Bad Blood: A Dramione Fanfiction

Chapter Sixteen

Hermione

As I walk into the Gryffindor common room, I see Harry sitting on the couch, staring into the flames of the fireplace. He looks exhausted, as if he didn't sleep. I surely didn't. The portrait closes behind me, making an audible noise. Harry jumps out of his seat and turns around to look at me. I run into his open arms.

"Oh, Harry." I cry, and he rubs my back comfortingly. When we let go, he leads me over to the couch, and I sit down beside him.

"So, what happened, Hermione?" Harry asks. Even though I yelled at him last night, he's not angry with me.

What didn't happen? There is so much to say, but I feel like there is nothing at all; I feel empty, as if everything inside of me has been taken out, leaving just a hollow shell behind. I can't even cry anymore.

"I went to... to f-find him, and I did, and... he was in the Room of Requirement... bleeding awfully," Harry looks at me with a look of great concern in his eyes, expecting me to say more. The words are difficult to say. They come out rough and abrupt, with many sniffles in-between. "I carried him to the hospital wing, and she- Madam Pomfrey, that is- said that magic couldn't cure it. And, well..." I can't seem to say the last words.

"Yes?"

"There's a good chance that he-"

"Oh," Harry sighs. His face takes up a solemn, sympathetic look. "I'm so sorry." For a while, neither of us say anything, but it's not completely silent; I seem to be able to hear my thoughts, and Harry taps his foot slowly.

"And then I had a dream that he died," I suddenly admit. "I felt so helpless, sitting there beside his bed and just having to watch him suffer, trapped in his nightmares... It felt so real, Harry."

"I know the feeling." Harry says, placing his arm around me as I lay my head on his shoulder.

Harry does understand me. I can't even imagine how he deals with all of the loss he's experienced when I can barely handle this situation, in which I haven't lost anyone yet. One thing I'll never forget is the sound of Harry's scream when he watched his godfather, Sirius Black, die. It radiated throughout the Hall of Mysteries at the Ministry of Magic. It was the most painful, heart-wrenching sound I've ever heard; it plays over in my head now. Harry has been through things no one should have to endure.

"I know you do." He doesn't respond. We just gaze into the fire until Harry finally speaks.

"Are you going to visit him?" He asks without looking at me.

"Yeah." I answer, my heart aching at the thought of it.

"Do you want me to come?"

"N-no, I think I can handle it. Thank you for everything, Harry. I heard you invite him to that Quidditch game at the party."

"It's nothing, Hermione. He really is a nice guy. I should have believed you in the first place." Just then, somebody comes tumbling down the stairs.

"Good morning!" The person shouts, and I recognize the voice: it's Ron. I suddenly clench the potion in my pocket.

"Morning, Ron," Harry greets, and I take my head off of his shoulder, trying my best to look strong. Ron looks into my eyes.

"Hello," He says directly to me, his face expressionless. I don't say anything; I can't make myself say anything. I rise off of the couch and stand up in front of Harry.

"I-I'm going to go, you know... visit." I stutter, and I turn around and walk out of the common room and into the corridor.

If I had stayed any longer, I am sure that I would have revealed the vial of Veritaserum, therefore ruining my plan. Harry wouldn't approve, so I couldn't even tell him. But I've got to do it; I have to know if Ron's jealousy goes so far as to have a death wish for Draco.