Weighted Down
Chapter Three: Visits
Disclaimer: I don't own anything, except, possible, the idea. And probably not even that. All names and affiliations with HP and Co. belong to that goddess of literature JK Rowling. Thanx all!
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Hermione and Ginny had always gotten along, despite their age differences. They were good friends, even during the school year at Hogwarts. That Ginny could be so worried about one of her close friends said worlds to Harry, and he had hurried into the car without further misgivings and only one small pause to write the Dursley's his own hurried note.
The Weasleys had taken him to a small wizarding village, Mr. Weasley driving a black sedan, Harry assumed had been borrowed from the Ministry. He drove fast, with no regards for speed limits of traffic officers, who took no notice whatsoever of the car full of redheads. Harry suspected that was on purpose, but said nothing to anyone. Ginny's words still weighed heavily on his mind. No one had said anything else to him since her statement, only given him sad looks, filled with pain. That scared Harry. The Weasleys were a strong family; times in the past few years had proven that. But to scare them as badly as they seemed, it had to be bad. Harry worried for his best friend. Hermione was muggle born, and a fierce target of the Dark Lord.
The silence in the car eventually got to be suffocating, but Harry dreaded breaking it. Consequently, he was greatly relieved when Fred, sitting in front with his father and George, spoke at last.
"We're almost there guys."
All eyes turned towards the windows, and Harry could make out in the darkness a large building, with large red lettering on the front.
St. Mungo's Hospital
ForMagical Maladies and Injuries
He shivered. He had been here only one time before, quite recently, in fact, and he had desperately wanted never to repeat the experience. But that this hospital had something to do with Hermione and the word 'bad' Harry would have faced a thousand hospital visits just to get to her. She was a best friend, one third of Hogwarts' famous 'Trio' that everyone at school affectionately called himself, Ron, and Hermione.
Oh Ron, his mind thought wretchedly. What must he be going through? He looked sideways at his other best friend, who had always been there for him. He was in bad shape. His face was pale in the near darkness, but Harry thought that had very little to do with the light outside. Ron had on his look that he had when he was trying hard not to show anything. He was horrible at that look. He always had been, and Harry was able to tell easily that he was frightened, and hurt.
Harry looked back at the building as the silent group came closer. It was plain, with brick walls, and shutters on the many windows. They were all closed. He supposed this was because it was night, and slightly chilly, but this strange fact still gave Harry a chill.
The group stepped on the threshold of the doorway, and walked into the hospital together.
A woman in a nurses' uniform was sitting at a small desk in a white room, but it otherwise it was empty. Chairs and small tables dotted here and there, with magazines like Witch's Weekly, and Gardening: For the Average Witch adorning the tables. Harry thought these were very bad titles to be scattered in a hospital, but he soon forgot the magazines when Mr. Weasley reached the Nurse's Desk.
"I'm looking for the Disaster Ward?" he told the woman, questioning. Harry stomach lurched at the word 'disaster'. What had happened to Hermione?
"I'm sorry, sir," the nurse told him, her face passive. She shook her small red head before continuing. "Visiting hours are from eight to five. It's ten-thirty." She looked pitifully at the rest of them, her eyes searching out each face.
Mr. Weasley was about to say more, his face showing his rising temper, and his ears turning quite pink, when the nurse let out a startled squeak. She had reached Harry's face.
Harry himself held her gaze steadily. He was used to people staring.
Sure enough, the nurse did the routine sweep of Harry's forehead to his legacy: the lightning bolt scar, tribute of the Dark Lord Voldemort. Harry was temped to roll his eyes, but something told him this would not help their situation.
Indeed, his calm stare paid off. The nurse looked back at Mr. Weasley, new understanding in her hazel eyes. "You can go. Please, don't ask any other nurses for directions, they'll kick you out, but if you look like you know where your going, they wont ask any questions." She glanced back at Harry for a moment, who wondered at this turn of events. "The Disaster Ward is three halls down this way," she pointed to her right, "and the last left before the dead end of that hallway."
Mr. Weasley hesitated, before muttering a small "thank you very much" and leading the boys on. Harry tried to meet the nurse's eyes once again, but she was already looking at her paperwork, avoiding all gazes. He hurried to follow the Weasleys, thinking hard.
"Looks like your being famous is good for something, eh mate?" muttered George, but his face was grim all the same. The pathetic attempt at the joke however, made Harry's face hover with a small smile, before returning to thoughts about Hermione.
He didn't have to think long enough for his mind to present him with the reason for Hermione's placement in 'Disaster Ward'. The only disasters these days were attacks of Voldemort and his legendary Death Eaters.
Lord Voldemort was at full power, and produced muggle raids routinely since the accident at the Hogwarts Express. So far, wards had been strong enough around Hermione's house that he hadn't been able to enter. Dumbledore had placed wards on every muggleborn's home that attended Hogwarts, but Hermione's had been extraordinarily protected. Dumbledore had told them that it was because she was a brilliant witch who had repeatedly insulted sons of Death Eaters, but Harry, and both Ron and Hermione, though they never spoke of it, knew it was because she was associated with him, Harry Potter, the Boy-who-lived, and therefore, a juicy target for the Dark Lord to get his hands on. All of his friends were in danger because they were associated with him. Thoughts of Dumbledore's protections jarred Harry's stomach painfully, and he tried to think only of his friend.
Harry desperately prayed that everything would be all right, that Hermione had been able to escape, but his relative mind told him that not many survived an attack of the Dark Lord.
They walked quickly, following the nurse's instructions, meeting no one else in the deserted corridors. Harry was soon lost. The hospital was very large; magically enhanced to be bigger than was possible from the look of the outside of the building.
All too soon, for Harry anyway, they reached a hallway with automatic doors separating it from the rest of the hospital. The six of them stepped on the threshold, and stopped. The door was magicked to analyze everyone who entered, deciding for itself if the persons intended any harm to the occupants of the ward. It apparently decided that they were all right, and opened to admit them. Harry paused, unable to move for a moment, the memories of this place flooding back to him to crash into his unwelcoming skull. Overwhelmed, his did not notice that Ron softly called his name. He did jump when his friend jerked his arm harshly. Harry sent a grateful look to Ron, before hurrying to get past the door. He shook his head to get the memories out, but they refused to leave. He settled for them receding to the back of his mind, an ever present reminder of his days spent here not so long ago.
It was a long dark corridor, lined with beds dressed in white, pale green sheets separating the beds in between. Harry could just make out through the dimness shapes of people in the beds, some larger than Harry, and some that looked like small children. That thought made Harry sadder than before, that young kids who were innocents in this war were feeling the pains of the devastation. He walked forward with the Weasley's trying not to think or look around at any of the other beds.
Mr. Weasley seemed to know where he was going, even if the rest of them did not. He led the group to the back of the ward, and Harry quailed. This was where the worst cases were held, with their own room bed. It was a morbid thought that the critical patients got the best facilities, but that was furthest from Harry's head at the moment. It was a great effort to get his legs to carry his to follow the Weasleys, but he made them do the chore. He would be at his best friend's side, through anything.
Arthur led them into a small room, opening the door with the slightest squeak. Harry winced nonetheless. He didn't want to get caught in here any more than the rest of them did. They walked into the white washed room, Ginny coming in last, shutting the door silently behind her.
Harry blanched when he saw the bed in the small hospital room. It was dark, with the lights out, but he could make out tubes and wires going to and from the small patient on the bed. Someone, Harry couldn't see who, lit their wand, and Harry gasped roughly.
Hermione.
She was hardly recognizable in the soft light, her face almost completely blue or black form bruising. She had scratches up and down her arms that added crimson to the indigo skin. She clutching the green covers of the bed tightly, hiding the rest of her form view, but Harry was willing to bet the rest was as bad as her face and arms.
Ron was the first to move, letting out a small sob and rushing towards her. He went to her left side and immediately took her hand, holding it close to his chest. Harry could make out tears coursing down his friend's cheeks and felt his own eyes sting at the sight.
Harry followed slowly, going to her other side. He brushed her hair away from her eyes, smoothing it around her. Its bushiness had died down since they were kids, becoming simply curly. Now it was tangled, a mess of knots and rats' nests, shaved in one section, revealing a nasty cut on the side of her head.
It was Harry's turn to let out a sob. His brilliant, strong, defiant friend looked so –sad- lying in the drab hospital bed. She was paler than death, and Harry found himself wanting her to just move, so he would know she wasn't really just a figment of his imagination, some other nightmare he couldn't seem to wake from.
A new emotion suddenly swarmed through him at that moment. Anger. Completely heated and rushing, bubbling anger swelled into him, through him, and he let it.
A thought tingled at the back of him muddled mind, slowly making its way to the front. He let it come, watching his poor friend while he waited. Finally, it made its way there.
He has to pay. Voldemort had gone too far this time. The Death Eaters had deliberately attacked his friend, knowing he would be angered beyond all reason when, if, his friend died. He and his followers would pay, if it was the last thing Harry Potter did in his life. He knew it with all of his being at that moment.
It took some time to calm the emotions flowing through him, but he looked at Ron when he had control. When his friend looked back at him, He understood it. Ron and Hermione had been dating since the summer before sixth year, and Harry had watched as they came to really love each other. Every moment spent with one another was pure joy, and Harry could not help but feel happy for both of them. He himself knew how they felt. He cast a small glance at Ginny. She looked much like her brother. But Harry knew, if she was ever in trouble, or in a situation deemed 'bad', he would be madder than a puff adder in a rainstorm. He could sympathize with Ron's emotions, and even felt some of them himself. He glanced at Hermione's still form, then back at his best friend, eyes challenging.
Ron matched him glare for glare, and through their gazes an understanding past. They would not let the Dark Lord get away with this. Both of them would kill him, if it took all they had. Harry gave a slight nod, and looked back to Hermione before Ron could reply. The promise had been made. It made no difference if no words had been spoken.
Hours past before anything else happened, but both Harry and Ron were still by their friend's side, (the others had left the room to wander the hospital hours ago) each staring as if their gazes would penetrate the unconsciousness in her.
Eventually, it paid off. She stirred.
Harry and Ron both sat up straighter, and looked hopefully at the girl on the bed. She stirred again, and her eyes moved slightly.
Harry and Ron shared and excited gaze, but said nothing, and looked quickly back to Hermione, anxious to miss any movement.
She blinked, slowly at first, then rapidly, as if trying with all her might to open her eyes.
She finally succeeded. Her chocolate gaze first saw Ron, and a small smile crossed Hermione's futures. Ron produced a brilliant grin back, and kissed the hand he still hold gently.
"Morning, love," he whispered. Hermione's smile got a scant bit bigger.
"Ron," she whispered, joy and hope brimming in one word.
Harry grinned broadly, shifting slightly. She was going to be okay!
The movement caught Hermione's attention, and she turned her head slightly, with a small wince, to look at Harry.
"Hey Mio," he said with a grin, using his nickname for her she despised. She grinned as well, and closed her eyes.
"Hi, guys," she whispered, the smile on her lips increasing with ever second. "Glad…you're…here," where the last words she said, before slipping back into sleep, the smile still there.
Ron and Harry shared a gaze of pure joy. Their friend would make it! She had to!
"What are you doing in here?" rang out a sharp voice. Both Harry and Ron jumped a few inches into the air, Harry managing to draw his wand in the blink of an eye to point at the speaker. It was a lesson he'd perfected over the years, with good reason.
Harry, not taking his gaze off the surprised doctor that had entered the room, saw Ron with his own wand out, and grinned in spite of the situation. The young male doctor who had opened to door looked shocked at two young men in his patients room, both with wands pointed at him directly.
"What are you doing here?" he repeated, his voice raised and panicked now. Shouts and scrambling could be heard from the rest of the hall, and Harry knew they had been caught.
Two female nurses rushed in behind the doctor, who still held stock still, and gaped at the pair of wizards with drawn wands.
The doctor and nurse stared slack jawed at the duo. Harry couldn't help but grin even broader. It was then that the doctor did the all-too-familiar sweep of Harry himself: the jet-black hair, emerald eyes, and lightning bolt scar.
"You're Harry Potter!" he said amazingly, pointing his finger at Harry.
This time, Harry really did roll his eyes. "Really?" he asked the man sarcastically. "I forgot. Thanks ever so much for reminding me!"
Ron gave him a devious grin, and subtly covered a laugh with a cough. Harry didn't really care. He had given up being nice a long time ago, and his policy was that if people were going to be stupid around him, he might as well have fun with them.
"Of course he is, you twit," Harry heard one of the nurses behind the doctor exclaim. "the question is, what is Harry Potter doing in the hospital this early in the morning, before hospital regulated visiting hours." She looked sternly at Harry and Ron for a moment, briefly reminding him of Professor McGonagall, before looking at the clipboard she held in her hand. It was then that her face softened. "I see." She nodded, and continued, with a glint in her eye that hid mischief. Harry couldn't help, with a small twang of guilt in his stomach, of Dumbledore and his twinkling eyes. He shoved that thought out of his mind, concentrating on the situation at hand.
The nurse was a nice looking woman, with blonde hair and blue eyes. She looked at the three for a moment. Her calm, intelligent gaze took in the way Harry and Ron stood protectively in front of their friend. She looked at the doctor and other nurse beside her, and murmured something that Harry didn't catch. He glanced at Ron for a moment, and the look on his friend's face told him Ron had no idea what was going on either. Harry shrugged and turned back to the three in front of them, who had then stopped talking.
The doctor, looking sheepish, began. "The hospital staff has reviewed it, and we have decided that you may keep the patient, Miss Granger, company for the duration of her stay here. We do ask that you do not visit any other patient after hours, or disturb the nurses." He paused, then added haughtily, "however, the nurses and I do have to perform a series of tests and routine exams on Miss Granger at the moment, and the two of you need to leave the room while we do so."
The immediate answer from Ron was one Harry could have predicted.
"What kind of tests? What for? Why can't we stay for them?" he demanded, his ears turning rapidly from pale peach to pink to red. Harry shook his head, partly in amusement at Ron's overprotective bit and partly at his own agreement with Ron's outburst to let them stay and know what was going on with their best friend. But he listened to his better judgment, and stopped Ron before he could get out of hand.
"Ron," he said calmly, his voice belying his feelings to only his friend, who turned back from his glare at the doctor to look at Harry. "Let's go. We do have to let them do their jobs." Ron glared briefly at Harry, before sighing.
"'Aight mate," he stated, turning to Hermione to brush a stray lock of hair from her face. He looked at her momentarily, eyes sad, and then went quickly out the door, pushing past the doctor and two nurses. Harry shook his head again. Ron had a temper like only a Weasley could, and Harry had wondered many a time before if Ron was the worst of that lot. But then he had seen Ginny angry too many times for that. She was bloody scary when she got mad.
But Harry turned himself from those thoughts and gave a weak smile to the group before him, obviously astounded by Ron's rudeness. He smiled to reassure them, or mainly just the nice nurse who had 'seen' why Harry and Ron were here. He nodded quickly before heading out the door himself, emitting a small 'pardon me' as he past.
He walked down the hall, now lit brightly by the windows that allowed the glorious Britain summer sun to pour through. Harry found Ron around the corner, leaning against a wall, his head bent, eyes closed. He approached slowly.
"Hey mate," he called quietly.
Ron did not look up, but Harry knew that he had heard him even before he had said anything. It would have been an insult to their fine Defense training if he hadn't.
"How're you holdin' up?" he asked softly, more a question to break the silence then anything. He knew what Ron was going through. He had known both Ron and Hermione long enough to read them instantaneously. But he was also going through the same thing himself.
Hermione was one third of the most important people in his life. Seeing her in this state like this was horrifying, and he had the frustrating feeling of being helpless once again. Harry hated feeling helpless, it was the worse feeling in the world, as far as he was concerned. The accident, where he had been more helpless than ever before in his life— maybe excluding the time Voldemort had tried to kill him as an infant— did nothing to qualm his fear of helplessness. If anything, it spurred it on, until he had recurring nightmares of that shadow coming down the hall of the train, and nothing Harry could do to stop him, and then the last person he had expected just appearing out of thin air to deliver his last message to who he thought was the Wizarding World's last hope, and taking the curse that had been meant for Harry.
Harry snapped out of the day-nightmare, a choking sob just barely escaping his grasp. He closed his eyes, not wanting Ron's comfort right then.
Ron, for his part, seemed to understand, and nothing was said between the two teenagers until Ginny came running around the corner, slowing only when she spotted her boyfriend and her brother.
"There you guys are," she stated, panting softly.
"Has something happened?" Ron asked, finally speaking, a panicked look in his eyes. But Ginny calmed his fears.
"No. Sorry for scaring you Ron, but Dad just wanted to know where you two had gotten to." She smiled softly, but Harry could tell it was strained. "We went back to the room a few minutes ago and it had a bunch of doctors in it and neither of you in sight." She sighed. "He was worried," she added the last part softly.
Harry, knowing well her sad tone, held his arm out to her, and she gratefully stepped up into Harry's embrace. He held Ginny, and said nothing, as his best friend resumed his place leaning against the wall with his eyes shut.
Harry shut his own eyes, and leaned against the opposite wall from Ron, the reassuring pressure of Ginny leaning against him. He sighed, and put his head against Ginny's, burying his nose in her flaming red locks. He always loved her scent, a mixture of herbs and fruits. Usually, it calmed him, but now, he only felt horrible for his best friend across from him, whose own girlfriend was sitting in a hospital bed, and the knowledge that she might not wake up was haunting him.
He paused for only a moment, and then let Ginny go, rubbing her back for a moment.
"Hey Ron," he asked casually, stepping over to lean against the wall next to his friend. Ginny gave him a reassuring smile, and he continued. "Whaddya say we go down to the kitchens and see if we can scrounge up some food?"
Ron looked at him for a moment, and then gave him a smile. It was small, and haunted looking, but Harry was thankful for the gesture.
"Sure mate, let's go." Harry gave a small smile of his own, and started down the hall. Ron followed, with Ginny behind them. Harry, his heart heavy, made his way toward the hospital kitchens. They actually had pretty good food here, at St. Mungo's, as Harry had learned in his short stay a few weeks before.
Harry knew Hermione would be a long way in recovering, and Ron and himself as well, but, with hope, he thought, they would all make it. They had to. Because if his to best friends lost it, he would too, and the weight of the wizarding world now stood on his shoulders. To loose that would mean doom for all.
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AN: Please review. All constructive criticism is welcome. Please, please, please tell me what you thought. That's how writers improve ya know!
See wasn't I nice! No cliffy!! You wont be so lucky in the future!! *Evil cackle*