Harry Potter and the countries of Hetalia

Chapter 31 (15k READS!!)

Gilbert's head spun. He was on the ground. Did he fall? He couldn't remember.

There was liquid all over his head and coming out of his mouth. Blood? He sniffed the air. Iron. Yep, it was blood.

What had happened? He vaguely remembered seeing Ivan...then what?

He tried to focus on his surroundings. His vision was blurry, and the room was spinning, but he could make out some voices. Was that Ivan? Sounded like it. Then he heard France. Then Lukas. Then Emil. He assumed Berwald was with them, since the tall blonde barely ever said anything.

He felt hands on his shoulders. Were they Ivan's hands? His voice sounded the closest. He tried to somehow get Ivan to stop, but his throat felt like a knife had been shoved down it. Come to think of it, his entire body ached. His head felt like it had been smashed in with a hammer.

He suddenly remembered being punched in the face. He had been punched so hard, he flew back into the bookshelf. That's probably when he hurt the rest of his body. He had probably hit his neck against a book or something, because he could barely breathe.

He suddenly felt hands grab onto him and pick him up, and he felt like he was going to throw up. The room was already spinning enough, he didn't need someone carrying him to add to the dizziness! Nevertheless, the person kept running. He wished that he could yell at the person to stop.

He felt his food from earlier threaten to come back up, and he tried to suppress it. He could vomit after he figured out what was going on.

Gilbert found that he had been put on something soft. A bed? He couldn't tell. Was in the hospital whatever place? That was his only guess.

He felt his consciousness slipping away. He tried to fight it, but his vision kept on getting darker and darker. He fought it for what seemed like an eternity, but he couldn't stop his body from slowly falling into a restless slumber.

His vision went black.

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He woke up.

He tried to sit up, but the piercing pain in his entire body made him stop. His muscles screamed at him as he slowly sat up, not letting the pain force him back down. He had been through worse before.

He closed his eyes and took a few minutes to clear his mind. What had happened again? He remembered being punched, then pain, then confusion, then he was here, wherever "here" was.

He looked around. It was the hospital wing. It was empty, and the pitch black night sky let him know it was very late (or early, depending on how you looked at it). He sighed. People always said he had a knack for getting in trouble.

He tried to fight his drowsiness, desperately attempting to move. His entire body felt like it was on fire. Had he been hit by a bus or something?! The fuck was wrong with him?! After trying for what was probably a few minutes (yet felt infinitely longer), he collapsed onto the bed in a cold sweat.

He felt his body shutting down. This time, he didn't fight sleep. He let the darkness slowly encase his body, and fell into yet another restless sleep.

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He awoke to screaming.

Whose voice was that? It was familiar. That voice...he knew it...who was it? It almost sounded like...

...Matthew?

He tried desperately to open his eyes. He had to see his birdie. Was Ludwig there too? What about Francis and Antonio? He fought as his body shrieked every time he tried to force his eyes open. He had to see Matthew! He had to somehow let the precious blonde know that he was okay.

'Come on body, cooperate!' Gilbert thought angrily.

He felt arms wrap around his body tightly. Every muscle in his body ached, but he leaned into the embrace. He heard soft sobbing, and felt tears on his neck and his shoulder. He tried to make out what was being said...

"...I'm sorry...I'm sorry...I'm sorry..."

...that was all he got. He heard some other voices, but they were too far away. He was able to recognize the thick French accent that belonged to Francis, but the other voice was a total mystery to him.

He wanted so badly to somehow comfort the Canadian boy who so desperately grasped to him, but the piercing pain he felt every time he dared to move kept him from doing anything. He was still struggling to open his eyes!

After an eternity (or so it felt), he had finally managed to open his eyes again. He saw a mess of blonde hair, and beyond that the ceiling. He slowly opened his mouth, struggling to utter even a sound.

The noise that came out his mouth was barely above the sound of a whisper, and sounded like he was dying, but that one noise made the Canadian cease his sobbing instantly. The blonde slowly unwrapped his arms from the Prussian's body and lifted himself to look into said Prussian's eyes.

"...Gilbert?"

He tried to force a smile, but his body was already in enough pain, so he stopped halfway. This seemed to be enough to satisfy the blonde, who smiled widely. He lay himself onto the albino gently, yet again wrapping his arms around the hurt boy's neck. Gilbert sighed in relief (and as painful as that simple action was, it still seemed to relax the blonde hanging onto him).

He slowly closed his eyes yet again. He felt like he could rest better with his boyfriend so close to him. He wondered where Ludwig was? Probably in class. He would probably come by when he had a free period.

As his mind wandered, he didn't even notice himself, as well as the blonde boy holding onto him, fall asleep.

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When he woke up, Matthew was still clinging to him like his life depended on it. He wondered how long it had been. An hour? A day? A week? Perhaps.

He slowly opened his eyes. It was much easier to open them than it had been the previous time, probably because he actually felt like he had rested. When he looked up, he saw Ivan. He tried to force out some words to communicate with the tall Russian standing above him.

"...h-hey," it came out as a hoarse whisper, it sounded like he had been gargling nails. "...what's up...?"

"...I'm sorry," said Ivan. "I'm the reason you're here...I'm the reason you almost...almost..."

"F-forget it-" his sentence was cut off as he violently coughed, stirring the blonde on his chest from slumber. He forced his body to move less, as not to wake the sleeping Canadian. "-man, it's o-okay-" another violent fit of coughing. "-okay. Don't worry about it,"

The Russian seemed unconvinced, but accepted what Gilbert had said. He bowed politely before walking away again. Gilbert sighed. His throat felt horrible. He sure hoped this magical voodoo shit would help him, otherwise, he was screwed. He knew that they probably had some weird spell to fix him.

He stared up at the ceiling. He was so close. One wrong move, he would die. Hell, he already felt like he was dying. His muscles ached, his throat felt like it was on fire, the room was spinning, his head felt like it had been beaten with a mallet (as did the rest of his body), and his food was constantly fighting to come right back up again.

But he sucked it up and tried to get some rest. After all, it's not like he could do much else. He said he wouldn't let the fear of death control him and he meant it. He'd fight. That's all he could do. So for the time being, he closed his eyes, and let the darkness surround him until everything went black, and he fell into sleep.

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A/N: *explodes because 15k reads ashkvdypjdywavfakhdwibdwivsrkbcsjkmbdirtqacxhkomfukbakhsobsoeiddwfilvacjpbshyamallamadingdong* THANK YOU SO MUCH AAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!! I hope you all liked this chapter! Sorry it's been so long since I've updated, but I've been really busy, plus I've been having horrible writer's block. I really hope you liked this chapter! This was a fun one to write. I really love this chapter. The next one is from Mattie's POV! See ya next chapter guys!