SQUEEEEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRCCCHHHH - BANG!

Harry's glorious victory over Voldemort was still being celebrated across the globe and I could still occasionally hear one of Fred and George's bothersome No-Heat Skyfires go blasting into the air. They irritated me beyond all rational reason and made me want to pummel the twins a bit for fathoming such loud, screechy nuisances.

Thirty days of Hell.

But no one knew. According to the increasingly bothersome Healers of St. Mungo's, probably no one would ever know. In the eyes of the world, Hermione Granger was a shell. The real Hermione was long gone, tortured to death by an unthinkable amount of Cruciatus curses that left behind the body of an 18 year old girl who never even got to graduate. A pathetic, blinking, drooling, limp body kept propped up by pillows in a nice private room, probably a soft pastel pink with a single window facing the courtyard. I was a war-hero, after all. The most famous war-hero next to Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, and therefore I deserved the best accommodations the hospital had to offer. At least that's what Ginny read to me every day from her copy of the Daily Prophet.

She, Harry and Ron were here every day. Lots of others would visit frequently as well. They talked to me, even though those pessimistic little hags they call Healers kept reminding them that chances were, I couldn't hear them. That I would never hear them. That I may never wake up and hope was all anyone had to cling to. The fact that my friends kept on doing it, talking to me, warmed me and allowed me to keep my sanity.

I could hear them loud and clear, every wonderful, beautiful word they said. I could hear my father, now a widower, kneel by my bed and I could feel him sob into the palm of my hand. I could taste the melted chocolate that Neville placed on my tongue with his finger for a taste and I could hear the Healers rush in and pull Neville away, screaming to him that he could have choked me. I could smell the fresh croissants Mrs. Weasley baked for Harry, Ron, and Ginny's daily breakfast with me and my thin rubber feeding tube.

Ginny stayed every morning for about an hour. Since I couldn't for the life of me move any part of my body except my heart, which kept up its beating while the rest of my body lay dormant, she would fluff my pillows. She also took it upon herself to change my pajamas, brush my hair, and even apply nail polish to my fingernails. I felt her on many occasions braid my hair into something that no doubt looked elegant, but was horridly uncomfortable for my scalp. Of course, I couldn't tell her this, so she kept at it. Merlin only knew what I must have looked like. At least I knew Ginny wouldn't let me look like some unconscious scarlet woman, which is why I was glad that Lavender or Parvati kept their visits to a minimum. Every morning I would feel weight at the foot of my bed and I would know Ginny was there, sitting just like every night back in Hogwarts. She would read to me from the Daily Prophet and keep me caught up with the rest of the world, the world that my body was currently imprisoning me from.

According to her, everyone was mourning for me like I was already dead, yet at the same time still rejoicing over the fact that Voldemort was gone. The Ministry was bustling with chaos and corruption as Reconstruction began. Apparently everything had gotten even crazier after it was revealed that nearly a third of the Ministry was involved in some way with Voldemort, and the trials were long and painful. Most importantly, however, I looked magnificent in the picture they printed of me in my hospital bed. All thanks to her, of course.

Afterwards she would plant a kiss on my forehead and whisper.

“Wake up soon, okay? The world is nuts and we need you to boss us around.”

Ron would visit for a few hours, a little longer than Ginny, and try to “initiate conversation” with me. He would call Hogwarts: A History rubbish. He would take my beloved book and tell me that he was eating cookies over it and getting crumbs in the binding. He would tell me he failed a test even though he knew full well that it had been ages since we left Hogwarts. He would let a curse word “accidentally” slip out. He would claim he punted a house elf. He would say anything at all that could possibly rile me up and maybe get me so angry that I would snap out of my “catatonia” just to slap him toothless. Unfortunately, it never worked. I wished with every fiber of my being that I could just tell him the aggravation method was not working, but alas, my attempts were futile. Ron was my brother and I loved him dearly, but if I heard him say he tied Crookshanks to a tree branch and gave Grawp a new toothbrush one more time I just might have killed him with my thoughts.

Eventually he would cool down, though, and resume normal conversation. He would tell me about life, stuff that wasn't in Ginny's Daily Prophet. Like how Stan Shunpike and Argus Filch began dating, to everyone's horror, and how he was glad even magic couldn't get two blokes to conceive a child because the poor bugger would be as ugly as sin. And how he was thinking about being a reserve Keeper with the cannons. About how he was currently seeing Luna Lovegood. He never sounded the least bit sad. Ron was always like that. A stupid boy too macho to let his emotion show. Telling jokes and laughing to mask his fear and sadness. I knew it was all an act.

After he kissed me on the cheek and told me to “Vake up, Herm-owwwwn-ninnyyyyy! Vicky eez vaitinnng!” I could distinctly hear him sniffle on his way out the door.

Something told me, though, that I wasn't the only reason Ron stayed. He would stay until about lunchtime checking up on us and then leave, knowing that our other best friend was holding out okay.

Because Harry Potter never left my side.

The first night here as I felt the excruciating pain when the Healers ran tests on me, injected me with potions, transported me from lab to lab in effort to revive me, yelled orders and directions that gave me migraines, I knew Harry was there. It wasn't the constant hand clutching mine or the commands of “Potter, get out of here you can't help her now”. Even if I was deaf and couldn't feel anything, I would have known he was there. I felt him with some sixth sense that comes natural to any human beings with a strong bond.

When the chaos finally settled and they left me alone in my soft bed, they barred my room from visitors for an entire night. They had to literally drag Harry away. No one knew that my mind was completely conscious and that being alone in the dark was the LAST thing I wanted. The war had ended and I needed comfort. I screamed curses at the Healers. I raged. I sobbed and wept and wanted to break anything I could get my hands on. However, my body refused to respond and instead let a sliver of drool slip from between my lips, which a Healer eventually wiped away and I was kind of glad no one else had to see that. My inner torment and knowledge that no one could hear me was worse than any Cruciatus, the curse the disconnected my mind from my body and left me in this state. Any sanity I had left was being torn apart in complete, utter darkness.

Then the visitors came pouring in and after the first two weeks, the routine had been set. Harry, Ron, and Ginny would be there every morning. Ginny would leave later that morning, and then Ron would be gone by noon leaving Harry with me and whoever else happened to be in the neighborhood for a little while. Then it would be Harry and I, alone all night until morning when the process repeated itself.

Harry demanded that he be allowed to stay and those smug Healers let him because he was The Chosen One. The Vanquisher of the Dark Lord. The Boy Who Lived Again. He never left my room and even decorated it a bit, or at least I assumed from the various remarks I had heard.

“Harry, she can't read. You shouldn't have bought that antique bookshelf.”

“Wow, Harry, could it get any more red and gold in here?”

“Merlin's balls, Harry, I know Hermione was all for house elf rights and all, but a picture painted by Dobby should never ever be hung on a wall. If she ever does wake up this will scare her back into a coma.”

As soon as Ron left, he would take his place by my side and hold my hand. It was always so cold and wet, and then after a few minutes my own hand warmed and dried his. He then would stop crying and sit next to me in silence. If I were in my regular state I would have died from the awkwardness because I just wouldn't know what to say. What do you say to the man who saved the world and instead of living in it, stayed with you until he was sure you come through with him?

After the moments of silence, he would talk. It was different than when Ginny or Ron would speak. They always spoke like they were just telling me things. Harry spoke as if I were talking back. He'd recount stories about our days at Hogwarts and we'd laugh together, even though he didn't really know I was laughing inside this darkness.

“Sorry. I know I keep crying…” Harry sniffled.

Every effort I made to clutch his hand tighter was blocked by my stupid catatonia. All I could do was listen.

“…It's been a whole month.” Harry went on. “I probably should leave this room.”

I agreed vehemently. Yes! Live your life Harry! You fought for it and won it fair and square. You won everybody's life fair and square. Live!

“No. I'm not going to.”

If I wasn't just a miserable lump of flesh, I would have blinked confusedly. Did he hear me?

“Hermione, I need you.”

You don't need me! I'm here to listen to whenever you need me to. Other than that, I can't do anything. You need to go out and talk to people who can talk back!”

“I do need you.” Harry said in a strangled voice. “You…you've always…even when…”

Maybe he did hear me. I stayed silent in my head because I really wanted him to finish that sentence. No thought-interruptions.

“…I know you can hear me.” Harry said, abandoning his last sentence. “I know you're alive in there. I don't believe a bloody word those damn Healers say. Thirty percent chance of survival my arse. You're too stubborn to let go that easily. A thousand bloody Cruciatus curses aren't enough to take down Miss Hermione Granger.”

I grinned inwardly. Harry was a lot smarter than his Potions grades let on.

“So you…you know that every day I'm here and I talk about how I miss you, how we all are still pulling for you. I sit here and I take your hand and we walk down memory lane. I remember everything we've been through together. I talk about all our adventures and you listen and I know you're laughing in there somewhere about how stupid we are sometimes.”

Harry knew me too well.

“But…but I never really got to the point. The…the real point.”

The point? What point? The fact that we always went blundering off in the dark with little to no information and ended up in huge trouble that we narrowly escape, barely clinging to our lives?

“The point…the point is…I dunno if you noticed…but everything in my life - and by life I mean the real life that started as soon as Hagrid stepped into my house and whisked me to Hogwarts - you've…you're…you…”

He was blinking back tears and I was sure if my tear ducts felt an inkling of what I was feeling right now, I would have been as well.

“Remember in First Year? You were the most stubborn, rule-abiding, tight-knickered - “

Hey!

“Oh, you know it was true.” Harry chuckled weakly and I truly wondered if he was hearing my thoughts. “You were the most uptight little girl on the planet. But you…you broke rules for me…you took the fall for me...you…”

He cleared his throat before going on with difficulty.

“Second year…you were bloody brilliant. You figured it all out. You made Polyjuice and broke the rules again. When you were petrified I almost lost myself…”

Thankfully my face was devoid of emotion because if I had control of it right then, the confusion would not have been particularly attractive.

“Third year…the Time-Turner…all thanks to you…always by my side. Fourth year, even Ron abandoned me for a little while but you were always there. Always…Fifth year…Sixth year…the Horcruxes…”

Harry's breathing went staggered again, and I heard him trying to wipe the tears from his face. I yearned to wipe them away for him, to hold him in my arms and comfort him. I was finally getting the idea of were he was going with this and though he couldn't see it, I was reacting the same way he was.

Just as I wanted to do to him, he bent over and wrapped his arms around me. He was cold, a sharp contrast to my warm body. I felt his tears on my cheeks as he held me tight, not doubting for a second that I could feel him. He knew I could feel him embracing me.

That's when I realized that Harry wasn't really hearing my thoughts. All those coincidental responses to what I was thinking wasn't because he could hear me, nor were they just coincidences.

He just knew. Harry always knew.

I felt his cool forehead against mine and one hand, the one that wasn't still clutching mine, pushed away a strand of hair from my face.

“You never left me.” He whispered. “Never in my whole life did you ever leave me. Even when I was in deep shit - “

Don't swear.

“ - sorry. I mean, even when I was in deep trouble, even when the odds were against us, even when it went against your better judgment…you never ever left me.”

His nose grazed against mine and I could still feel his cold face, wet with tears.

Harry…

“That's why I'm not leaving. That's why I am not setting foot outside this door. I am never ever going to leave you. I am not leaving until you come with me.” Harry said quietly, so softly that I barely heard him. “And then when you wake up…I'll tell you.”

Inside my prison my heart beat faster. My breaths were ragged and uneven. My face was tear-streaked. My lips were opening and whispering the words that I so desperately wanted him to hear that I would personally burn every single book in the hemisphere just for the chance. They were silent, nonexistent words, and that four inches from my mouth to his ear might as well have been miles. I raged in frustration, unable to tell him how I was feeling. Unable to hold him as tightly as he was holding me. I cried and I cried but he heard nothing. My heart began to shatter painfully. It was the worst agony I had ever experienced.

I love you, Harry. I love you!

“I'll tell you…I'll tell you that I love you.”

The pain stopped. I opened my eyes.

Harry's forehead was still pressed up against mine, our noses still touching. His arms still wrapped around my flimsy body, I opened my eyes. I looked up in utter disbelief. The soft light burned my eyes but I was so surprised that I barely noticed anything I was seeing. I had lived in darkness for so long that I had forgotten light even existed.

“Hermione?!”

And just as suddenly as it had come, the random muscle spasm ended and the light that had blessed my retinas and gave me the sight of Harry's emerald eyes was all gone.

NO!

“No! NononononoNO!” Harry cried, getting up and holding me firmly by the shoulders. “Hermione, you opened your eyes!”

My mind was beginning to think it was all a dream. It was so quick, so slight. Maybe it just never happened.

“NO! It happened! I know it did!” Harry cried, running his finger along my cheek as gently as possible, but I could feel the energy behind it. The unbridled excitement. The hope.

“Do it again. Please, Hermione! Do it again!” Harry begged.

I tried. I tried with all my might. I focused like I never had before, but that brilliant mind everyone kept praising me for did nothing to repeat the phenomenon that had just happened.

“You did. You opened your eyes.” Harry said excitedly and every doubt I had rushed away. I did, in fact, open my eyes for one brief second. It wasn't just my imagination. I saw Harry. I saw Harry's deep green eyes staring down at me.

“You…you opened your eyes!” he repeated. “I - I - the HEALERS!”

He leaped off my bed and bounded to the door for the first time in a month. I heard him grab the nearest Healer by the robes and drag him in.

“She - she - she - she OPENED HER EYES!” Harry yelled.

“That's…impossible…how…” the pompous windbag Healer bent over me. He placed his fingers on my eyelids and opened my eyes.

I saw nothing. My heart plummeted.

“She can't see.” The Healer said softly.

“She SAW me.” Harry said defiantly. “She opened her eyes and SAW me. I KNOW she did!”

“That's impossible, Mr. Potter. She cannot control her body. She cannot move…”

I fought myself. I fought whatever was blocking my mind from the right to control my own body. Every little, functioning cell that I owned was working towards opening my bloody eyelid. That thin, teeny bit of muscle. That stupid flap of skin. I fought a battle to get it open. It was my body, damn it! MINE!

Then I felt something warm slide down my chin. I had drooled.

That's bloody BRILLIANT! If rage was what I was feeling before, there was no word for what I was feeling right at that moment. And then there was the added embarrassment of the man I loved seeing me dribble like a baby.

The stupid Healer went on and on with his tirade about how I was comatose and may never ever wake up and blah blah blah blah -

“SHE OPENED HER EYES AND BLOODY SAW ME!” Harry roared. This drew the attention of other Healers, who peeked in to see what the problem was. “She's fighting it, I know she is!”

“Mr. Potter - “

“I was hugging her and talking to her and my face was less than an inch from hers - we were touching - and she OPENED HER EYES and SAW ME!” Harry insisted loudly.

I heard a short scuffle then heard Ron's voice.

“Harry, what's going on - “

“SHE OPENED HER EYES - “

“Calm down, mate, I'm sure she - “

“Merlin's beard…!”

Ron stopped. Harry stopped. The world stopped spinning and then it was like the air was sucked out of the room by the cumulative gasp of everyone inside.

“Is that…is she…?” one of the other Healers whispered. Whatever I was doing, it was holding everyone captivated.

“I'll…I'll call Mum…” Ron said in awe. “And Mr. Granger…and…and everybody…!!” He rushed out of the room, stumbling noisily on the way.

“It's a miracle!” another Healer declared. I wondered if I was wrinkling my nose at the disgusting cliché.

What the hell am I doing? I blinked in confusion.

I blinked. Blinked!

“She just blinked!”

Oh, well spotted. Healers truly were the masterminds of the universe, all those years of graduate school and Advanced Potions. I wondered vaguely if they could see me roll my eyes.

“Her eyes are open and she just blinked!”

Apparently not.

I felt the Healer rush to me and hold my eyes open wider with one hand.

“She's blind, she still can't see anything.”

That explained a lot, I supposed.

“Hermione, if you can hear me, blink twice.”

Still in disbelief at what was going on, I didn't move. After an entire month, my body was finally listening to me?! It was unbelievable. I tried to focus on my fingers. Maybe I could do something with those…

“Hermione, please blink again.”

Thoughts swirled around in my head. I was alive. They knew I was alive. I had moved by my own free will. Where my fingers…?

“Hermione, its Harry. If…if you're in there, blink twice. Please…”

Harry.

I blinked twice and heard Harry whoop in joy.

“I TOLD YOU SHE WAS IN THERE!” He cried. “Hermione, two blinks is yes and one blink is no. Do you understand?”

Two blinks.

“Are you in any pain?”

One blink.

“So you can hear everything we are saying. You can feel me holding your hand?”

Two blinks.

The room exploded with noises of excitement. Healers were citing miracles and I heard the scratches of quills as they scribbled official things down on parchment and chattered amongst themselves. I ignored them and my attempts to move my fingers, instead focusing on Harry. He had crawled back into the bed with me.

“Have you been able to hear us all? The whole month?” Harry asked softly.

Two blinks.

“So…so you heard everything Ginny read to you. You know how she's been taking care of you.”

I blinked twice, growing weary of the blink-speak. I wished I could move my lips, but it took a month to finally win my eyelids. Merlin knew how long it would take for my mouth.

“And…and you heard all the crazy things Ron lied about just to get you yelling at him?”

Two blinks and an attempt at a chuckle that of course, Harry didn't catch. His hand held me tighter.

“Did…did you hear what I was saying…just before…?” His voice was tiny now, barely audible above all the Healers' squawking, as if he were afraid of my answer.

I blinked twice firmly and heard a sharp intake of breath.

“You…you heard me say I love you.” It wasn't a question, so I didn't answer.

“Do you…I mean…How do you feel about…” Harry struggled to form a yes or no question that would give him an answer he could handle. Clearly this blink-speak was a step down from before when I thought he was reading my mind.

I love you, Harry.

“I…Hermione…”

Don't ask Harry. You never need to ask. I know you know…

Harry's arms were around me again and for the first time since the war, he felt warm. I knew he knew, and all the torment from the past month was washed away. Frustration and rage no longer clouded my mind. I was able to relax, because Harry knew. He bent low to plant a soft kiss on my lips.

And he didn't ask.

- - - THE ENDDD - - -

AUTHORS NOTE: Meh. I don't do angst I guess. This was based very loosely on a book I read when I was like 12 years old. I forget what it was called though, but the title “Stuck in Reverse” comes to mind. Buuut I'm not sure I could have just made that up. Still, I decided to call it that anyway :-P. I posted this up at a now-deleted LiveJournal community a little while ago (LJ name = fiiishy).

ANYWAY, please read and review honestly. Constructive criticism is always welcomed with cake and ice cream, because I don't really have a serious bone in my body.

I'm silly by nature. SILLY BY NATURE.