Recollection of a Weasley

The world of
Harry Potter doesn't belong to me, though I wish it did, it belongs
to Warner Bros., Scholastic Books, Bloomsbury Books, and whoever else
. Certain characters do belong to me, and I'll always tag those who
do. All hail the brilliant mind who came up with this stuff!!! If you
hadn't heard, Order of the Phoenix comes out June 21st in the
states.

Chapter 1: Recollection of a Weasley

Nurse Dina
Oak pushed open the doors of the Recovery Room to start her rounds.
The smell of a hospital always made her stomach churn, but after a
minute in the doors, she adjusted to it. A cacophony of machines
beeped. Signing in at the nurses station, she scanned the Recovery
Room on the fifteenth floor of St. Martian's Hospital in London. Ten
spots in the room, four empty.

Beds A:1 and A:2 empty.

Bed
A:3 'Owen McClennen, just out of surgery from kidney transplant.' She
summarized from the clipboard that laid on the bed. McClennen was to
be under observation for twelve hours until the doctor discharged
him.

Nurse Oak floated around the bed to check the
machines.

Pulse: 85.

Blood Pressure: 132/118.

Owen
McClennen looked to be in his mid-thirties, black hair that billowed
across the standard issue pillow. Slight bristles on his cheek, a
full nose, and lips that were more pink then red all set on pale
skin. He was sedated not sleeping. Pumped so full of various drugs
that this early in the game, Owen McClennen would need constant
observation.

Nurse Oak took a step back and recorded his
vitals.

Moving on to the next bed.

Bed A:4, she pulled
back the curtain and picked up the clipboard that was like a
discarded book after the reader had drifted off to sleep. 'Mary
Dawson, fractured right leg in three parts, post internal bleeding,
under observation. Injury due to abuse.'

Nurse Oak sighed,
Mary Dawson looked like an abused wife or girlfriend. 'Such a sad
story.' Mary Dawson looked so tiny in the bed, her small frame
filling such a small part of the bed, her lifted leg filling just a
little more of the bed. Short blonde hair just lightly touched the
bed. Her features scrunched up as if some monster chased her dreams.
Her fists clutched the bed sheet, knuckles nearly white.

Pulse:
65

Blood Pressure: 91/69.

Recording the numbers, her
breath slightly catching in her throat. There was a significant
change in BP from the last check and Nurse Oak made a note to check
on it again in a bit.

Bed A: 5 'Name Unknown: John Doe, trauma
to the head, post internal bleeding, mild abrasions to the face and
chest, right arm lacerated, under close observation: coma .' Nurse
Oak scanned the clipboard. Little information was filled out, besides
what the doctors knew. He was admitted sixteen hours ago, hit and run
victim. No identification was found on him.

John Doe had not
opened his eyes yet. One could question if anybody was home inside.
John Doe breathed on his own, although he had not woken, as if he was
in a long sleep. He had not responded to stimuli. His case and those
like it were one of the hardest to handle, just like the children:
hit and run victims, and until he woke up, no one would know who he
is.

Nurse Oak stepped around to study the young man who was
nameless. His head was tilted toward were she stood. His fiery red
hair was in chaos crowned by bandages that circumnavigated his head.
Soft freckles specked the lightly tinted skin, mixed with small
bandaged cuts: white patches in a field of flowers. Right arm in
cast, in a sling attached to his chest. Two small bandages peeked out
from under his gown. She could see the soft rises of his chest to
know that he was breathing, that the machines weren't lying.

Pulse:
76

Blood Pressure: 112/100.

A hand grasped her wrist
while she recorded the data, her breath caught in her throat in a
silent gasp. The fingers were long and pale, grasping tightly to her.
She silently moved the clipboard down and saw that he had finally
awakened.

A slight look of shock scrunched his features. His
mouth was open in a slight 'o.' He blinked rapidly to adjust to the
light. A slight grumbling sound seemed to echo in the tiny space as
the man struggled to find his voice.

Nurse Oak sharply inhaled
at the noise.

"Where am I?" He struggled to speak,
the syllables low and deep.

Nurse Oak quickly regained her
composure, "You are in the Recovery Room of St. Martian's
Hospital. You've been unconscious for the past sixteen hours."

She
watched as he slowly gained more focus on her. Next, his eyes darted
quickly around to the rest of the room, only to try and focus back on
her.

"Now, who am I?" He said, gaining his
voice.

Nurse Oak could only breathe as the implications of
this hit her.

"Doctor!"

Please enjoy this, it was one of the
first HP fics that I ever posted.

I have many chapters written, look for
the next one to be posted within a week or less.