Have you ever wondered if there were actually such people as wizards and witches? Or potions and odd-sounding phrases that actually caused things to happen, literally, as fast as a snap of the finger? Sometimes it's fun to think about these things, because you know that they don't exist.
At least that was what Dr. Hermione Granger believed, until she met Harry Potter.
TOUCH by merletto
Chapter ONE
It was early in the morning, and already, the streets were bustling with morning traffic. Long lines of cars were moving fairly slowly, and all the intersections were jammed with cars trying to pass through. Horns un-patiently screamed, and windows rolled down while upset drivers cursed "Bloody hell!" under their breath. All of London seemed to be entangled in its stringy mess, save the rider of a bicycle weaving its way between cars.
Hermione Granger grinned as she sped past the long lines of cars. Though other London-ers hated the morning traffic, she loved it. To her, every morning was an adventure. As soon as she woke up, dressed, packed her backpack, and gulped down her daily glass of milk, she got on her bike and began making her way to work. As mundane as this may sound, it actually wasn't. Each day, the sun shone differently on her skin and the clouds arranged themselves in a new pattern. Each day, she passed by different cars and different arrangements of traffic. Each day, she heard different people curse at the mess in front of them. And each day, she always arrived at work punctually.
She suddenly swerved around the corner and rode past the loading trucks and onto the rack. Then she got off. Finding the key to her lock, she secured her bike against a railing near the loading area. She walked past the maintenance crew and the kitchen cooks as she hummed "God Save Our Queen". Taking a left turn, she entered the locker room. After reaching her locker, she began changing from her biking gear to surgical wear, finishing it off with a white coat, name tag clipped on the left breast pocket in which pens and a light-pen were sitting, stethoscope around her neck, and clipboard in hand.
She made her way to the emergency ward, smiling at nurses and greeting patients along the way. Though she was a cardio-pulmonary surgeon, as the newest staff physician, she was required to supervise the ER for at two mornings a week. She stopped by the drink machine and bought a decaffeinated coffee. Her hands were full, and she laughed as she raised her hand with the clipboard to wave at a little girl who was in the hospital being treated for pneumonia as she sipped her steaming coffee.
When she arrived at the ward, she swept into the staff area. Placing her board and coffee on the desk, she grabbed the charts the interns had left in her file rack. Someone had bought blueberry bagels to share, which she bit into to hold in her mouth while she juggled clipboard, charts, and coffee and then entering an emptied meeting room.
While munching on her bagel slowly, she began flipping through medical charts of her patients. As she quietly read through them, she sighed in frustration. Here she was, a Cambridge University School of Medicine graduate, staff physician in the Royal Hospital of London, sitting in a half-deteriorated chair, leafing through ER cases that even first year residents could handle! As much as she loved being a doctor, she couldn't help but be annoyed at the head cardiologist, who had, during a staff meeting, deliberately set her up for ER and made sure that she couldn't get out of it. His sexist remarks certainly did not help ease matters, as Hermione was the first female physician to be in the staff in the last ten years, and no wonder, she commented to herself; Dr. David Wright was such a curd!
Interns and residents were beginning to file into the meeting room slowly. Each of them greeted her a good morning. She checked the time on the clock. Two more minutes before the morning meeting would commence. She motioned to the brunette female intern who sat by the door to close the door, as another intern scurried into a seat in the back. She nodded to the chief resident in the room, Jerry Meyer, who took his cue and began passing out the check sheets for the day. He then continued, asking each resident to brief on their cases.
After each briefing, Hermione voiced her comments, either praise that brought a triumphant smile on the resident in charge's face, or constructive criticism, when she questioned the care and reasoning. The interns in the back would scribble furiously on their notepads as residents nodded glumly at their mistakes. When all the residents finished their briefing, she stood up by the white board and began a list of patients that needed to be moved into different wards. Just as she was ready to dismiss her staff and begin rounds, the intercom broke in.
"Dr. Hermione Granger, please head to emergency ward surgery room 1." Hermione sighed, but did not hesitate to instruct another resident to take her charts and begin the rounds.
***
In an unseen part of London that most people didn't know even existed, there was a world hidden away from the eyes of normal people. In this world, magic existed, and its citizens were wizards and witches, as well as elves, giants, goblins, fairies, dragons and many many more creatures that really existed. As for the wizards and witches, one couldn't tell the difference between them and ordinary people, well, except for the way they dress and maybe their peculiar ways.
One such wizarding place was the Leaky Cauldron, situated between a Muggle, or non-magical, bank and a bookstore, it was tucked away in a small corner and hidden so well that one had to be a wizard or witch in order to find it. Once inside, one finds himself among a group of wizarding people, who were attended by the pub-owner Tom. The door near the bar table leads to a small area, which leads to one of the most frequented wizarding places in all London: Diagon Alley.
In order to enter Diagon Alley, one must know the secret password, a combination of taps on the bricks on the wall that separated the pub from wizarding world. Once the correct combination was tapped in, the walls disperse, just as the Red Sea parted for Moses to lead Israelites pass through, and one was free to enter Diagon Alley, filled with shops and stores that one could only dream of.
Down the street, one could see Gringotts, the wizard's bank that was run by goblins. As one passed by each shop, one could only wonder, what kind of treasures and goodies were hidden there? Ollivanders, potion ingredients, Flourish and Blotts' bookstore of Magical Books, Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, Quality Quidditch, a magical pets store, Eyelops, and lastly, Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes.
Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, a.k.a. the Joke Shop, was run by the Weasley twins, Fred and George. They opened this store with the help of a silent endorser as soon as they had graduated from school. It had first opened its doors about five years ago, and it still was very popular among young and old wizards alike. Many treats that were actually gags entertained as practical jokes, and during holidays the store was packed with young visitors who had depleted their joke supply of canary creams, ton-tongue toffees, and skiving snackboxes.
This day, however, the store was darkly and closed, when it normally was bright and cheery. However, it was not empty. Four men were seated in the back room that the Weasley brothers used as an office, their faces serious, in deep conversation.
Ron Weasley, the younger brother of the twins, sighed in concern as George handed him a mug of tea. He nodded his thanks as his brother sat down beside Remus Lupin. "So they found him?"
Remus nodded, his dark eyes shadowed with concern. "Yes. In a Muggle neighbourhood. Whoever attacked him left him in an alley, apparently thinking that no one would ever find him."
Ron pounded his fist into the table. "Bastard! When I find whoever hurt my friend……" He covered his face with his hands. "Hell, I don't even know how he is!"
Fred and George glanced at each other as they placed a comforting hand on their brother's shoulder. "No worries, brother. Harry's a strong chap. He'll make it out fine. If he could survive Voldemort back in seventh year, he definitely could survive this."
Ron nodded, though not totally convinced. "So, where is he now, Remus?"
"In the Royal Hospital of London," he replied. The three men stared at Remus. "Muggle hospital," he confirmed their unspoken question. He looked at them confused. "Why? What's wrong with a Muggle hospital?"
Fred shook his head. "Nothing. It's just that Ginny's there. Remember? She gave up medi-wizard training and took up medical school at a Muggle school. She just got into that hospital three months ago."
Ron smiled for the first time. "That's right! We should go talk to Ginny then!"
George smirked. "She's in pediatrics, remember? And Harry's too big to be in pediatrics." Ron glared at him as if to tell him to sod off. George just snickered.
"Doesn't matter. I'm going to go see her now." Ron fished through his robes, searching for his wand. As he was about to disapparate, Remus held out his hand to stop him. "Ron, it's Muggle territory. I don't think you should apparate."
Ron considered for a moment, before nodding. "Oh yeah, I forgot."
Fred grinned. "Maybe you should do something about the robes too, you know. Muggles would think you are of the odd sort wearing that."
Remus smiled, his face looking much younger actually was. "Well, I should go find Sirius. He is worried sick." With a pop, he disappeared.
Ron followed him a second later.
The twins looked at each other as they began to clear away half-empty mugs.
"So, Gred, what do you think is going to happen?"
Fred pretended to be pondering profoundly. "Oh, maybe some nurse will think our Ronnie-kins is a sick child and stick some of those Muggle needles into his arse, Feorge."
George snickered. "With Harry out like that? You didn't, did you?"
Fred grinned. "I didn't. But you did, didn't you?"
As George began dumping tea from the mugs into the sink, he took out a piece of wrapping paper from his pocket and tossed it to Fred. The curves of Fred's lips twitched wickedly. Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, Purpura Powder.**
***
Hermione looked up from the surgery table in which her patient, now covered with green surgical clothes, except in the thoracic area. The man was shot three times; two bullets were lodged in the back, and one in the chest. Fortunately, the bullet did not penetrate deeper than the lower end of the latissimus dorsi muscles, entering partly into the more intrinsic back muscles, but not deep enough to enter the abdominal cavity from behind. The third one, however, must have been shot in the front, barely grazing the heart, but had lodged itself in the lower end of his left lung. Hermione's heart had stopped after viewing the X-rays that she had ordered as soon as the man was brought into the surgery room.
As Nurse Heather Wheatley helped her dress for the surgery, she had found herself gazing at the man. He had a clear complexion, his face was tanned enough to have a ruggish look, but light enough to reflect a gentle spirit. And his hair, though unkempt, appeared silky and shiny, and she was tempted to run her fingers through them. Somehow the man looked familiar, though she couldn't put her finger on when and where she may have seen him before.
While she and the attending surgeons were waiting for the X-rays, she began a physical assessment, or, well, rather tried to. The nurses had already undressed and sterilized the man. She ordered two of the residents to move him into a sitting position. She noticed the bullet wounds in the back, clogged with dried blood. Those will be first to go, she had stated to the other residents. Then she had him lay down again and checked the chest wound. He had quite the body, she noted inwardly, slightly blushing. His muscles were firm, and his abdomen was flat and strong, with six-packs visible. She quickly blotted the urge to touch him, as she turned her concentration back on the wound. It was deeper than she thought. Jerry had checked his vital stats. Normal, but on the lower end, she thought. Breathing was difficult, probably from blood in his lung. She had just asked Jerry to set up a tracheal tube when the radiologist came in with the x-rays. After clipping them onto the light-board, she quickly examined and assessed the location of the bullet. Then they were ready to begin.
Three hours had passed already, since they had begun surgery. Jerry had removed the bullets from his back, cleaned out the dried blood around it, and patched it up nicely. Hermione had complimented on his work, which brought a pleased smile on his face. Then she had taken over on the bullet in the chest. She carefully slit the wound open with a scalpel, cutting through skin, fascia, and muscle. When she reached the pleura, she carefully palpitated the area. The bullet was there, but he was suffering from blood filling up the pleural cavity. She asked another resident to insert a tube to filter the blood. The resident was not very experienced with intubation, but he succeeded thanks to her meticulous instructions. They waited for blood to flow into a flask. She decided to continue with the surgery. After finding the bullet, she carefully removed it. His lung had stopped bleeding profusely, perhaps having been clogged up after being wounded so long. She carefully cleaned the area, checked if all equipments were there, and instructed a third resident to sew up the wound, in neat, small stitches. As a nurse helped to remove her surgical robes, another assistant hit the stereo and it began playing a jazzy tune.
She smiled to herself, relieved that the surgery was successful as she untied her surgical mask. Across the hall, another surgeon, Dr. Charles Jourdan, gave her a thumbs-up sign, which she returned with a grin. She was about to leave and clean up when the stereo stopped playing and a nurse came calling her name, "Dr. Granger! Dr. Granger!"
Hermione's heart began to pound profusely. She quickly retied her mask on as she asked Jerry, "What happened?" as she glanced at the monitors that were dropping to zero.
Jerry looked at her anxiously. "His blood pressure dropped, and his pulse is gone. Breathing lapsed…."
Hermione did not let him continue as she pushed him aside and began to perform CPR. One, two, three ….fifteen. She pulled his head back and covered his mouth with hers as she gave him a full breath. Nothing. Again. Nothing. "Paddles!" she shouted. Jerry stumbled away from the table as another resident handed him the paddles. Hermione grabbed them as she placed them on his chest. "Okay. Go." Nothing. "Up to 100!" Still nothing. Oh, God, please. Don't let him die! Not him! I don't even know his name! her heart cried. They continued with the paddles, until maximum voltage that the human heart could take was reached.
She dropped the paddles as she fell to her knees beside him, holding onto his hand. Please, start beating. Breathe! I can't bear to see you die like this. She felt tears slide off her cheeks and into their hands that were meshed tightly together. And a moment later, she heard the ECG monitor beginning to beep normally again.
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**Purpura is defined as "any of several hemorrhagic states characterized by patches of purplish discoloration resulting from extravasation of blood into the skin and mucous membranes" (Webster's Medical Dictionary). I had originally thought of "throat searing tea" but I think having purple spots on Ron's body (caused by magical manifestation, not clinical) would be funnier. Okay, my poor attempt at humor. So shoot me.
What's the difference between chest tubes and tracheal tubes? Well, each intubation has a different purpose. A chest tube is usually inserted between the 3rd and 4th rib on the side to relieve pressure within the pleural cavity of the lung that may be caused by gas, blood, or water trapped inside. A tracheal tube is the kind of intubation that is used during full-body anesthesia, to ensure that the patient has a clear airway for breathing and to allow easier access for injection of oral medicine.
That's it for the first chapter. How was it? Okay, the surgical scene was a bit unreal. That's because I don't really know much about what happens. And I tried to make the wounds as realistic as possible.
Since I wanted a trailer before I started the story, I didn't have room for disclaimers and AN's. So here goes. This is an alternate universe. It's an H/Hr ship, and the other characters, well, while some will be the same, the others will be OoC. The plot itself is adapted from the movie City of Angels. Anyhow, please read and review. Any constructive comments will definitely help and be appreciated!
Standard disclaimers apply. And many thanks to Szaranea for beta reading. She was sick, but she still had this chapter read and edited in two days. Cheers to you and hope you get well soon.
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