Chapter 10
"What's going on?" Layla asks me soon after Hermione disappeared behind the door.
"Gonna have to be a little more specific," I respond, hoping that I can act oblivious enough to not give anything away. Hermione's already stressed out enough without me ruining anything.
Layla rolls her brown eyes, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "I understand that some people have family issues, but Hermione looked like she was about to pass out and you're acting like she's a fragile tea cup about to crack." She lowers her voice slightly as she continues. "I don't understand how her mother could be anything but thrilled to see her, since she agreed to pick up the alias and move here to begin with. I'm sure she will be ecstatic to see her daughter alive and well, yet you two are acting like the end of the world is going to come."
"It's a long story," I mutter, repeating Hermione's earlier explanation - or lack thereof.
"Luckily, we've got time on our hands," she reminds me as she sinks further down into the couch. "I'm nice and cozy, and ready for a story."
"It's not really your bloody business," I say through clenched teeth, my patience waning.
Instead of being offended, Layla lets out a bark of a laugh. "That's rich. You guys wouldn't even be here if it weren't for my research! I'm just trying to help you guys out."
"Fair enough," I admit, not wanting to be too rude to the woman that has helped Hermione so much. "But it really isn't my place to say anything. You've gotta accept that."
Layla shrugs, but doesn't press the issue further. We sit in a slightly tense silence, watching as patients are called back one by one. We are startled by a vaguely familiar voice yelling from behind the door, "Marcy, can you give me a hand here?"
The receptionist stands up immediately and rushes over to the unseen voice behind the door. I am not kept in suspense for too long, however, as the door opens to reveal Mrs. Granger and the receptionist carrying a clearly passed out Hermione. I rush over to them immediately. "What happened? What the hell did you do?" I yell, grabbing her motionless body from out of their hands.
"Ronald Weasley, if I am recalling correctly?" Her mother asks coolly, and I immediately regret my harshness. She is my girlfriend's mother, after all.
I cradle Hermione's body close to my chest, her weight not causing so much as a strain upon my limbs. I can feel the tips of my ears burn. "Yeah, sorry," I mumble in apology.
"Way to make an impression, Ron," Layla laughs from behind me, although her gaze is worried as she looks upon Hermione. After briefly introducing herself to Mrs. Granger, she continues, "She probably just fainted from being nervous about the appointment. She was shaking like a leaf before she went in, and she admitted to being anxious about dentist appointments."
"My daughter has never so much as batted an eye at seeing a dentist before, even as a little girl," Mrs. Granger informs us, looking down at her daughter with worry. It dawns on me that the spell has worked, then. Maybe it took a lot out of her to cast it? "We should probably take her to the hospital. I intended to go there today anyway. Marcy, could you cancel the rest of my appointments for the day?"
Marcy, whose confusion is clearly etched upon her flushed face, simply nods. We rush to the back of the building, where an employee exit leads to a parking lot. We pile into Mrs. Granger's modest car, with Layla in the passenger seat and Hermione lying on my lap in the backseat, and make our way to the hospital. Hermione's steady breathing is the only thing keeping me from losing my composure. After some time in tense silence, Mrs. Granger says to no one in particular, "I really shouldn't have told her about her father being in the hospital. That's what made her faint, I believe."
"Her father is in the hospital?" Layla asks, concern evident in her voice.
"Yes, he took ill months ago. He started forgetting things, and one morning he simply didn't wake up," she informs us, her voice grim.
Hermione shifts slightly. I look down at her to see her brown eyes flutter open. My heart leaps with relief. "My fault," she murmurs almost incoherently, her eyes filling with a sad comprehension.
"Don't be daft, it's not your fault," I whisper back affectionately, brushing her hair out of her face.
Layla turns around from the passenger seat to look at us. "Is Sleeping Beauty awake?"
Hermione nods, and I am reluctant to let her sit up since she looked so comfortable on my lap. After strapping herself into her seatbelt, she mumbles, "Did I miss anything?"
"We're heading to the hospital to get you checked out," her mother informs her.
"That really isn't necessary," she insists drowsily. However, a beat later Hermione's face dawns in recognition. "Wait, are we going to the same hospital where Dad is?"
"The very one," Mrs. Granger replies. "Now, would you care to explain what happened to us?"
"Not right now," we respond simultaneously, aware of Layla's ignorance of Hermione's less-than-lawful use of dark magic. Even if it was used with good intentions during a wartime period, I know that the Ministry is cracking down on dark magic now more than ever. Magical society still hangs in suspension, not quite ready or willing to let down its guard to accept that Voldemort is finally dead. We have no clue how Layla stands on this point, and I figure there's no harm in never telling her.
Mrs. Granger's question, unfortunately, does not escape Layla's notice. "What happened to you?" She asks Hermione's mum as she drives into the hospital parking lot.
"Hermione pulled some sort of magic on us. We forgot she existed for a little over a year," Mrs. Granger confides icily as she pulls into a parking spot. Hermione and I share a glance, and I notice that her cheeks are stained with a pretty color. Her mum doesn't seem to be very forgiving about the fact that Hermione took away their memory of their daughter, even though it was for their own good. I'm briefly reminded of Ginny's earlier outbursts. Of course, I'm on Hermione's side, but I can kind of sympathize with Mrs. Granger. It kind of blows to not have a say in something as vital as your own memory.
"That explains your shady behavior!" Layla exclaims as we leave the car. She hangs back, allowing Mrs. Granger to take the lead as we head toward the automatic doors of the hospital. When Hermione's mum is out of ear shot, she whispers, "And that also could explain what happened to your dad, Hermione. Dark magic can have a lot of consequences, aside from the legal ones that I'm not sure that I can allow you to avoid. I have no clue if your dad can be woken if it is related to the spell you cast."
Hermione looks devastated as we enter the hospital lobby. "That's all I can think of. But what else could I have done? It would have killed them to know I was in perpetual danger."
After much insistence from Hermione that she felt fine and that we see her father immediately, we check in with the hospital receptionist and make our way to his room. "Mrs. Granger, do the doctors have any sort of lead on what could be causing the coma?" Layla asks delicately.
"Please, call me Jean," she responds, looking at the three of us behind her shoulder. "And unfortunately, they don't have a bloody clue. Of course, they to assure me that they have it handled, but it doesn't take a rocket scientist to see that they are talking out of their arses. His brain activity looks just like any other sleeping person, but he won't wake up."
My eyebrows raise at Hermione's mum's fiery language, and I have to swallow a laugh. While I can see where Hermione gets her spirit from, its hard to believe that this is the woman that raised a girl that squirms at the most mild of curse words. I glance over to her daughter, who looks deep in thought, completely unaffected by her mother's vocabulary choices. "It must be due to magic, then. That isn't something a Muggle could easily diagnose," she whispers to me when she notices my gaze.
"Is there reason to believe that Hermione's actions were the catalyst for his ill health?" Mrs. Granger asks as we slow to a stop in front of an elevator. Hermione jolts, looking wounded. She looks up at me miserably, but says nothing. The elevator opens quickly, and we all pile inside.
As Mrs. Granger presses the corresponding button for the floor we are heading to, Layla quickly casts a silencing charm around the elevator. After this is accomplished, she responds, "That very well could be the case, since there doesn't appear to be any visible causes. He would benefit from being at St. Mungo's. Either way, they may be more equipped to help him, since they have the aid of magic."
"We will have him relocated," Mrs. Granger says with a finality that couldn't be argued with.
Hermione finally speaks up after a long silence. "Mum, I-I'm so sorry," she sobs quietly, her brown eyes filling with tears. I long to hold her to me, but I'm not too comfortable doing that in front of her mother. Besides, I don't know if it's my place. Still, I place a comforting hand on her shoulder.
Mrs. Granger's gaze softens somewhat as she looks upon her daughter, but her words are still logical. "You shouldn't have done anything that you hadn't worked with before. I thought I taught you better than to do anything without making sure that you will be successful."
"I know," she says in a pitifully small voice, so unlike what I'm used to. I squeeze her shoulder. "But it was the only solution I could think of, Mum. I thought of every possible alternative. If I hadn't done it, both of you would have been killed without question."
Mrs. Granger's green eyes scan her daughter's face for a few moments before stepping towards her. I drop my hand from her shoulder and step closer to Layla, allowing the pair their space. The older woman wraps her arms around her daughter, which Hermione quickly reciprocates. She murmurs, "You made a calculated risk that paid off, if the alternative was truly as you believed."
"It was," she whispers back into her mother's shoulder as the elevator slows to stop at the floor her father's room is on. "I went home recently. The inside was destroyed. If I hadn't acted, they would have got you." Hermione's shivers visibly at that. I hate to see her so upset.
The pair separates as the doors open, and we exit. Mrs. Granger's arm is draped across Hermione's shoulders as they walk, and this is the first time that I have ever witnessed any sort of real rapport between the two. I had only met Hermione's parents a couple of times at the train station when they picked her up after school ended. It is strange to see them actually act like mother and daughter, but I guess there was a familial love underneath the polite, professional exterior they had when I met them. I was just too used to my mother's own form of love - obvious, loud, bordering on embarrassing - to consider that the Grangers and Hermione had shared anything comparable.
We slow to a stop in front of room 518, and I see Hermione's arm wrap around her mother's waist. Over their heads, I can see into the small window on the door to see Mr. Granger lying dormant on the bed. His skin looks incredibly pale, perhaps even lighter than mine. His auburn hair is streaked with more gray hair than I remember from our last meeting, and I wonder if that change could be attributed to the effect that Hermione's spell had on him.
Mrs. Granger knocks on the door. After a moment, a nurse opens the door and has a look of surprise on his face as he greets us. "Dr. Wilkins, you brought other visitors?"
"Um, yes, Tyler," Mrs. Granger replies, slipping into her given alias. Gesturing to Hermione, she continues, "Our daughter has come into town. Could she visit him? Also, who can I talk to about having him moved to another hospital? My daughter feels as though one in England may be able to help."
"Well, it technically isn't visiting hours yet, but I'm sure you won't tell if I don't," Tyler says with an indulgent smile, stepping aside to let Hermione pass. She takes in a shaky breath before slowly entering the room. I want to follow her in, but I get the feeling that only family would be allowed in. Besides, she may want a moment alone with her father. "And while I assure you that we've been providing him with the best care, I can get you in contact with Dr. Caius. He would have to give you the release papers."
Mrs. Granger smiles kindly at the nurse, and I am given a glimpse of what Hermione may look like in thirty years. The thought would make me smile under lighter circumstances. "You have done everything you could to make me and my husband comfortable, Tyler. I will never be able to repay you for your kindness, but I have to believe that someone out there will be able to wake him."
Tyler smiles widely at Mrs. Granger's compliments. No doubt he is enjoying the positive attention from the attractive older woman. "Thank you, Dr. Wilkins. I will go find Dr. Caius now."
0000
We were able to move him easily enough. Although he is in a coma-like state, Mr. Granger can still breathe on his own, which made transporting him a much less complicated endeavor than it could have been. Dr. Caius and Mrs. Granger seemed to have developed a rapport similar to her and the nurse, so while it wasn't necessarily the most standard procedure, the doctor was willing to make some accommodations so that we could transport Mr. Granger after a couple of days. We spent the time sight-seeing around Sydney, which allowed Mrs. Granger and Hermione to catch up, although Hermione always managed to avoid the topics that she didn't want her mum knowing about. When the day came, the doctor allowed us to simply use a wheel chair to transport him to the front of the hospital lobby, although only after he placed a urinary catheter for Mr. Granger to use for a brief period of time. After loading him into the car, we drove him to the home they shared as the Wilkins. We convene to discuss the details after placing him on a spacious couch in the living room.
"Jean, do you have a fireplace? I can Apparate home really quick to fetch some Floo Powder, and I was hoping to make a call to my cousin to confirm that Mr. Granger is approved for transport via Portkey due to dire circumstances," Layla explains to Mrs. Granger.
Although she shares the brilliance her daughter has, the look on her face tells me that she is just as oblivious to magic as I am to most Muggle matters. "I do have a fireplace in the study," she responds. "I have no clue as to what you'll do with it, but I'll trust that it won't make a mess."
Layla simply chuckles before disappearing into thin air. Mrs. Granger looks as if she has seen a ghost, and the shocked look remains on her face long enough for it to greet Layla as she Apparates back, with a burlap sack of Floo Power in hand. "Sorry," Layla apologizes upon seeing Mrs. Granger's face. "I thought you would be used to it, having Hermione for a daughter and all."
"On the contrary, she never showed me any of her magical abilities," Mrs. Granger replies.
"You're missing out," I chime in, both in honesty and as an attempt to win back some positive opinion after my terrible first impression a couple of days prior. "Hermione is easily the best in our class."
"Well, that doesn't surprise me one bit," Mrs. Granger replies matter-of-factly.
Layla gives us a quick wave. "Don't feel bad, her age wouldn't have allowed her to perform magic in your home anyway. I'm glad that at least some rules were followed!" Although Layla's voice is playful, Hermione's face, previously glowing from my and her mother's praises, drops. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to make the call. Where exactly is the study?"
As Mrs. Granger leaves to show Layla where to go, I quickly take Hermione into my arms, heedless of Mr. Granger's form on the couch. Hermione reciprocates briefly before stepping back to look up at me. She asks, "What was that for?"
"I've just been wanting to do that for a while," I admit, and I can feel the tips of my ears starting to burn. It seems simpler to just tell the truth. "I know it's been bloody terrible couple of days all around."
Hermione gets on her tip-toes to caress my cheek, and I lean my face into her soft palm. "You're so kind to be thinking about me. It's been bad, but I am glad that I have Mum back, at least."
"A mum that you'll have to explain some things to before you leave," Mrs. Granger interjects from the doorway. Hermione and I jump apart as if we had been burnt. She walks over to sit on the couch adjacent from the one that her husband occupies, and runs a loving hand over his thinning hair. We hear his voice respond to the contact in an unintelligible way, but his eyes do not open. Mrs. Granger sighs. "You can't avoid telling me forever. One, exactly what you have been up to for the past year? And two, what exactly has sprung up between the two of you?" Hermione opens her mouth, looking as if she is about to protest, but Mrs. Granger continues. "You spoke of Mr. Weasley often, Hermione. I can't say I'm surprised."
I feel like my bloody face could melt off from how red my cheeks are growing, but I can't help but be pleased. Hermione talked about me to her parents? I know that I talked about Hermione often enough to warrant teasing from my older brothers, but she is so brilliant and talented. I can't imagine what she would possibly have to say about me to her parents, especially when our other best friend is the savior of the magical world.
"There was a war, and we won," Hermione says simply. "We are safe now."
"Hermione, are you really going to insult my intelligence in this way? I know that you wouldn't have gone to the extent that you did if you didn't play a major part in this war," Mrs. Granger says slowly, her green eyes full of concern. "What happened to the both of you?"
Hermione seems reluctant, but relays the events of the past year in the least interesting way possible. Some events, such as those that occurred at the Malfoy Manor, she leaves out entirely, while watering down others. When Hermione's speech finally dies off, Mrs. Granger looks at us for a long moment before replying, "I know that isn't all that there is, but it's adequate for now. Next, what exactly is happening between you two? And when did it happen?"
"You aren't going to lecture me about risking everything for the sake of going on a wild goose chase?" Hermione asks incredulously.
Mrs. Granger is silent for a moment, and it looks as if she is carefully weighing her words. "It certainly wouldn't have been the choice I would have made, but you're a grown woman and you are more than capable of making your own choices. You're alive and well, and the war was won. Even though one of your decisions ended with your father's current state, there is a chance he will recover and the alternative was both of us being killed. You made the best decisions that you could, given the circumstances. Your judgment has served you well."
Hermione's face is soft, a small smile playing upon her lips. "Thank you, Mum."
"Now," Mrs. Granger says hastily, as if trying to eliminate the vulnerability of the moment. "I shall not be distracted from my questions, Hermione. Unless you'd rather I ask you, Ronald?"
Before I am able to choke out an embarrassed reply, Layla enters the doorway. "We're good to go!" She exclaims excitedly, thankfully heedless of what she is interrupting. "Kingsley has deemed this enough of an emergency to allow a Muggle to travel via Portkey, especially since he wouldn't be coherent during it anyway. I shall create a Portkey with the bag I brought the Floo Powder in - I used what little that was left during that call anyway. Jean, I'm afraid that I wasn't able to swing being able to have you come with us as well, but we can arrange to have you on a flight to London at your earliest convenience."
"That's not a problem," Mrs. Granger assures while looking at her husband wistfully. "I will need to make arrangements at the office, anyway. Either cancel some more appointments, or come during the weekend when I won't have appointments." She adds with a small smile, "And frankly, if whatever a Portkey is involves simply disappearing into thin air like you did earlier, I want no part of it."
"Fair enough! Hermione, Ron, I took the liberty of bringing your things with me. I assumed that you would no longer need to stay with us, but please feel free to come back if that isn't the case," Layla informs us, gesturing to the two bags that are at her feet. "Now quickly, say your goodbyes," she declares as she starts making quick work of the burlap sack.
Mrs. Granger offers her hand to me, and I take it in a shake. "Mr. Weasley, it was good to see you again. I hope that we will be able to get to know each other better under happier circumstances soon."
"Definitely!" I respond, although the thought gives me more anxiety than anything else.
She turns to Hermione and pulls her into a long hug. I walk toward Layla, not wanting to intrude, but it looks like they are exchanging a tearful, heart-felt good bye. When Hermione finally comes toward us, she takes my hand in her own, tears still visible in her brown eyes. "Hermione, could you place a hand on your father, please? We will be leaving shortly," Layla instructs.
As Hermione follows through with her request, Mrs. Granger waves at us all as a final good bye. "I'll be seeing you all soon. I hope the doctors at St. Mungo's will be able to help."
"I think there's a good chance that they will," Layla assures her as we all take hands.
She touches the Portkey, and after a disorienting moment, we are standing in the lobby at St. Mungo's. "Kingsley has already alerted them of our arrival," Layla explains as nurses gather to pick up Hermione's father, who is resting at her feet on the floor. The sight would have been comical if it weren't for the circumstances. One nurse conducts a spell to levitate Mr. Granger, and they move to guide him down a hall way. My eyes were too busy watching Mr. Granger to realize that Layla and Hermione had already moved to the front desk. "Thank you for taking him on such short notice," I hear as I approach the receptionist. "Hopefully you guys will be able to give him the help the Muggle doctors couldn't."
"Anything for a relative of THE Hermione Granger!" the receptionist replies enthusiastically, his eyes looking at Hermione eagerly. My stomach churns at the sight, but before I can let out a few choice words, he notices me as well. "Oh, and Ron Weasley? I never thought I'd meet any war heroes, much less two in one day! I can't believe my luck!"
"Really, though, thank you," Hermione interjects earnestly, sliding over the receptionist's less than tasteful exclamation, given the recent victory of said war. "If there is anything we can do -"
"Actually, there is!" The receptionist interrupts. "May I have the hospital records?" Layla retrieves a manila folder from her bag, and hands it to the annoying bloke. "Thank you. Now, this may help, but if the Muggles couldn't find any cause as you all have claimed, this will probably do us no good. Is there any reason to believe that magic may have been a factor in his current state?"
There is a long moment of silence, with Layla and I looking at Hermione uneasily. If she admits that she used dark magic to alter her dad's memory, she would be potentially incriminating herself and would have to face legal consequences. However, if she doesn't admit to using the spell, there would likely be less of a chance for the doctors to be able to remedy the situation. There's a chance that the doctors could discover a cure without the knowledge of Hermione's spell, but would it be worth potentially condemning her father to eternal sleep? Although I can't speak for Layla's opinion, I feel as if the choice is entirely Hermione's to make. I won't be the one sentencing her to repercussions that could include Azkaban. That being said, even though it is her decision, that doesn't mean I have to like it. I would rather her wait it out. The doctors may very well be able to cure him without her input. He's been sleeping for months - what's another few days to give the doctors time to figure it out? More importantly, I couldn't live with myself if Hermione was forced to be in Azkaban, even for a second.
"Hermione, is there anything you can remember that could be causing this?" Layla asks pointedly. I scowl at her. Apparently she does not share my strategy.
Hermione looks at me hopelessly. I merely shrug in response, although I'm furious at Layla and frustrated with myself for not being able to provide a solution for her. Granted, Hermione never needs me to make decisions for her. I just want to help her. Hermione takes in a breath, and finally responds. "Yes, I actually changed both of my parents memories so that they wouldn't have to live through losing me if I had died in the war. I had no idea that this could happen."
The receptionist's ingratiating smile drops. "Well, we need to let Dr. Brown know immediately."
