Chapter One: Untouchable
Hermione Weasley lay on a soft white bed, propped against thick white pillows and surrounded on all sides by white walls. Next to her bed was a wooden chair, which was currently occupied by a small, pale man in white robes.
"It is not possible to transfer you to St. Mungo's at this time, Mrs. Weasley. I'm sure you understand."
The Head of the Department of Mysteries spoke in a soft, detached voice. As he spoke his eyes never left Hermione's face. The irises were a strange, inhuman white, and Hermione found it difficult to maintain eye contact for more than a few seconds at a time.
"Yes, sir. I understand," Hermione whispered, coughing slightly.
"Good. Now, one of our specially trained Untouchable Mediwizards will be assigned to check in on you periodically. However, he or she will not be able to stay with you at all times."
"That's—that's all right, sir," Hermione gasped as a spasm of pain shot through her abdomen. "I'm sure—sure I can manage."
"No, Mrs. Weasley, I don't think you will," he said, raising his eyebrows slightly. "You will need someone trustworthy, a close family member or friend, to stay by your side for the next few months. I am told that your husband is currently out of the country on a mission with the Auror deparment."
"That's right."
"As is your close friend Mr. Potter, correct?"
"Yes sir."
"Apart from Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley, is there anyone that you can trust to take care of you? Someone who has your confidence? A skilled witch or wizard capable of managing a serious magical illness?"
Hermione shifted slightly in the bed, wincing as another flash of pain shot through her injured side. The Head of the Department looked on impassively.
"Ginny," Hermione gasped at last.
"Ginny?"
"Ginny Weasley—er, Potter. She Ron's sister, but she's been married to Harry for a year now."
"Very good," the Head said coolly. "I will have some of my subordinates do a background check on Mrs. Potter. If she is approved, then you may ask her to serve as your caretaker."
"Thank—thank you," Hermione said. She could feel herself starting to slip away. The last things she saw before she drifted into unconsciousness were the Head's cold, white eyes, staring down at her with an oddly knowing look.
He knows. He knows about the kiss, was Hermione last, inexplicable thought before she gave in to the dark.
A/N: This story takes place about four years after the end of the War. Neither couple has children yet. Everything else will be explained as the story progresses. Please review if you would like me to update :)