A/N: I don't know how I got this idea, it just popped into my head and I had to write it. This story kind of encompasses everyone. It's a Dramione, but it has other relationships, too. It's not just focused on one team, it has a variety and I hope you enjoy it! Hopefully, I'll update soon. Thanks for reading! Please Review.
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The doors burst open, the gurney rolled out onto the main floor. She lay on it, hands and feet tied to the rails. The light was so bright. 'So….so bright,' she thought. 'How long had it been? Since she'd seen the light? A week? Maybe two? Or was it longer? A month or so? Over a year?' She couldn't remember. She knew she'd meant to keep track of the days, but….he made it so hard. A tear rolled down her cheek. She heard a muffled voice, a woman, speak.
"There's a reaction, love. There's a reaction. You're all right. You're going to be okay."
She looked up at the ceiling as they continued to roll her down the hall, slipping her into a room. Her eyes shifted as the door opposite from where she entered opened. She couldn't see much, her eyesight compromised with her tears and the light. Everything was a blur, but she could make out long blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail. "What do we have? How are her vitals?" The voice was soft and easy, but it was also familiar. Why was it so familiar?
"Okay, well, we need to run a full workup. Owen, I need you to make sure she's moved to the top of all the exams, alright? We can't afford to waste any more time." She heard a male voice agree and then, she understood. Daphne Greengrass. She used to go to Hogwarts with her. When did she become a healer?
The light dimmed as the blonde stood over her and her face came into view. She blinked, focusing on features she'd never noticed before in the girl. The way freckles framed her cheekbones. "I-I know you've been through a lot, sweetie. I couldn't imagine-" Daphne cut off, placing a hand in her own. It was warm. She hadn't been warm in a long time. "We're going to take good care of you, okay? I don't want you to worry. You're safe with us. He can't hurt you an-" Suddenly, Daphne's voice became muffled again, her words a slur. The blonde took hold of her arms and turned her on her side as a board was slipped under her. A hand broke free and there was a yell. Daphne wiped the blood from her cheek and held the arm down.
"She's in shock. I need you to tighten the straps. NOW. Place the charm over her, keep her vitals stable and somebody….bring me a nail clipper."
XXXXXX
Daphne pushed the door to the lounge open, removing her gloves and tossing them into the waste bin. She slipped her wand into its holster and moved to the coffee pot. She hadn't noticed him, sitting on the couch, flipping through his book. She poured herself a cup and closed her eyes, inhaling the scent. "You know, you really shouldn't be drinking that." She jumped, spilling the coffee on the carpet. "Given the baby and all."
"Do you always have to do that?" She snapped, turning to look at him. He smiled widely, uncrossing his legs and standing, moving to take the cup from her.
"You know, I really never do anything. You're just so unaware of your surroundings, the slightest thing freaks you out." He tilted his head, looking at her cheek. "Mmm…you've got to get this cleaned." He placed the coffee in the sink, moving to grab a kit from the cabinet.
"I was going to drink that."
"No you weren't." He smiled and she almost hated him for it. Because he was right. She wouldn't have started her drink. She would have hauled it around, room to room as she checked up on patients, but she would have never actually sipped from it. She liked the feel of the cup in her hand, she enjoyed the smell of the dark coffee, and as badly as she would have liked to drink it, there was no way she would. At least not for the next 5 months. She looked down at the ring on her finger, the gorgeous, emerald cut, platinum banded 3 carat ring. It must have cost him a fortune. They weren't rich, but they were happy. They were stable. She was Head Healer for Trauma and he was looking for a promotion to Head Psychologist. How he afforded the ring, she'd never know, but she hoped he hadn't done anything too drastic. She loved the ring, don't get her wrong, but…she loved him more. Bloody hell, she would've said yes if he'd have proposed with a ring pop! She smiled, looking from the ring to him and he grinned. "Come on now. Sit."
She rolled her eyes and moved to sit on the chair, but he shook his head and she opted for the table instead. She shifted in her seat, one hand resting comfortable on her small bump and the other on the round table top. "Ah! MotherF-er!" She hissed silently as he cleaned out her cut with a potion. He chuckled silently, taking the paste in his fingers.
"You know, you can't speak like that when the baby's born. He'll pick up your language." He dabbed the paste on, watching it change colors as it sunk into her skin, closing the cut.
"It takes a while for babies to talk, you know. And he? We don't even know what it is yet." She rolled her eyes, taking the small mirror from him to check out his cleaning skills.
"No, but it's preferable to 'it.'" He crossed his arms over his chest. She scoffed and he smiled. "Okay, compromise. We'll go halfway. I'll say 'he,' and you can say, 'she.'"
Daphne twisted her lips, considering. "Okay." She nodded, smiling up at him. "That sounds like a plan to me."
"Great." He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers, his arms moving around her waist.
She sighed against his lips, pulling away only slightly to whisper, "I love you, Neville Longbottom."
"And I love you, Daphne Longbottom." She laughed, shaking her head and looking up at him. "No? You're not taking my last name?"
"Not for a million years, stud."
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The faucet dripped slowly as she watched it. Her knees were up to her chest, her arms wrapped around them. Her hair had been cut shorter to attend to the trauma she'd suffered to her skull. It'd been three weeks since she'd been admitted to St. Mungo's and she hadn't spoken a word. She watched as the drop fell from the edge, seemingly happening in slow motion. Micro drops of water shifted together on the faucet rim, accumulating on one end. They formed a circle and it got heavier, she watched. And then: drip! But someone else was speaking. His voice was a million miles away, but he was right across from her. He held a folder in his hands, a quick-quotes quill floating in the air. Her eyes shifted from the water to his hands, which were playing with the edge of the folder. She blinked, looking up at him and willing herself to listen to him. To remove herself from the deafening silence.
"Hermione? Hermione, I need you to talk to me." Neville sat up straighter once he noticed her watching him. The quill began to take notes of her actions. "Hermione, I need to know that you understand me. Can you say something for me? Anything will do." Her eyes ran over him once more, stopping at his hands. They continued to fidget.
"Paper cut." She murmured and his eyebrows furrowed as he sat forward.
"What was that? Could you repeat that?"
"Paper cut." Hermione spoke a little louder and Neville hissed, dropping the folder as a drop of blood appeared on his thumb. He brought it to his lips, sucking on it to stop the bleeding. He looked up at her, but she was already gazing at the water again. He sighed, looked at the time, and stood, taking the folder from the ground.
"I'll be back again tomorrow, Hermione." He frowned as he watched her. "I won't give up on you." He turned the knob and stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him. He leaned against it, closing his eyes, banging his head quietly on the door.
"You shouldn't do that. She takes notice of everything. We don't know what kind of triggers a small thump will have on her."
His eyes closed tightly and his fists clenched. "So, I'm not the only one who sneaks up on people."
"I-I wasn't trying to. I was coming by to do another assessment." She spoke quietly, not like herself.
"Great. Well, she's all yours." He strode past her and she blinked, turning to him.
"You're really going to do that? Walk past me like I'm no one?" Daphne crossed her arms over her growing belly, blinking back the tears in her eyes.
"I can't do this right now, Daphne." He muttered, shaking his head, stopping by the end of the hall.
"Well, when can you?" She moved a strand of hair behind her ear. "Because you- you don't talk to me at work, you don't talk to me at home. You barely even look at me."
"She's been gone four years, Daphne." He growled, turning to her. "Four. And she doesn't know that because- from what the tests show us- she hadn't seen bright light in just as long. You want me to pretend that what you did doesn't matter? I can't."
"I did what was right by my patient, Neville." She shook her head. "I thought you of all people would understand that."
"How could I possibly understand?" He took a step forward. "She is one of my friends. A great one. And you didn't tell me she'd been found. I'm your husband."
"Fiancée." She corrected, but his face told her that it wasn't a good a idea. "That's exactly why I couldn't tell you, Neville. You're way too close to this case." She continued before he had a chance to interrupt her. "I was never her friend at Hogwarts. We talked every now and then, sure, but we meant nothing to each other. You were her friend. Neville. Her friend. And you lost her. Her disappearance affected you like it affected Potter and Weasley." She shook her head. "I didn't tell you she returned because I was ordered not to. It was the best thing for her. We wanted to find a way to stabilize her mind." She stepped towards him, taking his hand. "I did what I had to. I took care of my patient. I'm sorry if you felt betrayed….but I'm not sorry about how I handled it. And I'd do it all over again."
He groaned, pushing away from her. "Oh, that is hardly an apology." He shook his head, turning to leave the hall and Daphne tilted her head back, closing her eyes and pinching her nose as she counted to ten.
XXXXXX
Harry headed down the hall, a vase of flowers in his hand. He held the small white ticket in his palm, making sure he was heading in the direction of the right room. As he turned the corner, he ran smack into a wall. Well, not exactly a wall. The vase fell from his hands, crashing onto the floor, shards of glass littering the hall.
"Oh, shit! Harry, I'm sorry!" Neville took his wand out, muttering a quick spell, the vase returning to its former glory. "I didn't see you there. I was just returning from- wait, what are you doing here?"
Harry took the vase from the floor, fixing his glasses. "Oh, I came to drop these off. I figured she'd like them. Brighten up the room a bit." He twisted his lips, knowing he'd have almost no chance of getting the vases in that room.
"Oh, well...Harry, you know she's not allowed to have visitors." Neville spoke softly, watching his friend's face drop. "I mean, there's still a safety concern. Which is why you aren't able to visit her yet."
"I know, I know." He shook his head. "I just hoped the rules would be different today. Because last time- well, you said she'd improved."
"Well, she's eating now. And she's looking around, Harry, but aside from that. We have no idea of knowing if this is the same Hermione that disappeared. You can look through the one way glass, I suppose. I'll have to ask Daphne."
"Right. Right." Harry nodded, walking alongside Neville now. "How is she, by the way? She should be, what, 6 months now?"
"Uh, five, actually." Neville corrected, opening the door to the office across from Hermione's room. "She's good. She's feeling much better now."
Harry placed the vase down on the table. "You should forgive her." Neville blinked, confused. How did he know? He hadn't spoken a word of it to anyone. "Ginny." Harry smiled slightly. "She's been meeting up with Daphne these past few weeks to discuss the case. They've formed quite a bond."
"Right, well. Take your time. I'll….I'll be right outside." He stopped at the door, turning back to The-boy-who-lived. "Harry? Whatever you do. Don't make any noise."
Harry waited a few seconds until Hermione came into view. She slipped onto her bed, her legs pulled to her chest. She was almost unrecognizable. She was at an alarmingly unhealthy weight, her olive skin was washed out, and she had a blank expression on her face. She was there, but she wasn't there. Her hair was cut short, much shorter than he expected when they informed him. She had changed so much. They all had after the incident. He remembered it well.
"Tell me again, what were your plans with Hermione Granger?" He spoke curtly, his long pale fingers tapping on the desk, his quill writing quickly for him.
"I already told you, we were supposed to meet up for lunch. Three days ago." Harry sighed, sinking lower into his chair.
"And why is it so out of character that she didn't show up?" He leaned forward in his desk, his eyes searching his former classmate's face.
"Look, Hermione never EVER misses lunch. We've been meeting up twice a week, every week since we left Hogwarts." Harry met the blonde's gaze. "One time, she showed up with a fever! I had to beg her to go see her healer, okay? I know Hermione, Malfoy. Something is wrong."
The Auror, Draco Malfoy, sat back in his seat. He watched Boy wonder and nodded. Scarface had been forced to file a report with him as everyone else was too afraid to take such a case and he couldn't well do it himself. "Very well. It's been a few days. I'll send out a team in the next hour. Find me a good photograph of her. If we can't find her, we'll have people on the lookout." Harry nodded, standing.
"Thank you, Malfoy. I- I really need your help."
"I'm just doing my job." Harry dropped some paperwork on his coworkers desk and began to make his way out. "Oi, Potter!" The dark haired man stopped in his tracks, looking at the blonde. "I don't want you or She-Weasley and her brother on the search party, you understand? You'll only distract my people. Let us handle it." Harry frowned, but nodded, exiting the room.
Harry blinked as he heard a small tapping noise, jumping out of his memories and into present time. He took a step back as he realized Hermione was standing right in front of him, a finger on the glass. She had her eyes closed, but she looked like she was concentrating. He didn't expect her to speak, but when she did, shivers ran down his spine. She smiled. "I can hear you breathing in there."