Disclaimer: I own nothing
Things were supposed to fall into place. Conflicts come with their arguments, loss of sleep, heartache, and tears and then lead into the resolution.
The happily every after.
The fairy tale ending.
Hermione has a mortal enemy. They make amends and become great friends; they get into a fight, and then are friends again.
Hermione keeps a secret from her closest friends, she reveals it; they support her through her hardest times.
Hermione wipes her parents' memories and sends them to Australia; she retrieves them; they love her as much as ever.
Hermione's only girlfriend thinks she stole her boyfriend (who happens to also be Hermione's best friend) and is devastated; the confusion is cleared; the two friends get back together.
Hermione is ill with a disease never seen before in the wizarding world; time is running out; her best-friend has strange dreams that lead him, her other best friend, and her ex-mortal enemy to discover how she contacted her illness; in no time the cure is discovered and tragedy is averted. Happily ever after.
Or not. Or maybe the initial high of discovering that the curse in the Department of Mysteries was what allowed cancer to get past magic's defenses began to wear off as they hit dead end after dead end. Maybe despair started to set in as they saw Hermione deteriorate before their very eyes.
Hermione's hair started to fall out in clumps.
One morning she didn't show up to a breakfast date with Ginny. Three hours into a frantic search where everyone she had spoken to in the last year was drilled for information, a nurse named Laura at the local muggle hospital called her childhood friend Mrs. Granger to inquire whether the little daughter she had met years ago was now in her late teens. When Mrs. Granger replied yes, Laura told her that she might want to come down to the hospital. Apparently a young woman had fainted in the middle of London and bystanders called for an ambulance. The woman had no identification on her but the nurse thought she bore a marked resemblance to her friend. Would there be any particular reason Mrs. Granger's daughter would be carrying a stick?
Although Hermione refused to elaborate on the story the nurse had told and tried to brush the fainting spell off as an isolated event caused by lack of food, the incident marked the last time she was allowed to travel anywhere alone. The next incident occurred about a week later. It was lucky someone was around to hear her cry for help.
"I'm here!" Harry called as he let himself into the flat with his own key. The only sound that greeted him was of water rushing and soft humming. While waiting for Hermione to finish her shower, he sat down on the couch and looked around for something to occupy himself.
A quidditch magazine Ron had left from his last visit caught his eye. Settling himself in, he kicked off his shoes, propped his legs up, and summoned a glass of water from the kitchen.
A crash followed by a shriek startled him. He jumped up, sending the magazine flying and the glass crashing to the floor. "Hermione?" Silence. He raced to the bathroom. Pressed against the door he called, "Hermione, is everything okay?" He pounded on the door. "Hermione!" he yelled. "Are you alright? What happened?" He received no response. "Please answer me!" He only heard the water running and the sound of his heart pounding. "Hermione if you don't answer me I'm coming in!"
He fumbled for his wand. "Alohamora!" Adrenaline rushing, the door blasted open and Harry stormed in. Low groans came from behind the closed shower curtain. He called softly, "Hermione, I'm opening the curtain." Hearing no protest, he pushed it open and found Hermione barely conscious and bleeding profusely from where she had smashed her head against the wall.
Standing stock still, his vision swam. There was just so much blood. Why was there so much blood? No, this couldn't be the end. "Do something!" Harry's inner voice screamed.
Snapping out of his trance, he sprang into action.
Blurring in and out of consciousness, Hermione heard concerned voices all around her. A constant stream of visitors moved through her room. Her parents. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Harry. Ron. Ginny. Draco. She wanted to reach out, reassure them. They all looked so worried and she wanted to tell them that it would all be okay. They would pull through this like they had through every other trial of their lives. If only she could just get the words out.
Now, her mother was bent over her, whispering softly, "Wake up, Hermione. Please wake up." Over and over repeated those words like a mantra as the tears streamed down her mother's cheeks. How long her mother sat there, Hermione didn't know. It could have been hours, minutes, seconds, or years as her mum sat by her side and called out again and again in a soothing tone. Hermione felt herself embracing the peace of deep sleep.
"Please, wake up!" Hermione was startled back into hazy wakefulness by her mother's sudden exclamation. Mrs. Granger spread out her arms and looked towards the heavens as she let her deep sobs wrack her body. "I need you!" she beseeched. "I need you." She attempted to breathe deeply to gain control of herself. "I can't go on like this. I'm falling apart." She felt her heart breaking inside as she loving glanced down at her daughter. "You're my everything and you're slipping away from me."
She reached to smooth Hermione's hair but stopped short. What would happen if she knocked into her breathing tube? She settled on grasping her daughter's hand. As if that small contact would be enough when all she wanted to do was wrap her baby up in her arms and never let her go. "Just give me a sign that you hear me. Anything," she begged.
She waited hopefully for her miracle. Hermione would open her eyes and say, "Mum?" confused why her mother looked so distraught. Yelling for her husband, the doctor, the nurse, everyone, she would embrace her daughter and everything would be all right. This nightmare of nights blending into days sitting long hospital vigils would end. And she would have her precious baby back.
Hermione wanted, with every fiber of her being, to respond. To tell her mum to stop crying, that everything would be alright. To reach up and stroke her mum's tear-streaked cheek. Frustration clawed at her as she fruitlessly tried to raise her hand. Damnit! Just to squeeze her mother's hand! What she would do at that moment to possess the control of her faculties and be able to squeeze her mother's hand!
As she watched her mother's hopeful face crumple into despair, she summoned all the energy she possessed to wiggle her damn fingers. And she felt trapped, oh so trapped, as she realized she was helpless. Her mother's screams tore at her, and she felt powerless as she watched her father race into the room and gather her sobbing mother into his arms, rocking her and whispering soothing words Hermione didn't catch.
Suddenly, she didn't want to be aware of her surroundings. All she wanted to do was escape her parents' pain, so clearly displayed in front of her. She welcomed the oblivion of sleep as it claimed her and released her from the weakness that taunted her.
Author's Note: I know, dear readers, that this is not the update you've all been so patiently waiting for and it leaves so many questions unanswered, but this was the chapter that was inside of me so that's what came out. I hope to finish this story but I make no promises. I hope you enjoy this update and, as always, I'd love to hear your thoughts. Thank you.
