Author's Notes: Sorry for the delay, guys! I had a major Bio test to study for, and I spent all my time into that. Now that it's over, hopefully I'll spend more time into this story again.
Oh, and Hermione's in distress. She's not thinking properly. When they're in distress, your brain basically takes a vacation to Cancun. Sometimes the Bahamas.
Hope you enjoy!!!!!!!
Oh, and before I forget:
Disclaimer: Don't own Old Spice, Tigger, or Herbal Essences. I mean, yeah, Old Spice smells soooooooo good (ohmygod it's so hot on guys!), the same with Essences (Eeee! It smells good, or at least the one I have… *grin*), and Tigger is just so adorable (it's T-I double g-err!), but that doesn't mean I own it! (But hey, it would've been Axe, too, but I don't think they had that back then…)
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August 22nd, 2001 …
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Eyes rolling to the back of his head, Harry fell to the floor, unconscious. His body gave a `thud' as he hit the cold floor, his glasses flying off his face.
Hermione's head snapped to the source of the noise, her eyes instantly widening as she saw her husband was sprawled on the floor, seemingly unconscious. Her first thought was to scream and run for help, but then thought better of it, knowing Andrew would just be even more frightened than need be. Glancing down at her son, she saw he was standing ramrod, staring at the figure of his father. Standing up, she jogged to the kitchen, kneeling in front of him.
Don't let him be dead, don't let him be dead, was the thought running through her mind. She looked around the kitchen, not knowing what to do in this stage of distress, and saw that the food on the stove was overcooking, close to flaming. Quickly standing up, she turned it off and went back to aid her husband. Wracking her brain for a reasonable solution, she found that, in this state, she wasn't able to do anything but try and help Harry.
"Papa?" Andrew asked, toddling next to Harry, tears streaming down his face. "Papa?" he called again, when he received no response.
Hermione quickly took Andrew into her arms while cradling Harry's head in her lap. "Papa's all right, Andrew," she murmured to him, kissing the top of his head. She glanced back at her husband, praying he'd awaken soon. What happened? Was it because of me? Did he eat anything? Has he been sleeping properly? Her mind whirled with questions she knew she could easily answer, but couldn't since she was stunned.
She brought her ear close to his chest, praying she could hear a heartbeat. When she did, she nearly started crying. She reached above Harry's head and grabbed his glasses, folding them and putting them into the pocket of her sweatpants. A tear escaped her eye, as she brought his head to her sternum, holding him close.
"Wake up," she whispered. "Please, wake up. I can't loose you too. I just can't."
A minute later, she heard a soft groan. She looked around, wondering if it was Andrew. He was sitting, his blanket bunched up into a ball, his arms woven tightly around the soft fabric. She heard the groan again, this time a bit louder, and looked down. Harry's head started moving a bit, his hands feebly moving up to rest on Hermione's upper thighs.
Harry moved his head back, wondering what had happened. One minute, he was watching Hermione and Andrew. And the next, he was waking up, on the floor, his face buried at the side of Hermione's breast. Normally, he would've loved this, and would've taken her clothing off too, but right now, he was too confused to even do anything but groan. The pain in the back of his head was dull, but it still hurt.
"Oh Harry," Hermione whispered, taking his face back from her chest, to cradle it in her hands. "I thought something happened," she whispered, bringing his head back to her chest. She cradled him much like she did with Andrew in his infancy months, playing with the short hairs on the back of his neck.
He groaned out something. He lifted his head so it rested on her shoulder, and wrapped his arms loosely around her waist. "I'm all right. Just… Syncope, I suspect," he guessed, comparing the symptoms. He had been emotionally stressed out for the past few weeks, he hadn't had any salt or any type of liquid, and though he didn't know if he had low blood pressure, he knew the emotional stress he was going through, and the lack of water and food, was enough for him to collapse.
"Papa," whispered Andrew, his tears staining his blanket. Harry's head snapped towards his direction and he opened his arms, inviting his young son. Andrew stood up shakily and picked up his dropped blanket, nearly running into his father's arms.
"Shh, son," murmured Harry, cradling the back of Andrew's head, just as Hermione cradled his. "Papa's fine," he continued, knowing Andrew couldn't fully understand.
"Harry," Hermione whispered, distressed. "Oh Lord," she went on, holding him almost desperately, while slowly rocking from side to side. "I thought something happened. I didn't know what to do. I still don't know what to do." She shuddered, closing her eyes, kissing the top of Harry's head, who'd unusually been silent throughout the whole thing. "I didn't even call an ambulance…" she trailed off.
He shook his head, straightening up, looking at his wife in the eye. "Hermione, you do know what you're doing. I just collapsed, and am all right." He gave her a soft kiss, squeezing the side of her waist. "Don't say that. You…" he shook his head, "You weren't your-"
Andrew cut in: "Papa," mumbled he, snuggling into Harry's side, slowly drifting off to sleep.
Sighing, he tried to stand up. He did so, but with a bit of difficulty, and cradled him as he did when he was an infant. He held out one hand, and Hermione took it gratefully, giving the smallest hints of a smile. "I'm going to sleep," Hermione murmured, walking past him. But before she fully left the kitchen, she dug through Harry's old sweatpants' pocket, took out his rectangular glasses, and placed it on the counter.
With the hand that wasn't cradling his sleeping son, he put his glasses on. Blinking, he walked out of the kitchen and down the hall, toward Andrew's room. He opened the door, absently kissing Andrew's forehead, and went to his crib. Looking down lovingly at his son, forgetting about his collapse, he gave him another soft kiss and gently put him in the crib. Andrew instantly cuddled to his soft, fleece blanket, curling into a feta position, ignorant to his father placing his Tigger blanket on him, giving him another kiss, and leaving the room.
Harry slowly walked to the bedroom, feeling slightly dizzy, and shed his jeans, his jersey coming next. Clad in only his boxers, he climbed into the bed, wondering where his wife was. The answer to his question came out of the bathroom mere seconds later, holding her stomach and head, now wearing a pair of Harry's old boxers.
"Are you okay?" he asked instantly, getting out of bed and standing in front of her, his hands on her shoulders.
She nodded feebly, "Yes." She wrapped her arms around his torso, and murmured, "We're going to the hospital tomorrow. I need to know if it was Syncope, or something else. I can't risk loosing you. I lost my father, and I'm not loosing you."
He tried to hide his surprise. Hermione was actually showing some sort of emotion, to him of all people. But, he still couldn't get rid of the feeling that she still wasn't fully herself. He shook his head, ridding himself of those thoughts for the moment, and concentrated on his wife.
"Okay," he whispered, his hands wrapping around her shoulders.
She sniffed, trying to keep her tears at bay. Shifting her head slightly, she gave Harry's sternum a soft kiss and detangled herself from him. She crawled into the bed, burying herself under the covers, and closed her eyes. Harry smiled, spooning behind her, his hand lying itself on her abdomen, and closed his eyes.
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The next morning, Harry woke early. He looked at his wristwatch, seeing that it wasn't even six yet. He rolled on his back, taking in his surroundings. Hermione was still sleeping in the same position as last night, her arm wrapped around the pillow, and the other around the blanket.
He slowly got out of bed, knowing that if he did too fast, there was a chance he could collapse again. He hadn't eaten anything yesterday, nor had he drunken anything. He was too caught up with Hermione's behaviour that he didn't even remember to eat.
He got up, feeling more exhausted than he did yesterday. Maybe the events of the trip was finally taking a toll on him, he wasn't too sure. Kneeling in front of one of his suitcases, he scratched the back of his neck and rummaged through it for a pair of clean boxers. Finding none, he went to his other one, searching. Again, he hadn't found any, and looked around the corners of the bedroom, looking for any errant boxers. Finding one with a cartoon on it (Hermione had playfully gotten it as an anniversary present), he picked it up.
He went back to his carryon and picked up a random pair of loose, yet stylish, jeans and a black shirt. Walking to the bedside table, he picked up his wand and cast a simple cleaning charm on his boxers. He brought them close to his face, sniffing them, and deciding they smelt clean, he went into the bathroom.
Stripping his boxers and socks, he took his watch and wedding ring off. Placing his towel on the counter, he turned the water on and stepped in. Letting his body and hair soak for a minute, Harry thought back on the past day.
After he'd told her Jeffery (though he usually preferred to be called Jeff, or, to Harry and Hermione, Dad) died, she'd seemed as though she was on autopilot, while her main focus was Andrew and their unborn child. She'd acted like that all day, only talking to him when he asked direct questions, and even then, often she wouldn't answer. He knew that she'd only been like this for the day, but still, he didn't like it.
He took his shampoo, which smelled like something familiar to Old Spice, his favourite product, and started massaging his head with it, now wondering what they were going to do today. Hermione said they were going to the hospital, to see if Harry really had Syncope, or if it was something more `sinister.' He chuckled, even at twenty-one, married and fathering, he still didn't have everything going great in his life. Sure, he'd married the love of his life, and had the most wonderful son a father could ask, and another one on the way just made it better, but there were still things Harry didn't like.
With the shampoo out of his hair, he then continued to take his body wash, one of many products from Old Spice, and wash his body.
First, there was the ongoing fact that Ron and Ginny were taking all of the spotlight, while he had disappeared. He didn't love it completely, but it was nice, he realized, to have at least some recognition. He knew all of that second bested other things (like Hermione, Andrew, Matt, their unborn child, etc.), but knowing he was at least there would've been nice.
He sighed, washing the last remnants of the liquid soap off his body, and turned the water off. Taking his deep green towel, he wrapped it loosely around his waist, and stepped out. The moderately sized bathroom was humid and foggy, making Harry feel suddenly dirty again. He took his wand again, and cast a simple charm, ridding the humidness. Before he did anything else, he put his wedding ring back on, and then looked into the mirror.
He shrugged, seeing himself. He didn't have his glasses on, and that made his emerald green eyes pop out even more, and his tanned, clear skin had the slightest hint of stubble. He groaned. It's been, what, three days since I've last shaved, and I barely have stubble, he miserably thought. Most guys have stubble by the end of the day, and I barely have anything. He shook his head, At least I don't have a hairy back, chest, or arse, he chuckled.
Slipping his boxers on, he heard one knock before the door opened, showing his wife of nearly four years come in, sleepily rubbing her eyes. She smiled, seeing him in only his boxers, and muttered, "Missed the show, I see," before leaning on the counter.
Harry chuckled, putting his clear-gelled deodorant on, the same Old Spice brand. He closed the lid and walked in front of Hermione, his hands on either side of her, his lips nuzzling her neck. "How are you?" he asked, concerned, his hands now travelling up her arms.
"Fine," she murmured, her hands absently wrapping them around his neck and entangling themselves in his wet strands of hair. She smiled, seeing the longer part of his hair plastered to his skull.
"Are you sure?" he prodded, massaging her shoulders. "You were… odd, yesterday," he continued, looking into her brown, almost hazel, eyes.
"I'm sure," she answered truthfully, one land falling to her stomach, where it rested comfortably. Last night, after Harry had awoken, he was too shaken to change from her sports bra, so she'd simply taken off her pants and took a pair of Harry's older boxers to sleep in for the night.
He nodded, giving her neck a soft kiss. Moving back, he murmured, "I'll just finish getting ready, then."
She nodded. "Okay. I was just…" She shrugged. "I don't know anymore." Giving a soft sigh, she turned and left.
He hung his head, giving a soft sigh. Knowing that putting product in his hair everyday wasn't good, he ran his fingers through his hair until it was styled into the faux-hawk. It was naturally messy, and especially since his hair was wet, it styled easily. He quickly threw his jeans on, smiling when he realized these were another pair Andrew would have fun pulling down, exposing more of his boxers than it already did. But then he grinned, It's better than nothing, though. Hastily throwing on his shirt, he put some body spray onto himself and, putting his wristwatch on, left the bathroom.
Hermione was lining up his and her underclothes, neatly folding them and placing them into their respective bags as they were cleaned. Harry smiled, remembering to cast a cleansing charm on his boxers, and threw it into his bag. After a minute or so, Hermione announced she was finished, grabbed a pair of khaki pants and a loose shirt, her undergarments, and went into the bathroom to take a shower.
Harry checked the time. Only thirty minutes to seven, and they still had the whole day ahead of him. He walked out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, deciding that it was best to get something into his system before blacking out again. Opening the fridge, he saw there wasn't much food left. The food he was cooking yesterday was still on the stove, though he knew it was now unhealthy to eat it. He took hold of the pan and threw the contents of it into the sink, frowning. A perfectly good recipe-gone to waste!
He took out one of their few bowls, adding one of the small boxes of cereal they had, and added milk to it. Grabbing a large spoon, he started eating. After just a few minutes, he finished it, putting the empty bowl into the sink and cleaning it, along with the pan from yesterday.
Walking to his son's room, he saw that Hermione was already there, one hand resting on his cheek, the other on her abdomen. "Don't worry, baby," she whispered to the sleeping toddler, "Papa is all right now. Mummy, on the other hand… she doesn't know what's going on with her… Before Papa `fell,' Mummy was… I wasn't myself," she continued, rubbing her stomach and staring at Andrew's peaceful, sleeping face.
Harry walked further into the room, his right arm slinging around Hermione's shoulder, the other resting on her stomach. "You weren't yourself," he whispered. "And I was scared. I was scared out of my wits." He turned his head so he could look into his wife's eyes. "I know you were stressed out with everything… but I was still so scared."
She nodded. "I was just so stressed. With… with the Weasleys, Wizarding World, you, the baby, Andrew, and just everything; I was stressed. Then with my father…" Her lip trembled, tears threatening to fall.
He hugged her loosely, holding her head, letting it fall naturally to his shoulder. "We'll figure everything out soon, love," he whispered to her, burying his nose in her hair. "One step at a time. We will," he reassured. "We've been doing it for years, haven't we? You and me. The Platinum Duo," he whispered in her ear, making her giggle (something she rarely did, only in private or when she was `playing' with Harry) madly.
"That is so…" She giggled, finding it hard to finish her sentence.
"Gay?" he added.
She nodded into his neck. "Yes. That." She inhaled deeply, loving his musky scent. She loved it. It was like his own signature scent, since he always wore the Old Spice brand. She thought it was seductive and oh so masculine. I feel like I'm a stalker sniffing someone, she thought, smiling, burying her face further into Harry's neck.
After a few minutes, Harry remembered one person: Remus Lupin. He didn't know why he was suddenly remembering the deceased werewolf, but now, he was suddenly wondering about his son. Teddy Lupin should've been about four now, if he remembered correctly. He felt Hermione shift closer to him, and he could feel her stomach, slightly bumpy against his hips.
He wracked his brain for a reasonable solution. He suddenly wanted to visit the only Lupin member, but he hadn't the faintest idea where he lived. What if he moved, with Tonk's parents? What if he hadn't? Did he even remember where they lived? He could barely remember their living room, let alone address. Perhaps Teddy's grandmother could give them answers. Answers to what happened in the English Wizarding World during their absence; answers to the Weasleys; and answers on why they weren't mentioned anywhere.
"Teddy Lupin," whispered Harry.
Hermione looked up, raising her eyebrows. "Teddy?" Her eyes widened in comprehension. "Teddy! Oh my, Teddy… He… They could give us answers!" she whispered, grinning.
He nodded happily, dropping a kiss to her lips. His face suddenly fell, and replaced one of slight confusion. "But, how will we find out where they live?" he wondered, his voice soft, thinking his son was still sleeping.
She shrugged, her hands now falling to his hips. "We… we could go to the Ministry," she lamely suggested, feebly shrugging.
"But what about-?"
"Death Eaters?" finished Hermione. He nodded. "I… Well, we're fully capable. You've taken on the Dark Lord, and, well… I'm me," she cheekily said. "But really, we are capable of handling ourselves. And besides, it's been nearly four years, and the Wizarding World seems very happy."
"True," he murmured.
"So then it's settled," affirmed Hermione. "We'll go to the hospital first, and then we'll go to the Ministry and talk to Teddy Lupin."
Harry nodded, leaning in to give his wife a kiss that made up for the lack of kisses they shared this morning and the day before. Their tongues duelled, each fighting for dominance. As their intense, open-mouthed kiss raged on, Andrew stood, bouncing quietly, seemingly waiting for the right moment to arrive.
Several minutes and many groans and moans later, Andrew giggled madly, causing his parents to break their kiss and stare at their child. Andrew, clad, apparently, in only his soft fleece shirt, was bouncing up and down, giggling. His pants were nowhere to be seen, and his diaper was near the corner of the crib. There was a rather large stain in the middle of the crib, right behind where Andrew was still bouncing.
"I swear I saw pants on him five minutes ago," muttered Hermione, her eyes wide in disbelief.
"Uh oh?" wondered Andrew, his hands up in question, giggling madly after. "Uh oh, Mumma!" he exclaimed, resuming his bouncing.
Harry, whose eyes had just travelled to the mess behind his son, started laughing madly.
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"It was not funny," muttered Hermione, putting Andrew into the stroller.
Harry, still chuckling, managed to form an answer. "Yes it is, Hermione. Our son, who isn't even one year old, just managed to do magic and shit his pants all in the same minute!"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "If you're going to laugh, at least use appropriate language," she reprimanded, taking her purse and opening the door.
He followed behind his wife, stuffing his wallet into his back pocket. "Hermione," he whined, "I'm a twenty-one year old man. I have the right to cuss!"
"When you're around Andrew, you're not," she answered haughtily.
Grinning, Harry placed his hands on Andrew's stroller from behind. "What about when we're alone?" he asked, whispering in her ear, making her shiver.
"That," she said, trying to get to the elevator without slamming Harry against the wall and shagging him senseless, "is not the point."
Harry shrugged, walking past her. "Okay. Just making sure." He winked, letting her and Andrew into the elevator. "Because, even if you said no, I'm going to swear… especially, when we're alone."
Blushing, Hermione could only pity the elderly woman that had been with them in the elevator during Harry's statement. He can be so daft sometimes, she thought. But I love that about him.
Fifteen minutes later, the two were back in the hospital. They walked to the front desk, seeing the same woman they did the day before. She lazily looked up at them, her eyebrows rising dramatically as she saw the family. "You again?" asked she in mild surprise.
"Yeah," Harry nodded absently. "Listen, can we talk to a doctor?" he asked, wondering if he was doing it right. They'd never have to go to a doctor. Usually, the doctors came to him. (Even in Stanford, he'd gotten quite a few injuries, two even fatal, and he'd be cured within a few days. "Almost like magic," a doctor had said once.)
"Why don't you talk to Dr. Evans?" suggested the woman, not waiting for an answer. She started typing quickly, a little faster than the Potters could, and then picked up her phone. "Yes…" she said, ignoring the three person family. "Right now…?" She nodded. "Yes… No… Room 1034, yes. Thank you." Hanging up the phone, she turned to address the family. "Room 1034. Dr. Evans isn't seeing anyone right now. You're lucky; he's always got patients," she said.
Hermione nodded. "Thanks," she said softly, pushing Andrew's stroller down the halls. Harry followed.
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"See, Hermione? I told you it was only Syncope," said Harry, now pushing the stroller towards the car.
"Only Syncope, Harry?" she retorted, taking Andrew out of his stroller and putting him in his car seat. "Harry, you could collapse at any given time. And the stress is only a mild factor!" she exclaimed, watching as Harry folded the stroller and put it in the trunk.
"Do you want to drive?" asked Harry, changing the subject, handing her the keys.
She shook her head. "No. I haven't gotten my international licence," she declined.
"Oh yeah," he nodded, getting into the car and putting it into ignition.
"And now…"
"To the Leaky Cauldron!" announced Harry, driving out of the hospital lot. "Only about… fifteen minutes, I'm assuming, until we reach."
Hermione nodded, staring out the window. "Okay."
As predicted, fifteen minutes later, they found themselves in front of the Leaky Cauldron, or, at least, a place Muggles thought was a closed pub.
Harry drove to a near by alley, ignoring the curious looks he was receiving from the Muggles. Getting out, he opened the trunk and took out Andrew's stroller, opening it so Hermione could put him in there. She came out seconds later, Andrew lying his head comfortably on her shoulder, his arms wrapped around her neck. She smiled, taking her purse and baby bag from the car and closing the door.
"I'll hold him for a bit," she told him.
He nodded. "All right." He turned around, making sure no Muggle was looking, and shrunk their car, dropping it into Hermione's purse after. "I'll look retarded with a toy in my back pocket," was all he said when she'd raised her eyebrows in question.
The family walked inside, preparing themselves for the recognition. He had to admit, though, he was more than nervous. Terrified, really. Taking a deep breath, he held the door open for his wife and son. "Perhaps I should've worn my hoodie," he muttered, wondering if he had his extra in the car. Too late now, he thought, car's already in Mione's purse.
"Let's get in quietly, and leave quietly," Hermione muttered, taking his hand and trying to swiftly manoeuvre their way to the back room.
Harry nodded, and it seemed as though they were walking unnoticed. But suddenly, someone exclaimed, "Look! It's Harry Potter and Hermione Granger! And look, is that a baby in her arms?"
Harry and Hermione groaned in unison, stopping as they were suddenly surrounded by people.
Author's Notes: Sorry for the cliffhanger, but I wrote this all in one day (yesterday) and I just had to leave it there.
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