At the Shore of The Heart

The title of this story is taken from the poem 'If you forget me' by Pablo Neruda. It can be read in its beautiful entirety here: http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/if-you-forget-me/

Enjoy!


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Hermione Granger walked into her ward at St. Mungo’s and headed for the nurses station. She straightened her uniform and tightened the grips in her hair to ensure no stray tendrils would distract her. She looked at the notice board beside the desk, and scanned the roster for the night shift. Checking her watch, she tutted softly and then turned as she heard the familiar click of heels on the pristine laminate flooring.

A young medi-witch approached her, her eyes wide and her breath coming in short bursts.

‘I am so sorry, Madame Granger,’ she panted.

‘Megan, please could you explain to me why you continue to be late? This is the third shift I am aware of.’ Hermione looked at the witch calmly.

‘I had problems leaving the house. My son Thomas just won’t settle with his Dad. He screams the place down as soon as he knows I’m leaving.’ Megan’s voice trembled slightly.
Hermione looked at her closely. Megan had dark circles beneath her eyes, and strands of long blonde hair were escaping from beneath her hat.

‘Take five minutes, okay? Get a cup of tea, and fix your hair properly. We’re fairly quiet at the moment,’ Hermione smiled at her warmly and was rewarded with a grateful ‘Thank you’ as Megan headed towards the staff room.

Hermione sighed. Megan was a kind and helpful medi-witch, but she had gone as far up the ladder of her profession as she would ever go. Hermione knew the witch had no ambition to progress within her field, but that didn’t stop her being very fond of her. Hermione could rely on Megan to undertake the basic care of her patients with a great deal of respect and efficiency.

Hermione was very proud of her acute ward, although there were very few success stories. A patient had to be very sick to be admitted in the first instance. But there was a sense of satisfaction in knowing a person had been given the very best care in their last hours of life. Ever since the war, Hermione had been determined to allow people to die with as much dignity as possible. She felt that, in some way, it compensated for the tragic way she had lost many of her friends.

Hermione lifted her clipboard and flicked through the list. At the present time, she had three patients. Two were elderly and were suffering from degenerative brain diseases, which neither muggle medicine nor magic could cure. The third was a more distressing case, a twenty-five year old wizard who had developed a rare form of haemophilia, which was causing his white blood cells to attack themselves. Not even a Blood Replenishing Potion could reverse the effects. The wizards’ parents were keeping a constant vigil, and this was where Hermione’s skills really came into play, in supporting those left behind. By drawing on her own experiences, she brought whatever comfort she could to those close to her patients, often staying with them after their relative had passed to listen, empathise and provide endless cups of tea.

Megan arrived back just as a red memo flew down the hallway and landed in front of Hermione.

‘Oh, dear,’ Hermione murmured as she lifted it, recognising the notification of a new arrival to the ward. She opened the memo and shook her head sadly.

‘Which room is free?’ Megan asked quietly.

‘Room four, Megan, if you don’t mind. It has a nice view from the window.’

Hermione folded the memo and pulled out her wand. She flicked it quickly and a new file appeared, ready to be updated with the new patients’ details. Hermione looked up just as Healer Penrose arrived.

‘Hermione,’ he looked at her with his piercing blue eyes, his dark hair swept back from his forehead slightly and a grim smile on his lips.

‘Edward,’ Hermione smiled softly up at him, ‘update me, will you?’

‘Of course. It’s a sad case. She’s only thirty, but she’s in the advanced stages of cancer,’ he murmured.
‘Cancer? Why hasn’t she been treated?’ Hermione was confused. Magical medicines had been able to cure cancer for years.

‘She a muggle, Hermione. It’s complicated. You should speak to her husband.. He’s distraught, Hermione. I couldn’t get him to open up at all,’ he said.

Hermione nodded her understanding. Edward was a brilliant Healer, but his bedside manner was often misinterpreted. After a year of working together, he had agreed to leave the delicate discussion to Hermione.

‘Which room?’ He asked her.

‘Four. I’ll be in shortly,’ she replied.

Healer Penrose turned and walked back down the hallway. Hermione lifted her quill and clipboard, attached a piece of parchment and walked towards room four. She paused and took a breath, then knocked softly and opened the door.

Healer Penrose turned to her, his face set.

‘Madame Granger,’ he said quietly, ‘this is Lucy, our new patient.’
Lying on the bed in the centre of the room was the most beautiful woman Hermione had ever seen. Her pale face was surrounded by soft, straw-coloured hair and her eyes were half-open as she looked up at her, her lips upturned in a small smile. Hermione smiled warmly at her.

‘Hello, Lucy. How are you feeling?’ Hermione asked her.

‘Tired. And a little confused. Where is Severus?’ she asked her.

Hermione’s eyes widened and she looked up at Edward, who nodded, his mouth set in a thin line.

‘Her husband,’ he murmured.

‘Where is he?’ Hermione tried to keep her voice neutral, but her brain was working quickly, throwing up a million questions and suddenly making this situation more complicated, and for Hermione, more personal.

The door of the room opened, and Hermione gazed onto the pale, drawn face of her former teacher. He didn’t look at her, or at Edward. His eyes were fixed on the woman in the bed, and he walked over to her bedside, sat down slowly and took her hand in his.

‘Severus,’ Lucy murmured, smiling at him.

‘I’m here, my love,’ he replied in a whisper.

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I'm back.... this is going to be a long haul so I hope you're comfortable. Let me know your thoughts, I'm sure you will anyway!