“Hannah!” I shouted down the surgically clean hallway. “Mrs. Longbottom wants a few more pillows! Do you think you could get a few for me?”
Seconds later, I heard shoes slapping on the tiled floor as a witch my own age came jogging down the hallway with a pillow in her hand. “This is the last clean one, Hermione,” she said apologetically, rolling her eyes. “The beds have become uncomfortable all of a sudden.”
“It’s all right,” I said, taking the pillow from her. “I doubt she’ll know the difference.”
I walked toward the woman with grey-streaked hair. “Alice,” I said softly. The woman covered her ears, and I lowered my tone. “Alice, Hannah’s brought you a pillow. Here you go.”
The woman looked at me suspiciously for a moment and wrenched the pillow from my grasp. She clutched it tight and sauntered back to her bed, where she popped a piece of Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum into her mouth. Her hair was snowy white, and her eyes seemed to have become hollow with the years in the Psychiatric Ward at St. Mungo’s. Her husband, Frank, was no less stable. He sat quietly in the corner, hands folded in his lap, staring at the floor.
“Frank,” I said, and Mrs. Longbottom covered her ears again. “I’m sorry, Alice,” I whispered. “Frank, do you need anything?”
The man did not move.
A familiar boy came into the room, holding his hat. As always, his look was very sullen as he peered over at me. “Hello, Hermione,” he said, looking away.
My heart melted at the sight of him. “Hello, Neville,” I said. “How have you been?”
“I’ve been getting on all right,” he said, turning away. “And yourself?”
“I’m fine.”
Alice Longbottom waddled over to her son and presented him with her latest collection of bubble gum wrappers. Neville looked down at them, his face reddening. “Thanks, Mum,” he mumbled, as the woman shuffled away. Neville sat down next to his father and began to talk to him.
Hannah and I backed silently out of the room. Once out of earshot, we began to talk normally again.
“It’s funny,” Hannah mused. “They’ve been here since You-Know-Who was in power last time.”
“Yes,” I said. “They’ve seen it all. Poor Neville.”
“Frank hasn’t said anything for months now,” Hannah reflected. “I though he had been getting better.” Her blue eyes shone out at me.
“You don’t ever recover from the Cruciatus Curse,” I informed her. I shuddered at the remembrance of the one time it had been used on me. “Not ever. It’s a wonder that they’re not already dead.”
Hannah’s delicate demeanor was always touched by such statements, and tears filled her eyes. “Alice hates loud noises now, too,” she sniffed, wiping them away. “What does that mean?”
“She’s heard others tortured too,” I said, my own eyes beginning to burn. I hated the Spell Damage Ward. It made me remember too many things.
We left the fourth floor and climbed up to the fifth, where the cafeteria was. Hannah and I had worked a long morning with the Longbottoms, and we both felt that we deserved a nice, long afternoon break. We passed several patients we knew and loved, including a very confused Gilderoy Lockhart, who waved vaguely at us as we passed.
“You know,” I said to Hannah as he flashed a brilliant smile at me, “he taught Defense Against the Dark Arts in my second year.”
“Really, Hermione?” she whispered to me. “I was there, you know. Remember?”
“Oh, yes,” I said vaguely, remembering that we had indeed gone to the same school. I barely knew her there, but since attending the Honorary Healing Program together, we had become best of friends. “I had forgotten.” That was one of the reasons I loved her. Most girls would be offended that I had forgotten such vital information, but Hannah made jokes out of my short-term memory, as we called it.
We passed the room where Mr. Weasley had lain in my fifth year. I remembered it so well. That was the day when Harry’s deep depression began, even before Sirius died. I hadn’t been there, but I had heard the tale recounted so many times that I felt as if I remembered. Now that I worked here, I could picture it.
It was amazing to me how much each of us had grown up over the years. Harry and Ron were still fighting, and Ron still maintained his job at the Ministry. I smiled at the thought of them. They had been my friends from the day I entered Hogwarts.
“Hermione!” I heard shouted behind me. “It’s so good to see you.”
I turned around found myself face to face with Harry. I smiled and squeezed him with all the might of a twenty-two year old girl. He embraced me like the old friend that I was.
“Harry!” I said softly. “What are you doing here?”
I looked into his eyes. He was so good. A dear friend of mine, to be sure. He was taller than he had been at graduation, but his bright green eyes were as beautiful as ever.
“I came to see how you’re getting on, Healer Hermione,” he said, walking beside me. I punched him in the arm.
“This is Hannah, Harry,” I said introducing her. “Hannah Abbott. From school, you remember her?”
“I do,” he said. “It’s good to see you again.”
Hannah nodded and blushed. I knew that she had liked Harry in school. She was happy with her boyfriend, just as Harry was happy with Ginny as his new wife. Old crushes rarely fade, however, so awkwardness was understandable.
“I’ll meet you at lunch, Hannah,” I said, parting off with Harry.
“Why are you really here?” I asked him as we walked into the visitor’s lounge. “You’ve never come to visit me here before.”
“It’s about tonight,” he said, sitting down across the table from me. Even the lounge was surgically clean, and Harry looked rather uncomfortable. I smiled at him. Encouraged, he went on. “We’re attempting an attack on Voldemort’s headquarters tonight. We may not make it out alive.”
Tears welled up in my eyes. My dreams were haunted by such pictures of death and destruction. I knew that eventually someone would die, and many had already. Never before had there been such a reckless attack attempted, and I feared that maybe these casualties would hit closer to home.
“I’m going with you,” I said defiantly. “I’m going to fight the battle too.”
“You have to work tonight, don’t you?”
“There won’t be a place to work if he wins!” I shouted, startling half the room. I lowered my tone. “I’ve got to go with you!”
“You can’t, Hermione,” he said, reaching out and putting his hand on my shoulder. “It’s dangerous, and I don’t want you in the middle of that. We have to go. I would rather die than let him win.”
It was in that moment that I was a remnant of the old fire that filled his eyes when he would speak of Voldemort. In the last years, it had been extinguished by grief, but when it still shone it was terrifying. Eventually, I gave in.
“You have to go,” I repeated. “I know you do. Just promise me this.”
“I don’t know about that, but I’ll try,” he said. “What is it?”
“Don’t let him die.”
Over the years, I was quite positive that Harry had seen my interest in Ron. He knew that I wasn’t ready to let him get in the way of my career, but I loved all the same. Harry’s eyes sparkled one more time.
“I won’t,” he said, laying his hand on mine. “I’ll promise you that. I won’t let him die.”
We got up and left the hospital. We were standing outside the glass panel in front of the ugly mannequin when I hugged him goodbye. “Bye, Harry,” I said, tears in my eyes. “Be careful.”
He smiled and squeezed me. “I will. Don’t worry about me.”
Yeah, right. Don’t worry about him! Of course I would worry about him! He and Ron were going out to fight against Lord Voldemort “ the most fearsome wizard of our time, and I was supposed to remain calm? So sorry, Harry, but I’ll be up all night in a cold sweat.
He Disapparated.
I stood out there for a moment, staring out at the street. There were many cars zooming past on the wet road and the heavens opened up. I looked at them. There were Muggles in those cars who had no idea what was going on. In my opinion, ignorance was bliss. They were ignorant of the danger that awaited them tonight, and I prayed that Harry and Ron would take care of themselves. Tears flowed freely down my face as I stared at the skyline.
“Don’t let him die, Harry,” I murmured, turning toward the ugly mannequin in the shop window. “Don’t let him die.”