"You don't need to hear it
But I'm dried up and sick to death of love
If you need to know it
I never really understood that stuff. . ."
~Elton John, "This Train Don't Stop There Anymore"
A feeling of complete relief befell Hermione as she entered the room. She stood in the doorway for some seconds before entering it one inch at a time. It was almost as if she breathed too fast, blinked too long, he would be gone.
The Boy Who Lived was strapped to a bed at St. Mungo's, the ivory belts eating into his red wrists and ankles. Sleeping, he was attired in generic hospital-wear, something resembling Muggle scrubs, bruising showing wherever the clothes neglected to cover, including his neck and parts of his face. He was emaciated; Hermione could see his sunken in cheeks littered with cuts and purplish marks.
No matter, though, Hermione thought quietly. He was alive, and breathing. She could tell from his chest rising and falling evenly. She stood there in the doorway for a few moments, and closed her eyes, acclimating herself to that which she had fallen asleep to night in and night out.
The Mediwitch (along with all of the wizarding world, it seemed) was very familiar with the situation regarding Harry's death. Did they know that he had been found? She had shown Hermione into Mr. Potter's room along with her tall redheaded escort, excusing herself immediately, saying, "I will fetch Dr. Boonyfetter for you, Ms. Granger," and making a mental note to tell the Gladys at the front desk about Potter being found.
Percy was of the observant sort, and saw the look on the Mediwitch's face. "Madam-" he peered down at her name tag – "Bocagrande, Mr. Potter's presence here is being kept under the tightest of wraps. If you would kindly keep the news to yourself, the Ministry would appreciate it."
Dammit, Bocagrande thought to herself, but she was nothing if not devoted to her job. If the head of Search and Rescue for the Ministry asked her to keep it quiet, then that is what she would do. She nodded curtly and showed herself out.
Percy's hand went around Hermione's shoulder as he pushed her gently into the room. There were tubes all around him as monitors beeped reassuringly at a steady pace with Harry's breathing. They had not discussed anything in the haste to Apparate to St. Mungo's.
"He's so frail, Perce," she announced as she walked over to the bed. Like a porcelain doll she was afraid to touch, Hermione gently let her forefinger stroke a portion of cream skin on his arm. She eyed him. "How long have you had him? How long have you known he was alive?"
"Since yesterday, Hermione," he admitted. "Fudge didn't want to reveal it too quickly. He wanted us to get as much information from Malfoy Manor before we let you and the others in on it. News spreads like wildfire in the wizarding world." She snorted derisively; she plainly knew everyone's need for gossip. "The Dark Lord does not know he is still alive, it seems; he's just lost his Death Eater minions. Intelligence suggests he is in the far reaches of what used to be the Soviet Union, licking his wounds, plotting a comeback without his devoted followers."
She looked down at his ruffled brown hair, the scar the only recognizable aspect of the forehead she used to kiss before he gallivanted off to work every morning. "So nobody will know Harry was found?"
"It's the best for the situation, Hermione. The less the world knows, the less the Dark Lord knows. I mean, of course, we'll tell my family – and other intimates you may want to inform who are trustworthy, but as far as the larger wizarding world is concerned, Harry Potter is dead."
"Oh, my sweet Harry," she whispered to him, looking down at him lovingly. "Any word on Professor Snape?"
"Nothing. No body has been found in any of the caverns we've searched thus far. I have Draco Malfoy on special assignment to search the caverns beneath the Manor. He did live at the Manor during his childhood, and though he didn't know about the hidden caverns, he is one of best Search Specialists we have at the Ministry. We assume Snape was killed eons ago, but with no body, Professor Lupin refuses to sign the papers declaring him dead."
"Remus won't sign the papers?"
"They've been in love a long time, Hermione. Just like you, Remus has Professor Snape's power of the courts, and refuses to sign the papers to begin the process of declaring him dead. We can't do it without the next of kin. Bureaucratic mumbo-jumbo Fudge won't touch with a pole ten yards long. And just like it took you months to finally sign the papers for Harry, it will probably take just a long for Remus. And, damn Remus, he is depriving himself of Professor Snape's pension. You know, financially, things were never good for Lupin when he was alone. The lycanthropy and such."
A moment of silent fell as she contemplated Professor Lupin, now in the same situation she had been in just yesterday – trying to face life without his soulmate. "I know Remus' state of mind right now. The best thing you can do is dispatch Black to him." At Percy's look of shock, she continued. "Do whatever it takes, Percy. Grant him clemency, commute his sentence, do whatever it takes. Sirius is in hiding, yes, but no one understands Remus but Sirius."
Percy simply answered, "I'll do what I can."
Her attention returned to her husband. "How was Harry found? What condition?"
"You do not want to know about that, Hermione. It's not important. He's here. Don't focus on that which you cannot change."
She pried her eyes off Harry and steeled them for Percy. "How was he found?" she not so much as asked, but spat. "Look at him, Percy! He's thin, covered in bruises, arm broken! There are tubes everywhere. He's strapped to a bed, damn it. What did they do to him?"
Percy took a moment and thanked the gods that for once the people at the Ministry did not take his advice and summon Hermione immediately. If she had been there yesterday, when they removed Harry's lifeless body from the pit. . . well, he didn't know if she could have survived it. She had not seen what he had seen yesterday. At least now, he was cleaned up a bit – but yesterday. . . He shuddered at the memory.
He kissed her cheek, and pulled back from the bed. "I'm not at liberty to discuss the state in which he found Mr. Potter," Percy said professionally, reciting some sound bite he had practiced in front of the The Daily Prophet under different circumstances. "I'm sorry, Hermione, I can't."
She was too emotionally drained to argue with him any further. Perhaps it didn't matter what state they had found him in. He was here. That was all that mattered, right?
"I'm going to go home, Hermione. You are Harry's spouse, and it is up to you whom we tell. Anyone who is not related to official Ministry business is your decision," Percy informed. "Do you want my family to know?"
"Of course," she said softly.
He smiled. "I think I can keep them from stampeding into this place like a herd of wild hippogriffs for one day. After tomorrow afternoon, though, good luck. You are on your own. Have a good night, Harry."
He Apparated out as Dr. Boonyfetter walked in, clipboard firmly in hand, eyeing Hermione over the top of his oval glasses. "And you are Ms. Granger, Mr. Potter's wife?"
"Yes," she replied, stroking Harry's fingers, the only part of his body she felt she could feel without hurting him.
"Ms. Granger, you are welcome to touch him. Trust me, it won't hurt him. Just treat him as you normally would. We find that patients often respond to the attention positively. Caress him, kiss him, hug him. Just do it delicately." He stared at his clipboard and then at Harry. "Your husband was found in rough shape. He has a broken arm, as you can see from the cast on his right. He is battered, bruised. Those will heal in time. We currently are pumping him full of Hither Potion and have a nurse applying healing ointment on his open wounds every hour on the hour."
"W-why is he strapped to the bed?"
"He was brought in yesterday. . .he was thrashing about, yelling things. An odd thing about Mr. Potter – he was barely alive when Search and Rescue found him but once he was transported here he became absolutely violent for no apparent reason. A sudden surge of energy we're not sure from where. We had no choice but to sedate him in order to treat him. We strapped him to the bed to prevent him from hurting himself. I don't know what he's capable of. It's simply a safety precaution."
"Can you release him from the straps then?"
"No, I'm sorry, Ms. Granger, we can't. He's been sedated for almost a full day now, we don't know how he will react once released."
Disappointed, she tried again. "Can you at loosen them then? Look at his wrists and ankles, they're absolutely puckered and red. Please?"
He smiled a Dumbledore smile. "Of course we can. I'll have Nurse Bocagrande do it immediately. Now if you'll excuse me, I have other patients to attend to. You are welcome to magic a bed here, if you want, and spend the night with your husband. I am sure you are in no hurry to leave."
"What. . . I mean, the future, what does it hold for him?"
"At this point, Ms. Granger, we don't know. He's been dealing with some very traumatic nightmares. We, at first, gave him a Sleeping Draught, but that was not strong enough to keep him absolutely unconscious. He was experiencing fierce nightmares, fighting through the Sleeping Draught, kicking, screaming at points. We had to finally administer a Sedation Serum because he was not resting. His body cannot heal if being jerked around by nightmares. I expect he will awaken sometime tomorrow, allowing the Ministry to question him, you to talk to him for awhile, before we give him more of the Sedation Serum."
"Will he be okay?"
"Physically, he should recover just fine, but we are going to have a Mind Specialist visit tomorrow when he's conscious."
"A Mind Specialist?"
"Ms. Granger, the mind is exceptionally powerful. He's been through things at the hand of those damn Death Eaters that I cannot even imagine." There was an undercurrent of rage in his voice that shook his entire body. "My daughter, Antonia Boonyfetter-Wood, was an Auror, and she was killed by Death Eaters at the Conflict at Peckinwood some months ago. The Death Eaters are gone now, though, and I know that your husband had something to do with it. He is reason enough that Toni did not die in vain. For that, I thank him tremendously." He resettled his glasses comfortably on his nose. "I need to depart now, Ms. Granger. I will check on our patient later, and attempt an Ennervate as the Sedation Serum wares off. Good bye."
Hermione stood there for a few moments, alone with her husband for the first time in months. The emotions flew to the fore in that moment. She broke down right at his bedside, sank to her knees with the relief of Harry Potter – Harry Potter – lying in that bed, once close to death, but not dead.
She touched him everywhere she could, anywhere where there was a patch of skin revealed, reveling in the sensation of his rough skin. This sensation she thought she would never feel again.
"Harry," she whispered, repeating the name as if she could not get enough of it. "Harry, Harry, oh, you're here, my Harry. My Harry. I love you so much, Harry. Don't go anywhere, Harry. Stay here, Harry. Please stay here, Harry."
She doubted that she would ever tire of saying his name. And would love it even more when he responded.
A/N Just a note that I stole Dr. Boonyfetter's name from Echo's "A Bit of The Dark Sinister," which used to be posted here at ff.net, but no longer is. I love that name. It's absolutely silly and fantastic, and I hope Echo is not offended.
Thanks to those who have reviewed thus far (I have 12 at the moment of this upload): slytheringirl16, Thalia the Muse, Ahyanah, ethereal-zoe. And special BIG hugs to lightning bug, Rivulet027, and Isa for coming back again and again and telling me your thoughts on this very experimental story.
And the Chocolate Frog has been awarded to ethereal-zoe for determining that my chapter titles are coming from a Mavericks' song entitled, "Here Comes the Rain."
I hope you're enjoying the story, and the bits of wisdom according to Elton John at the start of each chapter.