*DISCLAIMER* Once again, I don't own the HP universe.
Chapter 1
A Hospital Visit
Harry had a lot of things on his mind. Hermione. Ginny. Ron. Work. He desperately needed a break from it all. That was why he was currently spending his Sunday morning sitting backwards in a black cab on the way to St. Mungo's. True, Hermione was one of the things he was worrying about, but it brought him peace when he went to see her. She would lie there so peacefully, and he could just talk to her. Even if she wasn't listening, he was able to freely talk without anyone hearing. It was almost a ritual of his. Every week on a Wednesday for the past two years he would come visit Hermione. He saw the little red light flick on which meant the driver could hear him.
"Nearly there mate," said a man's voice. He sounded like he was from the less posh area of town, and he had the accent to prove it.
"Just through this patch of traffic." Harry smiled.
"Thanks," he said.
"No problems." The cab lurched to the side, Harry rocking in his seat. They pulled to a stop, brakes screeching against the road. Well, taxi drivers never were famous for their amazing driving skills. Harry pushed open the door and walked up to the passenger seat window.
"How much?" he asked, holding up his wallet.
"It'll be ten quid," he said, holding out his hand. Harry rifled through his wallet, producing a ten pound note. He handed it to the driver, who tipped his hat and waved. Harry swivelled around and walked to the abandoned apartment store which was secretly St. Mungos.
He casually walked over to the secret window entrance and pretended to look at the mannequin displaying completely old-fashioned clothes.
"Psst," he whispered out of the corner of his mouth. The mannequin lifted its seemingly limp neck. Harry waved slightly. The mannequin lifted one finger, as if to tell him to wait. It bent its neck down, seemingly searching for something, then bent down further. When the mannequin resurfaced, it was holding a pad of paper and a pen. Its hand swivelled, showing him the front of the paper pad. It was a list of the most frequent visitors, with brief descriptions. It lifted the pen and pointed to the first recorded name on the list - HARRY JAMES POTTER, Black Hair, Green Eyes, Round Glasses, Strange Scar. It probably said something about the amount of spare time he had that he was the most frequent visitor of St. Mungos. He nodded sheepishly, smiling. The mannequin nodded, bent over, and resurfaced without its pad. It beckoned for him to come inside. Harry stepped forwards. This part always freaked him out a little. He shut his eyes, and stepped through the window.
He emerged in the grand foyer of St. Mungo's hospital, with its white marble and tiles. Waiting in line for the receptionist were several different patients, all with rather odd injuries. One of them had grown leathery bat wings (which would be pretty cool, but not exactly ideal for life with muggles). Another one had a more human injury, he was limping with a pair of makeshift crutches. Harry assumed this was because of some magic spell, otherwise he would've gone to a regular muggle hospital. He walked over to the receptionist's desk and joined the line. He prepared himself to stand there for half an hour, listening to the receptionist (a nice lady with long black hair and frameless glasses) patiently deal with all the injured wizarding folk. As he contemplated this, he remembered the old receptionist in his fifth year. She had no patience whatsoever, and was practically spitting fire when he and his travelling gang had finally reached the front.
"Hello madam, how may I help you?" said the receptionist to a young woman with a polished blonde bob and tiffany sunglasses, wearing something that looked fresh off Bond Street.
"Yes, hello there," she said, in a tone that indicated she clearly thought herself above the woman speaking to her.
"You see, I'm here because of a hex that some idiot put on me as a practical joke. You see, I was shopping-" The receptionist held up a hand, cutting her off.
"I don't need to hear your life story. You want fourth floor, spell damage," she said. The woman stomped her foot, obviously frustrated.
"You didn't let me describe my injury!" She removed her glasses, to reveal that her eyes were stuck shut. The receptionist nodded.
"Ah, yes, many apologies," she said. "I'll just make a call for someone to come and guide you there."
"Thank you," said the lady. The receptionist punched in a four-digit number on her desk phone, and picked it up.
"Ah yes, assistance," she said. "This is Lucy speaking, from the front desk." There was a slight pause, and she spoke again.
"Yes, I require the aid of one healer please, ground floor, to guide this patient to the fourth floor." There was another pause, some nodding and she spoke again.
"Thank you very much," she said, putting down the phone. She swivelled in her chair to face the lady.
"They'll be down in five minutes," she said. 'Just a moment please…" The receptionist scanned the line, before her eyes settled on Harry.
"Excuse me sir," she said. "Would you mind escorting this lady to a seat in the waiting area?" She smiled hopefully. He nodded.
"Of course," he said.
"Thanks," she said under her breath as he walked past. He smiled, with a little half-nod. Harry led the lady to a chair as quickly as he could.
"You can sit now, miss," he said, helping her down. He walked back to his place at the end of the line.
"Sir?" called the receptionist. He looked up.
"Yes?" he asked.
"You can come up the front, so long as you're here to visit," she was smiling. He nodded gratefully and walked to the front.
"Who are you here to see?" she asked, computer at the ready.
"Um… I'm here to see Hermione Granger? The Janus Thickey Ward?" he said.
"Ah, yes…" she said. 'The one in the coma. You can go right on up to floor four whenever you're ready."
"Thank you," he said. He left the front of the line, getting a few glares from patients who had been waiting for longer than him. Harry headed towards the elevators on the left of the desk and pressed the button. He stood there waiting for about 5 minutes before it finally made a sound to indicate that it was on his level. The doors slid open and he stepped inside. Scanning the button panel, he pressed the one which would take him to level four. The doors slid shut, and he waited.
On the fourth floor, the elevator doors opened to a male healer clad in the traditional bright green robes of St. Mungo's, emblazoned with the logo of the hospital - A wand crossed with a bone. He was reading from a pad of paper. He looked up when Harry stepped out of the elevator.
"Mr… Potter, is it?" he asked. Harry nodded.
"Yep, that's me," he said. "I'm here to see-"
"Yes, I know, why do you think I'm here?" he said. He was clearly annoyed about something.
"If you would be so kind as to follow me," he called as he strode away. Harry had to break into a quick jog. The only thing that prevented him from losing him amongst the crowd of green healers and visitors was the fact that he was 6 foot tall and bald, so he was pretty hard to lose. Eventually he caught up to find him tapping his foot in front of a door. Aha. So that was why he had asked him to follow. It was a different room than usual.
"She's in there, he said in monotone, pointing to the door. "Go right on in, it's unlocked." Harry nodded, and pushed the door open. He shut it behind him as he entered the much quieter, brighter ward. There was no one in here except for him. The healers had clearly given up and left life support to do its thing. The bright, glaring lights were cold and white, instead of warm and yellow like back at his apartment. If Hermione woke up - No, when Hermione woke up - he would show her. He knew she would be amazed. Harry lived in One Hyde Park, the most expensive apartment block in the whole of London. To top that off, he lived in the penthouse! He had paid for it by exchanging roughly 1000 galleons into muggle pounds. He had figured that if you were going to live in London, you had to do it in style. Even better, he was right near Hyde Park and all the best shopping spots (as Ginny had found out when he invited the Weasleys over). In Winter, he got one of the best views in England, Hyde Park covered in snow. Yes, Hermione would love it there. He walked over to the sectioned-off area of the solitary room, and pushed the curtains aside. There she was, lying there. Serene, peaceful, as if she was dreaming of better things. He smiled. Harry could remember when they were children, having crazy adventures all around Hogwarts. He could never have imagined that one day, those adventures would nearly get her killed. His smile vanished, and tears replaced them. He lifted up her pale hand from where it lay limp at her side.
"I'm so sorry, Hermione." He bent his head and let his tears fall. He had failed her. She would die because of him, and he wept more. A single tear of his hit her face, and he could have sworn that she squeezed his hand a little harder. He blinked the tears away, after all, he hadn't come here to make himself sad. He had almost forgotten the satchel he had been carrying. It was a light brown leather, and it was carrying his wallet, as well as a small wrapped gift. He bent down, reached in and grabbed the gift, lifting it into the light. It was very badly wrapped, in wrapping paper made of old photographs of the three of them. It was a small box, only about seven centimetres square. He pressed it into Hermione's hand, opening it with his own. He was careful to rip the wrapping paper as little as possible. When the paper was removed, it revealed a small, navy blue velvet box. He opened it for her. Inside, there was a small pendant, in the shape of an open book, carved with two images. The first was a cat (which looked suspiciously like Crookshanks) surrounded by a heart. The second image was another heart, with the word Always
engraved inside it. He had ordered it especially for her, because he wanted something that came from the heart. He lifted up her head, and slid the clasp behind it, buckling the pendant around her neck. It looked beautiful on her. Harry wished she was awake to see it.
Harry stayed with her through almost the entire day, taking intervals to go to the toilet and to get food. He didn't know why, but time always seemed to pass more quickly when he was with her. An hour or so into his visit, Ginny called to chat. He updated her on how Hermione was doing, and discussed the necklace that he had got for her. Ginny seemed a little annoyed that he hadn't put in the effort for her, but he reminded her that it was her birthday in two weeks and told her she would get something then. With that, she had to go to class (she had decided to go to a muggle university) and they said their goodbyes and hung up. He sat by Hermione for a little longer before he started to feel lonely and called Ron. After about 8 rings, he picked up.
"Blimey Harry," he said groggily. "Do you always have to wake me up?" Harry smiled. Just like Ron, sleeping and eating. When he considered it, Ron was just like a cat. It was a wonder he didn't like Crookshanks more, they were like twins.
"Yes. Yes I do," he said, laughing.
"Fine then," said Ron's voice from the other end (he sounded a whole lot more awake now). "What do you want?"
"I'm at St. Mungo's with 'mione," he said. "I was wondering if you wanted to come down and see her too."
"Hold on a sec," he said. He heard the sound of the phone being put on Ron's bedside table, followed by several crashes, bangs and a few swear words. Approximately 5 minutes later, he was back on the line, sounding less awake and a whole lot more out of breath.
"I'm dressed, ready and I will be there, like, as fast as a firebolt," he said. Harry was laughing.
"So that's your new catchphrase, huh?" he asked.
"Yep!" said Ron. "I'm already out the door and I'm about to lose service so bye!" The familiar hang-up beep sounded and Harry removed the phone from his ear, still laughing.
"Just like Ron, eh," he said to Hermione, smiling. He could have sworn that the corners of her mouth lifted slightly, but he was probably just imagining things.
About half an hour later, the door to the ward slammed open, revealing Ron in all his glory - Red-cheeked, out of breath, hair dishevelled and his eyes wild.
"Jesus Ron, what's got you all worked up?" he asked. Ron walked into the sectioned off part of the ward and calmly sat down.
"Nothing, Harry," he said. "Is there anything unusual about wanting to see your two best friends?"
"Good point," Harry said, grinning. "It's good to see you. How's university going?"
"It's pretty good, I guess," he said, shrugging. "Class is hard, but then again, when has it ever been easy?" Harry nodded. Ron had been going to the same uni as Ginny for the past couple of months, studying sport science. He was obsessed with quidditch, and he thought that learning more about muggle sport would help him in his dreams of becoming a keeper. On his off days, he attended any quidditch match that was on, as well as weekly lessons at the Official Quidditch Academy in Cambridge. Harry and Ginny had held many debates on the subject of whether or not Ron would ever fulfil his dream, and on multiple occasions they had decided that he would, wouldn't, or maybe even that the moment he got a girlfriend he would ditch the dream and run off to get married. They would always be doubled over in laughing fits after these debates.
"True," said Harry. "Another excellent point." Ron nodded enthusiastically.
"How's the quidditch going?" he asked. "Are you on a team yet?" Ron did a happy little jig.
"Yeah! That's the best part!" he said, grinning wide. "They're called the Ottery Ocelots!"
"Oh yeah?" Harry sat up, intrigued. Perhaps he'd win the bet he'd made with Ginny, and get his fiver back.
"What position?" Ron resumed his Snoopy-style happy dance, even more lively this time.
"I'M THE KEEPER!" He yelled, fists in the air. Harry was stunned. To be honest, he'd never thought Ron would actually make it big.
"That is honestly amazing Ron!" he said. "I'm so happy for you!" He looked over at him, but Ron's attention had been caught by something else. Hermione was moving!
She was tossing and turning, as if she was having a nightmare. Ron looked at Harry, fear on his face.
"I'm sure it's fine," he said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Just stay calm. I'll call a healer." Ron nodded mutely, clearly unable to decide what to do. Harry walked, or rather, speed walked, over to the wall, where the emergency button was located. It was bright green, with the St. Mungo's logo and the word 'EMERGENCY' printed on top. He pressed the button and waited. There was a loud crackle (presumably the sound of the phone line connecting) and then a voice.
"Hello?" said a female voice. "This is the healer station. What is the emergency?"
"Yes, hello," said Harry. "We're in the Janus Thickey Ward. A coma patient is moving, we don't know what to do." There were a few noises on the other end, before the voice came back on the line.
"We're sending a healer up, hold on," she said.
"Thank you," said Harry, but she had already hung up. Ron was sitting in the chair next to her bed, fidgeting, his anxiety clear. Harry could hear footsteps coming towards the ward, hopefully the healer. The door swung open, not so violently as when Ron had arrived, revealing a female healer clad in green. Her hair was red, and her eyes blue. She walked calmly over to the bed, carrying a small box.
"That's her healer box," whispered Ron. "Not one wizard apart from her knows what's in there." Harry was surprised to hear this, as he had thought at least the other healers would know. He'd been living in this world for almost ten years and he still hadn't seen it all.
"So," she said professionally. "A moving coma patient." Harry nodded.
"What can you do for her?" asked Ron, standing to his full, gangly height.
"Sir," she said. "If you could please move out of my way I could do a lot more for her." Ron's ears reddened, he was clearly embarrassed. He stepped to the side, allowing the healer to move through. She bent down next to Hermione, and opened her healer box. Producing a wet cloth, she pressed it to Hermione's forehead, cooling her down. Her wriggling and rolling around eased off a bit, but not much.
"Hmm…" said the healer. "What if?" Harry and Ron looked at each other, confused.
"What if what?" said Ron. The healer looked up at him, before reaching a hand over,and pinching Hermione firmly on the arm. Immediately, the movement ceased. The healer smiled, and pressed her hands together.
"I have some excellent news!" she said, excited. Harry supposed it was the nature of all people to be excited when they did something right.
"What is it?" asked Ron, perking up immediately.
"You see," said the healer. "She was dreaming!" Ron's shoulders fell again.
"How is that important?" asked Harry. Sure, it was interesting, but it was hardly necessary to Hermione's condition. The nurse sighed, quite clearly exasperated.
"If she was dreaming," she said slowly, trying to help them get the point. "It means she is close to the surface." Ron still looked thoroughly bemused.
"Um…" he said, slowly. "I don't get it." It was in this brief instance that Harry understood. Dreaming. Close to the surface. Suddenly he knew what it all meant.
"Hermione's going to wake up," he said under his breath. "HERMIONE'S GOING TO WAKE UP!" He yelled. Ron's jaw dropped, and the healer sat down, mopping her forehead with the cold cloth, obviously pleased that someone had understood.
"Thank you," said Ron. "Thank you so, so much!" He stood up, and gave the poor healer one of his famous bone-crush hugs. She made a noise slightly like a mouse choking, and he let her go.
"Sorry," he said, grinning. His ears were red again. The healer smoothed down the creases in her robes, put away her cloth, and shut her healer's box.
"If you will excuse me," she said quickly. "I have to go tell everyone the news!" With that, she picked up her box and bustled swiftly out the door.
"Blimey, mate," said Ron. Harry nodded, at a loss for words. His best friend, who had been in a coma for the past two years, was going to wake up (probably).
"We'll see her again," said Ron. "For some reason I had this picture in my head of her sleeping for a hundred years." Harry sighed, shaking his head. Ron was never the sharpest knife in the drawer, but he was loyal and kind. He hoped that soon, Ron would find someone who deserved him.
"Hey Harry," said Ron, standing by the bed.
"Mmm?" said Harry, looking up. Ron was looking at the pendant that Harry had given Hermione.
"D'you know who gave her this?" he asked, pointing to the charm.
"Yeah, I do," he said. Ron looked up, expectantly.
"Well?" he asked. "Who?"
"Me," said Harry. "I gave it to her today." For some reason, Ron's eyes narrowed.
"Do you have… Feelings for her?" Ron asked tentatively. Harry was insulted that he'd even asked him this.
"Of course not," he said. "Have you forgotten I'm dating your sister?"
"Yeah, sorry," he said. "That was a really stupid question." Harry nodded.
"Yes it was," he said. Ron smiled, embarrassed again.
"Look, mate," said Ron. "Do you think Hermione… likes me? Like, not as a friend?" Harry was stunned. Ron had a crush on Hermione? She'd been their best friend for 9 years!
"I'm not exactly able to tell you," said Harry. 'After all, we haven't spoken for 2 YEARS." Ron smiled.
"Yeah, true," he said, realising his mistake. Harry laughed.
"Well, hopefully, soon enough, you two will be talking," he said. "I think you deserve her and she deserves you." Ron grinned.
"Thanks Harry," said Ron. Harry smiled.
"No issues," he said. "Sure, you might not be the smartest…"
"HEY!" said Ron, folding his arms. Harry laughed and put his hands up.
"Kidding, kidding," he said, still laughing. Ron looked at his watch.
"Oh, I've got to go," he said.
"Why?" asked Harry.
"Quidditch lessons," he said, miming a gag. Harry nodded. Any type of lesson, no matter how fun at the beginning, always got boring by the end. That was just the way it worked.
"Well, bye then," said Harry. "It's been great seeing you." Ron nodded.
"Bye!" he said, as he walked to the door. As he opened the door, he waved, and then he was gone. Just him and Hermione, like it almost always was.
A few hours later, at 6:00 in the evening, Harry bid Hermione farewell and headed out to his dinner with Ginny at Byron Burger. Neither of them had been feeling fancy, so they'd settled for a burger meal and TV at Harry's apartment. As he left the Janus Thickey Ward, many things were flashing through his head. When would Hermione wake up? How much would she remember? He was ashamed to say that nothing was in his head except for Hermione, not even Ginny. He couldn't wait to tell her the good news. The elevator doors slid open on the ground floor and Harry stepped out, walking quickly through the foyer. Lucy the receptionist waved, and he smiled at her. Exiting the premises, Harry stepped out onto the muggle street, all the passers-by none the wiser. He walked to the nearest cab, hailed it, and set off for his dinner at Byron.
