A/N-I want to thank everyone for their comments and support! It means so much to me!
~Dot
Hermione woke up disoriented, not sure what time–or day–it was. She looked over at her clock and saw that it was almost noon. In a flash, every disturbing thing that had happened the day before came back to her.
Ron was in a coma.
They didn't know when he'd wake up.
In fact, they weren't sure he would at all. Hermione's stomach twisted at the thought and she instinctively reached for her stomach. Though she couldn't feel anything, and her baby was no bigger than a bean, she felt a sense of calmness. If only temporarily.
She and the Weasleys had stayed in Ron's hospital room the night before for over an hour, asking the Healer question after question, until they were finally kicked out because visiting hours were over.
Ron had a severe head injury, which required his Healers to put him into a coma to protect his brain and prevent further swelling. Even though it was a medically-induced coma, they didn't know when it would be safe to take him out of it. Nor did they know how he would function when he awoke.
He could be basically unresponsive for the rest of his life, or no longer be able to perform basic skills like talking or eating. Though there was also the possibility that he could be completely fine. Or anything in between.
Hermione knew that visiting hours would be happening soon, and she wanted to be there when they did. But, she struggled to get out of bed. It wasn't because of the crushing exhaustion she felt, or at least, not completely. When she closed her eyes, she could imagine Ron laying next to her. It had been one of her favourite times—when they stayed up talking or just laid in silence together as the sun rose.
She lent over to smell his pillow, to fully recreate the bliss she used to feel, but it didn't smell of him. She cursed herself internally for doing the washing, which was not something she found to be typically aggravating. But, because she had tidied, Ron's pillow didn't smell of him, his clothes weren't strewn across their floor, and his trinkets were safely tucked away. If someone had entered their house, they might not even know that he lived there at all.
It's not that she intentionally cleaned him away. It was only that he had been gone on a mission for a couple of weeks. When he was gone, he took most of his day-to-day items with him and Hermione wasn't one to sleep on two-week-old sheets, nor would she do with clutter.
But now Hermione wished she was a completely different person. That the sheets were unwashed, Ron's old shirts were hanging by on the chair, and that his prized possessions were with her, for her to see and to hold. But mostly she wished that he was here with her—and okay.
Hermione finally got up, showering quickly and eating a dismal brunch before heading to Saint Mungos. She had to floo there. As a matter of fact, she had to floo everywhere, since apparating wasn't considered safe to do while pregnant.
She made it to Ron's door a minute before visiting hours began. Molly and Arthur were already there, sitting by the door, looking stressed and tired.
The night before, Molly had asked Hermione if she wanted to stay at the Burrow. Hermione had declined, wanting desperately to have some normalcy. She had also hoped that going home, to hers and Ron's, would give her some semblance of peace. It had not, though she wasn't sure that the Burrow would be any better. Ron had not lived in his attic bedroom for years, and many of the other rooms had been turned into guest rooms, made especially for when the grandchildren visited.
"Any news?" Hermione asked, knowing that there likely hadn't been any, but wanted to check, just in case.
Molly shook her head and stood up to hug Hermione before the three entered Ron's room.
Seeing Ron today was almost as big of a shock as it had been yesterday. Somehow, in the few hours she had been away, she had forgotten how sickly and weak he looked. For some reason, she had expected him to look a bit better, if only for his bruises to be lessened. But that was not the case. He was still purple and swollen. If it weren't for his tell-tale hair and the edges of his distinct brain scars peeking out from his gown, Hermione would have assumed he was someone else.
Molly softly told Ron that she, Arthur, and Hermione were there and that they would keep him company. Healer Zichri had told them the day before that it was possible that Ron could hear them, and that talking to him could help to keep him calm. But Hermione couldn't find her voice to say hello. She couldn't imagine him being there–being able to hear them. Really, she didn't want to imagine. She wanted him to be in dreamland, taking some island holiday like they had always talked about. She wanted him to be soaking in the sun or swimming in the ocean. She wanted him to be anywhere but here.
Because here was awful. Here was incessant beeping, alerting Healers of his vitals. Here was disinfectant and bleach penetrating your nostrils. Here was pain. As much as she wanted him to be with her, she also knew that he would be suffering. So, she pictured him resting, as he was supposed to be doing, slowly recovering until here wasn't so bad anymore.
She silently took a seat next to his bed, and Molly and Arthur sat across from her. Molly brought out some yarn and a needle, telling Hermione that the blankets the hospital provided were dinky and threadbare and that Ron deserved better. Hermione knew that their home was filled with lush, fluffy blankets which would suit Ron perfectly. But she also knew how she felt–helpless. And she would do anything to feel like she wasn't. So making a blanket, no matter how unnecessary, was actually necessary, as it gave Molly a feeling of helping.
Hermione didn't have any such skills, so she resigned to reading a book she had packed in her purse. She always carried a book in her bag, just in case, but she couldn't remember which book she had packed.
Les Miserables. How fitting.
Hermione opened her well-worn copy and turned to the first chapter. She had read and re-read the book too many times to count. For some twisted reason, all of the pain and suffering in the book gave her solace and comfort during her own terrible experiences. That and she still had lovely, clear memories of seeing the musical with her parents on the West End. It had been her first musical, and she had read the book three times in preparation. But nothing could prepare her for the magic of seeing the story come to life. It was one of her favourite memories with her parents.
She hadn't called her parents to let them know what was happening. They had stayed in Australia after Hermione had restored their memories. While Hemione had been hoping they would move back, she understood why they stayed. They had made a life for themselves there, even if under false identities. They had been enjoying their time as pensioners and had taken to the sun and surf.
Hermione didn't know how to break the news to them, she didn't know if they would support her having a baby out of wedlock, and she feared that Ron's injury would only prejudice them more against the Wizarding World and its dangerousness. On top of that, there was a nearly 12-hour time zone difference.
Yes, she would blame the time zones for not yet calling.
"Perhaps Ron would like to hear the book you're reading?" Molly asked Hermione in a tone that suggested that it was not a question and rather a statement.
Hermione nodded her head, though she knew that the book would likely not interest Ron, his style was much more quidditch magazines and much less depressing French novels. Still, she couldn't argue with Molly and turned back to the first page.
In the five hours of visiting time, Ron had received many visitors. Fleur had stopped by first, bringing her young children and lunch for Hermione, Molly, and Arthur. Surprisingly, neither of her children cried during the visit, despite the dismal, depressing setting. Instead, they rushed around, finding hiding places in the nooks and crannies of the room. The hospital room was not a hospital for them, instead, it was a castle to be explored and a secret forest with hidden surprises around every corner. For a moment, when Hermione was watching them play, she forgot all of her sorrows. She had looked over to her other half to share the joy she was observing and was horribly shocked back to reality. Soon the family left, and the room was quiet and sorrowful again.
Next came Ginny, who was able to leave work early. Thankfully, she was training in London, and was able to quickly make it to Saint Mungos. Harry soon joined them, coming after work, as did Percy and Bill. No one had spoken too much. The quiet, brooding expressions Hermione saw on her friends reminded her of right after the war. There had been so much pain and death, in such a short amount of time, that the days seemed to blur. But now, it was just Ron, and time seemed to go so slowly. All she could feel was her grief for him, the aching in her chest that taunted her–warning her that he still might not make it, that there would be another burial at the Burrow, and that she would never get to see Ron's joyful face, the joy of him finding out that he was going to be a father would be the last memory she had of him. And that memory would fade, as all memories do.
When it was time to go, Molly once again offered for Hermione to stay at the Burrow. This time, Hermione did not decline her offer. She couldn't spend another night in her flat, alone.
Molly made a near-feast for the few staying for dinner, as she tended to do. Though, it did not feel like a normal Burrow meal. Without Ron, Hermione wasn't sure anything would feel normal. She had to constantly remind herself that he was still alive, that he would be back, that everything would be okay again. Even if it was a lie, it was all that kept her going.
She had to take a sleeping drought to fall asleep, as she could not stop tossing and turning. She was offered one of the remodelled guestrooms but decided to stay in Ron's old bedroom. Molly didn't seem surprised by Hermione's choice, though Hermione wondered if Molly knew how many nights she had spent with Ron, in his bedroom sneaking around and snogging under the sheets. It was the main reason she decided to stay there–so her memories could be filled with all of the good times they had together.
Hermione woke earlier than the day before, her nose filling with the smell of fresh-made bread and baking sausages. She reached for her nausea potion before her stomach could get any ideas, and headed down the many stairs to pretend that everything was fine.
Before it was time for visiting hours, Hermione went to Diagon Alley, telling Molly that she would meet her at Saint Mungos. Hermione stepped into Quality Quidditch Supplies, hoping they had what she wanted.
She found what she was looking for and grabbed as many recent editions of Quidditch magazines as the store had. If–and it was a big if–Ron could hear them, she wanted to make sure he was thoroughly entertained.