Falling for Weasleys (Germione/Herminny)

Chapter six: Patient

The next time Hermione saw Harry wasn't exactly planned.

Ever since Meryl had gifted Hermione with the St. Mungo's patient log, she'd spent every spare moment attempting to extract every morsel of information available from the book's pages of notes and medical records. So far, her search had yielded nothing, and although it dejected her, she could think about little else.

Each page revealed a new medical form, detailing the patient's symptoms, treatment plan, duration of their stay, etc. This information was difficult to glean anything of use from. Then there were the helpful parts, the name of the patient, sometimes a family history, circumstances surrounding their malady or injury, and physical traits. There were photos, too. Mostly of injuries and symptoms, but some would have been enough for Hermione to recognize her parents in.

She read at least fifteen to twenty forms before bed, and often dashed back to the patient log's hiding place in her nightstand during meals and breaks.

Both Ginny and Meryl noticed the abnormality in Hermione's behavior. Meryl cornered Hermione after many of her classes to question her progress, but her interrogation sessions became more and more rare as Hermione's responses to her questions became more and more snappish. Finally, Hermione outright told Meryl to piss off the minute she saw her coming down the hall, and whirled around to run in the opposite direction.

Meryl seized Hermione's wrist. "Wow, ungrateful! Who gave you that book, huh?" She was clearly attempting to lighten the mood, and laughed a little as she said this. But Hermione violently shook her wrist from Meryl's hold and slipped away, feeling tears sting the corners of her eyes.

What a baby. Hermione began moving faster, not paying any attention to the chattering hordes of younger students pushing and shoving around her. What a freaking baby. Why was she even crying? The tears were starting up in earnest, slicing her cheeks and jaw, cold and hard against her bones.

Hermione escaped to the nearest girl's toilet and sat sniveling on the sink, attempting to staunch the flow of bitter tears with the sleeve of her robes. What memories. Here she'd come to cry when Ron called her a know it all in first year, when Ron yelled that he wanted her cat murdered in third year, when Ron mocked her openly in sixth year, when Ron couldn't stop snogging stupid Lavender Brown.

What had ever possessed her to date that useless idiot? And what kind of horrible, selfish daughter was she, not trying hard enough to find her parents, not crying hard enough for them? Nearly twenty minutes late for herbology now, Hermione cried until her front was sufficiently damp and her face stung.

Though Hermione had managed to escape Meryl for the day, she hadn't counted on Ginny, who quite deliberately sought her out in the common room that evening.

"Hermione Granger, cutting class?" She dropped into a chair beside Hermione's and fixed her with a bemused look. "What's going on? Don't say nothing."

Shit. Hermione had forgotten Ginny was in her herbology class.

"Are you mad at me or something?" Ginny pulled her quill out of her bun, where it had been nestled in an almost Luna Lovegood-ish style, and tapped it on her knee. "You really haven't talked to me since Harry came to visit. Is it what I said about you being dull? You know I didn't mean it, right? I love you like crazy."

Hermione's stomach flooded with something electric and uncomfortably anxious. She felt those strange pulses travel through her veins and up to her head, tinting her cheeks and neck red. What a dumb reaction to Ginny's platonic comment. Completely platonic, remember, Hermione? The plunge from one batch of unwelcome emotion to the next made Hermione even more glum. She sank lower in her chair, avoiding Ginny's concerned and curious look.