Chapter 1: Tumbleweed
(By DappleRose)
A/N: If you haven't read it already, please read the epilogue to this, written by my esteemed colleague: Hazelline. We are trying to piece together a fic over ff.net, so please look for the next chapter from her.
Hermione paced up and down a hall in St. Mungo's Wizard Hospital, her eyes fixed on a smooth, oak door. Room number 203. Ron's room. What was taking them so long? She had half the mind to throw open the door and demand to know what was going on. Instead, she paced. Quick, long strides. If she kept pacing, she could stop herself from collapsing into a heap…at least that was what she'd convinced herself.
"Miss Granger?" a young, blonde nurse with a nasal voice called her name from a clipboard. It shook Hermione from her dream-like trance into reality. "You may come in now, Miss Granger." At once, she strode into Ron's room and accosted the doctor there. She started asking numerous questions, but was silenced with a wave of the hand.
"Hello, I am Doctor Toracceli. I assume you are the fiancée." There was a twinkle in his eye strangely reminiscent of Dumbledore. "Ronald suffered severe trauma to the head when the bludgers hit him. I'm afraid that a few of the nerves in the frontal lobe of his brain have been shifted in such a way that further damage to them could result in partial paralysis. The entire left side of his body could be rendered immobile.
As it is, he will have a hard time walking. Now, with proper rehabilitation, this small problem can easily be corrected. There are a few spells that we can and will perform that will make this difficult process go more quickly, but otherwise, we will have to rely on the Muggle procedures. To insure that further damage does not occur, Ronald can no longer play Quidditch. It is simply too dangerous."
Hermione stared openly at the doctor in numb shock. Ron? Not play Quidditch? He would be devastated. The doctor continued explaining the situation and the procedures that would be taken to insure this and that. For once, though, Hermione was not paying attention. Her eyes were locked on the sleeping face of her fiancée as if to memorize every detail of it. They drank in the soft cheekbones and the small tilt of his mouth. She analyzed the fiery red hair that sprung from his head, the eyelids that she knew held bright blue eyes that laughed and shone. Hermione didn't notice when Doctor Toracceli left the two of them alone in the hospital room. She gently clasped his limp hand in hers, stroking it lovingly. Pulling a chair up beside the bed, she sat down to wait out what promised to be a very long night.