A/N. We're leaving the present to go back and find out what happened last year after the carnage at the Ghoul. Originally, the intent was for them to flashback on it with Ron's help, to explain why Hermione is the way she is with Harry in the present, but it took a life of its own and before I knew it there were nine chapters. Yikes!
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Chapter 24 - The Petulant Patient and the Healer In Training
15 February 2006 - Somewhere dark and cold.
Beep…beep…beep…beep…
Will somebody turn that blasted alarm off?
Whoosh…whoosh whoosh…
Jeez! Trying to get some sleep here!
"Pressure's dropping!"
Who's there?
"It's the blood bypass device. He's been on it than most have been able to tolerate. He can't stay on it for much longer."
Where are the lights?
"I can't see a thing. Get that sucker in here. He needs more blood replenishing potion."
Who are this people?
Beep…beep…beep…beep
"You're losing him, Healer Stitchworthy!"
"He's some kind of Brit hero. We can't lose him. Get next of kin in here!"
Right. Healer… hospital... gushing hole… good luck finding next of kin.
"I have the wife."
Wife?
"I'm not his wife. He doesn't have one."
Hermione?
"Oh, Harry…"
Hermione. That bad, huh?
"Are you family?"
"Not exactly."
"Then you don't belong here. Find me someone else. How's he holding up?"
"Not good. You need to control that bleeder."
"He has no one. I'm as close to next of kin as you'll get."
Yeah, it's a long story. Best listen to her.
"Clamp! Young lady, there are rules…"
"I know the rules! The rules don't apply to him and I'm not going to let some hospital quill pusher make decisions about his care!"
I prefer her, too.
"Thrombocorpusculus! I will have to ask you to leave."
No!
"Let me be clear. I'm not leaving until you fix him. Get me the forms for next of kin substitute and if you do your job you won't need me to make a decision. Now, stop arguing with me and just save his life!"
"Fine! Somebody, get her the forms and make sure she signs them! Release clamp, gently... Damn!"
Beep…beep…beep…
"Harry, hang in there."
I'm not planning on going anywhere. I just wish I could see or feel. Wait…I think I do feel you. You're running your fingers through my hair. That feels really nice.
"You can't die."
I agree.
"Not like this."
No.
"We're going to grow old together."
I'd like that.
"You, me, Ron…"
I prefer you with me and not with him.
"And the woman you'll finally allow into your life…I promise not to be so critical…"
She's already in my life. It just took me a long time to realize it.
"We could be neighbours."
Better roommates; bed mates.
"Unfortunate kids with bushy brown, stubborn black or fiery red hair running in the backyard…"
Ha! I agree, that's actually quite funny to imagine.
"Hopefully not getting into half as much trouble as their parents did…"
I seriously doubt that you'll get that wish.
Whoosh…whoosh…who-
"No…"
Uh-oh…
"He's rejecting further bypass. You don't have much time."
"I hear that! Clamp! Almost…"
Beep…beep…beep…
"He's going down the drain. Pressures are bottoming out."
Hermione, don't stop talking.
Beep…beep…beep…
"Replenishing potion dose maxed out."
Beep…beep…beep…
"Shut that alarm off for a moment! Thrombocorpusculus! One more…"
"Harry…"
Don't cry. I'll be fine.
"Harry…there's so much…tell… you…I…without…life…never…same…"
Your voice is breaking off. Can't seem to focus.
"He's…flatline…lost…much…too late…stop…let go…"
"Harry…love…"
I didn't quite get that. What did you just say?
"I lo…"
Hermione?
Hermione?
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18 February 2006 - St. Mungo's
Harry woke up feeling weak and exhausted. Every muscle and joint in his body was mush and it took a while before he could recognize the somewhat sunlit room he was in, longer than he should have considering he had spent a couple of months in the very same place the last time he was injured. He was in a private suite at St. Mungo's
Hopeful, he glanced over to the corner where an old, evidently oft used two person recliner was nestled against the window and was disappointed to find it empty. It was a donated piece of furniture and he remembered when movers brought the seat in brand-new. It was years ago, some weeks after his Quidditch 'accident'.
"Right there," Hermione directed the two wizards to the spot, "Off to the right a bit, no back, forward, there, that's perfect. Thanks."
She was ignoring him on purpose as she gave the movers a galleon each and disappeared out his door. Did she leave?
Not long after he asked the question in his mind she came back, wand in hand and trunk in tow. A couple of flicks of her wrist later, a bookcase and a lamp stand appeared out of thin air, shortly followed by a parade of what looked like Healer school textbooks from the trunk, in some arcane order, finding their designated spots on the shelves.
What did she think she was doing? This was his room, that was his corner, and he did not ask for this reading nook.
Satisfied, she then sat on the new furniture and bounced on it a few times, reclined, then bounced a bit more, more than he thought necessary. This was quite unlike her, looking silly, obviously to get some reaction from him.
It was his first week in the new private wing and his physical injuries were continuing to heal. He had finally resigned, severing all ties with the Cannons and he had a persistent foul mood, reminiscent of that summer after the Triwizard Tournament when he was told to stay at the Dursleys against his will.
He wanted to leave and go home. All he had on his mind was that he was thirsty and nobody would give him a drink stronger than freshly squeezed OJ. Harry knew better than to ask. After all, he did voluntarily sign up for the treatment. Hermione made sure of that and he was annoyed at her for knowing just what to say to convince him to do so.
"It's a disease, there's a cure. You know where this is going and you know nothing good can come out of it. You have to do this, for yourself. But if you don't think you owe yourself that much then do it for those of us who need the old Harry back. And do it for those who care about you. Just think about your Mum."
Harry recognized that it was a rant from frustration and he didn't think she even realized what she just said until she spoke all of it straight from her heart. Bringing his Mum up was not fair and it almost brought him to tears thinking how badly she must feel that the boy she had so much love and hope for ended up an alcoholic at 20.
It was easy to acquire but not easy to kick the habit. The physical symptoms of withdrawing from alcohol were not so bad though they were somewhat dulled by the alcohol substitute potion, ASP for short. The battle with his mind, his craving was worse. At one point, he gave Hermione his wand because he was afraid of what he would do with it.
Harry had no desire to and refused to talk to anyone, at least not pleasantly. He would only speak in one word sentences when asked, if he was so inclined to respond. Healer assistants were scared of him and there were only a handful willing to be assigned to his case. He had been biting everyone's head off, including hers. And the worst part of it was that he was aware of how rotten he was to others but it seemed that it was the only way to relieve some of the internal fury he was harboring.
The tensions within him had peaks and valleys and yesterday, his volatile temper wreaked havoc in his room as a hurricane would have, sending a couple of hospital staff scurrying away in fright. Hermione stayed, by herself, matching his anger with her determination to break through his childish tantrum. She was right; it wasn't his fault that the team wasn't competitive; it wasn't his fault that the Cannons owner took advantage of his popularity to make money; it wasn't the end of the world that he would not play professional Quidditch. There were plenty of things to do with his life other than wallow in self-pity and continue to want to drink himself further into depression.
Her words stung and as she attempted to touch him, an invisible force repelled her and threw her back a few feet. Seeing her wince as she gingerly got up, he was jogged from his mental idiocy but was hit by a Healer's petrifying curse before he could reach her to find out if she was okay.
And here she was, the day after, fine as if nothing happened, looking silly.
"What are you doing?" he had a Muggle magazine in hand, staring but not reading.
"Huh?" she acted surprised, "Are you talking to me?"
Her shock though feigned was not inappropriate because he rarely initiated conversation.
"If you intend to work here eventually you should stop doing that. You look kind of ridiculous."
"I don't think anyone can say that once they've sat in it. It's fantastic. No magic can conjure one so cozy that's why I bought it from a Muggle store," she replied and ushered him, "Come. Try it out."
Still feeling bad about what he did yesterday, he sat beside her, did as she did a few times and remarked truthfully, "It is quite comfy."
"I told you so," she had a satisfied smile on her face.
For the first time in a really long while he looked at her, really looked at her. Having admired her for her wit and intelligence all their Hogwarts years and recognizing her bossy and controlling nature for what it was (the overwhelming need to prove that she was right because of an unfounded insecurity which she had finally overcome with recognition for her role in Voldemort's defeat), he could not help but wonder. If he did not grow up the way he did, he wasn't sure if he would have forged such an unlikely friendship with the bushy haired bossy voiced know-it -all he first met on the Hogwarts train and he would have missed out on being friends with someone so extraordinary. Only someone amazing could have put up with him these past trying weeks. That, or she was crazy.
He could not help but wonder if he would find himself where he was now had he fought for her instead of stepping aside for Ron. Seeing her everyday this past week irritated him, made him angrier with himself and he now realized why. While he did not know if Hermione would have been interested in him at all, he could not help but think that his act of 'sacrifice' for his best friend cost him dearly.
Despite the cheery disposition and the constant energy she exuded, Hermione looked exhausted. Between her classes, keeping him company and revising for her final exams, he suspected that she barely slept since he was hospitalized. Ron was still with the team and she had not seen Ron in a while.
This morning, he overheard a couple of witches gossiping in the hallway that she received permission from the school not to attend the remaining sit-down lectures so she could be in the hospital with him. He suspected that this was brought about by the fact that he was being weaned off the ASP, and outbreaks like yesterday were likely going to get worse before they got better.
She didn't have to do this.
"You don't need to be here," he told her, wanting her to be and not be at the same time. "You should be studying, in school, or in the library."
"Your room is loads quieter," she replied. "You rarely talk, you ignore me, and I can't imagine a more perfect place to revise.
She was kidding, of course, and he sheepishly grinned, embarrassed at how preposterous he had been acting.
"You can't camp out in here," he pointed out. "Aren't there rules?"
"Since when were you ever concerned about rules?" she commented, "Your Healer figures you need company, one you won't jinx on purpose."
"There will be rough times," he said to her seriously.
She knew that kicking his craving for the bottle would be a war against himself and the reason why Healers thought it best that he stayed at St.Mungo's for a while.
"I'll be here."
"What does Ron think about all this?"
"He'll be fine with it. I'll owl him later."
Harry didn't want any trouble and was concerned about her answer, well aware how Ron disliked her making decisions like this without asking him first. He left it at that, knowing it was done. She was a stubborn woman; he knew that as well as Ron did.
"I'm sorry about yesterday."
"It happens."
"I'm sorry I hurt you."
"I've been hexed worse than that. I'm fine, really."
"Say something else, like how I should learn to control myself and not let my magic get away from me," it was odd that she didn't say something like that.
"What's the point? You already know."
He did.
"I am sorry."
"I know."
And from being close friends, the look in her eye as she said that reassured him that his apology was accepted and that all was forgiven. She took the advantage of his momentary good mood and summoned a couple of books from the shelves. As she handed one to him, he groaned in jest.
Chuckling at his reaction, she said, "That should keep your mind off firewhiskey, I would think."
"Or drive me straight back to it!" he kidded then realizing that Hermione couldn't tell, he tried to put her mind to rest, "It's a joke."
"Are you sure?" she asked again. "There's other stuff if you want."
She rattled off a few titles from what he saw was his shelf.
"Confessions of a Recovered Alcoholic, Your Liver Your Life, A Brain Cell Dead A Brain Cell Lost Forever, Sex and Alcoholism Don't Mix…"
He had to interrupt, thinking that if he was going to read anything else from his shelf he would have to repopulate it with more innocuous material, "This is fine to start with, really. I've always wanted to read it. I just never had the time."
And to convince her that he was sincere and prevent her from enumerating more book titles, he opened the cover to the thick thousand-paged book she handed him and read the title.
'Hogwarts: A History'
And that was how they spent most of the week, reading. She was right; it did keep his mind off drinking and his moodiness and cravings were under control. Though during one visit his Healer warned them that the worst was yet to come as his ASP dose was decreased further.
As Harry awaited his true test of resolve and determination, Hermione's exams were coming up, too. It was quite evident that her stress levels were going through the roof.
"I knew the Hogwarts founders were friends but I didn't realize that Gryffindor and Slytherin were that chummy," he spoke to her the day he turned the last page over.
She was pacing by her nook, one of those question and answer review books in hand, reading and then muttering to herself, which he was so used to now. She interrupted her monologue.
"Best friends. Almost like brothers," she answered absent-mindedly, still in thought about her answer to that last question.
"And Hogwarts taught a Squib that first year it opened."
"Helga Hufflepuff sneaked her into her House. The young girl's parents pleaded and she could not say 'no'."
It still amazed him what and just how much Hermione remembered. He was sure she had not read the Hogwarts history book since their first year.
"I like Helga," Harry shared, "She was such a free spirit. I just can't believe the student almost got through the first year without anyone noticing."
She went over to the bookcase, returned the one she had in her hand and browsed. He joined her, put the Hogwarts book back, while searching for another one to read. It seemed he had tripped her brain auto replay.
"Well, I read somewhere else that she was great at potions, herbology, care of magical creatures, and surprise, surprise, divination," she added and he had not a doubt that was what was written in some book.
She took another reviewer off the shelf and handed him a non-Healer hardback. He took one look at the title, 'My Life as an Auror', and promptly put it back. Subtlety was never one of her strongest suites.
"The other three Founders finally realized that another Hufflepuff student was helping her with spell work and she was dismissed from the school soon after, technically not for being a Squib, but for not being able to perform magic to complete assigned work," she continued, handing him another book. "I think it was unfair. She was only twelve and I can only imagine she must have been devastated."
"Yeah, they should have let her finish," he agreed.
'Unlock the Professor In You'
He put it back, as well.
"And her name was…" her voice trailed off and she turned to him, "What was her name?"
Was he supposed to remember that?
"You didn't tell me there was a quiz at the end," he teased her, "I should have taken notes."
She chuckled; reached for the Hogwarts book, found the spot almost instantaneously, her eyes darted across the pages, up and down, then shut it, frowning.
"Hmmm, I could have sworn she was named in here," she said, putting the book back.
He saw her stifle a yawn and rub her tired eyes gently.
"You need a break," he snatched the reviewer from her hand and prodded her to her recliner.
"I can't, the test is next week and I'm behind schedule."
He was quite familiar with her schedule.
"One would need a Time-Turner to keep up with your timetable."
Harry had an idea.
"Lie back, close your eyes," she did as she was told, one of the few times he had seen her do so, "I'll read the question, you answer, and I'll let you know if you're wrong."
Hermione must have been beat because she didn't even protest.
"If I don't answer, wake me up."
"Sure, I will," they grinned, both of them knowing he was lying through his teeth.
He continued to help her revise the rest of the way. She would leave the hospital really late and arrive somewhat refreshed the following morning, though definitely not as much as he was. One time, a new Healer's assistant even thought she was the patient.
And when she received a Howler from Ron (he guessed Ron finally got her owl about her spending time at St. Mungo's), she quickly went into the anteroom, cast a Muffliato spell so he wouldn't hear, and when she came back her immediate answer to his inquiring look was that they would talk about it after her exams. He was angry with Ron, not for being upset at her, but for his thoughtlessness, sending her a Howler just before her final tests. He decided not to make matters worse for her and to talk to him about it after.
Then, a couple of days before her weeklong exam period, he woke up in the middle of the night cold, his entire body shaking uncontrollably. He had a blinding headache that could not be relieved by anything the Healer could give him and his muscles hurt from his involuntary shivers. This was what they were expecting, his reckoning. It was bound to happen and it could happen on and off for days. His Healer and her two assistants were there. There was nothing they could give him, other than putting him back on a slightly higher dose of ASP.
Doing that would not be good. It would be a set back if he succumbed to its temptation.
Harry found the tremors worse when he was still, so he paced around his room. After what seemed to be an eternity but was in actuality just two hours, he couldn't take it anymore. He could feel that he was about to break out and lose control of his magic. And he agreed with his Healer that it would be cruel to petrify him in his condition, not to say that doing so would prevent him from firing off accidental curses.
Finally, one glass window shattered into a trillion tiny shards, and just the look of fear on the faces of the others in the room was enough to make him ask for relief. Hermione was livid the following morning. They all knew how important it was for him to get past this but nobody had any answers to the conundrum they faced.
Concerned and despite his objection, Hermione spent that night with him.
It was around four a.m. when the trembling roused him from deep slumber. Learning from the previous night's experience, he got up, wrapped his blanket around him and started walking to and fro. Every now and then he would look over to Hermione on her cozy recliner, sleeping in her pajamas, book open off to her side.
After about ten laps, Hermione must have sensed him watching, or heard his teeth chattering and woke up.
"What can I do?"
"Go b...back…back to s…sleep."
She got up instead and made a cup of jasmine tea.
"Have some. It'll warm you up a bit," she said, handing him the cup.
His hand was shaking horribly as he tried to take it and he swore when some of it spilled.
"It's fine, it's only tea," she reminded him with a reassuring voice, "Here, let me help."
Hermione took his right hand, placed the cup in it and helped him steady his grip with the other. She gave him an encouraging look as he, with her assistance, brought the cup to his lips, taking a couple of small sips. A few more later, he felt warmer though the tremors persisted and his headache was reaching his threshold level.
"Headache?" she guessed.
He nodded gingerly.
She pulled him towards her couch and told him to lie down. He did, closed his eyes and was amenable to anything that would make all this go away.
"I have something to tell you, but don't laugh too hard."
She was hovering over him from behind.
"Uh-huh."
Her fingers lightly touched his face.
"The first time we met, do you remember?"
She applied deep circular pressure along certain lines and points on his head and neck.
"The train, you were helping Neville," he was not trembling as much anymore.
"To find Trevor," she was all set to laugh and he wondered what this was about, "I was the one who let Trevor out of his compartment."
"Really?" he couldn't help but laugh with her, as she continued to work wonders with her fingers. "Why?"
"It was silly, really. Looking back now, it was actually cruel. I could have damaged Neville for life had we lost Trevor. But I wanted to meet you."
"You let Trevor loose because you wanted to meet the boy with the scar?" he found that amusing, though if they weren't friends he would have probably been offended.
He kept his eyes closed all the time, concentrating on her voice and the pleasant relief of her touch. She was still smiling. He could tell by how she sounded.
"Sad but true."
"Well, was I what you expected?"
"Actually, I was kind of disappointed. I thought you'd glow like how I pictured you when I read about you. Or at least be cuter."
"At least you thought I was cute!"
They shared a laugh and then fell into a comfortable silence. By the time she stopped he was no longer shaking and his headache was bearable. He thanked her and they went back to bed. When he woke up at seven she had left for the first day of exams.
It was fortunate that the attacks did not happen during the day because Hermione had asked the Healers to let her know so she could come. However, every night that exam week the headache and the tremors came, and every night she stayed up with him, prepared tea and they talked while she made his headache and shakes go away.
On the fifth night, she woke and got up, groggy, hair tousled and eyes barely open. She was so tired that when she sleepwalked over to make tea, she brought him an empty cup then slipped in beside him in his bed and cuddled. He did not have the heart to wake her to tell her the good news that his headache was tolerable and he wasn't shaking anymore. A few minutes later, prudence forced Harry out of her cozy embrace and he slept in the comfortable but less stimulating recliner.
Months after, whenever they spoke of that time he would tease her about how she took advantage of his condition to cop a feel. She would always go deep red and, with a straight face, tell him he was lucky that was all she did. Of course, they were smart enough never to joke about this in front of Ron.
A rustle outside the door interrupted his nostalgic trek and he heard her voice before he could turn.
"Harry! You're awake!"
A vision of brown hair, a whiff of her now familiar perfume and a much needed hug later he was beaming as she pulled a seat closer to his bed and sat, eyes brimming with tears of joy.
"You gave me quite a scare," she declared.
After that night with her, all of a sudden, it seemed very personal.
"You?"
"Well not just me? Everyone else."
She motioned over the gifts and cards of well wishers he had not noticed earlier and mentioned who had come to visit and when. She looked worn out, maybe even lost weight since he last saw her. A sudden panic came over him.
"How long have I been out? What day is it today?"
"The 18th."
"February?"
"Yes" she was puzzled by his need to know. "Why?"
The 18th, the wedding was eight days away, if it was still on. He looked at her finger and her engagement ring was still on it. His disappointment was hard to hide and she noticed.
"Sorry, you didn't miss the wedding," she smiled, thinking he was teasing her about not coming. "And being best man you do have to wear a tux."
Harry did not smile back. Hermione obviously did not know about Roy because she wouldn't be talking to him like this if she did. He was trying to muster enough courage to tell her everything but telling her about Roy seemed to be not an option.
"That night, why did you call me?"
The change in her expression was immediate. She knew exactly which night he was talking about.
"I had a question," she answered.
"You wanted to know how I would feel."
Hermione nodded, "And you told me."
"Why did you want to know?"
She was having difficulty answering, "Because you're my friend and I needed to know what kind of a friend you were."
"And was I the kind you expected me to be?"
"You were."
He could not help but think there was more to it than that.
"How was it with the stranger?" he asked her.
"I had a good time," she admitted, "Until the crash the day after. You were right. It wasn't worth it."
He wasn't sure if he felt good or bad about that.
"You should call the wedding off. You don't love him."
Hermione was caught off guard by his very direct suggestion but before she could answer, red hair appeared at the door.
"Harry! Blimey! It's great that you're finally back. I thought we would have to have the ceremony in here. It was going to be hard fitting five hundred guests."
Ron continued to talk excitedly and Harry just nodded and smiled when he laughed, not really hearing much of what he was saying. He glanced over to Hermione and caught her shake her head slightly, her eyes confirming that Ron didn't know. It was understood that if there was anyone who was going to tell him, it was going to be her.
"What were you thinking summoning a bunch of firelegs in the middle of a gun fight?" Ron commented, "Immobilizing everything would have been loads better."
"Yeah, it would have been," he replied, "Next time I'm in one I'll remember that."
"Hermione has been so upset, she's been having trouble eating and sleeping," Ron shared with him and he wondered if it was because of what she did or because she was about to marry someone she didn't love.
She replied, "He's been fussing more than his mother."
Ron responded, "I'm only concerned about you. I can only imagine us talking endlessly about your dress not fitting on our wedding day."
Harry thought to himself that an ill-fitting dress was the least of their worries. He was trying to figure her out, trying to see if he could pick up anything subtle that would indicate she was not certain about going ahead with the marriage.
Ron dropped his voice, "And she hasn't let me come near her since she came back from Toronto. Maybe now that you're fine she will."
Really?
"Ron…" she expressed her disapproval of him inappropriately telling Harry that intimate piece of information.
"It's only Harry."
"We have to go."
"We're meeting with the Reverend for some last minute stuff," Ron said, "Maybe I can still convince him to wear a Cannon Quidditch robe for the ceremony."
Hermione gave him the look.
"What?" Ron didn't think there was anything wrong with that, "He did it for Charlie. Although, he definitely needed the added protection of a dragon keeper's robe in case the dragon got away!"
He and Ron laughed, Hermione smiled, though he was pretty sure he and Hermione were finding something else amusing, about her brief, one-time career as a dragon keeper. It was too bad they couldn't openly share the laughter.
They left. More well wishers came, friends, Ministry officials. He had some time to go over the cards and gifts, some from people he knew and a lot from strangers. He may have missed reading a few due to the sheer volume.
Later that day, he met with his assigned Healer and was told that if the muscle-strengthening potion worked he would be discharged the following day.
"Do you have any questions?" Healer Dogooder asked.
"I mean no offence but I'm just wondering why Hermione wasn't assigned to my case."
The Healer smiled, "If I were sick, I would want Hermione assigned to me, too. She did ask to be head Healer for your case but was declined."
"Why?"
"St. Mungo's has an enchanted patient registry system. When a Healer signs on with his or her wand, the system verifies a few things, like if he or she is indeed a certified Healer, not suspended and the like. There are certain rules that it adheres to and there are no ways around it."
"I don't understand."
"One strict regulation is that unless in an emergency, we are not allowed to treat family. We're thought to be less objective hence less effective Healers when we treat a loved one. It's rare for friends but in your and Hermione's case, the registry seems to think that you are close enough for this rule to apply."
Interesting.
Harry definitely had to talk Hermione into calling her wedding off. He had to let her know that he loved her. He wondered if she would come and visit again tonight because tomorrow just wasn't soon enough.