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Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, and only the story line and any OC's belong to me.

As always for my loves Sable and Lais xxx


Wednesday, 23rd May, 1979

Early hours of the morning

St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries

Three wix run straight into one of glass windows of the red-bricked, condemned department store—Purge and Dowse, Ltd.

(Harry complained bitterly and tried to negotiate that he come to the hospital as well, but they insisted that he had to stay out of sight. The Death Eaters didn't know about him and they needed to keep it that way; especially since they had no idea if they now knew about Ron—which was a risk they knew they were taking. He had begrudgingly agreed, and Frank side-along apparated him directly back to Potter Manor—taking all of the basilisk fangs with him.)

The girl with the honey brown curls is at the front of the pack, leading the charge. She narrowly avoids slamming into several of the Healers that are bustling about busily.

Now that she's closer she can feel him; an invisible string is tugging her towards him, its pull is getting more faint by the minute and that doesn't help soothe her nerves.

She finally reaches the reception desk, her heart in her throat as she stares in confusion at the two male healers behind it.

One of them is leaning his head back and his colleague is aiming his wand at the man's nose—which Hermione realises is bruised and bleeding. With a sharp crack, the man's nose snaps back into places and he groans softly.

Hermione senses the anxious energy from her companions and waits a moment before piping up with, "excuse me. We're looking for two wizards who came in earlier—"

The man whose nose is newly fixed and set flies around aggressively, eyes wide with rage. "NO. I refuse to let even one more of you crazy bastards into my hospital. No more of your fucking mottley crew is allowed on the premise. There are too many of you running amuck and I will not have anymore of it."

Hermione recoils at his nasty, venomous tone, blinking rapidly, unsure on how to respond since she was wholly unprepared for that acidic quip. She pauses. Her brow knits together into a tight knot. Wait. Crazy bastards? Motley crew? Surely, he could not be referring to them.

He takes a menacing step closer to the counter and then points at the exit, "out!"

Rage bubbles up inside her gut, how dare he speak to them like that?

Whoever broke his nose must have knocked the sense out of his head.

Hermione opens her mouth to retort when he interjects, harshly, the words assaulting them as they hurl out of his mouth, "Not a word, girl. I don't want to hear a word out of your stupid mouth."

Hermione raises an eyebrow, he did not just say that.

She wants to strangle him.

Sirius steps closer to the counter on Hermione's left—Dorea is a step behind her on her right—and she can hear the fury, the anger in Sirius's voice as it shakes and rumbles, "oi, mate. Who the fuck do you think you are? Our mates have been bloody attacked, and you're name calling and trying to get us to leave? What the actual fuck is wrong with you?"

The Healer sneers before spitting directly in Sirius's face.

Sirius lunges at the man, but the man steps back—this however doesn't stop Sirius Black as he clambers over the counter and is about to get his hands on the bloke when he freezes in place.

Hermione frowns and realises that Dorea has her wand out and has it pointed at Sirius. Dorea shakes her head fondly at the grey-eyed boy.

Dorea can clearly see that the situation is spiralling out of control and gracefully steps in, placing a gentle hand on the girl's shoulder.

The healer closes the distance between the women and him again, cautiously eyeing Sirius as he does, "now get the hell out of my hospital."

"You keep saying your hospital as if you bloody well own it," Hermione snarls, and Dorea squeezes her shoulder once. Hermione peeks at Dorea's face and sees a serene, calm expression but she can feel the fury loosely veiled beneath the surface, ablaze in her eyes.

Dorea smiles sweetly at the Healer—leaning forward across the counter—and then in one swift motion she jabs her wand into the soft flesh underneath the man's chin.

"Boy. You are trifling with the wrong family on the wrong day."

Dorea's eyes flick down to the small name tag on the man's robes, and she inclines her head to the left.

"Now, Richard. Would you be a dear, and may you please direct us to where we need to go."

He swallows loudly, dark, beady eyes flicking down to look at the wand pressing into him. He shakily raises a hand and says, "t-take the stairs to the fourth floor, just keep going and you'll f-fi-find his room."

"Good boy, Dick," Dorea says calmly, withdrawing her wand and squeezing Hermione's shoulder once before removing her hand.

Hermione glowers darkly at the man, and strides purposefully around the desk, and once on the other side she realises that they had caused quite the commotion and several wix are staring agape at them. So much for keeping a low profile, she groans internally.

Dorea thaws Sirius, who is now lowly growling in the back of his throat in the Healer's direction. He defiantly wipes the spit off of his face with his sleeve and scowls deeply.

"Fuck you," Sirius says as they leave the waiting area and head in the direction that Dick pointed them in.

Hermione's chest feels warmer and warmer and then they are sprinting, panting heavily and cursing profusely as they climb up the stairwell until they finally reach the fourth floor and they continue to run, until they come across an irate wizard with messy ginger hair, pacing back and forth along the corridor like a caged beast.

When he spots them, relief floods onto his face and Hermione lunges forward and crashes into him, burying her face in his chest.

Hermione had been attempting to hold the pieces of her heart together ever since the news of the incident had reached them, but in that moment she loses all of her composure.

They can't die, she can't lose anyone else she cares about. She can't.

Hermione's body wracks violently with sobs, hiccoughing as she gulps in air and cries. Ron's sinewy arms instantly wrap around her, cocooning her in his protective embrace.

She pulls back slightly, tears still bubbling out of her, trying to speak but her throat has zipped shut.

Dorea thankfully pipes up and asks what she cannot.

"Where are they, how are they doing?" Dorea asks worriedly, her voice trembling with trepidation—finally allowing her feelings to peek through her calm facade.

Hermione glances up at Ron's face and sees the moment the rage floods back into his features.

"They are both still being worked on," Ron says tightly. "James is worse off than Remus, but they both lost a lot of blood...plus Remus is only being attended to by one Healer."

"What!" Sirius exclaims, shaking his head violently and frowning deeply. "Why?"

Hermione's heart stops beating, its' unsteady rhythm has halted in its march. Her lungs burn as she holds her breath.

"When I found him—" Ron pauses to jerk his head in the direction of the door a few feet away, "—there was a little Healer witch that yelled for me to piss off since I was only serving as a distraction. She's the only one working on him. News apparently spread that Remus is a werewolf and some of the other Healers are staying away because of what that bitch Umbridge is doing with werewolf laws and regulations. Not to mention they don't want to get infected." Ron finishes, snarling out the last part with thick disgust.

"Wh-where is Lily?" Hermione asks, swallowing her tears and trying to focus.

Everything is spiralling downwards with such alarming speed in such a short span of time. He was just in her arms, kissing her and telling her it would all be fine. I can't lose them, Hermione cries internally.

"She felt useless waiting around, only working herself up into a nervous wreck as she put it. She went to find some more Healers that would be willing to help Remus." Ron sighs, some of his anger fleeing his body—he looks absolutely knackered.

"Fuck this," Sirius says, trembling with fury—a few strands of hair that sprung free from his messy ponytail are hanging in front of his face. He clicks his teeth together and turns away from them, shaking his head, hands curling and unfurling into fists.

He petulantly stomps his left foot once and then marches away from them with a vengeance.

"Sirius! Where are you going?" Dorea calls after the boy, taking a few steps after him before stopping.

Sirius halts, glances over his shoulder, face partially cast in shadow and replies darkly, "to take umbrage with some of these Healers, so that they'll do their bloody jobs."

With that he whirls back around, and continues on his way.

Hermione sniffs loudly.

Dorea sighs, face haggard and she seems to have aged significantly throughout this whole ordeal, then her eyes widen to the size of dinner plates and a low stream of profanity leaves her mouth. Guilt cakes her features and she looks as if she might be sick.

"I just realised that Charlus doesn't know what's happening. Harry probably told him...but still. Dammit," Dorea says, more to herself than anyone else.

She walks a ways down the corridor and takes out her wand, most likely sending her husband a Patronus to inform him of the current situation.

Hermione looks up at Ron, only loosely holding onto him now, "now we wait."

Ron grimaces but nods firmly.

Now they wait.