

Draco, Draco, where are you?

"You drove them away, though," Harry said with a touch of pride when she finished. "Your Patronus—"

"Failed," Hermione said flatly. She sank back against the thin pillow and buried her head in her hands. "I failed. Again. Just like I did in Third Year, just like I did at the Ministry when we got the locket. This time it almost cost me everything. I almost... I could have... lost him."

She wiped her eyes. "He must have done it... he cast one and he—he saved me."

Draco, I'm so sorry. Please be okay, please be okay.

"He apparated you both out of there, right to your hotel lobby," said Harry.

She took a shuddering breath, almost unraveling again as the weight of that information slammed into her.

The lengths Draco had gone to, to keep her alive.

"You don't understand, he couldn't just apparate us, there are anti-apparition wards in place around the colony. They go for two miles into the woods. We hadn't made it very far back before... before they attacked. If he apparated us... he would have had to carry me... almost the whole way."

Stunned silence.

"Nearly two miles. That's how far he carried you," Ginny said faintly. Suddenly she rounded on Ron. "Well? Was it worth it? Your little tantrum? She would have died if not for Malfoy."

Ron didn't look at his sister, instead turning contrite eyes to Hermione, his mouth open and ready to beg forgiveness. Hermione shook her head. She wasn't ready to hear it from him.

The little remaining energy she possessed continued its steady drip out of her.

"Please, can I go see him, please Harry."

Her friend frowned and she saw another reluctant refusal taking shape before he even spoke. Harry knew she'd tear through the halls of the hospital if it meant finding Draco and seeing with her own two eyes that he'd survived.

Draco, forgive me, I want to be where you are, I promise.

"Hermione I'm so sorry, but you need to rest, they have more potions to give you. I'll bet you anything he'll be here when you wake up."

He looked pained at having to deny her again, and though Hermione knew she'd do the same if the positions were reversed, it did nothing to soothe her frantic thoughts of Draco by himself elsewhere.

As if the universe wanted to prove Harry right, a healer stepped into her ward carrying two vials.

Hermione downed them without protest but had one more plea for Harry.

"Can you," she slurred, potions already working, "can you... find him? Please... I don't want him... to wake up alone."

Her eyes fluttered shut without her permission, at the mercy of the medicine coursing through her.

Draco, I'm so sorry.

She woke to a hand holding hers. A warm, familiar, necessary grip.

Carefully, so as not to disturb him, Hermione rolled onto her side to face Draco.

Usually when he slept, his taut facial features softened; angles and lines rendered lax.

But dozing in the visitor's chair, he looked preoccupied despite his slumbering state. A crease between his brows, a tense posture to his neck, long legs splayed out in front of him.

She'd crawl into his lap and murmur apologies into his chest if he didn't look so desperately in need of rest.

Had Harry reached him in time? How long had he been waiting at her bedside? Did he understand the heroic magnitude of his actions?

Hermione squeezed Draco's hand gratefully, running her thumb along the back of it, but he didn't stir.

A few tears slipped out of her eyes; of relief that Draco was safe and here with her combined with shame that she couldn't protect him. She'd let illogical fear override her sense of duty, her ability to act in a crisis.

But Draco had stepped up beautifully.

A bright surge of pride swelled up and disintegrated her guilt. He'd conjured his first corporeal Patronus. She wondered what form it took, which memory he used to cast it.

Despite no words spoken since their brush with danger, Hermione felt the declaration of his love, vibrant and loud.

I love you, too.