Shadow Walks |h.p/h.g|

ch. 21

Harry shifted twitchily, as he sat, stiff and uncomfortable, in a molded, hard plastic chair in a sub-waiting room at St. Mungo's. Someone obviously hasn't renewed these Cushioning Charms in quite awhile, he thought grouchily. He heard Ron sigh slightly across from him, but his eyes remained on the place where the corridor bent at ninety degrees and passed out of sight. Distantly, he could hear the noise and bustle of the larger waiting room and mediwitches' station, and was grateful to have been removed from it. Sometimes, rank did have its privileges.

He wiggled again, trying to restore sensation to his numb posterior.

"She's going to be fine, mate," Ron said, and Harry looked over at his ginger-haired best friend for the first time since they'd arrived. "It's all precautionary anyway."

"What if something is wrong?" Harry fretted. "They don't even have anything to go by, nothing to compare with. This kind of thing has never happened before."

"That's why Luna and Calpurnia were brought in," Ron reiterated almost patiently, clearly unused to being the voice of reason. "Their department head said there were no two more qualified to consult about Multiverse problems. And you got her the best Healers in St. Mungo's. They'll check her out, release her, and we'll all be on our way."

Harry sprawled both legs out in front of him, then drew his feet back in one at a time. The worried creases had not been smoothed from his brow, but presently, he spoke in a off-hand tone of voice that did not fool Ron a particle.

"So... you and Hermione have everything worked out?"

Now it was Ron's turn to wriggle uncomfortably in the unyielding chair.

"I - I think so. We've not had much chance to talk, but she - she didn't seem very interested in holding a grudge." He shook his head, as if he could not fathom it. "You know the way she hugs. And after the things I said to her..." The bitterness of self-recrimination was evident in his eyes. Harry wondered if he was wishing for firewhiskey.

"I reckon being stranded away from everything you know and find familiar has a way of resorting your priorities," Harry said slowly. "All she wanted to do is see us - see everyone again. It wouldn't have mattered what you'd done before she left."

Ron rested his elbows on his knees, and his head drooped down between his shoulders.

"She tell you that?" he wondered aloud. Harry shook his head, and lifted one shoulder in a shrug.

"She didn't have to," he said laconically. He stared off into middle distance for a moment, and then dragged his gaze back to meet Ron's. "You need to let it go, Ron. For good. She has. And you know when she finds out what you've been doing to yourself for the last five years..."

A hint of fear spread itself over Ron's freckled visage.

"Maybe she won't find out."

Harry glanced at him witheringly. It's Hermione, the look seemed to say, of course she'll bloody well find out.

They subsided back into silence, but Harry seemed no less restless than he had previously.

"Why is it taking so long?" he leaned forward, hoping to catch the eye of a convenient Healer or mediwitch, but the corridor was devoid of people. "What if her - what if her runic signature was compromised by her absence from her own universe? Her constant could have been changed... she could be snatched away again, without warning."

Ron's eyes had begun to glaze over slightly at the word, 'runic', but he gave Harry a rather sympathetic look that still managed to say, you're quite ridiculous, you know.