Disclaimer: Sadly, I was not smart enough to dream up the idea of Hogwarts, the Golden Trio, and the entire wizarding world. That was all J.K. Rowling's work...
Warning: There could be pretty mature parts in this fic. I'm not quite sure. Thinking about suicide, though I'm not mentioning names... Might be a little descriptive.
Rating: M, just to be safe...
Summary: About ten years after Deathly Hallows. Obviously, the epilogue hasn't happened and I'm not planning on it happening. Anyways, Harry and Ginny are married, though there won't be too much of them in the first chapters. Hermione and Ron are also married and have a daughter, Emily, who is currently in St. Mungo's with who-knows-what illness. She's close to death and her parents are very distressed. If you want to know the rest, read!
And... Onward!!
It was approximately 4:38 AM at St. Mungo's. In room 232, a couple sat next to a small bed. Lying there, her face as white as the sheets was the couple's only child, Emily Ruth Weasley. Her mother, Hermione Weasley, sat by her head, stroking the young girl's cheek. Emily had been in the hospital for three weeks now, her health rapidly deteriorating.
It was then when Emily's father woke up. Ron sat up straight in the chair he had been slumped over on.
"Emily!" he said. He looked toward his wife and daughter. Seeing that they were still in the hospital, Ron sighed. All he wanted was for this to be over. Ron stood and walked up to Hermione. "You want to take a break?" he asked. She nodded, and then took the chair he had been in a few minutes previously.
Hermione dug around in her small, beaded purse for a minute, then pulled out a book and a quill. Her diary. Lately, she had been carrying it everywhere she went. Hermione opened up to a fresh page and began writing.
Ron looked down at Emily. She hadn't woken up at all this past week. He knew her time was coming closer. There was a quiet knock on the door, and a Healer came in. She gave the worried parents a sad smile.
"Just coming in to check her vitals," she said. Ron reluctantly stepped back and allowed the Healer to do her job. He walked over to Hermione, who had been feverishly scribbling in the book that was about one-third full. He looked over her shoulder and tried to read what she was writing. Surprisingly, though, this particular page happened to be in runes.
She was always good at Ancient Runes, he thought. Hermione sensed her husband peeking at her writing, and she abruptly closed the book.
"May I help you?" Ron gave a cheerless smile and sighed.
"All I really need is for our daughter to wake up." Hermione stood and enveloped Ron in an embrace.
"Just give her time," she said, hoping to lift his spirits a bit. "She'll wake up when she's ready." Their tight hug was interrupted by a gasp let out by the Healer. The two parents whirled to face her, and saw that she was in a frantic state.
The Healer pointed her wand at her neck and quickly cast a special spell that was apparently an equivalent to a walkie-talkie in the Muggle world. "I need a Healer in room 232, stat!"
As the Healer shifted a bit, still leaning over the small girl, Hermione let out a sound between a gasp and a wail. Ron collapsed to his knees. Emily's eyes were wide open, but she was violently shaking on the bed. Her eyes slowly began to roll back inside her head, and the convulsions worsened.
Three more Healers Apparated into the room. Two of them proceeded to rush to assist the first Healer, while the third came to the parents to lead them out of the room.
"She'll be fine," the older woman said with an Irish accent. "The Healers here will take care of her in a jiffy." The Healer's robes had an enchanted nametag sewn into them. It flashed between "Emma O'Leary" and "How may I help you?" When Hermione tried to yank her hand from Emma's grasp, the Irishwoman didn't let her go. "Oi!" she shouted.
Hermione paused. That one syllable reminded her of a time midst the Battle of Hogwarts. It was a long story, but she and Ron began to passionately kiss each other and Harry got impatient.
Emma smiled. "Thank you, dearie. Now, those Healers ain't gonna let you in, with little Emily like that. It's best if you stay out here."
Hermione succumbed to the fact that she would have to stay out. Ron's face had been drained of its color, leaving him deathly pale. Emma led the two into the waiting room a couple doors down from Emily's room. She sat the worried couple in a pair of chairs and left the room, seeing that they needed some time alone.
As soon as the Healer was out of sight, Hermione burst into tears. Ron gathered her up in his arms as she sobbed deeply into his chest. A single tear slid down his cheek, then another, and another.
Between sobs, Hermione managed to speak. "Why… Did this… Have to happen… To her," she said jerkily. She tilted her head up to look into Ron's eyes. Her face was a blotchy red and there were tear tracks running down her face. "She's only eight. Not even in Hogwarts yet." She began to cry again, shoving her face into his chest.
Ron tried to comfort her as she had a few minutes before in the room. "Like you said, 'Mione, just give her some time. She'll-"
Hermione looked back up at him. She spoke with anger and sadness. "Don't you realize, Ron? She has no time! Her time is up! Our little girl is dying."
Ron felt more tears run down his face. He struggled to keep it somewhat together for Hermione.
Three hours had passed since Emily's seizure and Ron and Hermione were still sitting in the waiting room. All the healers who passed refused to tell them anything about Emily's condition.
It was roughly 7:30 AM when they heard a familiar voice in the lobby.
"Oi! My two best friends are in there with a dying child! Do you understand me?" Apparently after a few more minutes of arguing, the Healers finally let Harry in. He walked through the door of the waiting room with a slight scowl on his face. "Damn Healers, don't believe that I've come to see my two best friends." As he came closer toward the distressed couple, he continued muttering under his breath.
Ron smiled slightly at him. "Had a hard time getting out of the house today again, huh?" Reporters often followed Harry. Lately, it had mostly just been Rita Skeeter, as it had been so long since the Battle of Hogwarts.
Harry sighed. "Doesn't matter," he said. "How's Emily doing?" At the mention of her daughter's name, Hermione burst into tears again.
Ron took his wife in his arms again and looked at Harry over her shoulder. "Not good, we think." His face fell even more thinking about his daughter. "She had a seizure about three hours ago. Haven't heard anything since."
It was then that a new Healer walked into the waiting room. He came right over to the group of three near the back and spoke directly to the parents, not even acknowledging the fact that the Boy Who Lived was standing right next to him. "We have moved Emily to Critical Healing." The doctor paused a moment. The waiting room was silent except for Hermione's sobs. "I'm afraid she doesn't have much longer. We've done all we could."
The next few minutes passed in a blur for the "Golden Trio," as they were so often called. Hermione began to call out Emily's name over and over again. Ron became completely silent and pale, then settled to the floor. A single tear fell into his lap. Harry actually clasped his hands together to keep from punching the Healer. He then grasped Hermione by the shoulders, hauled Ron to his feet, and led the two behind the Healer.
Then were told to wash their hands for a few minutes, put on some sterilized robes, and even then scourgify charms were cast on the three. When they entered Emily's room, she was barely conscious.
Hermione nearly collapsed at the sight of her. She was hooked up to all sorts of machines, half of which Hermione had no idea as to their function. Emily looked like a child's toy in the vast room of beeping equipment.
Hermione was the first to reach the bed. Emily looked up at her mother and squinted for a moment, as if she couldn't see properly. Then, she smiled feebly. "Hi, mum." Hermione pressed her hand to her lips, suppressing another sob. Emily's voice was weak. Barely above a whisper.
"Hi, honey." Behind Hermione, Harry retreated into a corner, leaving the family to themselves. Ron stepped up beside his wife and kneeled so he was at eye level with Emily. He felt like crying, but there were no more tears left.
Emily closed her eyes and contorted her face in pain. "The lights," she whispered. "They hurt my head." Harry whipped out his wand and flicked it in the direction of the light switch. All of the lights except a single lamp in the corner turned off. Emily sighed. "Much better," she said.