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Never had Harry been less interested in Quidditch than he was right then. Even high above the pitch, scanning the skies for the Snitch, his mind was not really in it.
He was concerned for Ron, who was still in the hospital wing after being poisoned. He was troubled by Malfoy and what he was up to. He really should have followed him when he saw him before the match accompanied by those two girls because proving Malfoy was a Death Eater and discovering what he was up to was more important than this stupid match against Hufflepuff.
If the match ended quickly, perhaps Harry could get the Map out and discover where Malfoy had gone. He stared around the pitch for the Snitch; there was still no sign of it.
And what had Dumbledore and Snape’s row been about? If only he could have gotten more information from Hagrid.
“And Hufflepuf scores, again. They really make it look easy,” Luna, who was commenting on the game, said in a chipper voice. “The Gryffindor Keeper should probably go see Madam Pomfrey; Nargels clearly infest his head—“
“LOVEGOOD!”
“How else would you explain his complete inability to guard those hoops?”
Harry turned towards McLaggen, who let another goal in. McLaggen really was terrible. It didn’t even matter if Harry caught the Snitch anymore except, of course, to end this farce. He scanned the sky again but still didn’t see the golden ball.
This was such a waste of time. He should be focussing on finding out what Horcruxes were but how was he supposed to discover anything when Slughorn did his best to ignore him?
“The Gryffindor Keeper now has a Beater’s bat. Perhaps they are changing positions? Can’t really get any worse.”
Harry spun around again, and sure enough, there was McLaggen with an angry Peaker yelling at him, trying to grab the bat back. Instead of guarding the goals, he was waving the Beater’s bat, showing Peaker how to hit a Bludger, as if the Beater didn’t know.
As Harry looked, Hufflepuff scored again.
“Give back the bat and get back to the goalposts!” Harry yelled, losing his patience with both McLaggen and the game and flying towards the Keeper.
McLaggen, ignoring Harry, though he surely heard him, struck at the Bludger and mishit it. Before Harry realised where the ball was going, a blinding pain hit him as the Bludger smashed into his forehead, sending him flying backwards. The last thing Harry noticed was people screaming and the sensation of falling.
______________
The next thing Harry knew, he was floating in that strange zone between awake and sleep where dreams seemed real. It was a place he had visited surprisingly often and he always struggled with determining reality.
With the knock on his head, he was probably mostly dreaming, or hallucinating, so he couldn’t trust anything no matter how real it seemed. The only thing he knew for certain was that whatever was happening was due to the whole Bludger-to-the-head-cracked-skull thing and was only happening inside his head.
Even knowing whatever happened was thanks to his subconscious, he was still curious to see what his mind would conjure up.
“Harry?” an ethereal voice called through the hazy mist. “You have to wake up!”
He couldn’t place the voice though it sounded familiar, so he just lay there, wondering what his subconscious wanted to tell him.
“Though maybe it’s good that you are unconscious… I have so many things to tell you, but I don’t know how you will respond, and I don’t want to lose your friendship…” the voice sounded almost sad. “You’re a great friend, Harry, you really are…”
Hermione!
He recognised the voice, but why would his subconscious use her voice? She’d hardly been on his mind lately with everything else going on.
For a while, the Hermione-hallucination… Hermiocination? Hallucimione? … didn’t say anything. The pause was long enough for him to wonder if he was close to waking up and this dream-like state his mind was in was ending, but then the voice continued, “When I saw you fall from the sky after that nasty head injury… I’ve never been so scared in my life.”
If their situations were reversed, he’d worry about her too. Of course, he would. She was his best friend, and she had saved his life on multiple occasions. In many ways, he was closer to her than anyone else; she really was the most important person in his life… his constant, his rock, his support. The girl who’d always had his back, whether he appreciated it or not. Their fights had always been her watching his back and him not appreciating it. Perhaps it wasn’t so strange that his mind found her the epitome of comfort.
So why was it she hadn’t been on his mind lately? Why had he allowed Dumbledore to fill his mind with thoughts of Horcruxes, why was he so obsessed with Malfoy’s schemes, and why did he even care about an argument between Dumbledore and Snape?
“Waiting for you to wake up… Even now, even when I know you will be alright, I still feel this crushing ache and worry about you.”
Worry about you, too. As his friend, she was in the middle of danger. Probably he should end their friendship, but no way he would do that. He was selfish enough to want her friendship. And honesty, even if he tried, she would just kick his butt and tell him to stop being stupid.
“I thought I liked Ron, but it’s not him that haunts my mind. Lately, during class, I can’t concentrate, and I’ve always been able to concentrate, but I sit there and listen to the lectures and suddenly imagines of you pop into my head, and not in an I-want-to-hit-him-with-his-stupid-potions-book kinda way.”
He couldn’t help smiling at the way she said potions book . He could practically hear her sneer. She really hated that book. Sure, it didn’t follow the official instructions, but the Half-Blood Prince’s instructions were so much better. Why couldn’t they have had a teacher like him instead of Snape for all those years? Though, of course, the Half-Blood Prince did sound like a sarcastic bastard, at least he was no Snape.
“I know you like Ginny,” Hallucimione continued, bringing Harry’s thoughts back to the present, “and I won’t get in the way. I know you don’t like me like that. And it’s really fine, Harry, but I just need to tell you how I feel…”
Funny how he had not thought of Ginny at all… funny how his mind had not used Ginny’s voice… shouldn’t she be the most important person in his life?
Yet, he’d never leaned on her like he did Hermione. In case of emergencies, he would seek Hermione’s help before Ginny’s. Maybe that was why his mind was using Hermione’s voice. She really was the most important person in his life.
Hermione truly was everything to him.
“You are nothing to me, Harry…”
It was like a bucket of cold water in the face. If he weren’t so… so unconscious, it would have been enough to wake him… but since he was unconscious, and her words were only happening inside his head, he breathed a sigh of relief. Hallucimione wasn’t the real Hermione. What she said wasn’t real. It was just the ramblings of his cracked skull and injured brain. She wouldn’t end their friendship… he couldn’t imagine going through life without her by his side. He didn’t need anyone else but he needed her. With her next to him, he could face anything.
“That came out all wrong… you know when someone asks what you’re thinking about and you reply nothing ? That’s you… You’re my nothing, Harry…I can’t believe I’m actually saying it… but I… I like you, Harry… I like you a lot…”
It was like a bucket of… warm? … water in the face… if getting a bucket of water in the face could ever be a good thing. Her words touched something deep inside him. As certain as he had ever been about anything, he knew he liked her a lot too. No, he didn’t just like her… he loved her! His heart skipped a beat and his breath caught at the realisation. He loved Hermione!
Sometimes all you really needed was a cracked skull to see things clearly.
Yet, the thing with cracked skulls was that all of this was happening inside his head. Hallucimione wasn’t the real Hermione.
She didn’t like him!
It was enough to make him cry.
______________
His eyes flew open, and he blinked a few times. Lying in a comfortable bed, feeling warm and looking up at a familiar cream coloured ceiling. He raised his head slowly, still feeling a bit woozy, but with a clear notion; he loved Hermione. Now he just had to find a way to make her fall in love with him too.
Looking about the room, he knew he was in the hospital wing. He’d been there too many times to mistake it for anything else.
As his eyes took in his surroundings, he noticed the person sitting next to his bed. She was leaning forward so much that her head was leaning on his bed. Her bushy hair falling over her shoulder, almost hiding her from view… only almost; he would recognise that hair anywhere.
He didn’t know if she was awake or sleeping, but since she hadn’t moved when he did, she was probably not awake.
He took a moment just to look at the sleeping form of Hermione. Just looking at her did something funny to his stomach.
“Hermi—“ his voice was hoarse and didn’t come out right.
Before he tried again, his mind caught up to her being next to his bed. What were the odds of his mind making up a story of her liking him while she was next to his bed?
Could it be that everything had been true? Now that his mind had accepted that he loved her, he needed her to love him back.
Was he grasping at straws, thinking it was real?
What if it had been all in his head? He would make a fool of himself… but what if it wasn’t? What if there was even the slightest chance that it had really happened, and she felt anything more than friendship for him?
With his own feelings suddenly so clear to him, he knew he had to take the chance.
“Hermione.” He reached a hand out to touch her shoulder.
Her head snapped up, and she smiled brightly. “Harry! You are awake! I was so worried!”
Feeling hopeful but dreading he was wrong, he took a deep breath and observed her expression carefully as he said the words that would prove whether it was all real or just a hallucination.
“You’re my nothing, too.”