Eighth [Harmione]

12. Era's End

  PART III: The Beginning of the End  

The first thing that Harry was aware of when his eyes fluttered open was that he couldn't feel his knee at all. The second thing was that there was something large, gold, and quite shiny very close to his face. It was almost too close for him to focus on without crossing his eyes, so he drew his head away from it.

"The Cup?" he said, in a voice of wonder.

"You caught the Snitch, Harry. Right before you fell off your broom like an ickle firstie. Don't you remember?" came the teasing voice of his best mate. "Can't imagine where you got the reputation for being an incredible flyer!"

A tired grin creased Harry's face. "Sod off, Ron," he said amiably, and tried to push himself up higher in the bed.

He groaned as he saw the ward blinking at the foot of the bed. His knee was in the restraint field attached to the bed again. "Aw, dammit!"

"Yeah," Ron nodded. "Healer Munson's going to be right pissed at you! After all the hard work he did fixing your knee." That reminded Harry of someone else who was going to be beyond pissed at him, and a look of trepidation spread across his face.

"Where's Hermione?" Ron's eyes widened, and he leaned closer to speak in a confidential tone.

"She was so mad that she stormed out... as soon as she found out you weren't going to die, of course."

"Figures," Harry rolled his eyes. "Might've saved everyone a load of trouble if I had, though."

"Harry..." Ron gave him a look that belayed all need for comment. "Besides, she did come to the game, even though she said she wouldn't. She was one of the first people down on the field, after you fell."

Something teased at the corners of Harry's memory. "But she wasn't there...at least, not until the end." He said, almost like he was thinking aloud. "I saw her out on the green...talking to Malfoy... that's when the Bludger nearly got me."

"Talking to Malfoy? Harry, are you sure? From that distance- " Ron began, then suddenly stopped. "Unless..." he pondered, thinking of their meeting with Malfoy in the corridor outside the Room of Requirement.

"Unless what?" Harry eyed him warily.

"Malfoy ran into Hermione and me outside the Room of Requirement a while back. He got up in her face a little, said some things about her...and you - just his normal dragon load. But he kind of made some threats too, said people were watching you both. I didn't really understand what he was getting at, but Hermione seemed to think he was trying to tell her something."

"That must have been the night we made up. I told her to let me know if ... She told me she wouldn't -" He stopped abruptly and changed tack. "So she's been lying to me...ever since. But I don't understand why she thought she..." He looked at Ron with worried eyes, his jaw starting to set in anger.

Ron did not get to reply, as the door to the hospital wing creaked open, and they both eyed the door in an awkward silence. Hermione stepped into the room, and Harry could tell by the thin set of her lips that she had not come for a tearful reunion.

"Howler Time," Ron whispered, as she approached Harry's bedside.

"What the hell were you thinking, Harry James Potter?" Hermione seethed. Ron was right, Harry mused, she did sound kind of like Mrs. Weasley in one of Ron's glorious exploding red letters. "You've completely undone everything Healer Munson did to your knee, and you'll be lucky if you ever walk again without a limp!"

"It's not a total loss, Hermione," Ron said lightly, and Harry was pathetically grateful to him for taking his life in his own hands by speaking up. "Gryffindor won the C - "