Author's Note: This idea sort of came out of nowhere. And seems to be writing itself. I will probably have the second (and final) half up sometime tonight. Please read and review!

*****

The only sounds in the room were the soft beeps emitted by various monitoring charms. Each one monitoring a different vital sign.

Strings of long parchment printing from each one every few minutes with a read out for each vital sign.

Harry Potter lay still in the bed, looking for the entire world as if he was asleep rather than in a deep, spell induced coma.

And whatever the spell was that had done this, the Healers had not been able to figure out a way to stop its effects.

The spell they said was affecting Harry so fast, they did not know if they could stop it. And they did not know what affect it would have on Harry if they did manage to stop it.

Since the spell was so complicated and affected so much, the Healers had told everyone that they simply were not sure if he would even survive their attempts to stop it.

That had been 3 weeks ago.

Three weeks since Harry had faced Voldemort for the final time.

He had not opened his eyes in 3 weeks. And with each passing day, the likely hood that he would recover without complications dwindled to almost nothing.

She wished he would open his eyes. Then she would know he was all right, that he would be all right. That this horrible spell was not going to kill him.

But it seemed that all the wishing in the world would not make him open his eyes.

Hermione longed to be able to see those sparkling green orbs, glinting with mischievousness and hidden laughter.

But his lids remained closed and each day she saw them closed, it felt like another piece of her was falling away into nothing. Becoming, as the muggle song said, “Dust in the wind.”

Three weeks of torture not knowing what would become of the person who had become the single most important person in her life. The person who had come to mean so much more to her than just a friend.

Now it looked as though life was handing her another cruel twist of fate. A heavy price for finally being able to live in peace. The cost so great, it was unbearable.

“Please, Harry, open your eyes,” she whispered brokenly as she held his hand tightly in her own, silent tears falling onto their joined hands.

“Hermione,” a voice said quietly from behind her. “Love, you should get some rest.”

Sniffing, Hermione turned to face her other best friend Ron Weasley.

Wiping her tears Hermione whispered, “I know, but I just can't leave him, Ron. I am so scared I will miss him waking up. All I have prayed for these last three weeks was for him to open his eyes. I just want to see his eyes again. Then I'll know he's okay and not…not….”

“I know, love. He will be okay, Harry's fighter. He will get through this. And you know he would not leave you behind. He loves you, Hermione. You know that,” Ron said, resting his hand on her shoulder.

“But what if he doesn't wake up? What if…” she trailed off there, unable to even think, let alone, speak the terrifying thought.

“He will wake up, he has too. He's going to be a father and he has to be there to see his son,” Ron said firmly, coming around to face Hermione and wrap her in a warm, comforting hug.

Hermione hugged Ron back fiercely, grateful to have him with her, knowing that she could never do this alone. “Thank you, Ron,” she said pulling away.

Ron flushed and mumbled a thank you before reaching to take her hand, “Come on, let's get you to bed. You know the Healers will come get you if anything happens.”

Taking the offered hand reluctantly, Hermione stood up. “I know,” she said bending down to kiss Harry's forehead. “I love you, Harry. Please wake up soon.”

Putting his arm around her shoulder's, Ron led Hermione from Harry's hospital room to the room just down the hall where she had been sleeping since Harry had come to St. Mungo's.

Once tucked into bed, Ron gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Goodnight, Mione,” he whispered.

“Goodnight, Ron,” Hermione said as he left the room.

It was a long time though before Hermione fell asleep, her thoughts drifting to the room two doors away and the man in it, still not opening his eyes.