Chapter Eighteen

The Waiting is the Hardest Part

Harry, George and Hermione all stood on the landing, shouting over one another, and pounding on the closed door of the room they were using as an infirmary.

"Oh, why won't they at least answer us?" Hermione asked, fuming with frustration. "What do you suppose is happening?"

"Maybe they put up a Silencing Charm so we can't hear them, but it means they don't hear us, either?" George said. "The strings from the Extendable Ears are missing."

Harry looked down, startled. George was right. Usually the Ears remained on the landing so they could converse with Ginny and Ron at any time.

"Stand back," he said, pulling out his wand and squaring his shoulders.

"Harry, you can't!" Hermione said, knocking his arm down. "Even if you break their charms, you'll ruin all their personal protective charms, as well. That puts them all at risk."

Harry pressed his lips together, not caring particularly much about the Healers' personal protection at the moment.

"Don't be rash. You might not care now, but you'd definitely feel guilty later," Hermione said, apparently aware of what he was thinking. Bloody hell, had she gone and learned Legilimency?

"She's right, mate," George said. "Tell me the spell to use, and I'll do it. I have much less of a guilt-complex than you."

"No," Hermione said firmly, glaring at George. "We're just going to have to wait a few minutes. They can't stay in there forever."

"How about a spell that makes them all need to pee?" George asked.

"Since we don't know what's going on, we don't want to interrupt them from tending to Ron and Ginny. We don't know that there isn't something really wrong," Hermione said, her voice breaking. She hid her face in her hands and sniffled.

"Nice one, George," Harry said.

George wrapped his arm around Hermione and patted her shoulder a bit. "Aww, come off it, Hermione. I was only joking. The more stressed I get, the more inappropriate my humor becomes. Forgive me?"

Hermione leaned her head into him and took her hands away from her face. "What do you think is happening?" she asked quietly.

Harry shook his head, staring back at the solidly closed door. "I wish I knew. Maybe they've had success with that draught they've been working on, and they're administering it now," he said, his mind conjuring the image of the door flinging open and Ginny striding out with that blazing look in her eyes.

"Or it could be that the medi-witch called for assistance because something is wrong," George said dully, and the image in Harry's mind imploded.

Hermione sniffled again. "Oh, I wish they'd just tell us something."

Sighing, Harry conjured three puffy chairs, the kind Professor Dumbledore always used to create, although Harry's versions were black rather than purple. The three of them all sat down, Hermione in the middle holding each of their hands, as if sitting in the waiting area of St. Mungo's rather than on the small, and now very cramped, landing. Harry scrunched up his face in concentration, attempting to push positive thoughts through the door to his friends – his family – on the other side.

He wasn't certain how long they sat there, it seemed like days, but eventually, the door cracked open and Vivian stepped out, looking rather worn. Her eyes widened in surprise at finding them all on the landing, but she cancelled her Bubble-Head Charm as the three scrambled to their feet.

"What happened? What's going on?"

"Are Ron and Ginny all right?"

"What the bloody hell is going on in there?"

Harry, Hermione and George all shouted at once, the urgency in their voices causing Vivian to wave her hands in a 'settle down' motion.

"I'm not going to shout over you, so let me know when you're ready to hear what I have to say," she said, beadily eyeing them all.

Harry usually got on well with Vivian, but at that particular moment, he could barely suppress his desire to throttle her.

"We want to know what's going on," Hermione said, her voice strained. "We've all been going spare waiting to hear something."

"Understandable," Vivian said, nodding. "The medi-witch on duty contacted the Healers that there'd been a change in Miss Weasley's condition. I happened to be with them, so we all came at once."

Harry's breath caught, and there was a ringing in his ears. Hermione blindly grasped for his hand, squeezing it tightly once they connected.

"A change – you mean that she's altered? We told you that this morning," Hermione said, her voice shrill.

Vivian shook her head, and her eyes shifted briefly to Harry. The sadness in them made his knees feel weak. "No. She remained altered all day, until this evening. When the medi-witch tried to rouse her from her slumber for her evening meds, she couldn't. I'm afraid Miss Weasley has slipped into a coma. I'm sorry."

George slumped back into his chair. "What does that mean? How long does she have?" he asked.

"She's not going to die," Harry said, and his shaky voice echoed loudly on the open landing.

"We're going to try our best to see that she doesn't," Vivian replied. "Our mandrake draught is nearly complete, and Miss Weasley will be the first we try it on. We're experimenting with a few minor tweaks to ensure she's restored to a state of full health rather than just at a point where the illness hadn't progressed too far."

"So, if she's the first… there could be complications?" Hermione asked.

"Yes. That is a risk, but we feel it's one worth taking. The coma state has only lasted a few days, so our time is limited if we're going to use it," Vivian said bluntly.

"And what if it isn't right, and she's only reverted to an early stage of the illness?" Harry asked, his voice raspy and sounding quite unlike his own.

"Unfortunately, we'd have to wait until it's completely out of her system before we could try again," Vivian said.

"So, if we wait too long, she might be too far gone to try it again if there's a need?" Hermione persisted.

"Precisely," Vivian answered.

"And she's the first you're going to attempt it on?" Hermione asked, glancing warily at both Harry and George. George stared ahead blankly without giving any indication if he was listening, and Harry felt incapable of speech or coherent thought. Ginny was dying. She was slipping away, and he had to depend on Vivian and a bunch of strangers to save her rather than doing anything himself.

He might've been able to save her from the memory of Tom Riddle when he was twelve, but he was useless to her now.

"We're going to try it on both Miss Weasley and one of the coaches from the Magpie team. Both have entered the latter stages of the illness," Vivian said.

"What about the Muggles?" Hermione asked tearfully.

"We're hoping that once it works on these first two subjects, we can infiltrate it into their research. Muggle scientists have been diligently searching for their own cure without the knowledge of its magical element. They've narrowed it down to a particularly virulent strain of encephalitis, which is an inflammation of the brain tissue. It's frequently caused by a viral infection carried by insects, but in rare cases can be caused by bacteria or even fungi. This makes it easier for us to slip the antidote into their research.

"We've unfortunately had to modify the memories of a few scientists who discovered some abnormalities, but we feel if we can lead them onto the correct remedy whilst letting them believe they've solved it, it will ensure the Statute of Secrecy remains intact," Vivian explained.

"So we can cover up our own mistake, you mean?" Hermione asked, scowling.

"No, so once we get the proper remedy to them, their own scientists get a good look to ensure there isn't anything hazardous to Muggles that we're unaware of. The Muggles are far cleverer than most magical folk give them credit for, and they could just as easily spot something harmful to a Muggle, as we could detect something that wouldn't work for a witch or wizard," Vivian said pointedly.

Hermione harrumphed and folded her arms.

"What's happening to Ginny now?" George asked, shaking his head as if he'd been Stunned.

"The Healers are still with her, and another medi-witch will be taking a shift overnight to monitor her. We're hoping to have this draught ready within the next twenty-four to thirty-six hours, and one of the Healers will return to administer it," Vivian said.

"What can we do in the meantime?" George asked.

"Use those marvelous Ears and keep talking to her. She won't be able to answer you, but we have reason to believe comatose patients can still hear you," Vivian said gently. "It can't hurt, at any rate."

George remained seated, looking dazed but nodding his acceptance.

"How's Ron?" Hermione asked. "How has he reacted to all the Healers being in there, and Ginny slipping into a coma?"

Vivian grimaced. "Confused. He gets very protective of his sister, but then we calm him down, and after a few minutes, the cycle starts all over again," she said. "We've found the best way of coping with it is by distracting him. It's a method we've learned through experience with some of the other victims."

"Ron's very nature is to be protective, so distracting him from being that way is only temporary," Hermione said.

"Yes, we've seen it. Still, his symptoms are less severe than his sister's and some of the other cases, so we're hopeful it'll stay that way," Vivian said.

"But he'll still get this draught, too, right?" George asked.

Vivian pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Well, to be honest, if he was a singular quarantined case, we'd hold out until we see the results, but since he is confined with Miss Weasley, we're planning on administering it to both simultaneously and monitoring their progress."

"Does that mean it would be better for Ron to wait?" Hermione asked, her eyes widening.

Vivian shook her head. "No. While Spattergroit can only infect an individual once, currently, we're not certain the same is true for this strain. It's better to do both at the same time and eliminate the possibility of cross contamination."

Harry had been listening intently to all Vivian said, but something was tickling at the back of his brain.

"How have you learned so much about this illness while we've all been quarantined?" he asked, his eyes boring into her.

She shifted only slightly, but he noticed. She licked her lips, shrugging. "I'm not certain what you mean. We've been studying it since its appearance, as you're well aware."

"Yes, but as far as I know, we didn't find anything significant in the notes from St. Mungo's. I've been in contact with Owen, and he hasn't mentioned anything to me," Harry said. He'd never been certain Vivian was telling him the whole truth, but he knew Owen would always have his back and share what he knew. So that meant Owen wasn't the one who'd made any sort of connection.

"Right, but I told you that we've been continuing to test various potions in the Department of Mysteries and learning from them," Vivian said. "Our purpose is to study and better understand how things work. I'm aware all of you, with the exception of Mr. Weasley here, are well acquainted with the brain room inside our department."

"That's not my fault. I'd have been with them if I knew they were going," George said at once.

Harry's eyes narrowed, his mind flashing to a dark room with a swirling brain inside a tank, its tendrils slithering like snakes as it wrapped itself around Ron's arms. The Death Eaters had all been aware of that room, as well.

"You said the Unspeakables were aware the Death Eaters had been testing, and you were monitoring various anomalies in the Muggle world. What you didn't say is where you received this information," he said, the pieces fitting together like a puzzle inside his own brain.

"I'm afraid that's confidential," she said, her lips thinning.

Harry wasn't about to let her off with that. "No, you've been researching what the Death Eaters did, which means you've made other discoveries which didn't make as big an impact. You were onto them already when I was assigned the case of tracking down this missing wizard. You were already ready to detain us."

Why hadn't he seen it before?

"You've been using the information you've gained from these Muggle experiments?" Hermione gasped.

"Are you saying you don't want us to use any of our other findings to assist in obtaining a cure for the inflicted?" Vivian asked harshly.

"You know damn well that's not what I'm saying. I also distinctly remember the Minister telling all the departments we had to share information, that we were all working together as one Ministry. So, are you going to share what you know, or do I have to inform the Minister that – surprise, surprise – the Department of Mysteries is once again keeping secrets?" Harry snarled.

Vivian put her hands on her hips. "You do what you feel you must, but I assure you, the Minister is well aware of what my department has been researching."

Harry didn't know if she was bluffing, but he intended to find out. As long as she was sharing some information now, he intended to find out everything he could.

"What caused you to initially suspect the Death Eaters had been conducting these experiments?" he asked.

"Some of the statements of various captured individuals led us to believe there was a covert effort to coerce the potion makers at St. Mungo's," Vivian replied.

Harry furrowed his brow, puzzled. "Statements? I don't recall reading anything about this."

Vivian nodded. "Naturally, some of the statements have had to be redacted to ensure no one else decides to further these experiments."

"No one else but your department, you mean?" Hermione asked waspishly, scowling at Vivian, who appeared unperturbed by Hermione's disdain.

"Miss Granger, as you well know, science is ever-evolving. Just because this information came from nefarious means doesn't negate the scientific fact of the knowledge. We don't want the methods known in order to discourage others from following in their footsteps, but in examining facts that already exist, we've discovered something that can help. I won't apologize for using it to save lives."

At the moment, Harry was more concerned about where the information had come from, and he voiced his thoughts, hoping he'd see some flicker of recognition on Vivian's face. "It would have had to have been someone fairly high up in the organization who knew about the testing. Voldemort wasn't known for sharing his schemes, or putting all his potions in one cauldron," he said, still pondering. Or all his Horcruxes in one hiding place.

Vivian nodded. "Some of those entrenched in Voldemort's inner circle attempted to bargain for their freedom with various facts of which they were aware. We compiled reports of everything we learned, and we've been seeking evidence of anything that actually did make it into the Muggle world. This was the first instance of something of this magnitude."

"So, is there a prisoner in Azkaban who could know more?" Hermione asked swiftly.

Harry shook his head. "No… that's not the right question, Hermione… Is there someone who evaded capture that's still on the outside who facilitated this whole mess?" he asked.

Vivian raised her eyebrows but remained mute.

Hermione looked startled. "But… I thought Gwilym Gethin was seeking a cure for Spattergroit scarring, and that's how all this came about," she said.

"Right… but who recruited Gethin?" Harry asked. "And who knew he was continuing his experiments after the war?"

Hermione spun back toward Vivian. "Why is the Department of Mysteries investigating this and not the Aurors?"

"Because before this occurred, it was merely research – watching and waiting and gathering information. Now, we believe an actual crime has occurred, so there will need to be an inquiry. I expect Department Head Robards will coordinate a team, if he hasn't done so already," Vivian said.

"And how is that going to be done if everyone is working remotely?" Harry asked.

"Well, if our assumptions are correct and this antidote works, hopefully we can start easing the restrictions soon," Vivian said.

"But… this is a cure for those infected, not a vaccine to stop anyone else from getting it, right?" Harry asked.

"That is correct, but if it works as an antidote, we have a way to treat it should anyone else become infected," Vivian said.

"Magical medicine is quite different from its Muggle counterpart, Harry. There are ways to treat illnesses. Magic makes healing the body easier and much less intrusive," Hermione explained.

"What about the Muggles, then? They'll want a vaccine," Harry asked.

"Yes, but usually the way they accomplish this is through using a small bit of the infected blood. We're currently running tests to see if it'll work for them," Vivian said.

"How long after you give it to them until we know if Ron and Ginny are going to improve?" George asked impatiently. Harry could understand his desire to keep the focus on his siblings, but Harry knew it would be his job to catch whoever had plotted this. Finally, there would be something he could do, and he was itching for some retribution.

"Since it hasn't yet been tested on human subjects, there's still a small but significant bit of uncertainty. What our research has shown is that it should basically work in reverse, meaning Ronald, who is less affected, should show signs of improvement first," Vivian said, seeming to choose her words very carefully.

"And Ginny?" Harry asked swiftly, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end.

"Hopefully, soon after. There is the risk that if she's gone too far before the draught is administered, it will be too late to remedy," Vivian said, sobering them all.

"So, why not just give it to her now, then?" George asked, paling.

"Believe me, we're weighing the risks to the benefits constantly. As I said, another medi-witch has been called, and will remain with them overnight. Hopefully at some point tomorrow, we'll have something to try. In the meantime, I'd suggest you all get some rest. Tomorrow will be a busy and likely stressful day," Vivian said, nodding at each of them before marching down the stairs, her head high and back ramrod straight.

Harry didn't think it likely that any of them would be able to sleep tonight.

/* /* /* /*

The next day passed interminably slowly. They'd expected to hear from Vivian or the Healers during the morning hours, but they came and went and dragged into the afternoon with still no word. As he'd expected, Harry had slept poorly, tossing and turning the entire night, and as a result, his head felt as if someone was hammering against his skull by late afternoon. He'd been growing more and more short-tempered as the day wore on, eventually resting in the sitting room with the blood thumping inside his temple. It was all he could do not to snap and rage at the lot of them.

Around mid-afternoon, a third medi-witch had arrived to replace the previous one on duty. Since one had been present since Vivian's departure the night before, neither Harry nor Hermione had been able to go inside to see with their own eyes how Ron and Ginny were faring. After the third medi-witch had been inside the room for several hours without a word from the Ministry, Harry decided he was going in, anyway. Hermione said she was joining him – the medi-witch wouldn't be able to throw them both out.

"I'm coming, too," George said decisively. He was pale and clammy, but his shoulders were squared as if ready to do battle.

"George–" Hermione began, but he cut her off.

"Don't start, Hermione. If I get it, then they can try this draught on me, too. If it doesn't work, I'm at least going to see my sister one last time. I didn't get to do that with Fr– I didn't get to do that before, and I'm not going to let it happen again," he choked, swallowing heavily.

Harry clenched his jaw, feeling a physical ache down to his very soul. How much loss were they all supposed to take?

Tears sprang to Hermione's eyes, but she reached out to grab his arm to try and stop him from leaving the sitting room where they'd all gathered. "Oh, but–"

"Leave it, Hermione," Harry said firmly, turning his attention toward George. "You need to concentrate really hard when you cast the Bubble-Head Charm, and use a new pair of dragon-hide gloves. Nothing that you've used in the shop that could have any kind of damage is good enough."

"I have a new pair. I'll get them and meet you outside the Infirmary," George said, nodding fervently before sprinting from the room.

"Harry, this isn't a good idea," Hermione pleaded, her eyes fixed on the now empty doorway. "His parents can't take any more."

Harry sighed. There weren't easy answers anywhere, so he had to rely on what he felt was right.

"I'm aware of that, Hermione, but I think his need for closure trumps their need for his safety, right now," he said, clenching his lips together tightly and thinking of Sirius. The lack of closure after Sirius' death had haunted him. He doubted that being able to say goodbye and have some sort of preparation could have eased the agony, but the torment of always wondering could, at least, be relieved. He could understand George's need to say goodbye, even if it ripped his own heart in two to consider there might be a need for it.

"There's no guarantee this draught will work," Hermione whispered, her lower lip trembling.

Harry had to try twice to get the words out, "And that's why he needs to be able to say goodbye, in case it all goes to hell."

Hermione grasped his arm, her fingernails digging into the skin on the joint of his elbow. "It won't, Harry. You're not going to lose her," she said fiercely.

"You just said there was no guarantee," he reminded her, his voice hoarse.

Hermione shook her head, making her curls bounce fervently. "I know, but I mean that for George."

Harry tried to smile, but his mouth wouldn't cooperate. "Thanks for trying, Hermione, but I have no illusions about how this might end." It was the story of his life, really. The people he cared about always disappeared in the end, leaving him alone and a little less whole.

Hermione clenched his arm tighter, and he was fairly certain she was drawing blood. "Don't fall into that pit, Harry, not when we're this close to our goal."

His throat ached, and he could no longer manage the words to argue with her. He was going up to see Ginny. He hadn't seen her since she'd lapsed into the coma, although he'd talked to her on the Extendable Ears many times. He needed to see her, to let her know he was with her, and that medi-witch wasn't going to stop him even if he had to hex her to do it.

He and Hermione met George on the landing, all of them checking and double-checking their protections. When they pushed the door open, Harry went in first.

The medi-witch had been adjusting the pillows supporting Ron's head, and she spun around, alarmed, as they all bustled into the room. She was younger than the other medi-witches, with dark skin and plaited hair that reminded Harry of Angelina Johnson. Her eyes became huge beneath her Bubble-Head Charm, and she raised her hands, as if trying to ward them off.

"You're not supposed to be in here," she said, sounding nervous. It perplexed Harry slightly, as all the other medi-witches had been very stern and bossy, some even rather over-bearing.

"We're aware of that, but we needed the chance to speak with them in case… if… well, just in case," Harry said, his voice cracking yet again.

His eyes were drawn toward the other bed were Ginny lay still and unmoving, pale as a corpse. She was unnaturally silent, but somehow, he didn't think she looked peaceful. Her hair was limp and lifeless, woven into a plait that lay neatly on the side of her pillow. It was usually flung wildly around her, vibrant and tousled, the way he preferred.

"Hermione!" Ron said, grinning. "What's going on? Where have you been?"

"Really, you're not supposed to be in here. I'm going to have to ask you to leave," the medi-witch said, exasperated.

George maneuvered his way around her and over to the other side of Ginny's bed. He simply stared at her, unmoving, unspeaking, and Harry suspected he wasn't even aware of the others in the room.

He couldn't help but wonder which sibling George was seeing just then.

Hermione perched on the edge of Ron's bed, taking his hand in her own. "How have you been? They haven't allowed us to come inside."

"You aren't allowed inside. This is completely against the rules, and I'm going to have to report you," the medi-witch said, glaring at Hermione. She seemed to have found her confidence.

"That's fine. We're all aware of your rules, but we've been coming in during the evenings, Miss–" Hermione said, letting her words hang.

"Barton," the medi-witch snapped. "I need you all to leave."

"Have you heard what time the Healers are coming to administer the draught?" Harry asked, cutting across her.

Miss Barton's eyes went wide, and she seemed to shrink before him, "I- ah- no, no. I haven't h- heard when," she said, stuttering, her eyes glued to his scar.

"What draught?" Ron asked loudly. "I thought you all came to visit me. Did you bring anything to eat? What difference does it make when more Healers arrive? I'm here now."

"Of course, we're here to see you, Ron – and Ginny, too. How has she been?" Hermione asked, smiling and brushing a strand of Ron's hair. He leaned into her touch and grinned happily having her attention back.

"She's been sleeping for a long time. It's boring here," he whinged. "When can I go home?"

"Soon," Hermione said, sniffling. "I hope very soon."

Harry moved away from Ginny's bed to give George a modicum of privacy with his sister. "Do you at least know if it will still take place at some point today?" he asked Miss Barton.

Her eyes bugged out, and she backed up a step so she was nearly against the wall, shaking her head vigorously. "Yes, today, b- but I don't know when, M- Mr. P- Potter," she stammered.

Harry gritted his teeth, his head pounding. The last thing he wanted to deal with today was someone overly fixated on his 'celebrity' status. How could that matter with everything else that was going on? Swearing to himself, he stuck out his hand to get it over with. "Harry Potter, Miss Barton, nice to meet you. Now, can we focus on your patients?" he asked, unable to completely hide the bite in his words.

Miss Barton shook his hand, thunderstruck. After an uncomfortable moment, he finally had to pull his hand away as she apparently didn't intend to let go.

"Harry! Want to play chess?" Ron asked brightly, as if just realizing Harry was there.

Harry ran his hand through his hair. His head throbbed so badly that he thought a game of chess might do him in, but how could he refuse Ron's eagerness?

"I'll play," Hermione said, standing up to get the chessboard off Ron's bedside table.

Harry smiled gratefully and tried to thank her with his eyes.

"You all right, mate? You don't look so good," Ron asked suddenly, peering at Harry intently.

Harry thought it was a bit rich that Ron, sitting in a hospital bed with access only to cleaning spells for days, thought that Harry didn't look well. The world had gone mad.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he said.

"Of course, you are," Hermione muttered under her breath and Ron sniggered.

She began to arrange the chess pieces despite the fact Ron kept knocking them over. Harry snuck a glance over toward the other side of the room. George held Ginny's hand, speaking quietly to her. Harry stood between the two beds, feeling lost and hopelessly torn. Miss Barton looked at them all, annoyed.

"I'm going down to use the Floo and report this," she said, marching from the room with her head held high.

"Ask them when they'll be here with that draught," Harry called after her.

She ignored him.

He moved to stand over Hermione's shoulder, watching as the match progressed. Ron's moves were sporadic, occasionally displaying a flash of his old brilliance, yet mostly just random moves across the board. When Hermione actually had to point out a move to him, Harry couldn't watch anymore. He fixed his eyes on the window, watching as clouds rolled in and began to overtake the sun. He wasn't certain of the date, but suspected it must be close to the first of September. He knew Hogwarts wasn't opening on schedule this year. Already, the days were growing shorter.

George stood abruptly, dropping Ginny's hand, which landed back on the bed with a thump. He tried to hide his face, but Harry could see the tear tracks staining it, and he tried to look away tactfully.

"I'm going," George choked, hurrying toward the door.

"Hey! You didn't visit with me yet. I'm your brother, too," Ron said indignantly, but George didn't falter and pulled the door open, hurrying from the room.

"Should we go after him?" Hermione asked, her eyes fixed on the door where he'd departed.

"Give him a minute," Harry said, his voice still held that awful, raspy quality. He moved toward Ginny's bed, pausing a moment to stare down at her. She hadn't moved, and her stillness unnerved him. He sat gingerly on the edge of her bed, staring intently to see if he could detect the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed.

It was there, but shallow.

He reached over and took her pale hand in his, craving with all his might that she'd squeeze his fingers back.

She didn't.

He took a deep breath, wishing fervently that Hermione and Ron weren't in the room with them. He could hear the murmur of their voices, but he tried to block out the words. Keeping her hand in his, he used his other to lift the end of her plait, tugging it gently.

"Hey, Whisky," he whispered, recalling how she joked about not letting the nickname be the only thing she remembered. He'd give everything he owned if she'd joke with him now. Her eyelids weren't even moving to signal she was dreaming.

"I need you to hang on for a bit longer, okay? I know you've been fighting, but just a little longer. You've always been a fighter, and they're coming with something that should help."

The back of Harry's neck felt very warm, and he hunched over, trying to keep his words from carrying across the room.

"Promise me you won't leave me, Ginny. You're supposed to be the one who breaks all the rules and outlives me, remember? You said witches generally outlive wizards, and I'm counting on that. I love you, Ginny, and I need you to stay with me," he said before his throat closed. Blinking furiously, he tried to get his eyes to cooperate. He couldn't do this. He couldn't say goodbye to her because she wasn't going to die. It couldn't end this way.

Except it could. He knew that it could, so why did his heart want to deny the possibility? Had experience taught him nothing?

The door banged open, and he scrambled to his feet, surreptitiously blinking his eyes in an attempt to clear them.

"They said you're definitely not supposed to be in here," Miss Barton said triumphantly. "They'll be here momentarily to administer the draught, so you'd best scarper."

"I'm staying while it's done," Harry said, clearing his throat.

"I'm afraid that won't be possible, Mr. Potter," Miss Barton said, a little less fiercely. "They're bringing their supplies, and you'll need to let them work."

"Who's coming? Are we having a party?" Ron asked, brightening. "Can I get some Firewhisky?"

"The Healers are coming, Ron," Hermione said.

"We'll see once they arrive," Harry said, stuffing his hands inside his pockets and refusing to meet the medi-witch's eyes. He edged his way back over to Ginny, but didn't sit down again.

Her hand lay limply on the sheet in the exact same spot as when he'd let go. Something about her unmoving hand caused his eyes to fill once again, and the desire to flee fought valiantly against his need to stay and find out what had taken so long. Vivian had said that if it was going to work, Ron would recover first, but she hadn't given any sort of timeline on when she expected that to happen. Would they all know by tonight? Tomorrow? Did it take several days?

Did Ginny have several more days?

He blinked fiercely, trying to clear his eyes along with his head. He was startled when he felt Hermione's hand reach for his own. He looked up to find her watching him with a pitying expression that he couldn't stand to see.

He purposefully looked away from her.

"Did they tell you how long they expect it to take?" Hermione asked, voicing his thoughts.

Harry knew that she was as anxious as he was for it to work, and he returned the pressure on her hand.

"I'm not certain. It hasn't been tried before now," Miss Barton said.

It took only a few minutes before they could hear voices coming up the stairs. Harry glanced out the window. Night had fallen, and a light rain spattered against the glass.

The door once again opened, and this time, Vivian led two Healers and one of the regular medi-witches inside, making the room impossibly cramped.

"All right, you two. I still need to bring a cauldron in here, so you'll need to say your goodbyes and let us get to work," Vivian said decisively.

Harry could see the appalled expression on one of the Healers at finding Hermione and him in the room.

"What's going on?" Ron asked loudly.

"What took so long? I thought you were going to be here this morning?" Harry asked, focusing on Vivian.

"Testing took longer than we'd expected, and we had to document everything so we can duplicate our results," Vivian replied.

"I took a version of a mandrake draught when I was Petrified back at Hogwarts. It took about twelve hours for it to take effect. Is that what you expect this time?" Hermione asked.

"Actually, we think it'll be a bit longer, but we can't be certain until it's administered," Vivian said.

"Unspeakable Scott, we really do need to get the cauldron lit before we can do anything," one of the Healers said, a pompous little man with a permanent scowl. He eyed Harry and Hermione beadily as if he'd like nothing more than to berate them for not adhering to his rules.

Vivian nodded. "Of course. Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, if you could just step outside, I promise to speak to you once it's been done, and let you know of anything we observe."

Hermione let go of Harry's hand and squeezed her way around the Healers over to Ron, hugging him briefly. "I'll see you soon, Ron," she said tearfully.

Harry's breath caught. This was both of them. He clung to the idea that if it didn't work, there would still be time for Ron, but about Ginny? He dragged his gaze up her motionless form. She hadn't moved – and he still couldn't say goodbye. He'd wondered earlier if it would've been easier if he could've said goodbye to Sirius.

It wouldn't.

It didn't matter. He was no more prepared now than he'd been then. He couldn't say goodbye. He reached out and gently lay his hand on top of hers, feeling as if the rain outside indicated she was taking all the sunlight there could ever be with her.

"I'll be waiting," he choked.

Hermione wrapped her arms around him and pulled him outside the room. Not knowing what else to do, he allowed it, leaning in to hug her back as they stood motionless on the landing, staring at the solidly-closed door.

Author's Note: Okay, so a bit of hope with a lot of worry. That's generally how an illness works, right? Please don't forget to hit review and share your thoughts. I love to hear what you're all thinking. I answer the reviews that allow me to do so.

Much thanks and appreciation to my beta team – Sherylyn, Arnel and Sue for their endless patience and support. The input from each of them has truly made this a better story.