Ok, so I just read this over and there are two tea scenes and I didn't realize this. If you don't like this fact, I'm sorry but a majority of my living thoughts are, I confess, about tea. Also, I do admit that my writing can be quite dry, so although the plot will (I hope) get more exciting, my style of writing will not so if you don't like this chapter, I don't recommend you continue the series (presuming I get around to posting). Okay, enough of this rambling self-deprecation. Enjoy!
In Sickness and in Health
"Dreams? About Voldemort?" Harry was astounded. It was a sunny afternoon, and the two were sitting in Hermione's cosy living room, drinking hot mugs of Chamomile tea in front of the large window overlooking a peaceful, countryside landscape. Harry was surprised when Hermione shared her nightmares with him. Although she could be quite fragile, he knew she hadn't had any personal contact with Voldemort and he had never done anything to directly harm her. If anything, Harry would have thought that Hermione would be having nightmares about Bellatrix.
Hermione twisted her hands together before saying, "Yes. They aren't just dreams, but, I think, memories." She shifted uneasily. "The only dreams I have of You-Know-Who are ones where he is killing or torturing people. I think," She hesitated. "I think that he's looking for someone. He always asks his victims, 'Where is she?' before killing them. Do you know of any girl he might have been looking for? Ever?"
Harry frowned, deep in thought. "Bellatrix, perhaps? I'm not sure." He glanced quickly at Hermione, his eyes contemplative. "This must have taken place before we were born, in any case, if he had that much liberty to do as he pleased."
"So, you think that what I'm dreaming of is real?" Hermione asked. He hesitated before answering, unsure of how to reply.
"I-We know that he is gone. However, I've seen enough to understand that magic has its own agenda. Sometimes the things that are unbelievable are what we must believe in the most." He finally replied. "When incidences like this occur, it would probably be unwise to ignore them." He thrust an impatient hand through his unruly, dark hair, making it, if possible, even more disorderly than before. "I just can't see any connection, though."
They both sat in silence, lost in deep reflection.
Glancing at his watch, he rose suddenly, scooping up his thick, maroon jumper and striding over to Hermione to give her a quick peck on the cheek. "Thank you for the tea, it was wonderful. I need to get going, though," He grimaced, before continuing. "Me and Gin have to go to this Couple Prenatal Class at St. Mungo's. They're teaching us how to change diapers and stuff like that." He shuddered at the thought and muttered to himself, "Honestly, you'd think they'd have created spells for that sort of thing."
Hermione suppressed a grin, before standing up herself to walk Harry to the door.
"I know you'll be great. Just practice and everything will go just fine." She reassured him, seeing the worry in his eyes. "You were always destined to be a great father."
He smiled back, before saying seriously, "I'll see what I can find out about this dream situation. Obviously, there is a meaning behind it."
Hermione nodded, a weary and tired expression on her face.
"But don't worry too much," Harry added hastily. "We'll figure it out. I mean, my best friend's the smartest girl in the country. Have you met her?"
She rolled her eyes at his poor joke, but smiled nonetheless.
"And if it's really worrying you, just remember," He smiled slightly, tapping at his lightning scar with a happy finger. "He's gone. He can't get to you, even if he tried."
She nodded, coughing slightly.
Weeks went by but Hermione heard no news from Harry. She did, however, meet with Ginny to discuss her impending pregnancy. They met at Rosa Lee Teabag on a calmer side of Diagon Alley.
"Sorry cough I'm late!" Hermione stammered out as she joined Ginny at their table near the fireplace. "I just had some cough work to do at the Ministry. There's a goblin sponsored Repossession Contract I've been working on and-"A bout of coughing interrupted Hermione's next sentence.
Ginny was torn between smiling exasperatedly at Hermione's decision to work willingly on a Sunday or bring up her concern over her friend's obviously serious cold.
She chose the latter. "Hermione, are you alright? That doesn't sound like a light cough." She said frowningly.
Hermione flapped a hand dismissively. "Oh, you know. It's just the winter season." She croaked. Waving Madame Lee over, she asked for a hot Earl Grey tea.
"Oh nonsense, dear. From the looks of it, you need a steaming Ginger Hibiscus tea to relax those poor vocal cords." And with a soft swish of her layered skirts, she glided off. She returned a few minutes later with the tea and a box of Parisian macarons ("One field we can't beat the French in, I'm afraid").
"So, how's the pregnancy going?" Hermione asked, smiling at Ginny.
"Oh, perfectly well, I suppose." The pretty redhead said cheerily. "The baby does kick A LOT though. Honestly, sometimes I feel like a bludger, being tossed around." But despite all that, Hermione could see that Ginny enjoyed being pregnant; she glowed with a happiness that was palpable to everyone around her.
"What do you think you'll name him?" Hermione asked curiously.
"Well, we sort of agreed that if he has dark hair then we'll name him James and if he has red hair we'll name him after Dad." Ginny replied. She stopped as she saw Hermione overcome by another bout of coughing.
"You know, maybe we should do this another time." Ginny said worriedly. "I don't want you to get any worse than this."
Hermione pasted on a bright, insincere smile. "Oh, it's nothing. I get these little things all the time."
"Have you been to Mungo's yet? I really think that you should get it checked." She leaned in conspiratorially and whispered, "You know, one time, my cousin Barty thought he had gotten Muggle Pox but 2 weeks later when it hadn't gone away and he had turned the color of seaweed, they went to the hospital and they discovered that he had," She paused dramatically, "Dragon Pox!"
Hermione rolled her eyes, smiling.
"I'm serious!" Ginny continued, "In fact, he still has a greenish hue if you look at him in a certain light…"
"Ok." She coughed. "If I get any worse than this, I promise I will visit St. Mungo's, ok?"
They walked along Diagon Alley, poring over books (Hermione) and studying new broomstick handles (Ginny), discussing what was going on in the Ministry while wolfing down their steadily depleting supply of macarons. A few hours later they said their farewells, with Ginny telling Hermione to give Ron a hug for her.
Hermione hadn't walked two steps in the opposite direction before she felt the world give a terrifying jolt and she felt her legs collapse beneath her.
"Hermione!" Ginny rushed towards her, helping her up. Hermione got up weakly, still mildly dizzy.
Ginny put a hand to her forehead before pulling back, exclaiming, "Merlin's Beard! Hermione, you've got to get to St. Mungo's right away-you're forehead's burning!"
Hermione felt rather cold all over, but she smiled and said brightly, "Oh, very well. I'm sure it's just a slight fever but I'll Apparate over there tonight if you truly insist."
"I do." Ginny said firmly. "And if I didn't have my second Ultrasound with Harry tonight, I would come with you, but I'm trusting you to recognize that your health is one of the most important factors in your life."
Hermione nodded defeatedly and Ginny gave her a gentle hug, before both stepped away from each other and apparated their separate ways.
"From your descriptions, of heavy coughing, perpetual cold, sudden weakness and dizziness and our tests, we have, shall I say, found a disease that is identical to the one you described, Ms. Granger." Said the Healer, his face glowing from little droplets of sweat that had appeared beneath a balding forehead.
"And my dreams about You-Know-Who?" Hermione asked. He shifted uncomfortably.
"Ah, yes, although it is uncommon, hallucinations may also be a symptom." The Healer replied, his eyes darting around the room, in an effort to avoid her face.
"But how can they be hallucinations if they're real?" She asked.
He finally looked at her, or rather, stared at her as though she were a complicated math puzzle that he didn't particularly want to solve. She stared at him defiantly, and he looked away.
Heaving a sigh of frustration, she said, "Alright. Suppose my dreams aren't real. What am I being diagnosed with. It's just a cold, isn't it? Or is it maybe the flu?"
"There's no easy way to say this," said the Healer before taking a deep breath. "I'm afraid that you've been diagnosed with Morbus Frigidus." Receiving no response, he continued. "It is an affliction very similar to what Muggles would call 'Hypothermia' however it contrasts in that the cause of its development is not extreme cold. The effects of this disease can- "
"Can be temporarily mitigated for a few months if the patient is treated accordingly, with proper rest and care, however the ultimately fatal disease can be prevented no longer than half a year before its properties will take full effect, I know." Hermione said, staring in shock at the Healer.
She met his pitying eyes and he flushed, looking away guiltily.
"Is there anyone you'd like me to contact?" He asked gruffly. "Anyone I can- "
"No. Thank you. My only request is that I live out the rest of my life in my own home. I don't want to spend my last few months in the hospital."
The Healer opened his mouth, as if to protest, but finally gave a little nod. He pointed his wand at her head, muttering a spell that Hermione recognized as a Tracking spell.
"During your, erm, last few, uh, hours," he said, visibly uncomfortable. "This spell will immediately bring you here, to St. Mungo's so that your passing will be in comfort and of course for… err, public records." He rubbed his neck awkwardly.
Looking at the scene, Hermione thought, any onlooker would probably have thought that the doctor had just been the one to receive news of his imminent death.