Confusion

A loud resounding crack boomed throughout the Forest of Dean as two figures appeared out of thin air.

The bigger one of the two, obviously male, was leaning heavily on the smaller one, a female, with a huge, angry gash on his torso that ran from his right collarbone to the left side of his abdomen. Blood ran down freely on his body as he fought to keep his eyes open, fearing that he won't be able to open them again if he didn't.

"H-Hermione... I... can't hold on... for much... longer," he spoke in between gasps as if the words hurt him physically.

Immediately, she set him down on his back as she fumbled through her beaded bag. She pulled out two vials of some liquid and a small bottle which contained a sticky substance.

"Hold on, Harry. Stay with me. Don't move. This might sting a little," she pleaded.

She applied the sticky substance on his gash as his back arched and he howled in pain. As soon as the substance covered his wound she fished out some bandages and quickly but carefully covered the closing gash, wrapping it around his torso. She took the two vials, held his head in her hand while the other held a vial to his mouth.

"Come on, Harry. Drink this, it's a blood replenishing potion," she urged.

He did and as soon as he emptied the contents of the vial, she made him drink the other one as well. Immediately, his gasps faded and he began to breathe normally. She took out her wand from her pocket and did some diagnostic spells on his form before she began to declare him stable, if him breathing while his eyes are closed gave any indication.

She rested her forehead against his as she fought to regain her breathing though her heart still furiously pounded in her chest. His position gave her a foreboding sense of deja vu. Except this wasn't Ron this time. It was Harry. This time, it was Harry who was hurt and almost came close to dying.

But there was a difference between worrying over Ron and worrying over Harry. Sure, she felt her heart clench at the sight of a Splinched Ron but nothing compared to the heart wrenching, breathtaking, gut clenching, mind numbing worry over a gravely wounded Harry. Maybe it was the difference of the wounds but she had never felt this worried over Ron. It felt different to worry over Harry.

This was another thing to be curious about. She thought she had fancied Ron but she didn't feel like she couldn't live without him when he got Splinched. Watching Harry go down after a blast of Diffindo straight to his chest felt like time slowed down. Sure, she had worried over Ron- cried even- when he got hurt but watching Harry fall to the ground was like experiencing the Dementor's Kiss and the Cruciatius curse at the same time- though she has never been subjected to the torture curse itself.

She didn't feel like she couldn't live without Ron. Not like Harry.

She didn't feel like her world was going to end without Ron. Not like Harry.

She didn't feel like her life got sucked out forcefully without Ron. Not like Harry.

She didn't feel like darkness had consumed her very being without Ron. Not like Harry.

She didn't feel like Ron was her life, the person who her world revolved around. Not like Harry.

Ron is definitely not like Harry.

What does this mean? She hadn't felt this... this... passionate with her feelings with Ron. And with Harry of all people! Her best and truest friend since she was twelve! Of course, she values both of her friends, even though Ron had abandoned them, but she felt like Ron could never compare to what she felt about Harry, if she ever did have feelings for him.

Ron definitely is not Harry.

Harry felt so much more. And this confused and aggravated her even more. Confused because where do these thoughts come from and why now? Aggravated because she hated not knowing something. She is the brightest with of her age for Merlin's sake!

Bringing herself out of her musing, she noticed Harry began to stir but made no move. She silently cursed him. The stupid dolt, always so noble. Why does he always have to save anyone and everyone? She can handle herself, that's for sure. Doesn't he believe in her?

"'Mione?" his raspy voice said.

She lifted her head to see his beautiful emerald eyes pierce through her soul with a glint of worry in them. He lifted his hand to wipe tears off her face. She hadn't noticed she had been crying. Embarrassed, she wiped her tears off with her own hands before smiling down at him. Sensing her embarrassment, he smiled back but was still worried.

He tried to sit up. She held him down.

"Don't move, Harry. You're not fully healed yet," she chastised.

He held still as she put his head on her thighs, satisfied at his obedience.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asked.

Hermione laughed.

"I think I should be the one to ask you that, you know," she joked halfheartedly.

Harry smiled sheepishly but it faded immediately.

"What happened, Hermione? How long have I been out?" he asked.

Hermione found herself reliving the moment of dread when she thought she had lost him. It was not a pleasant sight.