Forget Me Not (Draco/Hermione)

Chapter Ten- The Magnolia Room

‘How long will she be out for-? Out for now?’

‘Not for much longer, I promise.’ Healer McCarthy leant over the unconscious form of her patient, felt her pulse, scribbled a few notes down. Behind this professional mask, she could only just about conceal how exhausted she really was. Having almost finished a twelve-hour shift, she’d been summoned to tranquilise a hysterical Ms Granger as well as stitch up the woman’s poor husband. ‘How’s your nose doing?’ she added, turning towards her other patient.

‘It’s fine.’ He waved her away impatiently, his eyes solely resting on the sleeping form in the bed. ‘She didn’t even recognise me.’ McCarthy could only just catch that so muffled was his voice.

‘Sometimes head traumas can cause strange occurrences. People thinking they’re someone else. People thinking they’re from a different time. She’ll come around eventually.’ I hope.

‘She kept screaming before you arrived. Like she was scared.’

‘Her mind’s taken quite a shock. She just needs time. And help, adjusting.’

‘She kept screaming a date though. September 28th 1998. She thought it was a joke that the newspaper said 2008. She kept screaming about Polyjuice Potions… and then she started to throw things. The newspaper broke the vase. The book broke my nose.’ He rubbed his recently fixed nose and shook his head sadly. ‘She scared your intern away.’

‘Healer Adams will survive.’ McCarthy had eventually found the startled intern, cowering in a supply closet. Her first day would certainly be one she would never forget. ‘But now we need to focus on you two. Go, grab a coffee or something, and we’ll try and wake her up more gently this time.’

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Floating. She was floating. Hermione settled back as she dazedly drifted through layers of pale colour and pattern. Faces appeared, blurred faces and distorted voices, but they faded away as soon as they emerged.

‘Ms Granger? Come on, it’s time to wake up.’

‘Five more minutes.’ The words fell unconsciously from her lips without her even controlling them. Even as they fell out, she could not recognise her voice. It sounded deeper and hoarser than what she remembered. Had she always sounded like that? Giggling to herself, she watched the words float around her in the form of ripped pieces of parchment.

‘Hermione?’

Again, this alien voice. Hermione felt herself begin to sink. At first, it did not feel dissimilar to floating but then, as she sunk further, the colours grew darker and darker, the faces clearer and clearer.

‘I don’t want to,’ she cried out, the words sticking in her throat. ‘I don’t want to.’ Her eyes flew open.

She wasn’t in the Hospital Wing. Or in her dormitory. She found herself waking up in the magnolia room that she had seen once before but only in a dream. A bad dream. Pushing through the fog of drowsiness, she sat herself up. That was not a good idea, she realised soon enough as the room spun before her.

‘Morning, honey.’ Hermione turned her head sharply to be greeted by a smiling female healer who looked barely in her twenties. ‘I’m Healer McCarthy. I was assigned to you when you first came in. Would you like anything?’

‘A drink-‘ The words stung like nettles against her dry throat. ‘Please.’

‘Sure thing.’ McCarthy poured a glass of water and held it out for her. Hermione’s limbs were still half-asleep but she managed to keep a hold of the glass and to hold it against her lips. ‘So how’s my favourite patient feeling now?’