Chapter Three
Monday, August 20th, 2012
Just over two weeks, one phone interview, one panel interview, several reference checks and a mountain of paperwork pertaining to security clearance later, and Hermione Granger was approaching the front entrance of St Michael's of Hereford.
The two weeks had passed in a blur. She had packed up her townhouse, magically, and moved all of her possessions into an older townhouse, located in an inner suburb of Hereford.
It had two bedrooms, a nice backyard for Crookshanks, which was enclosed. The enclosure was very convenient for apparators, as Hermione hated when people apparated directly into her house. It was a pet peeve of hers. But her witch and wizard friends had an awful tendency to just apparate into her living room whenever they felt like it.
So, Hermione always set up anti apparition wards around her interior. If nothing else, it gave her peace of mind regarding her own privacy.
The house also had a wonderful study on the bottom floor which would be perfect for her, and she could use it to make the place a home.
She had decided to unpack the muggle way, now that she was living amongst them. It had been hard. She had never missed the convenience of magic more than when she was trying to put the screws in her bed so that it held together without squeaking. She loved her bed, but the Allan key and screwdriver weren't helping her to love the process of having her bed all set up. Lol!
As it stood, she was only about halfway through unpacking, which was not like her. She had simply run out of time. She would just have to keep at it during her down time.
St Michael's of Hereford was a beautiful old building of stone at the front. It had formerly been an Anglican Church but had been repurposed into a hospital in the early 20th Century.
At the front it had all the architecture, design and décor of a building that had been built to last, likely during the Middle Ages by an overly rich clergy.
Simply put, it was a beautiful building.
With an extension.
The front was all history and solid grounding. It was all exquisite stonemasonry that hummed with stories of the past. Statues and Latin. Church meets hospital. The historical building was extended at the back into what appeared to be a more modern and high-tech hospital. It was complete with straight up and down buildings, with multiple colours mixed in, some red and stylish greys.
If she was honest, Hermione thought that the architect had done a poor job of blending the newer construction with the old construction, but in a weird sort of way it worked.
Hermione couldn't help but be taken in by the building, the enormity of the extensions and how they almost drowned out the centre piece. Almost. The old still stood, and it demanded attention of its own.
Out the front of the main entrance to the Emergency Department and triage, was an enormous statue that must have been nearly 15 metres high. It showed a figure that Hermione knew from her research to be the archangel himself, St Michael, standing tall and proud. He had his hands outstretched in front of him, holding an enormous dias.
On top of the dias was a long sword with a highly intricate hilt. The Sword of St Michael.
It sat alongside a set of scales.
Hermione took a moment to appreciate the statue that guarded the entrance to the hospital. It was beautiful. and Hermione could appreciate the detail that gone into the carvings. His blank, empty eyes still managed to follow her as she approached the entrance.
St Micheal's was, after all, the patron saint of Soldiery. He was also patron saint of paramedics and the sick.
Fitting.
She liked the way he stood, with the archangel seeming to offer the sword and the scales, not wield them. She liked it as a contrast to the usual manner she had seen him portrayed, in the midst of battle.
It was an impressive statue for a hospital.
The outside of the hospital may have been a classic former church, but Hermione walked into a very modern facility. It was very well lit and sterile white, with row upon row of alternating grey and white chairs for waiting patients.
The nurse's station was immediately in front of her, about 20 metres into the entrance. Several of the nurses sat behind the station, chatting amongst themselves, as clearly, the early Monday morning had not brought an onslaught of emergencies from the small city it serviced.
Hermione was sure they would be happy with that. She had previously worked in triage as a doctor during her residency. She knew how crazy the world could become when dealing with dozens, sometimes hundreds, of panicked sick and wounded people who all genuinely believed they were mere moments from death's door.
This hospital was not enduring that. A few patients sat around waiting, but most looked in decent health. None of them seemed like they had an immediate emergency that needed to be addressed, so they waited in various forms of patience to be seen.
She approached the Nurses station and saw that they were chatting to a doctor in green scrubs with a white lab coat over the top. She was seated on a desk, her legs dangling down while she laughed easily at something she had just been told by one of the nurses.
The doctor was, simply put, beautiful. She had wavy blonde hair that had been tied back into a neat bun, completely showing her beautiful, angular features and her easy laugh and smile.
She was slim in build and Hermione got the impression that she was somewhat into her fitness. She had that look of competence and confidence about her.
"Good Morning!" Hermione said pleasantly, now that the joke had finished. If anything, she hated to start on the wrong foot on her first day in a new job. There would always be time to make enemies later.
The nurse at the station turned around on her wheely chair and looked her up and down. She was a plump woman in her forties with short dark hair and a fringe that did not suit her round features, not that Hermione would say that out loud.
"Yes dear," she said, "How can we help you?" The woman was nice. Not overly so, but pleasant enough. Hermione had encountered some nurses at the emergency room triage that had less interpersonal skills than a troll. But she had also encountered some of the best, who were able to be firm but fair when everything about them was falling to pieces.
"Sorry to interrupt, but my name is Hermione Granger, could you please inform Doctor Peyton Brookes that I have arrived?" Hermione enquired pleasantly.?
The nurse looked back at her and gave her a smile.
"Not a problem at all, dear." She then turned around in her chair to the pretty doctor who was sitting on the desk, distracted by a conversation with another nurse.
"Peyton, a Hermione Granger is here to see you."
The doctor looked up and saw Hermione for the first time.
"Oh!" she jumped down from the desk and landed easily on her feet. "Sorry! We were just nattering."
She hurried around the nurse's station and offered her hand to Hermione.
"You must be Doctor Granger! I'm Peyton Brookes, Chief of Specialised Internal Medicine. Please call me Peyton, everyone does. I find the constant Doctor and 'ma'am/sir dick waving entirely exhausting."
Hermione smiled as she took Peyton's hand and shook it. She was going to like Peyton Brookes, she already knew it. Her candour was refreshing.
"I'm very glad to hear it. Please, call me Hermione. Everyone does. Doctor is reserved for when I'm in trouble."
Peyton laughed. It was an easy laugh, genuine and warm.
Peyton turned to the nurse's station.
"Ladies, I'd like to introduce you to the new head of Neurological Services. Doctor Hermione Granger, please meet Susan, Jaime, and Sal."
The three nurses all stood and shook her hand as they were introduced. They were all welcoming with their smiles and addressed her as Doctor in turn.
"Hermione, please!"
"I'm so happy that you have finally started, if you come with me to my office, let's get the frustrating inductions out of the way so we can get you settled in."
They walked off down a side hallway. Peyton spoke as they walked, hardly breaking breath.
"I'm sorry I couldn't be a part of the interview process; I had a family emergency and was unable to dial in. Everyone said you were a winner and that we would be lucky to have you, so let's hope you live up to the expectations."
It wasn't a jab. Hermione sensed that Peyton was just being direct, and that was just how she was.
"But I think you will do just fine. Your file is very impressive. Your reference checks also came back so positive I was starting to believe that you were either just that good, or you had photos of them in some very compromising positions."
Hermione laughed. "I guess you'll just have to figure that one out for yourself."
Peyton just smiled back.
She would.
They walked down through several wards and care rooms. Hermione had only slightly lost her bearings when they came across an office,
'Doctor Peyton Brookes, Chief of Specialised Internal Medicine' was stencilled on the door.
She followed Peyton in, who indicated her towards a comfortable looking leather chair that sat immediately across from her desk. The office was homely, it was not so big that it made you feel small, nor was it too small that it made you feel cramped.
The desk was a lovely, dark wood colour, with her computer set to one side so that she could directly face anyone who visited her office. Behind her, taking up most of the wall, was a large window that opened up to have a gorgeous view of the historic City of Hereford.
Peyton took a seat on her office chair and shifted some of her paperwork around. Peyton's desk, much like Hermione's had always been, was neat and tidy. Everything was organised and in its rightful place. Hermione respected someone who took their workspace seriously.
"So, I will quickly get you up to speed as much as possible, then we can start the tedium of paperwork. If I know Doctors, and I know Doctors, making sure that the pay is sorted is one of the most important parts of starting a new job."
Hermione smiled along with that. Peyton had no idea that Hermione possessed a fortune. While much of it had been her part of what Harry had bequeathed to her upon his passing, she hadn't been a slouch with her money. Investments, good business sense and her own considerable paycheque from St Mungo's had helped her to develop her wealth. Not that it really mattered to her. Hermione donated a large part of her wealth to various charities and charitable organisations, both wizarding and Muggle.
You could take the girl out of the SPEW…
Her home, the townhouse in London had been purchased up front, entirely in cash, and it had not even put a dent in the money that was sitting in Harry's old vault at Gringotts.
Still. No one needed to know that, so she smiled along good humouredly.
"You will have three doctors under your charge, and six nurses will be rotated through your ward at any one time. The three doctors are Jones, Hayworth and Butterman. Jones and Hayworth are excellent neurologists, with split specialities. They may get called away, at times, to work in other areas depending where they're needed."
It was all business now.
"Understandable" said Hermione, "I trust they will be available when needed though?"
Peyton nodded. "Of course. You will also be notified if they are required to move. You must remember what this hospital is. It services the needs of the City of Hereford, and the many people who live in the growing place. However, our benefactor, and the source of so much of our state-of-the-art equipment, is the Regiment."
From the way Peyton said "The Regiment," Hermione knew she was connected to it somehow. A point for later.
"The Ministry of Defence will send its people our way and while we triage, they get priority for much of our specialised, non-life saving care. It's the agreement we have. They provided the equipment, we use it on the public for their good, but when a Regiment man needs something, we come running."
Hermione nodded. "Who does the Triage?"
Peyton smiled. "Why you, of course. You seem capable enough. It is your department, your area, and I am not going to come and step on your toes unless I absolutely need to. But I don't foresee us having that problem."
Peyton shot Hermione a winning smile. This was the kind of leadership Hermione could get behind.
"What about Butterman?" Hermione had noticed the almost strategic manner in which Peyton had left him out of her briefing.
Peyton's expression darkened and blew out a breath.
"Where to start with Butterman…"
Hermione did not speak. She simply looked at Peyton with a raised eyebrow. It was a much a 'Go On' as anything else.
"He's a pain in the arse." Peyton said, sitting back in her chair. "He applied for your position and was unsuccessful. Frankly, he isn't a leader, but thinks he is. I wouldn't follow him out of curiosity. He wants your job Hermione, and he won't try to hide it. Be careful around him, it is likely he may be difficult. If you have any problems, come and see me and I will sort it out."
Hermione nodded. "That won't be necessary, thank you Peyton. I much prefer to deal with matters like that myself."
Peyton smiled. "I knew I was going to like you."
Hermione couldn't help but return the smile. "Though I do appreciate the heads up. Is there anything else I should know?"
Peyton thought for a moment. "Standard, don't piss off the nurses?"
Hermione laughed lightly. "Good advice."
Peyton waved it off. "Of course. Now, shall we get started on your induction paperwork?"
XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX
Hermione could do paperwork with the best of them.
And Peyton was amongst the best of them.
Between the pair of them, they knocked over what should have been a days' worth of paperwork, signatures, and indemnities in the space of about two hours. It was a marvel.
She signed the last form, indicating her understanding of the staff policy of theft of medications and rubbed her sore hand. Paperwork queen she may be, but that didn't mean she escaped the cramps.
As she rubbed the feeling back into her hand she looked around the office. Getting a better, in depth, look at the many medical journals and books stacked in the bookshelf. Dispersed amongst the books were several photos.
There were several more on the desk that pointed away from Hermione, so she couldn't see their contents.
Hermione could see a photo of Peyton standing holding a young girl of about three in her hands. Also in the photo was a stocky man with dirty blonde hair and a dirty blond beard. They were beaming at the camera.
The young girl had curly blonde hair that matched Peyton's, but with grey eyes, instead of Peyton's bright blue. She had a pretty, round face that matched the man's in the photo, who Hermione safely guessed was the father.
It was also clear that the young girl had a smile that was all Peyton.
"You have a beautiful family." Hermione commented, pointing towards the photograph.
Peyton beamed at the photo. "Thank you! My husband Luke, and daughter Lily."
Hermione breathed out a long breath. "Lily is a beautiful name."
"Thank you!" Peyton leaned back in her office chair, picking up her mug of coffee in her left hand, while she clenched and unclenched her right, easing out the cramps. "What about you Hermione? Husband? Wife? Kids?"
Hermione took a sip of strong black coffee from a mug that bore the symbol of St Michaels.
"Not married. No kids. No boyfriend." It wasn't said self pietously, nor was it taken so. It was more carefree.
Peyton nodded thoughtfully.
"Well, best you avoid the Regiment men then! Now come on, let's take you on a tour."
XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX
They chatted amicably as they walked through the wards of the hospital. Peyton pointed out this department, or that department. Hermione took it all in and made notes about the location of everything. It would come in handy later.
Hermione found that Peyton was an easy person to listen to. She would make jokes, occasionally stop to talk to a nurse or an orderly and was sure to graciously introduce Hermione to them all. Hermione, for her part, tried to keep up with the steady flow of names and places as they went along, a task that was becoming more and more insurmountable, even for someone with as brilliant a mind as her own.
Hermione was reminded of her early days in Hogwarts. She had always refused to ask for help in navigating its great maze of hallways and stairways. She had picked it up quickly and had every faith she would do the same in the hospital.
"And this here is our rehabilitation department." Peyton indicated around a new area. It was an open waiting room, large for what it was. There were rows upon rows of waiting seats and a front desk that was staffed by three receptionists. They were bored, there were only a few people scattered about the waiting room, reading magazines, or scrolling on their phones.
Scattered around the waiting room were various photos and posters. Most of the posters pertained to the NHS, but a few were much more military, with indications towards this benefit or that. In lieu of the standard hospital décor of flowers, whales, or other such 'feel good' art, the Rehabilitation Waiting room had artistic photos of soldiers at work.
A person fast roping onto a boat here, a fighter jet there. Royal Marines emerging from water, Soldiers in the jungle. There was even a photograph of the Coldstream Guards in full scarlet tunic at the changing of the guard.
Hermione could see several hallways that went away from the waiting area. One door was open, and she could see several pieces of gym equipment in the background.
"It's honestly one of our largest departments because it services the Regiment as its primary focus. The Ministry of Defence pumps more money into this area than anywhere else in the hospital. You won't find a better staffed, better resourced branch of any Hospital across the United Kingdom. Here is where we fix up our nation's best soldiers before we send them back to war."
Hermione noted there was a slight distaste in her tone. That was interesting.
Hermione internally shrugged.
Peyton went to continue speaking when she heard his voice. It was different from the video. It was slightly deeper, but there was no mistaking the owner.
It was also frustrated; if not slightly angry.
A shiver ran down her spine as her blood ran cold. Her breathing quickened. She couldn't just feel, but hear her heart beating in her chest. She looked quickly around but couldn't see him. She glanced at Peyton, who had also stopped talking and was looking towards the open door.
Peyton was clearly listening just as intently to the voices as Hermione was.
Hermione thought that Peyton must have heard her heart beating. It sounded like the church bells she had heard in the town square at Midday. But Peyton didn't seem to have noticed. Was Peyton deaf? The noise was thunderous. It was deafening.
Then she saw him.
He followed a short, balding man of about 50 out of the room. The balding man had glasses on the end of his nose and was somehow looking down on Harry, despite having to look up at him.
But the balding man was not the focus.
If Hermione thought she had gotten everything out of her system when she saw him on the television, she was wrong. Very wrong.
She could feel her hand shaking. She felt the tears well up in her eyes, but she blinked them away with all the determination she possessed.
She knew it was going to be hard.
But not this hard.
Harry Potter.
Merlin, how he had grown!
He was tall, maybe 6'2", with a lean muscular build. He was broader than Draco, but leaner than Ron.
Not that he looked like a bodybuilder, but he definitely looked like someone who knew how to throw some weight around. He had a practical look about him, like he could easily run ten miles and then carry a boulder for ten more.
Where Ron was all muscle and strength, Harry looked like he was a combination of strength, speed and endurance.
He was wearing a dark blue trucker-style cap, with a symbol on the front which looked like a deep red 'K'. His dark hair was sticking out the side of it in all manner of awkward angles. Clearly his hair was just as unmanageable as ever.
The scar was present. It sat on his forehead, half obscured by the cap, but it couldn't be completely covered, as much as it looked like he tried. His bottle-green eyes still bored into everything they looked at.
He still had the beard, dark, and short. It was well-kept and seemed to be the antithesis of his hair in that it seemed like it cooperated with him. It didn't stick everywhere, instead sitting nicely upon his face. It suited him, Hermione had to admit, though she had never thought of Harry to be the type to wear one. She found herself glad that he did.
He was dressed in a simple, form fitting, dark blue button-up flannelette shirt that accentuated his figure, broad shoulders and a narrow waist. The shirt was open, revealing a plain white T shirt underneath. The sleeves were rolled up to just to just over his elbows, revealing forearms that seemed to be tight with sinewed muscle.
Light-blue, denim jeans were on his lower half, held to his waist by a simple black belt. His feet were covered by brown hiking boots.
Hermione took him all in.
And her heart skipped another beat. It skipped several.
He was pinching his nose in frustration. There were still no glasses, Hermione noticed. It reinforced her assumption that he was wearing contacts, but figured that laser eye surgery was not off the table either.
She heard the blood rushing in her ears. It all hit her again.
There he was. Harry Potter. In the flesh and in the blood. And very much alive.
"Jon, I don't know what else to say. My deadlift has gone up since before the incident, and my squat is holding steady. I can bench, I can press, and I even got my Oly lifts back the other day. Just sign the form and get me back operational."
Jon shook his head, a hint of understanding in his eyes.
"James. I told you this last week and the week before. Stop pushing it. Your body has been through major trauma. By rights, you should be dead. But somehow you survived. Having survived all this, you should be learning how to walk again at this stage, not doing ridiculously heavy powerlifting."
"But I feel good! I'm ready. Get me back on my team."
Hermione recognised that tone. That impatient tone. The frustration of someone telling him he could not do something he had every intention of doing, anyway.
And of course, he wasn't following the physiotherapists instructions.
"A few more weeks, James. Your healing has been miraculous, no one is doubting that. But you still have a bit of a limp, and your range of motion isn't what it used to be. You need to stop training the way you used to and keep doing the exercises I prescribed."
"Your job," Harry growled, his eyes going dangerously narrow at being told to stop something he was not going to stop. "Is to get me back onto my team."
"No, James," Hermione had to respect the physio for staring Harry down when he was like that. Many people would have baulked at that look in Harry's eyes. "My job is to keep you on the team and in fighting shape for as long as possible. 'Operator Longevity', remember? Anyway, you need to stop pushing your body so hard while it heals and start doing your prescribed activities. You do that, and I guarantee you will be back on the team sooner."
If looks could kill, there would have been a flashing green light from Harry and into the physiotherapist right about now.
"You said that a few weeks ago." Harry grumbled. Anger easing back into frustration.
"And you didn't listen to me, a few weeks ago. Just as you aren't going to listen to me, now." This was clearly not Jon's first time working with Harry. "Anyway, I will put in my report, you are healing well, but I still can't sign you off. I have to go; my next patient is waiting. I will see you on Wednesday. For the love of all that is holy, take it easy."
Jon then turned on his heel and walked away, giving Peyton a wave as he did so. He left behind a very cranky Harry Potter standing in his wake.
"James!" Peyton called out to him.
James turned and he saw Hermione for the first time. Their eyes locked. Hermione was entranced by his bottle-green eyes, and not for the first time in her life. They seemed to dig into her soul, past every protection, every Occlumency that she had ever practised. She felt rooted to the spot. Bare and vulnerable. She felt like, with that very look, every secret she had was laid bare for him to see.
She saw his eyes widen. A range of emotions flew through them like a chaser line attacking a particularly weak quidditch defence.
Curiosity.
Familiarity.
Recognition.
Was that recognition?
His eyes seem to widen again. Hermione felt like she was under a spotlight; naked, and Harry was staring straight through her. She felt like a bossy, know-it-all first year asking Harry if he had seen Neville's toad. She was as floored by the intensity of his gaze, now, as she had been then.
Her heart, if possible, was beating even faster. Hermione considered herself lucky she was in a hospital, because she felt like she was about to collapse.
Hermione thought for a moment that she had been sprung. Or that he had been sprung. Like she had caught him in his great lie. Like she had found him out, pretending not to know her or anyone else. Living a false life that was not his and he did not wish it to be disturbed.
But then, as quickly as it all began, it disappeared.
Hermione watched as he shook his head slightly and blinked a few times.
The entire exchange had felt like it had gone for an age, but realistically it was over in a few seconds.
It left an indescribable feeling in her soul. Harry. Harry Potter. There he was. Alive and mostly well.
He looked over at Peyton, but Hermione saw that he glanced back at her, as she stood, barely able to breathe, barely able to think.
"Peyton! Hello. Sorry, didn't see you there."
Harry greeted Peyton with a warmth that spoke of a deep familiarity. He walked across and gave her a big hug, pulling her close to himself, and giving her a squeeze.
Hermione was surprised when she felt a pang of jealousy. She recognised that hug. That was a Harry hug. One she had enjoyed many times. One that had been a source of great comfort in particularly trying times. One that had told her that everything would be okay, that Harry was here, and Harry would help. One that she had missed for a full decade.
"Still not operational, huh?" she asked in a soft, placating tone.
"No. Still not operational." Harry gave a frustrated sigh.
"He's right though." Peyton said, firmly. "You are recovering from very significant injuries, and shouldn't be walking, let alone attempting to frighten physiotherapists into signing forms they shouldn't!"
"I'm not terrorising anyone!" Harry huffed. There was the frustrated Harry that she had placated many times. "Anyway. Doesn't matter. Didn't work. No signature, no service. Bastard won't budge."
"Nor should he." Peyton said, standing her ground and refusing to give into his stubborn frustration.
Harry looked like he was about to argue but changed his mind at the last moment.
"What are you doing down here in rehab?"
Hermione shivered as Harry looked across at her. His green eyes ablaze with curiosity as he took her in.
"Oh, Sorry. James Black, meet Doctor-"
"Hermione!" It almost came out as a yell. It definitely came out louder and with more force than she expected. Quick and explosive. She saw several of the patients in the waiting room look up from their candy crush or social media and glance over at her.
Smooth Granger. Very smooth.
"Nice to meet you, Doctor Hermione."
Hermione blushed, the colour ran up her cheeks like a crook running from Police.
"Ah-shit-sorry-no."
James had a curious smile creeping onto his face. His eyebrows climbed slowly towards his hairline.
Peyton was looking at her with an unreadable expression. Then she glanced over at James.
She had known Harry for seven years. He was her best friend and most loyal confidant, even now, all these years later, no one could fill that role but him.
Hermione took a deep breath to steady herself. Why was this so hard? It was Harry! Just Harry!
Well, no, it was James! Just James!
She stuck out her hand. "Let me start again. Hello! It's nice to meet you, my name is Hermione."
Harry laughed. The sound was music that danced in her ears and gave her goosebumps all up and down her arms. She didn't know why. It was such a genuine, yet strangely non-judgemental laugh. It was Harry's laugh. She had missed that laugh.
"Hello Hermione, my name is James. It's very nice to meet you, too."
Hermione felt Harry shake her hand. His grip was firm, and Hermione could feel his strength. Not to say that he had violently shaken her hand, far from it. He had given it a gentle squeeze, but it was enough to register with her that he was a man used to working with his hands. They were strong and rough, with a warmth that she felt travel up her arm. If anything, his hands felt used.
Hermione liked that.
"Hermione is the new head of Neurology. She will also be heading up the TBI project." Peyton explained, still looking curiously between the two of them.
"Ah." James said. "Welcome to St Michael's. You let me know if Peyton here gives you any trouble won't you? Don't worry about her." His voice became low and conspiratorial. "She's all bark and no bite."
"Watch it," said Peyton, with a fake warning in her voice. "I still haven't dealt with you after your last little stunt."
"See that Hermione?" said James, turning towards her and shaking his head in a mock attempt at sadness. "All bark. No bite."
Peyton swotted him on the arm. Causing James to laugh. Once again that music danced in her ears. That genuine, wonderful laugh.
"So, Are you two going to hold hands all day, or are you just happy to call that one hell of a handshake?" Peyton had a single eyebrow raised now. That curious look having become a bit more inquisitive, a bit more investigative.
Hermione gave a little 'Oh' sound and quickly released James's hand. She hadn't even noticed that she was still holding it. When she let go, she felt a jolt of electricity into her hand. She shook it slightly, wondering if the sensation had been entirely of her own imagination.
She hadn't even known she had been still holding it. But a part of her had just enjoyed the fact that he was real, and present. The very feel of him had hammered home that Harry James Potter, or James Black, was very real and very alive.
Hermione noticed that James shook his hand slightly when he separated. Maybe she hadn't just imagined the electricity.
For his part, James looked just as embarrassed or surprised about the situation as Hermione felt, though he quickly recovered.
"What's the matter Peyton? Can't two people shake hands around you without you counting down?" Harry said, jokingly, winking at Hermione, causing her to flush again. "See what kind of person you are about to be working for? Keeps a track of everything this one. Handshake times, Lunch breaks. Piss-"
"Alright! Alright!" Peyton said shaking her head with a smile. "Enough! Speaking of lunch, I'm starving. We were just about to go and eat. You got better plans?"
James looked at the pair of them.
"Better plans than eat with you? Let's see." James looked mockingly thoughtful. "Yeah, there it is, top of that list is let those journalists ask me a whole bunch more inane questions, torture by terrorists is a close second, and eat another of your Husbands attempts at cooking might just slide in for third! Fancy that!"
Peyton just gave James a look that she recognised. It was the exact same look that Hermione had given Harry when he used to give her answers like that.
"Are you done?"
James smiled.
"I'm just getting warmed up."
Peyton just gave him a look. "Well, if that's the top of your list, I can always arrange for your next physio appointment to be handled by Beckworth? I'm sure she would love to have another chance to give you a very…thorough examination. I noticed that didn't make the list."
Harry's smile turned to horror.
"You wouldn't!"
"I would!"
They both locked eyes. Then they burst out laughing.
"Anything but that! But nah, I have no plans for lunch, be happy to join you both. Plus the OPSO doesn't expect me back for at least another hour."
They began walking towards the cafeteria.
"And I trust you will strictly adhere to those timings."
"Peyton, please, it's like you don't know me at all."
XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX
For the walk to the cafeteria, Hermione just took it all in. It was a strange feeling for her, to be the third wheel in the exchange. With Harry, it had always been her and Ron who would effortlessly command his attention. Sometimes they fought for it, but mostly Hermione won.
Now, Hermione was on the sidelines. She was watching someone else have that relationship with Harry. It hurt. A little. A small pang in the bottom of her heart.
She was reminded of what Portrait Dumbledore had said in the Headmistresses Office.
It was clear that Harry had built a life that was his own. Which Hermione found conflicting. On the one hand was this nagging jealousy that seemed to be forming around her heart. On the other, it made her immensely happy that Harry, or James, had formed friendships and wasn't living the life of a recluse.
James and Peyton had an easy air about them, and Hermione supposed it must have been what others had seen when Harry and Hermione had walked through the halls of Hogwarts.
She found James and Peyton to be very socially generous. They had plenty of banter and the easy-going nature of their relationship was clearly borne of years of closeness. But they did not lock her out. They made every effort to include her in the conversation and the jokes.
Hermione found herself laughing along with them, occasionally chiming in with her own. They were trying not to let her feel like a third wheel, even though she felt like one. They weren't to know about Hermione's history with Harry, so they weren't to know how she felt.
But it was hard. Very hard.
But it was a start.
Harry Potter was very much alive in James Black.
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The Cafeteria was a standard hospital affair. There were sandwiches and salads, soft drinks and chocolates. There was also hot food and coffee.
They approached an empty table and sat down, Hermione finding herself next to James, Peyton across from them both. Peyton would continue to give them both that unreadable expression when she thought neither was looking, but Hermione was attuned to it. It did not fail to make her blush, however.
She started unwrapping her egg salad sandwich when she noticed James take off his trucker's cap and place it on the table.
The first and obvious thing was his scar. It was still there. Still present. Not bright and obvious like it had been when Voldemort walked the earth, but still conspicuous and noticeable. It had faded considerably, but there was no hiding it, right there on his forehead.
His hair was sticking up in all different directions. It was not just Harry hair, that was hat hair. It was Harry Hat Hair. The sight made her smile, and she fought to not laugh. But she didn't win. She started to giggle and then before she knew it, she was outright laughing. She had almost forgotten how untameable his hair could be. Seeing him like that took her back to all the times she had seen him fighting to try and make something of it, but always failing miserably.
Just as her laugh was breaking stride, she saw James' face tighten. His green eyes, which had been full of mirth, darkened.
He slowly put down his club sandwich, and with deliberate and cold hands, he reached over to pick up his cap, placing it firmly back upon his head.
She looked over at Peyton, confused. The laughter started to die on her lips.
Peyton was looking at her with cold eyes of warning. Her fork was dangling just above her chicken Caesar Salad. There was absolute hostility staring back at her.
Hermione was confused. Things had been going well. She had just been laughing at memories of his hair when-
Oh. Oh no.
Realisation dawned upon Hermione. She felt like she had been hit full force by the whomping willow.
She saw James pick up his sandwich and take a small bite. Chewing as he looked down, looked anywhere but at Hermione.
Fuck.
She sighed. She was an idiot amongst idiots. She was an absolute troll. How stupidly and insensitive could she be. Of course, he thought that. Why wouldn't he.
She had just single handedly pissed off both her new boss and her old best friend with one simple laugh.
How could she fix this? She needed to fix this. What if he avoided her, what if the whole job was over before it began? She had waited all this time and finally found him alive and well, only to have blown it in the first ten minutes.
This couldn't be it. Could it? She couldn't have just ruined everything.
Idiot.
Before she knew what she was doing, she reached up and lifted the truckers cap off his head. Her hands gently brushed his forehead as she did so, touching the outside of his scar. She then put it down on the table, on the other side of her, where he could not reach it without reaching past her.
James looked at her, but he did not move. He did not protest, nor did he shy away. Those green orbs, gone cold, stared straight at her.
Affronted, insulted, confused, it all bubbled away within his eyes.
"Now, Now, James. Who taught you manners?" She admonished him, gently. "Honestly, wearing a hat at the table."
"I-" he began.
"You chose to wear a hat today. That means you have to deal with the hat hair, as hilarious as it is!" She started laughing again as she spoke, any hint of mock seriousness was gone as she reached up and ruffled his hair. "I mean you really should see it! Have you never heard of a comb?"
James's mouth opened and closed noiselessly.
He seemed like he was about to yell at her. To completely lose his temper when suddenly, Peyton burst out laughing.
"You should see your face, James!" Peyton was laughing and pointing at him.
James's stony facial expression broke, and a grin made its way slowly up his face. Then he too started laughing.
"She's right James. Your hair is absolutely everywhere! It is even worse than normal!"
The three of them laughed for a good while, the tension having been completely broken.
When the laughing settled down, Hermione turned to James.
"So, James, would I be right in assuming that you are a 'Regiment Man'?
James looked at her and cleared his throat.
"Me? Nah." James lied. Horribly.
Hermione snickered.
"Come on now James," she said, as a smile began to form on her face. "Has anyone ever told you that you should never, ever lie to your doctor? You can lie to the Police, to a Priest, and to yourself, but never to your doctor. And," she said, drawing it out as if it was the most obvious thing ever. "If you are going to lie to your doctor, you should at least try to be slightly convincing."
James pulled a face at her, before looking over at Peyton for support. Peyton's facial expression painted a very clear message of "Don't look at me."
"That's very bold to assume I'm lying, Doctor." James said, his eyes twinkling, after receiving no support from Peyton.
"Not at all," Hermione said, very matter-of-factly. "Shall we examine the facts? The evidence is stacked against you. I'm actually surprised you are denying it."
"Is it?" James shot back. "I don't see it that way. What facts?"
"Well, then. I'm glad you asked. Firstly, we should start with the fact that you are wearing a cap in the middle of a hospital." Hermione said, starting to tick the answers off on her fingers. "Secondly, you were visiting a physiotherapist during business hours. Thirdly, you were requesting a return to 'operational status'. Fourthly You wanted back on 'your team'. Fifthly, he called you an 'Operator' – so unless you are a surgeon and conducting an operation, of which no one calls a surgeon an 'Operator'. So it wouldn't matter. I can continue…?"
Hermione had a victorious smile on her face.
James was looking at her with the pained expression of someone slowly realising that they had said something extremely stupid.
"Please don't."
"No, no!" Peyton piped in, clearly enjoying the spectacle. "Please do."
"Gladly. For Sixth, You were overhead to have sustained 'Life Threatening injuries.' For seventh, you are heavily focussed on your major Olympic lifts."
"Everyone does Olympic lifting these days!" James jumped in lamely. His voice a defeated grumble.
"Now we could get started on your clothes if you like?"
"Alright, alright" James said with a defeated sigh. "You win. But what's wrong with my clothes?"
Hermione and Peyton shared a look of their own at that point and then burst out laughing.
"You couldn't dress any more like a member of the Regiment if you tried, James!" Peyton said, between laughs. "You are in your 'out of uniform-uniform'."
"How am I? What?" James was self-consciously holding his overshirt out to the side. "I like these clothes!"
"A trucker's cap and hiking boots? Where are we James? Texas?" Peyton was driven to further laughter by his confused expression.
Hermione herself was laughing along with Peyton, the mirth becoming so infectious that James couldn't help himself but join in. What other choice did he have?
As it died down, she noticed that her hand had come to rest lightly on James's bicep.
She flushed red, and quickly removed her hand.
Careful Granger.
She hadn't even noticed it had happened or when. She just knew that at some point during their mirth her hand had taken it upon itself to reach out and grab James upon his bicep.
And what a bicep. It was firm, muscular, solid.
She was afraid to admit to herself that she had not wanted to remove her hand.
Her stomach took a tumble.
"Stop. That's enough Granger. It's Harry!" The voice inside her head had a tone full of warning.
"It's James."Came another voice. At a near whisper.
She looked down at the remnants of her sandwich and tried to stop the colour from showing to her two lunch companions.
She gradually look up at James and saw that he was looking thoughtfully at her. A small, lopsided grin sat upon his handsome face.
She smiled back at him.
Then she felt Peyton's eyes burning into her. She turned and looked over to see Peyton looking at her again with that unreadable expression. What a frustrating expression it was. It gave nothing away, save that gears, and machines were working away behind her eyes.
"To answer your question. Yes, I am a 'Regiment man'. Lucky and I are teammates." James said.
"Lucky?" Hermione asked.
"My husband, Luke." Peyton said by way of explanation. "Luke is James's 2IC, his Second in Command."
"Ah. Why do they call him Lucky?" Hermione's curiosity bubbled to the surface again.
"Because he married Peyton, obviously." Said James with a mischievous grin.
"Tosser!" Peyton said, giving James that same look from before that said he was being a prat. "I'll let him tell you the story. God knows I wouldn't do it justice."
"Yeah, look, I was there and still, only he can explain that one."
"Ah. And is that how you two met? Through Luke?" Hermione didn't know why, but that small hint of jealousy had emerged. It was gnawing at her. Not enough to cause her to start jinxing birds to attack them, but enough that she could notice the discomfort of it.
"Oh no!" Peyton said. "No, Luke and I met through James. James and I have known each other for what, ten years now?"
"Yeah, it would be about ten years. Actually, now that you mention it, it would be pretty bloody close to bang on."
A thoughtful expression passed over Peyton's pretty features for a moment.
"Yeah, you're right. It would be close to. Where does the time go?"
"No idea." James shrugged. "But it goes."
Hermione wanted to pry. Her curiosity was begging at her to dig deeper. Learn more. There was so much more about their relationship that was relevant that she wanted to know. But she knew she would be pushing it.
It had been fortunate for her that James was so close to her boss. It was also fortunate that they all seemed to be getting along so well. She could see this would be her ticket to getting in. To earning his trust. To getting close enough to run some surveys and examinations to determine if his memory could be recovered.
And beyond all that, it could actually be enjoyable. Hermione was growing to like Peyton with every passing minute.
But there was a part of her, a small part, that gnawed at her. That jealousy, the way Hermione had looked at James, and he at her. It was all different. It seemed slightly different. It warranted some thought.
"How is work going, now that we are on the topic?" Peyton asked James, breaking Hermione's reverie.
Hermione saw James's face darken slightly.
"I'm not built for desk duty." James said. "It's driving me nuts. Seeing the Rupert's around all the time, being unable to be with the team. I can't stand it."
Peyton reached out and patted his arm.
"It's only temporary." She said placatingly, before her gaze steeled up. "And maybe you will think about this before you go and do something so reckless that you get shot! Repeatedly!"
Hermione had to agree with the sentiment.
"Seeing as maybe, you now have time to think about how I would deal with losing you. Or Luke. Or your team." Hermione could see that Peyton's calm had been disturbed and she was working herself up, now. "How would we deal with your loss because you decided to do something heroically stupid. How would I explain that to Lily? That her Godfather was dead because he decided to run across open ground in the middle of a firefight!"
Hermione felt for a moment that she had intruded on a deeply personal moment. But at the same time, she wanted to be here. Peyton was saying exactly what Hermione wanted to say but could not.
James, for his part, just looked her in the eye. "We had men in danger. What was I supposed to do? Leave them behind? Let them get tortured or killed?"
"I don't know what you were supposed to do James. Maybe think? Maybe use your training and tactical acumen to manoeuvre your team to get there?"
James grimaced at her.
"I see Lucky has been talking." Danger hung on his tone.
"I'm his wife and I am your best friend. You act like I gave him a choice."
James was silent for a moment. Hermione could see the anger building up behind his eyes, and the way he held his half-demolished sandwich with white knuckles.
"And You act like I had a choice. The helicopter was down, there were Talibs all over the crash site and attacking us. I had to get him out."
"And that was your only choice? Charging across open ground?"
"Well, I wasn't going to make anyone else do it! I'm e-" James stopped himself. He closed his mouth tightly.
Peyton's eyes had gone dangerous. They did not blink. They stared straight blue fire into James.
"I'd really like you to finish that sentence."
Hermione knew that James did not want to finish that sentence.
"Nevermind." He said dismissively.
"No. I mind. Just say it for fuck's sake."
"I'm expendable, alright? Lucky has you and Lily. The other boys all have partners. Mac has Mac. I don't have that. No Family. I'm the smallest loss."
Hermione had to stare at her coffee mug to stop the tears from leaving her eyes that had formed. No matter how long it had been, that fucking hurt to hear.
"Don't you dare!" Peyton was fighting to keep herself from shouting at him. "Don't you fucking dare! If you truly believe that, then you are only trying to convince yourself. After everything you have done, and everything WE have been through, you have a lot of fucking nerve to say that to me. You are not expendable. Not to me, not to Lucky, and not to Lily! So stow the self-pity bullshit, that hat doesn't fit. Also, have you forgotten that those men have entrusted their lives to you? Did you think about that? Did you think that I entrust my husband's life to you? That Lily entrusts her father's life to you?"
James physically deflated before her tirade.
When he spoke next, his voice was soft and full of remorse.
"I'm sorry. I didn't think about all that. I just thought that I had to do something to get to those men. I knew the boys would cover me as best they could." James ran a hand through his unkempt hat hair. "The last thing I want is you, or Luke, or anyone worrying about me, or wondering if I am capable of leading the team without getting killed doing something rash. I'll try and do better."
Peyton, who's anger had been bubbling over, sighed. It seemed like the weight lifted off her shoulder.
"No, you won't." She said with defeat in her tone. "I know you, James Black. You will always do what you can for other people. I love that about you, I do. But you can't go around and pretend like your actions don't have consequences for us. Because we do care about you James. We do love you. I know how hard it is for you to accept because of everything, but it's true. I can't lose you."
James reached out and patted her hand.
"I'm sorry." He said simply. "I promise you. I will try and look after myself better. You don't have to worry about me."
"Yes, I do. I always do. I'm your family. Lily and Luke are your family." Her own voice was soft. There was pain behind those words. A deep pain that Hermione could not place.
Hermione released a breath she didn't know she had been holding.
They both turned and looked at her. Clearly, they had forgotten she was there. They looked away awkwardly and James removed his hand from Peyton's.
James became heavily focussed on picking at the remnants of his sandwich, while Peyton studied her fork with great interest.
"Well James. It seems you were wrong, very wrong." Hermione said, trying to break some of the awkwardness.
They both looked at her.
"It looks to me like there is plenty of bite."
Peyton gave her a long look, before she smiled. It was a pleasant one, full of mirth.
James for his part just looked blankly at her. He clearly didn't understand.
"You'll have to watch this one, James." Peyton said, laughing at James's confusion. "She's a quick mind, good memory! Better than yours at least."
Hermione smiled at the compliment.
James just looked back at Peyton with raised eyebrows.
"Everyone's got a better memory than mine."
XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX
The conversation turned to more pleasant things and they spent the rest of lunch keeping it light. Peyton and James had asked her questions about her own life, her family, her upbringing.
She had made it a point to only lie about what she had to lie about. She went to a boarding school. Her friends were in London and the surrounding area.
James left about an hour later. Peyton had admonished him that he was going to be late getting back to work. He had shrugged and left. Giving Peyton another hug on his way out.
Surprisingly, James had also reached in and given Hermione a brief hug before he left.
She could still feel his strong arms around her, pulling her close, for an all-too-brief moment.
They were walking back towards Peyton's office. She was about to be shown her own office and was going to meet her team.
"I'm really sorry you had to see that. We normally don't discuss such things in public like that. That must have been very uncomfortable for you, so I'm sorry."
"Don't mention it." Hermione said. "Sometimes it all just comes out."
Peyton gave her a small appreciative smile.
"That boy can be very frustrating."
Hermione knew. Boy did she know.
"Oh, I think he seems okay." She half whispered.
Peyton's appreciative smile turned into a knowing one as they arrived at an empty office.
It had a nice view. It was facing a different section of the city to Peyton's but she still appreciated the view out over the historic city.
"Remember how I told you that you shouldn't piss off the nurses?" Peyton said, leaning against the door with her arms folded, watching Hermione as she inspected her new office.
Hermione nodded.
"I think you're going to struggle with that."
Hermione had no idea what she meant.
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