Adverse Reactions

Hermione awoke to find herself curled up in soft white cotton sheets, lying in the recovery room at St. Mungo’s Hospital and aching as if someone had run her over with a large cement truck. Her head throbbed angrily and there was a dull pulsing pain in her right side that simply would not subside. Hermione sat up rather quickly and immediately shut her eyes and lay back down as nausea flooded her body and make her stomach lurch. Why did she have morning sickness again?

When Hermione opened her eyes again she finally acknowledged her surroundings and appreciated the fact that she was in a bed. Everything around her made her feel sick to her stomach, like she was opening an old wound and covering it with alcohol. The window beside Hermione told her that it was somewhat late in the evening, as the sun was more toward the opposite side of the hospital. Either that or she was in a west facing room. The clock on her bed side table confirmed her belief. It was 6:12 p.m.

A high pitched squealed echoed through her head and before she could turn around, she was pulled into the sturdy embrace of the young red haired woman she had come to know and love.

“Ginny, I can’t breathe!”

Hermione gasped as she felt the life being squeezed out of her and not aiding in calming her massive headache. Ginny loosened her grip, but didn’t let go, murmuring and crying about how she hadn’t woken up in days and how worried they had been about her. Hermione smiled at knowing how much her sister-in-law really cared about her. Hermione laughed when she thought about where Harry was and what he must be thinking right now. And even more, who was the man that had killed her rapist and saved her life?

The aching in her side had not subsided and Hermione gripped her stomach in another fit of nausea. That’s the first time she noticed the difference. Her swollen stomach was no longer there and she was now as skinny as she was before she became pregnant.

Pushing Ginny away rather violently, Hermione tore the sheets from her legs and pulled her hospital robes up to her breasts exposing her midsection. There where her pregnant stomach used to be was now a long, almost healed, scar that stretched across from her right side to her stomach.

The blood curdling scream that emitted from Hermione awoke every nurse in the building to her presence. Ginny jumped up, startled, and tried much to her dismay to calm Hermione down, however, Hermione let out another heart wrenching scream and grasped at her midsection, vomiting air into her sheets. Six Healers dashed into the room followed by Molly, Harry, and the women who ran to Hermione’s bedside in an attempt to quiet her. Furious and confused, she turned and seized the first Healer, a young black man, and shook him violently.

“MY BABY! WHAT HAPPENED TO MY BABY! WHERE HAVE THEY TAKEN HER?”

The Healer quivered in an emotion that closely resembled fear and shame and tried to get away from the obviously hysterical woman, but as he although he tried he could not escape her grasp.

“HERMIONE! HERMIONE LET HIM GO!”

The mass of people had surrounded Hermione as she began to slap at the Healer with all her strength, hitting him smartly across the face and bloodying his nose so that there was an audible crack that broke through the clump of Witches and Wizards. Throwing the Healer away from Hermione’s deathly grasp, Harry jumped into the bed and pulled her close, holding her small frame against his body and pinning her arms so she could not harm him, herself or anyone around her.

Hermione’s body shuddered in Harry’s grasp and she sobbed, shaking and quivering. Harry looked up at Ginny with pleading eyes, trying to ask for assistance, but Ginny, still startled from her sister-in-law’s outburst remained silent and ignored Harry. After a time, Hermione looked up from Harry’s chest, gazing into his eyes with tears in her brown orbs and cried.

“What did they do to me?”

But it was Molly that stepped forward and sat near Hermione to answer her. The words Molly spoke were soft and very unlike the woman who Hermione had come to know. Her breath was steady with no hint of fury, sorrow or stutter. He had only heard Molly talk in a tone like this once in her life. At Fred’s funeral.

“When you went to Ron’s grave, one of the rebels that were at the ministry raped you. Sometime during that encounter several of your ribs were broken and one of them jutted down and ruptured your appendix. A man brought you in, the same man I assume that killed your rapist and they were able to surgically remove your appendix and fix your ribs. They found the Death Eater’s dead body in the cemetery. Sadly, because of the stress and potions they had to put you on, your body rejected the baby and they had to remove it as well. Mione. I’m so sorry.”

No one moved. There was a silence that was as still and as quiet as death and it moved through the soul of every man and woman in the room. Hermione was silent, a look in her eyes as though someone had just ripped her heart from her body. No one breathed. Everything in Hermione’s heart was cold and now she knew that no Dementor in the world could cause her the pain she was feeling now. She only had one thing to say.

“Was it a girl or a boy?”

The question was almost enough to collapse the room with the tension that had built up within the Weasley family. Hermione gazed at the faces of everyone in the room, bringing her eyes to rest on Harry’s face. His breathing had stopped and she could see the tears welled up behind his olive eyes. She could sense the sorrow he held in his throat and when he finally spoke, his voice cracked slightly.

“It was a boy.”

And with that Hermione leaned into his chest and stared. For the first time since Ron’s death she realized what had happened. Her husband was dead. Her son was dead. She was now alone, left to raise three children on her own. And suddenly, the tears came. Wrapped in Harry’s strong arms Hermione remembered all the times the three of them had sat together and the tears finally came.

*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

Harry awoke the day of the trial frustrated, tired and broken hearted. Beside him Hermione had endured a restless night filled with nightmares and angry cries of pain and suffering. Ginny had slept in the room with Lily so that Harry could watch over Hermione in her time of need. She was sweaty and covered in the bed sheets, shivering and crying in her sleep. Her hair was uncombed and she wore Ron’s old T-shirt. The smell of his best friend on her body made Harry even angrier with himself.

Harry arose from the bed dressed in his pajamas and crossed to the dresser where he kept his glasses. Glancing up at his distressed hair, Harry remembered waking up in this same room with Ron years ago. That young boy had been so happy to be away from everything. Now the only thing staring back at him was a 37 year old man who had watched more death than any person ever should. And now he was watching the girl he loved like a sister, suffer and kill herself from the inside and he could do nothing about it.

Dressing himself in his most dignified Auror robes he had, Harry lazily walked down to the kitchen to the smell of rich pancakes and toast. Ginny and the children were already up and sitting around the table. Lily crawled down from her chair and ran to her father as he entered the room.

“Daddy, can I come to the Ministry too?”

The young child’s voice was soft with curiosity and youth. Harry looked down into the little green eyes and smiled softly. She was her mother. Strangely, she reminded him of his mother as well.

“No Lily. You need to stay here with Mommy and help Gram with the housework. Daddy will be home for dinner.”

The little red head let out a fiery huff and whined again.

“But Hugo and Fred get to go and I’m older than them. So I should get to go too!”

Harry only laughed to himself. Her reasoning was sensible, however, he had to remain the father and not give in to her girlish demands.

“Yes, but they are going because Aunt Mione is going and they have to go with her.”

“But Daddy…”

“No ‘But Daddies’ Lily Luna Potter. Now eat your breakfast.”

Harry’s determined attitude had gotten the message across to his only daughter, but she, like her mother, didn’t like to take no for an answer. The rest of the children were much more patient than Lily. Hugo looked like Hermione with brown hair and brown eyes, but still had the traditional Weasley freckles that all the children had. Well, Fleur’s children didn’t because they were part Veela. Fred looked just like a miniature Ron with brown eyes. He was going to be the death or salvation for Hermione.

The soft sound of footsteps approached from behind Harry and Hermione stepped gently into the morning light of the kitchen. She still looked horrible. Her face was still odd shades of purple, blue and yellow, but the cuts had healed. She walked with a slight limp and her eyes were sunken from both crying and lack of sleep.

“Cedric Biron Weasley.”

Hermione’s voice was very soft as she spoke the name to the group matter-of-factly.

“What are you talking about Hermione?”

Molly was very quiet with her question. Hermione looked up at her and said again.

“Cedric Biron Weasley. That is what I want his name to be.”

She paused and gazed around at them with sincerity in her eyes.

“I wanted him to have a name, because he was supposed to be a person. He was supposed to live. And even though he didn’t, I want him to have this name.”

Ginny gazed at her questioningly.

“Where did Biron come from?”

“It’s the name of a character in Shakespeare’s ‘Loves Labours Lost.’ It’s one of my favorite comedies. And Cedric is for…”

“Cedric Diggory.”

Harry finished.

“A boy whose life was ended before his time. Just like Ron and your son.”

Hermione just nodded, tears welling up in her eyes again.

“It’s what Ron would have wanted.”