“She's been placed in quarantine,” Kingsley said before Harry could bolt to the hospital ward. “Spattergroit is non-lethal but highly contagious; an outbreak could have a devastating effect on the Order. She is not permitted any visitors until she recovers.”
Harry swallowed and gripped the back of his chair. “Fine. How long does it take? A couple weeks?”
The room turned to look at Hermione by the door. Harry's expression grew guarded as he met her eyes.
“Spattergroit can be a long-term illness. It normally takes months but it can even last up to a year before the contagious elements finally fade. It's impossible to say how long she'll be in the quarantine,” Hermione said quietly.
“Months? A year?” Harry looked ready to fall over backwards. “You — you can't isolate her for that long. That's torture. There must be a way for me to visit her. Some kind of potions. Or spells.”
“Granger, as our most qualified medical professional, is the only one cleared to visit her in order to monitor her condition. Dobby delivers her meals, since House-elves are immune to disease and not known to carry it. You can send letters and messages with them. They are the only ones permitted in the room. If you make any attempts to come in contact with Ginny, you will potentially endanger the entire war effort. Harry, I will only say this once. If you try to violate the quarantine, she'll be moved to an undisclosed location until she recovers. If you have questions, take them to Granger. Meeting dismissed.”
Everyone else filed out. After a few minutes, Hermione stood alone with Harry.
“She'll — she'll be okay, won't she?” Harry said once the room was empty. “Is she in pain?”
“In time she'll be fine,” Hermione said, fidgeting her hands nervously behind her back. “She's not in any pain. She's taking restorative potions and she spends a lot of time sleeping. Spattergroit recovery is very reliant on good health, I'm doing everything possible to make sure she is comfortable and happy.”
“Okay.” Harry nodded repeatedly. “That — that's good. Do you know how she got it?”
Hermione shook her head. “It's fungal. No one else has caught it. It may just have been bad luck.”
Harry nodded and stepped closer, his expression grew earnest. “Can I see her? Just once? Just for a minute. I just want to make sure she knows I love her.”
The corner of Hermione's mouth twitched as she shook her head. “I'm sorry, Harry, she's in quarantine. There's no "just for a minute." No one can go in.”
Harry's eyes got bigger. “I'll be careful. Anything I need to do, I'll follow all your instructions. Just once.” His voice was both pleading and conspiratorial.
She knew that voice so well.
Hermione smiled at him sadly as she curled her hands into tight fists behind her back. “I'm sorry, Harry. I can't break the rules. Not even for you.”
Warning: This chapter contains an episode of self-harm.
March 2003
Ginny's pregnancy went as smoothly as could have been hoped. She was physically drained from the toll it took on her Magic, but aside from sleeping most of the day and refusing most of the food Hermione had sent, her pregnancy symptoms were relatively minor. After hearing about Narcissa Malfoy's near death during pregnancy, Hermione was paranoid about what kind of toll magical pregnancy could take. But Ginny seemed to handle pregnancy easily.
“It's a Prewett thing; easily pregnant, easy pregnancies,” Ginny said with a shrug when Hermione asked.
“That's lucky, I'd hate to be leaving you alone like this if you were as sick as the books say witches can get from pregnancy,” Hermione said, studying the bright yellow orb fluttering over Ginny's stomach. “The baby has a good magical signature; it seems healthy. But I'm not very practiced with any of these spells.”
Hermione flipped to a different page in the
“Have you heard anything from Harry and Ron?” Ginny asked after a few minutes of Hermione manipulating diagnostic charms.
Hermione nodded and cancelled all the diagnostics hanging around Ginny. “They're back at Hogwarts again. They haven't sent any messages.”
“Harry sends his stag at night. I think he must do it when he's on lookout duty. It came into my room last night,” Ginny pressed her lips together and looked on the verge of tears.
Hermione squeezed her hand.
“I feel so bad I'm lying to him,” Ginny said, tugging at the tips of her hair. “And that I'm making you lie too. I'm sorry. I should have been more careful.”
“It's alright. You don't need to worry about me.” Hermione gave a weary shrug as she shrank the book and slipped it into a bag.