A few days after their trip to the park, Hermione found herself in a whirlwind of panic. Harry, who had been his usual bright and cheerful self, suddenly became quiet, his cheeks flushed with fever. His tiny hands, usually so eager to grab everything within reach, now felt hot to the touch. Hermione's heart raced as she watched him whimper and squirm, clearly uncomfortable.
It hadn't taken long for her to piece it together—the swings at the park. She had noticed Harry sucking on his hand after touching them, but she hadn't thought much of it at the time. Now, guilt gnawed at her as she imagined all the germs he might have picked up.
"I have to take him to St. Mungo's," Hermione said, her voice high-pitched with panic as she rushed into the living room where Augusta was sitting with Neville.
Augusta looked up, her face betraying a hint of concern despite her calm demeanor. "Go on, dear. I'll take care of Neville. I know how much this is stressing you, so focus on Harry and get him to St. Mungo's. I'll be right here if you need anything."
Hermione gave a quick, grateful nod, trying to calm the panic that was bubbling up inside her. "Thank you, Augusta. I— I'll be back as soon as I can."
As Hermione hurriedly gathered Harry, she could see the worry etched into Augusta's face. The older woman's gaze lingered on Harry with a mix of concern and maternal instinct, making Hermione feel slightly more reassured.
Hermione nodded, barely hearing her words as she quickly gathered Harry into her arms. He let out a weak wail, his little face scrunched up in discomfort. Neville, sensing the tension, began to fuss too, his eyes wide with fear.
"I'm so sorry, Neville," Hermione whispered, leaning down to kiss his forehead. She hated leaving him behind when he was scared, but she knew Harry needed her attention right now. "I'll be back soon, okay?"
Neville didn't seem reassured, and he reached out to her with tear-filled eyes. He wailed, "Nee!"
The sight broke Hermione's heart even more. She scrunched up her face, ready to cry too.
Just as she was about to Apparate away, Frank appeared in the doorway. His face, usually stoic, softened as he took in the scene—Hermione panicking, Harry wailing, Neville looking scared.
"I'll come with you," Frank said, his voice steady and reassuring.
"You don't have to," Hermione protested, though she couldn't hide the relief that washed over her. She was overwhelmed, and the thought of having to handle this alone terrified her. It was true she had worked at St Mungo's in her time, but she hadn't ever handled sick children—and especially not ones she loved more than the world.
"I want to," Frank replied firmly. "Let's go."
They apparated to St. Mungo's together, Hermione clutching Harry tightly as they appeared in the bustling hospital lobby. The noise and chaos only added to her anxiety, and she was spiraling as they approached the reception desk.
"He's burning up," Hermione stammered frantically to the Mediwitch at the desk. "He—he was fine yesterday, but today he's—"
"Breathe, Hermione," Frank said gently, placing a steadying hand on her shoulder. His calmness in the face of her panic was grounding, and she took a shaky breath, nodding as she handed Harry over to the Mediwitch for examination.
Harry wailed and tried to cling to her, but Hermione was forced to watch him be taken away.
They were directed to a small waiting room, and Hermione paced back and forth, her hands trembling. The hard, plastic chairs lined against the walls seemed to mock her anxiety, their impersonal design a stark contrast to the warmth she so desperately needed.
Hermione's hands trembled as she clutched her wand, the familiar weight of it offering little solace. Each step she took echoed in the empty room, amplifying her sense of urgency. Her mind raced with worst-case scenarios, each more dire than the last. Harry's fevered cries replayed in her head, a relentless loop that left her feeling helpless and desperate.
Frank sat nearby, his eyes following her movements with a mixture of concern and determination.
"I didn't expect you to come," Hermione whispered, her voice trembling.
Frank's gaze softened, and he shook his head slightly. "I could see how upset you were. I thought you might need someone here."
Her eyes filled with tears, and she nodded gratefully. "Thank you. I don't think I could handle this alone."
"I've never handled a sick baby before," Hermione blurted out, her voice thick with fear and uncertainty. "I've never handled babies before… not like this. I—what if I do something wrong?"
Frank stood up and walked over to her, his presence strong and reassuring. "You're doing the best you can, Hermione. You're here, and that's what matters."
Hermione stopped pacing, finally looking up at him with tear-filled eyes. "Thank you for coming with me," she whispered, repeating her earlier sentiments. "I—I don't think I could've done this alone."
Frank gave her a small, reassuring smile. "You're not alone. We'll get through this."
"You can come inside now," the Mediwitch called out, opening the door.
Hermione hurried inside. She glanced at Harry, who lay on the examination table, looking smaller and more fragile than ever. His face was flushed with fever, and his little body shivered despite the blanket wrapped around him. The sight of him so unwell only heightened her anxiety. She wanted to hold him close, to make him feel better, but she was trapped in this limbo of waiting.
The door creaked open again, and another Mediwitch stepped in, her face a mask of practiced calm. Hermione's heart leaped with hope, only to sink as she informed her that the Healer would be with them shortly. It was like a cruel joke, the way time seemed to stretch endlessly, each second dragging out the worry and fear Hermione was feeling.
Her mind flitted back to moments with Harry and Neville at the park, to the way their laughter had filled the air with joy. It felt like a lifetime ago, a distant memory now overshadowed by the grim reality of the hospital. She could barely think straight, her emotions swinging wildly between hope and despair.
Hermione sank into a chair, her face buried in her hands. The cold, hard reality was overwhelming. She tried to take deep breaths, to calm herself for Harry's sake, but every time she looked at him, her resolve shattered.
A few tense minutes later, the Healer arrived and checked on Harry.
"He's going to be just fine," he said, and Hermione let out a shaky breath she hadn't realized she was holding. "He's got a minor infection, but we've given him the medicine he needs. Keep an eye on his temperature, and he should be back to normal in a couple of days."
As Hermione held Harry close, still trying to calm her racing heart, the Mediwitch, who had been helping the Healer, turned to her and Frank with a warm, professional smile. "You both did well bringing him in so quickly. It's always better to be safe than sorry with little ones. You two make a good team."
Hermione blinked, her mind still foggy with worry. She barely registered the words until the Mediwitch continued, her tone light. "Just make sure to keep an eye on him tonight. It's good he has both of you to take care of him."
It took a moment for the implication to sink in. Hermione's eyes widened, and she felt her cheeks flush with heat. Frank, standing beside her, shifted uncomfortably, his own face turning a shade redder in the dim light of the room.
"Oh, um…" Hermione stammered, glancing up at Frank, who was now awkwardly scratching the back of his neck, avoiding her gaze.
The Mediwitch, oblivious to their discomfort, continued cheerfully, "And make sure to get some rest yourselves. I know it's tough with little ones, but you'll both need your energy too. Take care of each other."
Hermione's mouth opened and closed as she searched for the right words to correct the misunderstanding, but nothing came out. She cast a helpless glance at Frank, who seemed just as lost for words.
"Er—right, thank you," Frank finally managed, his voice slightly strained as he glanced anywhere but at Hermione. He gave a curt nod, his usual composure slipping as the awkwardness settled between them.
Hermione could feel her heart thudding in her chest, but she forced herself to smile politely at the Mediwitch. "Yes, thank you for everything," she mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper.
As they left the examination room, the silence between them was thick with unspoken thoughts. They walked side by side down the corridor, Harry's soft breaths the only sound breaking the tension. Every time their shoulders brushed, Hermione's heart skipped a beat, and she cursed herself for being so hyper-aware of his presence.
When they finally reached the waiting area, Hermione let out a sigh of relief as she spotted the exit sign. The cool air from outside would be a welcome distraction from the heat rising in her cheeks.
But before they could escape the hospital, Frank cleared his throat, his voice hesitant. "About what she said…"
Hermione quickly cut him off, her words rushed and flustered. "It's fine, really. I mean, it's not like we needed to explain anything, right?"
Frank nodded quickly, his own face still slightly flushed. "Right. No need to clarify anything."
They both fell silent again, the tension still lingering as they made their way out of St. Mungo's. But as they stepped into the cool night air, Hermione couldn't help but steal a glance at Frank. His face was still a little pink, and there was something oddly comforting about the fact that he seemed just as flustered as she was.
As they prepared to Apparate back home, Hermione shifted Harry in her arms, trying to focus on the warmth of the baby against her chest rather than the confusing swirl of emotions in her mind.
For a brief moment, their eyes met, and in that shared glance, there was an unspoken agreement to let the awkwardness pass, to not dwell on what had just happened. They had more important things to worry about—like getting Harry home safe and sound.
Frank stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. "Hermione… I need to apologize. For how I acted with Kingsley, and for everything since. I've been distant, and I know it's been unfair to you."
Hermione's eyes, red-rimmed from the stress, met his. "Frank, I really don't have time for apologies right now. Harry's sick, and we need to focus on that."
Frank looked down, nodding solemnly. "You're right. I've been an ass. I've let my grief and anger cloud my judgment, and every time I try to be decent, it feels like things just get worse. I'm sorry. I don't know how to fix things, but I want to try."
Hermione listened to him, her heart heavy but her resolve firm. "I appreciate you trying, but right now, it's not about me. It's about Harry. We need to get him better and focus on the boys."
Frank swallowed hard, acknowledging her words. "I understand. I just wanted you to know that I'm aware of how I've been. And I'm sorry for everything."
Hermione's gaze softened slightly, but she didn't say anything further. She turned back to focus on Harry, her mind swirling with worry. Frank's apology, though heartfelt, didn't erase the pain or the complicated emotions she was feeling. She was grateful for his support, but it was clear that their issues would need to wait until they could be addressed properly, in a more settled moment.
They Apparated back home together, and after settling the now-sleeping Harry into his crib, Hermione and Frank found themselves sitting on the couch in the living room. The house was quiet, with only the crackling of the fireplace breaking the silence.
Frank disappeared briefly, returning with a bottle of firewhiskey and two glasses. He poured them both a generous amount, and Hermione accepted her glass gratefully, the warmth of the drink easing the tension that had been building in her chest all day.
Frank took a deep breath, his gaze earnest as he looked at Hermione. "Hermione, can you... can you accept my apology? I really do mean it, and I want to make things right."
Hermione shook her head slowly, her expression resolute. "No, Frank. We're not there yet. As much as I appreciate you apologizing, it doesn't erase everything that's happened. It doesn't make things better for me. Also, you need to apologize to Kingsley. He's the one you humiliated and kicked out of the house."
Frank's shoulders slumped slightly, a shadow of regret crossing his face. "You're right. I'll do that. I just hope he can forgive me. We weren't exactly friends at Hogwarts…"
Hermione gave a small, understanding nod. "I hope so too. But for now, let's just focus on taking care of Harry and Neville."
Frank nodded in agreement, a faint smile of appreciation tugging at his lips. "To surviving our first sick baby," he said, raising his glass with a wry smile.
Our baby… The Mediwitch's words came back to her just then. 'You two make a good team.'
Hermione clinked her glass against his, a small, tired smile appearing on her face. "And to not losing our minds in the process."
They both took a sip, the shared moment of camaraderie providing a brief respite from the whirlwind of emotions and challenges they faced.