"What have I got to do to make you love me?
What have I got to do to make you care?
What do I do when lightning strikes me
And I wake to find that you're not there?"
~Elton John, "Sorry Seems to be the Hardest Word"
" 'Scuse me?" interrupted a short something accompanied by a shorter something. Madam Bocagrande looked down from her seat at the MediWitch's Station to see two children, both plump with blonde hair. An older girl with a little boy, the older one being 5 if a day, the younger one clutching onto the girl's robes. "Do you know where our mummy and daddy are?"
"No, actually, I do not. Tell me your names and I will have them paged," Bocagrande replied professionally. At their confused expressions, she sighed and added, "I'll say that you two are lost and they should come fetch you here."
The younger boy shoved a large finger into his nose and started digging as if searching for gold as the older girl paused for a second. "My name's Sausage Tallbum, and this 'ere's my little brother, Toadie."
Bocagrande eyed them. "What're those, Native American names or something?" she asked Gladys quietly as she moved towards the loudspeaker system utilized strictly in hospitals. She thought she heard Gladys mutter something about 'damn hippie wizards and their InsanitiSerum' before she proceeded with her announcement. "Would the parents of Sausage and Toadie Tallbum please come to MediWitch's station on the third floor? The parents of Sausage and Toadie Tallbum to MediWitch Station 3, please." She looked at the children, the girl preoccupied with something on her robes as her brother examined whatever priceless treasure he had pulled out of his nostrils. "Wait here, children, I'm sure your parents will be here any second, and do be quiet."
The kids heard their parents' voices long before Bocagrande ever looked up from her paperwork again. "You children!" said their mother in a harsh whisper. "If you ever run away from us again, so help me. . ." She enveloped them in a hug. "My babies, do not scare Mummy and Daddy like that again! I mean it!"
"Kids, please, you do not play Hide and Seek at the hospital. And you definitely don't play it and forget to tell Mummy and me. Then we'll forget to find you!" said the brown haired man with a smile.
"I take it you're Sausage and Toadie's parents?" Bocagrande asked mutinously.
They nodded in unison as the mother took hold of the girl's hand, the father of the boy's. "Thank you very much for your help. And kids, say thank you to the nice MediWitch."
The boy, Toadie, looked up at his father with big doe eyes. "But Daddy, she wasn't very nice," he whispered.
"You named your children Sausage and Toadie?" Bocagrande asked skeptically, one eyebrow cocked.
"No," answered the man, "my brilliant wife thought that my 5-year-old and 3-year-old-" he shot his wife a glance and rolled his eyes- "were old enough to learn about synonyms."
The girl contributed her piece, completely matter-of-factly, "See, Mum said that frank was another name for sausage, and my little brother, Trevor, was named after my dad's old pet toad, and since there are no other words for 'Trevor,' I called him Toadie. 'nother word for long is tall, and what's another word for bottom, Toadie?"
Trevor removed his thumb from his mouth long enough to say, "Bum," before giggling as if it were the funniest thing in the world.
"See, our last name is Longbottom. I'm Neville, my wife Pansy, our daughter Frankie and son Trevor," he attempted to explain as Pansy led their children towards Frank Longbottom's room.
Bocagrande did not look amused.
Frankie spotted her aunt as she walked from the restroom towards a secluded room towards the back that was coincidentally down the hall from her grandfather's room. "Aunt Hermione!" Frankie screeched as she ran to her. Trevor was sure to follow moments later, waddling unsteadily.
Hermione's eyes darted back and forth suspiciously, as if afraid of who may see her in this hospital's corridor. She bent down and hugged Frankie and Trevor as Neville and Pansy followed. Neville embraced Hermione with his children, before stepping back. Pansy, none too pleased with encountering a Mud-blood, stood back, as Hermione acknowledged her with a nod and a, "Parkinson."
"That's Longbottom, Granger, you're smart, get it right."
Neville looked pleadingly at his wife. "Pansy, my Puffskein, would you mind telling my father I'll be back in a few minutes? Whyn't you take our devil-children with you?" She kissed her husband and, in one of the rare moments in life, Pansy Longbottom wordlessly complied with her husband's request. "Toadie, Sausage, say g'bye to your aunt." They did, and followed their mum.
Hermione didn't have time to ask about the rather odd nicknames of her godchildren before she answered the question she knew was coming, "I'm fine, Neville. Really, I mean it. I'm coping with everything pretty well, if I do say so myself."
He hugged her again. "Why're you here?"
Hermione's mind jogged for a second. "Just visiting a special friend."
"Anyone I know?"
Hermione bit her lip for a moment. She hated to lie, but as much as she loved Neville, he was helpless at keeping secrets. "No one you know. How's your dad doing?"
His eyes teared up briefly before he wiped it away. "He's doing about as well as you'd expect. I think he knows that Mum's gone, but you know, considering, it's hard to tell what he understands and what he doesn't. He's drawing pictures without her in them, if that's any sign."
Trevor Longbottom knew an opportunity when he saw one, as he peeked his Charlie Brown-cheeked face out of his grandfather's room and saw his daddy talking to his aunt. Glancing backwards to make sure his mother was preoccupied with Grandpa Frank (she doted on him), he took off paddling quietly down the hallway.
Neville could sense Hermione was in a rush to return to her friend. "Listen, Hermione, I'm sorry to cut this short, but Pansy's with my father, and if I don't get back soon, she'll be filling my father's head with stories from our days at Hogwarts," Neville said. "I hope your friend is feeling better."
"And your dad, I hope today's a good day for him," Hermione wished obliquely. "See you soon, Longbottom. Kiss those godchildren of mine for me."
"Sure thing," he said as he hugged her again.
Hermione looked to Harry's room as she held Neville, almost hopeful that he would be awake. Dr. Boonyfetter said he would probably be conscious by afternoon today, a day after Percy had come to her flat to tell her the news. The door opened abruptly as an impish face showed itself.
"Aunt Hermynee?" asked Trevor. "Unca Harry's wakin' up."
Hermione was off and running towards the door before Neville even had time to question what his son had just said. "What'd you just say, Trevor?" he questioned his son.
The toddler sighed, and repeated, "Sshh, Daddy! Unca Harry's wakin' up from his nap!"
As he picked up his son from the doorway, Neville peered in. And he'd be damned if dead Harry Potter was not lying in a bed, very much alive.
One glimpse was all he needed as he closed the door behind him, clutching his son tightly, thanking whatever gods lay up above for this miracle.
*****
Hermione rubbed his forehead as Harry's eyes fluttered open. She saw the green for but a few seconds before they closed instantaneously, and then opened again. "Come on, Potter. Wake up," she whispered soothingly.
The emerald was clearly visible as he focused in on her. On her hair. And her face. She smiled as he caught him taking in her features.
"You've been napping far too long, Potter," she said quietly, a phrase she'd repeated time and time again on weekends when he'd spend half the day in bed. "Time to get up, get the day started."
His voice was gruff as it tried to speak. "H-H-Herm. . ." he started, but it faded into a hoarse whisper.
"It's me, your wife. It's me, Hermione," she filled in. "Don't speak. We have plenty of time to do that."
He tried again. "Hermio. . ."
"Shhh, baby, it's me."
He tried to touch her face, but his hand would not correspond to the willed movement, she could see. She touched his hand calmingly.
Harry pulled his hand back. His eyes became slits. "G-get. . . Herm. . . G-go away."
A look of shock crossed her face as he regained the use of his voice. "What?"
"G-get out of h-here. D-don't t-touch m-m-me. L-leave."
She got up. "I'm sorry? What do you mean, leave?"
"I-I m-mean, l-leave, H-herm-mione. Now."
She paused for a moment, looking at him pleadingly, not understanding what was happening. Her husband? What? What was going on?
"L-LEAVE!" he yelled as Madam Bocagrande entered at the commotion. She noncommittally ushered her out of the room.