Disclaimer: I don't own anything. It all belongs to J. K. Rowling. Well,
except the part that me and Stacy thought up. She's an amazing beta reader,
and her e-mail's silenceofthemind@hotmail.com if anyone needs one.
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Chapter 20: Like a Prayer
~~~~~
Hermione paused for what seemed like years, before finally saying, "It's Christina."
~~~~~
The air that had been occupying my lungs suddenly left. It was like someone had punched me in the stomach. I lost feeling in every part of my body, and my cell phone dropped to the ground.
"Ginny, are you okay?" Harry asked, putting his hand on my shoulder. But I couldn't hear him. The only sound that echoed in my head was Christina's crying voice before I left that day.
When I finally was aware of my surroundings again, Harry was looking at me, saying, "Ginny, what's wrong?"
"Chris-Christina..." I said shakily. "We have to go to St. Mungo's... she's there... we have to go..."
I still couldn't tell exactly what was going on. My brain was too busy worrying about what had happened to my baby. I wanted to see her. I wanted to know that she was okay.
Before I knew it, Harry was leading me to the nearest fireplace and having me and him floo together to the hospital. When we got there, Hermione and Ron were already in the waiting room. Hermione's face was streaked with tears, and Ron was trying desperately to comfort her.
"What happened? Where's Christina?" I asked hurriedly. Hermione got up from her seat and wrapped me in a hug, preparing me for what she was about to say.
"I'm so sorry, Ginny." Hermione sobbed. "I got to the apartment, and I just found her there."
"What happened?" I asked again, looking into her red eyes.
"She was just laying there, on the ground." Hermione continued. "She was unconscious. I think she hit her head or something."
A wave of stomach turning guilt swept over me. I should have never left her alone. What was I thinking, leaving a five year old in an apartment without supervision? It was all my fault.
"Where is she?" I asked, using all my strength to stay composed.
"She's in the emergency room. Last time I talked to a healer, he said they were going to take an x-ray of her head to see if there was any damage." Hermione said.
Hermione, Ron, Harry and I all sat in the waiting room for an hour, waiting for a healer to come and tell us anything. I couldn't sit still. I kept pacing. And whenever I did sit down, my left leg would shake until I finally got back up and started pacing again.
Harry watched me in silence. He knew that talking to me wouldn't do any good. He couldn't tell me that everything would be alright, because he didn't even know if that was true.
My throat hurt so bad, it begged for me to start crying. But I refused to. I hated crying in front of other people. Besides, if I started, I knew I wouldn't be able to stop.
Finally, a healer walked through the emergency room doors and called my name. Before he could even get a word out of his mouth, I said, "Where's my daughter?"
The healer sighed, but told me to follow him. He showed me down a hall of identical white doors. Ever so often, one would be open and I could see the occupants of it. I saw a little boy, sitting by the bedside of what seemed to be his grandfather. In another room was a woman who's head was wrapped and her leg magically elevated.
We finally arrived at a room number 12, totally identical to the other ones. The healer opened the door and let me enter first. There was my Chrissy, laying in a white bed with blue sheets. Her freckle-sprinkled face was pale, and just underneath her button nose was a tube that ran up and behind both ears. Her tiny arm was hooked up to an IV, and there were machines all around her. She looked so small, only taking up half of the bed.
I pulled up a chair beside her and affectionately brushed her ginger fringe from her face.
"She's still unconscious." The healer said softly. "She took quite a hit to the head. Do you have any idea how it happened?"
I wasn't listening. I was just staring at Chrissy's lifeless face, and the entire world seemed to stop. My heart was so heavy with guilt it hurt. I stroked my daughter's arm gently, praying that she'd wake up.
The healer finally got my attention, and repeated the question.
"No," I said shortly, feeling very distracted.
"Well, my best guess is that she hit her head on a table or something. There's a small fracture in her skull that is being healed right now with a spell. It'll take a few days to heal completely. We can't be completely sure yet if there was brain damage or not. We'll have to wait and see when she wakes up." The healer said.
I thanked him, and he left. The lump in my throat hurt the more I looked at Christina's face, but I couldn't stop. I placed my hand in her small, lifeless one and memorized every freckle on her face.
At some point, Harry, Hermione and Ron all came in and visited. But the room was mostly quiet, and I spoke the minimal amount of words to everyone, the whole while never taking my eyes off of Christina's face. Every word out of my mouth felt detached from my body, with no emotion in it at all.
Hermione and Ron left around eleven at night, promising to be back in the morning. But Harry stayed. He pulled up a chair beside me, and didn't say a word for about an hour. The only sound in the silence was my quiet muttering.
"Are you reciting a spell?" Harry finally asked.
"A prayer." I said quietly. For some reason, those two words had more emotion connected to them then any of the words I'd spoken that day. The painfully restrained lump in my throat throbbed, and my eyes threatened to fill with tears.
"You know, some people say that unconscious people can hear when you talk to them." Harry said softly.
"I wish that were true." I said, tears burning my eyes. I knew that one more word out of my mouth would do it. One more word, and I'd start crying. Harry knew it too, so he pulled me into a hug. I buried my face in his chest, feeling the soft fabric of his shirt cradle my face like a pillow. Before I knew it, I was shaking in rhythm with my sobs, and Harry was gently stroking my back and hair.
It took a long time for me to compose myself. But Harry was patient. He made me feel comfortable, and that's exactly what I needed.
"Do you really think she can hear us?" I asked, once the tears had subsided and I was able to talk again without crying.
Harry nodded and added, "And I think that she'd respond if she could. In fact, it's proven fact that, when someone's unconscious, their body is temporarily paralyzed—like when you're asleep. So, if you talk to them, then they have a better chance of waking up. Over ninety percent of all unconscious patients who wake up had family who talked to them. *And* they remember what was said to them when they were unconscious."
"Really?" I said, looking at Harry with raised eyebrows. "And what percentage of that statement was true?"
At first Harry gave me that hurt, puppy-in-the-pet-shop look. But then he finally said, "It's all utter piss, but it sounded good, right?"
"Like it was actually true." I said with fake enthusiasm.
"That's what I was going for." Harry smiled. He got up from his chair and said, "I'm gonna go see if I can find a decent coffee machine. You want any?"
"Yea. Thanks." I said, knowing in my head that I was thanking him for more then a cup of fifty-cent coffee. For the first time, I could feel in my heart how much emotion was riding on that simple 'thanks.'
Harry nodded, smiling kindly, and left in search of our only means of energy. My gaze returned to Christina. I ached to see her happy green eyes again. What if talking really did help? I was at the point where I'd do anything to have my little girl back again.
"Chrissy?" I said quietly, feeling a little foolish, like I was talking to a plant or something. I laughed at how stupid I must have looked, but continued nonetheless.
"Hey, sweetie," I whispered, tucking her fiery hair behind her ear. I searched my brain for something to say. Suddenly, a light bulb went off. "Once upon a time, there was a magical wizard named Harry." I began lamely. "For years he was loved from afar by a certain witch..."
I continued for a while, getting completely lost in the stories that I'd told to Christina a million times. During certain parts of the stories, I'd remember just how Chrissy would react each time—always gasping and laughing in the right parts. I hoped that she could hear me, knowing that, if she was at all scared, the stories would comfort her.
"...Harry came all the way to Ireland, where the witch was being held captive by an evil wizard." I told Chrissy with a smile. "He crept quietly across the grounds, the whole while his eyes never leaving the single light that shone through the imprisoned witch's window."
Suddenly, I had that strange feeling you get when you're being watched. A self-conscious feeling that makes your stomach drop and your hands shoot up to your hair. I abruptly stopped talking and looked up to the open door.
Harry was leaning against the doorframe with his hands in his pockets, looking, not smug, but content. He seemed to be listening intently to my every word, and that made my stomach drop further.
"Oh—umm—I was just..." I stuttered, my face as red as my hair. I silently begged for the floor to open up and swallow me whole. How much had he heard? And *why* wasn't my imagination good enough to think of another name for Harry's character?!
"Don't stop," Harry said with a smile, walking over and sitting on the edge of Chirssy's bed. "I want to hear how it ends."
I couldn't believe it. Before, he had been furious that I'd told my past as a fairy tale. It was as if he'd accepted my strange quirks. I was completely speechless, more out of embarrassment then anything. Luckily, before I had to say anything, Hermione and Ron came in.
"How is she?" Hermione asked quietly, looking at me with sad eyes.
"Same as when you were here before." I said, still a little caught up in what had happened a few seconds ago.
"Have you been up all night?" Hermione asked with surprise.
"I didn't even know it was morning." I said, looking at my watch. It was, in fact, afternoon. I'd been up for over 24 hours, but I didn't even feel tired.
"I booked rooms for all of the best men and bridesmaids." Hermione said, making me feel a little bit better as a small weight was lifted. "I did everything, so you don't have to worry about the wedding. All you have to do is show up." She laughed lightly.
"Thanks," I said. "but I don't know if I'll be able to go."
"What d'you mean?" Hermione asked almost harshly.
"I can't just leave Christina in the hospital." I said defensively. "I mean, I left her alone for five minutes, and this is what happened." I motioned to Christina's sleeping figure. "Just think of what could happen if I left her for a weekend."
"Oh, Ginny, don't blame yourself for this." Hermione began.
"Let me finish." I said loudly. Hermione's creased forehead stayed in it's place, but she kept quiet. "Even if Chrissy does wake up soon, which the healer said was really unlikely, she's going to have to stay here another couple of days to make sure everything's okay."
I couldn't believe what I was saying. I wasn't going to come to my brother and best friend's wedding? But I knew that I'd never forgive myself if Christina woke up to an empty room.
Although I could tell that she wanted me to come, Hermione insisted that Christina was more important.
~*~*~*~
Ron, Hermione and Harry all visited regularly, but I never left the hospital. One of the healers brought in a cot so I could sleep in the room with Chrissy. They even brought me food. Granted, it was hospital food, and nearly as bad as when I try to cook. The only time I wasn't with Christina was when I was going to the bathroom, and the healers joked that, sooner or later, they'd find a way to eliminate that inconvenience for me.
Only two days from Ron and Hermione's wedding, Harry came to visit Christina again, like he did everyday. He'd been there for a few hours, and the conversation had died down. I was just staring at Chrissy's face, her tiny hand resting in mine. I squeezed her hand, encouraging her to open her eyes... and she squeezed back.
"Oh my God," I whispered with a smile on my face. I squeezed her hand again, and she squeezed back. "Oh my God!"
"What?" Harry asked, a worried look on his face.
"Harry, go get a healer, I think she's waking up." I said, my eyes not leaving Christina's face. Harry ran out of the room, nearly tripping over his chair.
"Chrissy, sweetheart, wake up." I pleaded, shaking her lightly. The many prayers I'd said in those past few days were answered when her bright green eyes slowly opened and looked right at me.
"Mummy, my head hurts." Christina said, making a face.
"I'd be surprised if it didn't." I laughed, cupping her face in one of my hands. "I'm so happy you're alright."
Despite all of the strength I put into not crying, tears started to blur my vision.
"Don't cry mummy." Chirssy said, wrapping her arms around my neck and pulling me into a hug. I picked her up, sat on her bed, and placed her on my lap. Minutes later, the healer came in and checked Christina to make sure everything was alright. He said that there wasn't any brain damage, but she should still stay a few more days to make sure they didn't miss anything. Harry left an hour later, leaving Chrissy and I alone.
"Why aren't you going to the wedding." Christina asked me as she rested her head against my chest.
"Who told you?" I asked, smoothing her ginger hair down.
"I don't know. I just remember hearing you weren't going because of me." She said.
My brain began to buzz. Had she heard my conversation with Hermione even though she was unconscious? What if Harry was right? But that was silly, Harry was never right, so why would he start now?
"I just think that you're more important." I said, trying to sound nonchalant.
"But I want you to go." She said, grabbing a strand of my hair from behind her and playing with it.
"Is that so?" I asked.
"I promise to be awake when you get back." Christina continued. "I know how much you want to go, and I don't want to stop you."
"That's very nice of you, but—"
"No buts." Chrissy said sternly, reminding me of Hermione. "It'll only be a few days, and I promise nothing bad will happen when you're gone."
I looked at Chrissy intently. "Please?" She asked, looking back with big, puppy dog eyes.
Now, I know this sounds crazy, being convinced by a five year old, but, for some reason, it just seemed like the right thing to do. So, I arranged for Devon's parents to watch over her, and packed my bags.
~*~*~*~
Hermione and Ron were already at the site of their wedding (some small muggle city where there weren't too many muggles walking around to see us in our wizarding clothes). But Harry hung around to travel with me. We decided that, with only a day left till the wedding, arranging a portkey would be too much of a hassle; Harry wasn't all that wild about floo powder; and we had too much junk to apparate. So we decided to travel the muggle way; in a car.
"Are you sure you know how to drive?" Harry asked cautiously.
"Of course! I took the classes and everything." I said, lying only a little. I had taken the driving classes, dad wanted me to be 'well rounded.' The only catch was that I never passed the classes. But that didn't bother me, I was certain that the only reason I failed was because I wouldn't sleep with the teacher. He was very old and grumpy, not my type at all.
But Harry seemed to buy my little white lie, and handed me the keys to his rental car. I giggled evilly at the success of my plan, Harry sent me a strange, yet familiar look, and we were off.
"I'm bored." Harry said like a five year old. Actually, scratch that, Christina was more well-behaved then him.
"It's been ten minutes." I said, not taking my eyes off of the road.
"I don't care, I'm bored. Let's do something fun." Harry said, wiggling around in his seat.
"Would you like me to drive with one hand as I use the other to slowly undress myself?" I asked sarcastically.
"That'd be quite nice, actually, yea." Harry said with a smile that made me want to jump him right there.
"That's not going to happen." I assured him, knowing that, if I could barely drive with two hands, using one and trying to pull a shirt over my head at the same time wouldn't help the already small chance that we'd get out of the car alive.
Harry and I continued to talk, both keeping our clothes on, for some time. It wasn't until we were almost at the hotel that I noticed flashing light in my rearview mirror (which I had just recently learned was there).
Harry turned around in his seat and looked behind us, saying, "You'd better pull off to the side of the road, there's a cop behind us."
I did so, and then finally allowed myself to panic. As we were waiting for the officer to get out of his car and approach us, I turned to Harry and said, "Switch seats with me."
"What?" Harry asked as I pulled on the sleeve of his shirt.
"I don't have a license, so switch seats with me." I said, wishing that he'd stop sitting there, looking like an idiot, and actually do something about the situation. There was no way I was going to jail just because he was slow.
"But you said—"
"Switch!" I yelled, using all my strength to pull Harry's top half over to my seat. I then tried desperately to crawl over to his seat. This was a very bad idea, obviously, especially because the car was very small. So, there we were, Harry on top and me on the bottom, both trying desperately to crawl over to the other seat. My face ended up somewhere near his groan (not that much of an unfamiliar place) when I heard a deep voice say, "Would you like some help there, lad?"
Harry and my head both shot up, mine nearly giving Harry a tapper. A rather large police officer was standing by our window, looking at us with a small smile.
"How long have you been driving like that?" He chuckled, nodding toward our 69 position. Both Harry and I were silent, not knowing exactly what to say.
"Newlyweds, I'm guessing." The officer continued, grinning.
"Yep." Harry said with a smile. I smiled too, but in more of a 'please don't arrest me' sort of way.
"Just married yesterday." Harry continued.
"Well, as a wedding present, I'll let this one slide." The officer said, making my mouth form a surprised 'o'—which, come to think of it, didn't make our 69 position look any better.
~*~*~*~
My f***ing computer is still being a butt, thus not allowing me into my hotmail account. So, yea, thanks to everyone who's reviews I can't read and, to all of the people who I can't e-mail because my computer hates me, please don't kill me. Hopefully my dad will fix this damn internet when he gets back from his business trip.
ONE MORE CHAPTER LEFT!
Much love,
Nicole
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If you want me to e-mail you when I update, just give me you e-mail address in the review and I'd be happy to do it :)
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Chapter 20: Like a Prayer
~~~~~
Hermione paused for what seemed like years, before finally saying, "It's Christina."
~~~~~
The air that had been occupying my lungs suddenly left. It was like someone had punched me in the stomach. I lost feeling in every part of my body, and my cell phone dropped to the ground.
"Ginny, are you okay?" Harry asked, putting his hand on my shoulder. But I couldn't hear him. The only sound that echoed in my head was Christina's crying voice before I left that day.
When I finally was aware of my surroundings again, Harry was looking at me, saying, "Ginny, what's wrong?"
"Chris-Christina..." I said shakily. "We have to go to St. Mungo's... she's there... we have to go..."
I still couldn't tell exactly what was going on. My brain was too busy worrying about what had happened to my baby. I wanted to see her. I wanted to know that she was okay.
Before I knew it, Harry was leading me to the nearest fireplace and having me and him floo together to the hospital. When we got there, Hermione and Ron were already in the waiting room. Hermione's face was streaked with tears, and Ron was trying desperately to comfort her.
"What happened? Where's Christina?" I asked hurriedly. Hermione got up from her seat and wrapped me in a hug, preparing me for what she was about to say.
"I'm so sorry, Ginny." Hermione sobbed. "I got to the apartment, and I just found her there."
"What happened?" I asked again, looking into her red eyes.
"She was just laying there, on the ground." Hermione continued. "She was unconscious. I think she hit her head or something."
A wave of stomach turning guilt swept over me. I should have never left her alone. What was I thinking, leaving a five year old in an apartment without supervision? It was all my fault.
"Where is she?" I asked, using all my strength to stay composed.
"She's in the emergency room. Last time I talked to a healer, he said they were going to take an x-ray of her head to see if there was any damage." Hermione said.
Hermione, Ron, Harry and I all sat in the waiting room for an hour, waiting for a healer to come and tell us anything. I couldn't sit still. I kept pacing. And whenever I did sit down, my left leg would shake until I finally got back up and started pacing again.
Harry watched me in silence. He knew that talking to me wouldn't do any good. He couldn't tell me that everything would be alright, because he didn't even know if that was true.
My throat hurt so bad, it begged for me to start crying. But I refused to. I hated crying in front of other people. Besides, if I started, I knew I wouldn't be able to stop.
Finally, a healer walked through the emergency room doors and called my name. Before he could even get a word out of his mouth, I said, "Where's my daughter?"
The healer sighed, but told me to follow him. He showed me down a hall of identical white doors. Ever so often, one would be open and I could see the occupants of it. I saw a little boy, sitting by the bedside of what seemed to be his grandfather. In another room was a woman who's head was wrapped and her leg magically elevated.
We finally arrived at a room number 12, totally identical to the other ones. The healer opened the door and let me enter first. There was my Chrissy, laying in a white bed with blue sheets. Her freckle-sprinkled face was pale, and just underneath her button nose was a tube that ran up and behind both ears. Her tiny arm was hooked up to an IV, and there were machines all around her. She looked so small, only taking up half of the bed.
I pulled up a chair beside her and affectionately brushed her ginger fringe from her face.
"She's still unconscious." The healer said softly. "She took quite a hit to the head. Do you have any idea how it happened?"
I wasn't listening. I was just staring at Chrissy's lifeless face, and the entire world seemed to stop. My heart was so heavy with guilt it hurt. I stroked my daughter's arm gently, praying that she'd wake up.
The healer finally got my attention, and repeated the question.
"No," I said shortly, feeling very distracted.
"Well, my best guess is that she hit her head on a table or something. There's a small fracture in her skull that is being healed right now with a spell. It'll take a few days to heal completely. We can't be completely sure yet if there was brain damage or not. We'll have to wait and see when she wakes up." The healer said.
I thanked him, and he left. The lump in my throat hurt the more I looked at Christina's face, but I couldn't stop. I placed my hand in her small, lifeless one and memorized every freckle on her face.
At some point, Harry, Hermione and Ron all came in and visited. But the room was mostly quiet, and I spoke the minimal amount of words to everyone, the whole while never taking my eyes off of Christina's face. Every word out of my mouth felt detached from my body, with no emotion in it at all.
Hermione and Ron left around eleven at night, promising to be back in the morning. But Harry stayed. He pulled up a chair beside me, and didn't say a word for about an hour. The only sound in the silence was my quiet muttering.
"Are you reciting a spell?" Harry finally asked.
"A prayer." I said quietly. For some reason, those two words had more emotion connected to them then any of the words I'd spoken that day. The painfully restrained lump in my throat throbbed, and my eyes threatened to fill with tears.
"You know, some people say that unconscious people can hear when you talk to them." Harry said softly.
"I wish that were true." I said, tears burning my eyes. I knew that one more word out of my mouth would do it. One more word, and I'd start crying. Harry knew it too, so he pulled me into a hug. I buried my face in his chest, feeling the soft fabric of his shirt cradle my face like a pillow. Before I knew it, I was shaking in rhythm with my sobs, and Harry was gently stroking my back and hair.
It took a long time for me to compose myself. But Harry was patient. He made me feel comfortable, and that's exactly what I needed.
"Do you really think she can hear us?" I asked, once the tears had subsided and I was able to talk again without crying.
Harry nodded and added, "And I think that she'd respond if she could. In fact, it's proven fact that, when someone's unconscious, their body is temporarily paralyzed—like when you're asleep. So, if you talk to them, then they have a better chance of waking up. Over ninety percent of all unconscious patients who wake up had family who talked to them. *And* they remember what was said to them when they were unconscious."
"Really?" I said, looking at Harry with raised eyebrows. "And what percentage of that statement was true?"
At first Harry gave me that hurt, puppy-in-the-pet-shop look. But then he finally said, "It's all utter piss, but it sounded good, right?"
"Like it was actually true." I said with fake enthusiasm.
"That's what I was going for." Harry smiled. He got up from his chair and said, "I'm gonna go see if I can find a decent coffee machine. You want any?"
"Yea. Thanks." I said, knowing in my head that I was thanking him for more then a cup of fifty-cent coffee. For the first time, I could feel in my heart how much emotion was riding on that simple 'thanks.'
Harry nodded, smiling kindly, and left in search of our only means of energy. My gaze returned to Christina. I ached to see her happy green eyes again. What if talking really did help? I was at the point where I'd do anything to have my little girl back again.
"Chrissy?" I said quietly, feeling a little foolish, like I was talking to a plant or something. I laughed at how stupid I must have looked, but continued nonetheless.
"Hey, sweetie," I whispered, tucking her fiery hair behind her ear. I searched my brain for something to say. Suddenly, a light bulb went off. "Once upon a time, there was a magical wizard named Harry." I began lamely. "For years he was loved from afar by a certain witch..."
I continued for a while, getting completely lost in the stories that I'd told to Christina a million times. During certain parts of the stories, I'd remember just how Chrissy would react each time—always gasping and laughing in the right parts. I hoped that she could hear me, knowing that, if she was at all scared, the stories would comfort her.
"...Harry came all the way to Ireland, where the witch was being held captive by an evil wizard." I told Chrissy with a smile. "He crept quietly across the grounds, the whole while his eyes never leaving the single light that shone through the imprisoned witch's window."
Suddenly, I had that strange feeling you get when you're being watched. A self-conscious feeling that makes your stomach drop and your hands shoot up to your hair. I abruptly stopped talking and looked up to the open door.
Harry was leaning against the doorframe with his hands in his pockets, looking, not smug, but content. He seemed to be listening intently to my every word, and that made my stomach drop further.
"Oh—umm—I was just..." I stuttered, my face as red as my hair. I silently begged for the floor to open up and swallow me whole. How much had he heard? And *why* wasn't my imagination good enough to think of another name for Harry's character?!
"Don't stop," Harry said with a smile, walking over and sitting on the edge of Chirssy's bed. "I want to hear how it ends."
I couldn't believe it. Before, he had been furious that I'd told my past as a fairy tale. It was as if he'd accepted my strange quirks. I was completely speechless, more out of embarrassment then anything. Luckily, before I had to say anything, Hermione and Ron came in.
"How is she?" Hermione asked quietly, looking at me with sad eyes.
"Same as when you were here before." I said, still a little caught up in what had happened a few seconds ago.
"Have you been up all night?" Hermione asked with surprise.
"I didn't even know it was morning." I said, looking at my watch. It was, in fact, afternoon. I'd been up for over 24 hours, but I didn't even feel tired.
"I booked rooms for all of the best men and bridesmaids." Hermione said, making me feel a little bit better as a small weight was lifted. "I did everything, so you don't have to worry about the wedding. All you have to do is show up." She laughed lightly.
"Thanks," I said. "but I don't know if I'll be able to go."
"What d'you mean?" Hermione asked almost harshly.
"I can't just leave Christina in the hospital." I said defensively. "I mean, I left her alone for five minutes, and this is what happened." I motioned to Christina's sleeping figure. "Just think of what could happen if I left her for a weekend."
"Oh, Ginny, don't blame yourself for this." Hermione began.
"Let me finish." I said loudly. Hermione's creased forehead stayed in it's place, but she kept quiet. "Even if Chrissy does wake up soon, which the healer said was really unlikely, she's going to have to stay here another couple of days to make sure everything's okay."
I couldn't believe what I was saying. I wasn't going to come to my brother and best friend's wedding? But I knew that I'd never forgive myself if Christina woke up to an empty room.
Although I could tell that she wanted me to come, Hermione insisted that Christina was more important.
~*~*~*~
Ron, Hermione and Harry all visited regularly, but I never left the hospital. One of the healers brought in a cot so I could sleep in the room with Chrissy. They even brought me food. Granted, it was hospital food, and nearly as bad as when I try to cook. The only time I wasn't with Christina was when I was going to the bathroom, and the healers joked that, sooner or later, they'd find a way to eliminate that inconvenience for me.
Only two days from Ron and Hermione's wedding, Harry came to visit Christina again, like he did everyday. He'd been there for a few hours, and the conversation had died down. I was just staring at Chrissy's face, her tiny hand resting in mine. I squeezed her hand, encouraging her to open her eyes... and she squeezed back.
"Oh my God," I whispered with a smile on my face. I squeezed her hand again, and she squeezed back. "Oh my God!"
"What?" Harry asked, a worried look on his face.
"Harry, go get a healer, I think she's waking up." I said, my eyes not leaving Christina's face. Harry ran out of the room, nearly tripping over his chair.
"Chrissy, sweetheart, wake up." I pleaded, shaking her lightly. The many prayers I'd said in those past few days were answered when her bright green eyes slowly opened and looked right at me.
"Mummy, my head hurts." Christina said, making a face.
"I'd be surprised if it didn't." I laughed, cupping her face in one of my hands. "I'm so happy you're alright."
Despite all of the strength I put into not crying, tears started to blur my vision.
"Don't cry mummy." Chirssy said, wrapping her arms around my neck and pulling me into a hug. I picked her up, sat on her bed, and placed her on my lap. Minutes later, the healer came in and checked Christina to make sure everything was alright. He said that there wasn't any brain damage, but she should still stay a few more days to make sure they didn't miss anything. Harry left an hour later, leaving Chrissy and I alone.
"Why aren't you going to the wedding." Christina asked me as she rested her head against my chest.
"Who told you?" I asked, smoothing her ginger hair down.
"I don't know. I just remember hearing you weren't going because of me." She said.
My brain began to buzz. Had she heard my conversation with Hermione even though she was unconscious? What if Harry was right? But that was silly, Harry was never right, so why would he start now?
"I just think that you're more important." I said, trying to sound nonchalant.
"But I want you to go." She said, grabbing a strand of my hair from behind her and playing with it.
"Is that so?" I asked.
"I promise to be awake when you get back." Christina continued. "I know how much you want to go, and I don't want to stop you."
"That's very nice of you, but—"
"No buts." Chrissy said sternly, reminding me of Hermione. "It'll only be a few days, and I promise nothing bad will happen when you're gone."
I looked at Chrissy intently. "Please?" She asked, looking back with big, puppy dog eyes.
Now, I know this sounds crazy, being convinced by a five year old, but, for some reason, it just seemed like the right thing to do. So, I arranged for Devon's parents to watch over her, and packed my bags.
~*~*~*~
Hermione and Ron were already at the site of their wedding (some small muggle city where there weren't too many muggles walking around to see us in our wizarding clothes). But Harry hung around to travel with me. We decided that, with only a day left till the wedding, arranging a portkey would be too much of a hassle; Harry wasn't all that wild about floo powder; and we had too much junk to apparate. So we decided to travel the muggle way; in a car.
"Are you sure you know how to drive?" Harry asked cautiously.
"Of course! I took the classes and everything." I said, lying only a little. I had taken the driving classes, dad wanted me to be 'well rounded.' The only catch was that I never passed the classes. But that didn't bother me, I was certain that the only reason I failed was because I wouldn't sleep with the teacher. He was very old and grumpy, not my type at all.
But Harry seemed to buy my little white lie, and handed me the keys to his rental car. I giggled evilly at the success of my plan, Harry sent me a strange, yet familiar look, and we were off.
"I'm bored." Harry said like a five year old. Actually, scratch that, Christina was more well-behaved then him.
"It's been ten minutes." I said, not taking my eyes off of the road.
"I don't care, I'm bored. Let's do something fun." Harry said, wiggling around in his seat.
"Would you like me to drive with one hand as I use the other to slowly undress myself?" I asked sarcastically.
"That'd be quite nice, actually, yea." Harry said with a smile that made me want to jump him right there.
"That's not going to happen." I assured him, knowing that, if I could barely drive with two hands, using one and trying to pull a shirt over my head at the same time wouldn't help the already small chance that we'd get out of the car alive.
Harry and I continued to talk, both keeping our clothes on, for some time. It wasn't until we were almost at the hotel that I noticed flashing light in my rearview mirror (which I had just recently learned was there).
Harry turned around in his seat and looked behind us, saying, "You'd better pull off to the side of the road, there's a cop behind us."
I did so, and then finally allowed myself to panic. As we were waiting for the officer to get out of his car and approach us, I turned to Harry and said, "Switch seats with me."
"What?" Harry asked as I pulled on the sleeve of his shirt.
"I don't have a license, so switch seats with me." I said, wishing that he'd stop sitting there, looking like an idiot, and actually do something about the situation. There was no way I was going to jail just because he was slow.
"But you said—"
"Switch!" I yelled, using all my strength to pull Harry's top half over to my seat. I then tried desperately to crawl over to his seat. This was a very bad idea, obviously, especially because the car was very small. So, there we were, Harry on top and me on the bottom, both trying desperately to crawl over to the other seat. My face ended up somewhere near his groan (not that much of an unfamiliar place) when I heard a deep voice say, "Would you like some help there, lad?"
Harry and my head both shot up, mine nearly giving Harry a tapper. A rather large police officer was standing by our window, looking at us with a small smile.
"How long have you been driving like that?" He chuckled, nodding toward our 69 position. Both Harry and I were silent, not knowing exactly what to say.
"Newlyweds, I'm guessing." The officer continued, grinning.
"Yep." Harry said with a smile. I smiled too, but in more of a 'please don't arrest me' sort of way.
"Just married yesterday." Harry continued.
"Well, as a wedding present, I'll let this one slide." The officer said, making my mouth form a surprised 'o'—which, come to think of it, didn't make our 69 position look any better.
~*~*~*~
My f***ing computer is still being a butt, thus not allowing me into my hotmail account. So, yea, thanks to everyone who's reviews I can't read and, to all of the people who I can't e-mail because my computer hates me, please don't kill me. Hopefully my dad will fix this damn internet when he gets back from his business trip.
ONE MORE CHAPTER LEFT!
Much love,
Nicole
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