AN: I know, I know, I said I would have this out sooner but it took longer to write this part than the other because I kept changing it around. It has also become more than two chapters. I have started work on a third and hopefully that will be the last. I know how much all of you want Harry to awaken. *Smiles* PLEASE READ AND REVIEW!

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Come back to me
I'm beggin' you please
Come back to me
I want you to
Come back to me
I'm beggin' you please
Come back to me

~Come back to me~ Janet Jackson

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Terrible nightmares plagued Hermione that night, as they had every night for the last three weeks.

Each one successively worse than the last; always causing her to wake trembling and sweat covered, reaching for Harry before realizing he wasn't there and making the fright and loneliness deepen.

This night's nightmare had been the worst yet, so gruesome and seemly so real that for one wild moment for the first time since the nightmares began, Hermione had thought it to be real.

Shaking uncontrollably, Hermione tried to force the horrible images from the nightmare out of her head.

However, each time she closed her eyes, the image of Harry's body, lying twisted and broken before her, awash in blood, haunted her like a dark specter.

That very picture had been presented to her at the final battle. When the dust settled, and Voldemort was dead, Harry had lain unconscious and unmoving, as though dead. His very life ebbing away slowly into the dark gloom.

Which ultimately lead to Harry being where he was now, barely clinging to life.

Taking deep breaths, Hermione pushed the thoughts from her mind and threw back the covers.

Slipping out of bed, she found her dressing gown and slippers and slipped into them. After making sure she had her wand (mostly out of habit), she made her out of the room and down the hall to the door three doors away.

The room was as still and quiet as death, with the notable exception of course of the various beeping vial charms.

Whispering a quiet “lumos”, Hermione stepped into the room, letting the narrow beam of light fall on Harry.

He looked so peaceful, as if he was just sleeping rather than in a deep coma. Sitting in the chair that she always left sitting by his bedside, Hermione laid her wand on the table and slipped her hand into Harry's.

“Hey, it's me. I-I just came to see how you were. I miss you Harry,” she said, keeping as much of the fear as she could out of her voice; afraid that if she did not it would tip the delicate balance between life and death that Harry was holding onto.

“I've been talking to the baby. Telling him all about you. I have told him how brave his daddy is. And how much I love him and you. I cannot wait to meet him Harry. I cannot wait for you to meet him. I know I am only a few weeks along; but it just feels right, plus Ron has been referring to the baby as `him' since I found out. And you know, I think he is right. I think we are going to have a son, Harry. A son that I hope is every bit as special, kind, and loving as you are.

“A son that I hope will know his father and love him as much as I love him. Please, Harry, wake up. Please, open your eyes.”

Hermione's voice caught as she finished talking, tears trickling down her cheeks, splattering on the duvet of Harry's bed.

She tried to regain control of herself, fearing she would tip the delicate balances of fate in death's favor.

Taking, slow deep breaths, Hermione slowly regained control of her emotions.

“I'm sorry, Harry, I thought I was done with the tears. But I guess not,” she said, wiping the last few remaining ones away.

After her tears had dried, Hermione continued to sit quietly next to Harry's bed, still holding his hand until sometime before the first rays of golden sunlight filtered into the room and she fell sound to sleep with her head next to Harry's on the pillow.