They walked arm in arm through Barnsbury Wood, her head resting gently on his shoulder as they remembered all the adventures they got themselves into at Hogwarts. They didn't mention any of the tragedies, of which there were several. Too many than either of them deserved.
The wind whipped about them. Hermione was sufficiently bundled, but the cold stung her exposed face and ears. Harry pulled his coat tighter about him and wish he'd had been smarter and brought a hat and scarf, or at least some gloves. Hermione, in her motherly way, noticed this and clasped his hands in between her own gloved ones and began rubbing, continually rambling on and on. Harry had already decided the picnic was not a good idea in this weather, so they started making their way toward the restaurant, hurrying towards its heat and warmth. Unfortunately, it was quite a walk.
They continued walking and talking, huddled together. They had ceased their nostalgic chatter and were silently enjoying each others' presence. But Hermione suddenly stopped and clutched at her stomach. She swayed on the spot slightly before her knees gave and she sank into Harry's arms. He searched her face with fearful eyes to find she had obviously passed out. Why, he didn't know. His heart began to race as he said her name and patted her cheek, trying to get a reaction. He carried her to a bench and set her down to examine her. He didn't know what he was looking for. He hadn't taken any Healing classes in school and had no idea where to begin. Just as he was about to panic, her eyes fluttered open. He breathed a sigh of relief, but was still afraid. Her face was deathly pale and she looked terribly ill.
"Hermione!" he exclaimed. "Are you okay?! We've got to get you to St. Mungo's. Oh, but you're obviously too weak to apparate," he said as she slumped forward into Harry. "Okay," he said, setting her back upright. "I'll flag the Knight Bus and we'll get you set in no time." Fear and apprehension tainted his voice. He stuck out his arm, using the other one to support Hermione, and in no time the purple triple-decker bus was screeching to a halt next to him.
He bundled her in his arms and pushed Stan out of the way. He was right in the middle of his welcoming speech and had yet to notice the seriousness of the situation.
"St. Mungo's, right away!" he hollered at Ernie. Harry set Hermione down on one of the beds and again began whispering her name. She was only half-conscious with her eyes periodically rolling back and her whole body was limp in Harry's arms. Ernie and Stan just stared at them for a few seconds, allowing the scene to sink in.
"What are you waiting for?!" he shouted, anger mingling with the fear in his tone. He turned back to her as Ernie sped off, going faster (if possible) than Harry's first ride on the Knight Bus.
He did his best to steady the bed with one hand and keep Hermione in the other one. His eyes never left her face until they reached St. Mungo's. Harry threw whatever money was in his pocket at Stan, carried her off the bus, and practically ran into the hospital.
Surprisingly for St. Mungo's, the reception room was fairly empty. There was no line at the desk, which didn't really matter because Harry would have pushed himself to the front anyway.
"Please, it's my…" Harry started. But what was she? She was no longer his friend, that much was for sure. Girlfriend? That sounded so juvenile, it didn't have enough emotion. Fiancee? Not yet. She would have been in a few minutes if this hadn't happened. So he gulped and went on. "She's passed out. I don't know what's wrong," he said anxiously.
"Yes, yes, son," the nurse behind the desk said, trying to sound comforting. "It looks like she's starting to come around," she said, glancing at Hermione, who in fact was starting to wake up and take in her surroundings. "But I'll call a Healer straight away. Please have a seat," she finished, standing and hurrying down the hall.
Harry carried Hermione to one of the institutionalized chairs lining the walls and set her down gently. He kneeled in front of her and peered at her. Her face was now flushed and she was breathing raggedly.
"Wh-what happened?" she asked, once again bringing her hand to her stomach. The other she rested her head in.
"I'm not sure. You just collapsed. Are you okay? How are you feeling? Has this ever happened before?" he said quickly, continually searching her face. His eyes were filled with so much worry she had to chuckle.
"I feel," she began. But then she gave another shudder as Harry tensed and grabbed her upper arms. She quickly recovered. "Strange," she managed to get out. Harry stood and turned to see what was taking the Healer so long, but he almost walked into him.
"What seems to be the problem?" the man asked. He seemed a little young to be a Healer, Harry thought, but he was desperate.
"Well, she just, passed out while we were walking in the park," Harry replied.
"I don't feel right," Hermione said, massaging her stomach.
"Well, we'll get you examined straight away then," he said reassuringly. With a flick of his wand Hermione was floating down the hall in front of him, Harry trailing behind like a lost dog.
"Sir," said the nurse that had accompanied the Healer, "you'll have to wait here." She grasped his shoulder and motioned towards the waiting room.
"But—" he began to protest, glancing at the bobbing Hermione.
"I'm sorry, sir. Trust me, though, your friend will be just fine," she said with a smile.
Harry reluctantly took a seat and ran his fingers through his hair, making it even messier than before. He nervously bounced his knees and chewed on his bottom lip, continuously glancing down the hallway. His stomach was in knots and he didn't know what to do with himself. He took to pacing, as any man does when in a hospital waiting room. Horrible thoughts and images ran through his head. What if this was it? What if Hermione was really ill? What if they never got to spend any more time together? He almost fainted at the thought, so he decided to sit back down again. His mouth was dry and he felt extremely tired and terribly alert all at once.
After what seemed like three days (which was in fact only about half an hour), the Healer came into the waiting room with a solemn face. Harry's heart sunk and he tried to gulp, but it got caught in his throat, leaving him with quite the fish face.
"Mr. Potter," he began. Harry wondered how he knew his name, but that thought was quickly pushed out of his mind. "It seems Ms. Granger is pregnant." He paused.
Harry's mind raced. His face lit up at this news. He would be a dad? He had always dreamed…but then his biology lessons caught up with his paternal desires. His face swiftly ran through a series of no less than 18 emotions. But the main ones included confusion, anger, sympathy, confusion again, indecisiveness, acceptance, and finally, the need to see his 'Mione.
"Where is she?" he asked, standing up.
"Wait, there's more I have to tell you," the Healer said. Apparently he wasn't experienced in breaking news because he was blatantly nervous. "It seems Ms. Granger's body is not accepting the baby. Now, in Muggle medicine, this would be a lost cause, but we think we can save both child and mother."
"Well, what are you waiting for? What are you sitting here telling me this for?! Shouldn't you be doing something? Mixing some potions or mumbling some incantations for her?!"
"Mr. Potter, please. She's doing fine, and we've done all we can for tonight. She will have to stay here for awhile, however," he said. His tone lifted at the end of his sentence, as if he were asking a question. The Healer had obviously become afraid of Harry, being witness to these few emotional outbursts. (But he had yet to see Harry in a real stupor.)
"Well, can I see her?" he asked gruffly.
The Healer replied timidly, "She's sleeping now, but I can take you to her room." They both stalked down the hallway silently, the Healer so he didn't upset Harry again, and Harry because he was still confused about the recent news. They got on the lift and the Healer said aloud the number "3". The lift shuddered and began its ascent to the third floor. Harry continued to furrow his brow and nibble on his bottom lip as his mind raced.
After walking down another hallway, they reached a door with a brass "42" on it. The Healer opened the door and stepped aside to allow Harry inside. Harry stopped and sighed at the sight of Hermione. After all the bad thoughts, he was so thankful to see her again. The Healer quietly closed the door and went back to his office, hoping he wouldn't have to see Harry again that night.
Hermione was sleeping peacefully in a plain but comfortable bed in her private room. Apparently the Healers and nurses at St. Mungo's knew of Harry's wealth (but then again, who in the wizarding world didn't?) and put Hermione in the best facilities. Harry was thankful that there were no machines beeping and buzzing at him, as he knew there would have been at a muggle hospital. He quietly dragged a chair next Hermione and sat staring at her for a long time. He wouldn't wake her up, that was for sure. Not after she'd gone all through that. Harry wondered if the Healer had told her the news, as well. He would have had to, wouldn't he? He wondered what she had thought of it all. If she was worried. If she regretted it. He had so many questions for her, but they would have plenty of time for them when she awoke. Wouldn't they? For now he let her sleep, gently stroking her hair until he dozed off, too.