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Granger's Anatomy	By : brightneeBee Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 2586 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Title: Granger’s Anatomy

Author: brightneeBee

Title of Challenge: Time Turner Reversal Challenge

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros, Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Also, quotes from the U.S. television show “Grey’s Anatomy” were used in compilation to create this fiction, thus I own nothing, I merely altered a few words here and there, and used them to set the mood, so to speak.

Rating: T (FFnet), NoSex (AFFnet), PG-13 (AO3)

Warnings: TimeTravelForward Fic

Genre: General

Summary: Forced to move on with her life, keeping a secret so huge that her own best friends would forever hate her if they were to find out, Hermione Granger - Resident Healer-in-Training - resigns herself to a life of loneliness in the hopes that the man she loved fiercely will return to her in due time.

Beta Appreciation: I will appreciate myself as my own beta for this oneshot, even though I suck at beta’ing my own writings. *pats self on back*

Word Count: 9,540

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                There’s this thing that happens when people find out you’re a Healer. They stop seeing you as a person, and begin to see you as something bigger than you are. They have to see us that way, as Gods. Otherwise, we’re just like everyone else - unsure, flawed, normal. So we act strong, we remain stoic. We hide the fact that we’re all too human.

23 July 2006

                The décor of the Maternity Ward of St. Mungo’s Hospital was…eclectic. Each corridor was a different assigned color scheme; blue, green, pink, yellow, and white. Each color had a meaning, and she was far too familiar with all of them. Blue and pink were for deliveries, though just as many girls were born in Blue Hall as boys born in Pink Hall – sexes were never discriminated against when assigning pregnant witches too rooms (it would have wasted too much time to sort out). The delivery halls were separated by Yellow Hall, which was set in the middle of Blue and Pink for the newborn nursery and viewing area. Green Hall was down the corridor from Yellow Hall, before White Hall, and it seemed to Hermione that Green was the wizarding equivalent to a Muggle “N.I.C.U.” And she would know – she had spent her spare time during the last five years studying muggle medicine, as well as wizarding.

                But unfortunately she did not have the pleasure of being called in on her day off to Blue, Pink, Yellow, or Green Hall. No bright and colorful floors for Hermione that day because she had been paged on her day off to White Hall – and no Healer Resident enjoyed being called in to White Hall, especially on their day off.

                So, down at the end of the green-scheme corridor, there was a line about a meter in front of a door closing off White Hall from Green. It kept out the cries and screams – the grim happenings – in the corridor beyond that door, and kept the rest of the Maternity Ward in relative calm. Sometimes there was that one, rare miracle that made White Hall less ominous. Sometimes there were days that made her residency training a little more bearable when she was put on Maternity service under Healer Stiltshire. Hermione was, technically, on call for the Lycanthropy Ward for the next two weeks, and she had requested this specific day off, but when a war hero requests Hermione Granger as their treating Healer – well, no one says “no” to a war hero.

                There was already an intern waiting for her at the door. What was this fresh face called? Tizzie? Bizzie? No, Posey – Posey Foster, that was her name. She was a first year resident – an intern right out of the Healer Training Program (the wizarding equivalent to medical school in the Muggle world). Hermione wondered what she had done to land a shift on the Maternity Ward so soon. If she was already working White Hall this early into her internship, it was highly likely that she would leave the program and soon. Posey must have crossed her Resident Healer pretty badly to have been banished to the most hated corridor on the vagina-squad.

                “Hi, Posey,” said Hermione with a practiced smile. It was the smile she used to placate her patients, soothe their fears and worries and make them feel as though everything was going to be okay. “What do we have this morning? It’s only a quarter past nine…”

                The intern was diverting eye contact, shaking – this girl was definitely not going to last much longer, “W-well…Mr…Mr. Weasley-”

                Hermione’s head shot up from the chart, “Lavender is the patient?”

                “Ye-yes, Heal-healer Granger.”

                Hermione ran an impatient hand over her face before groaning. She hated this day already, and she hadn’t even been clocked in for twenty-minutes, yet. She motioned for Posey to follow guide her to the patient exam room and give a summary of Lavender’s chart as they walked. It was required of residents when interacting with interns regarding patients – just like it was required of Attending-Healers to ask for a patient summary from the Resident Healers-in-Training.

                “Lavender Weasley, age twenty-five...thirty-seven weeks pregnant,” Posey started, her stutter fading into the background once facts were introduced. It was easier to be less afraid when facts were solid, simple. “Admitted to the maternity ward, White Hall section, after slipping in the bathtub this morning…presented with bruising and swelling around her right wrist and left ankle – patient and spouse refused to allow any other Healers treat Mrs. Weasley. They specifically asked for you.”

                “No diagnostic spells were run while the patient was waiting for me to arrive?” Hermione questioned, giving the chart back to the intern. “She’s been here without any pain relief for three hours.”

                Posey nodded; her eyes wide in fear. Did she expect Hermione to yell at her now? What kind of Resident-Healer had Posey been assigned to? Maybe Hermione could get the intern re-assigned to her service.

                The door to White Hall slid open and Hermione reviewed the information from the chart in her mind. She went over every possible diagnosis, the spells she would need to perform, the specific way she would need to speak to Ron and Lavender if the news was bad. Hermione was almost certain the hematomas and swelling around the ankle and wrist were fractures or clean breaks in the bones, easy fixes. Unfortunately, the damage to the fetus after being left un-checked for vitals for three hours was unknown and therefore Hermione could not be certain that the child was even alive, at this point. She should kick Ron for his stupidity – who the hell doesn’t allow a Healer to check for injuries to a fetus while waiting for a specific physician? Idiot, complete and utter moron, dunderhead!

                Hermione let her eyes flit over the constant white of the walls and floors. There were no fun paintings nor collages on the walls, no multi-shade colored tiles for floors. It was just white – standard-issue, hospital white. All that white worked to desensitize, numb a person when the news was grim, or give that small spark of hope when hope seemed the ticket for the day.

                “The patient declined to have her injuries healed while waiting for me to arrive?” asked Hermione.

                Posey nodded.

                “Sounds like the Weasleys,” quipped Hermione before she let out a deep breath. “It’s a good thing I’ve finished with my Ortho-rotation.”

                “I apologize, Healer Granger…They won’t let anyone but you touch the patient. They said you were the best-”

                “No, I’m not the best...but they trust me,” corrected Hermione, taking the chart back and flipping through it, again. “They know me, so they trust me. But I’m used to it. Besides Lav and his mother, I’m the only other woman who can reason with Ron when he gets…overwhelmed. Which room are they in?”

                “Exam room 302.”

                “Oh…goody.”

                She turned another corner and found herself facing the dreaded, jinxed exam room, number three-zero-two. “The Death Room” - that’s what the medi-witches called it – where unborn children came to die.. Miracles happened in rooms 301, 303, and 304, but hopeless cases always seemed to be placed in 302. But maybe…just maybe…since the other rooms were full of hope and possible miracles…Maybe Lavender and her unborn daughter were completely fine and nothing horrible was going to happen? Hermione knew hoping was the worst possible thing to do, but she grasped it, clung to it, because she really…really did not want to tell her best friend and his wife that their baby was dead, or had some form of unhealable damage.

                “Are you going in, Healer Granger?”

                Hermione blinked and nodded and plastered her patient-smile on her face. She pushed the door open to reveal a frantic Ron Weasley pampering his happy-go-lucky, smiling wife. She let out a breathy laugh as they greeted her, giving them both a one-sided hug, “I just saw the both of you a week ago for the prenatal exam, Lavender. I’m starting to think you’re making up reasons to see me.”

                Lavender giggled, her jaw slightly clenched from the pain, “Hermione, I’m so glad the medi-witch was able to get ahold of you! You’re the only person we trust in St. Mungo’s, being little Lyla’s godmother and all...”

                Hermione widened her smile.

                “Medi-witch Milton said it was your day off?” asked Ron, still hovering near the examination bed.

                “Yes, but it’s nothing...I wasn’t doing anything important today,” answered Hermione, putting them at ease as best she could. Pulling out her wand, she began running diagnostic spells on Lavender’s ankle and wrist. She made polite conversation as she mended the breaks and fractures easily, “So, you slipped getting out of the tub this morning?”

                “Yes,” nodded Lavender, her smile faltering. “Bit silly of me, really. Ron told me to wait and he would help me, but I still think that I can manage...Uhm...the baby, Hermione...she isn’t moving. I haven’t felt her kick or...or move since they admitted me-”

                “Just tell her Lyla is sleeping, ‘Mione,” added Ron, looking so, so, so hopeful.

                “Let’s get these mended bones wrapped and I’ll run some tests, okay?” poised Hermione, taking the proffered rolls of padded gauze from Posey’s outstretched hand. Wrapping the Cushioning Charm-enhanced gauze around the patient’s mended joints, Hermione listened to Lavender prattle on about dinner at the Burrow the night before, and how missed Hermione was at the family get-togethers.

                “And Molly is beginning to think you’re taking extra shifts just to avoid socializing outside of the hospital, ‘Mione,” giggled Lavender. “I keep telling her that a Healer-in-Training is like an Auror-in-Training. It just lasts a lot longer than when Ron left for the academy.”

                “That’s true,” replied Hermione. “And us Resident-Healers have to study like maniacs for all the tests coming in our last year before we can be certified Attendings...It’s definitely like Auror training, Lav. It is always life or death here and the ones that don’t make the cut are sent packing faster than you can snap your fingers.”

                “Sounds like a lot of pressure,” said Lavender, her left foot jiggling at the end of the hospital bed nervously.

                Hermione nodded as she cast a Sticking Charm in a thin line at the end of the last roll of gauze around the patient’s wrist, “Yes, but it’s satisfying. Keeps you on your toes, makes you strive for perfection because no one likes to lose a patient over a frivolous mistake. Okay, all done. I’m just going to cast a few diagnostic spells now. I’m sure everything is just fine.”

                Conjuring a very official looking piece of parchment, Hermione flicked her wand at it so it floated above Lavender’s very pregnant belly. She cast several mild tests and reading the results before proceeding with the more advanced and complicated spells. The results were inconclusive; not a very good sign at all. She smiled at Lavender and Ron before turning to Posey and requesting the ultrasound machine be brought in. A nifty little piece of the muggle world that allowed physicians to see inside the uterus; magically altered to allow it to function in the wizarding hospital. It also printed out moving pictures that were placed in the chart, as well as copied for patients to take home and show off to friends and relatives. It was a recent addition in the last two years, after several muggleborn Attending-Healers had recommended it for the Maternity and OB/GYN Wards. Being able to have a visual without any invasive procedures was a winning argument in any debate.

                Posey returned shortly, pushing in a large piece of machinery with a monitor sitting on top. With a flick and swish of her wand, Hermione had the ultrasound equipment whirring and the monitor clicking on. The intern spread a thin sheet over Lavender’s hips and pulled the hospital gown up over the baby-bump before Hermione handed the container of jelly to Posey. The younger Healer-in-Training looked at Hermione with wide eyes, which was returned with an encouraging smile by Hermione.

                “You’re never going to learn if you aren’t given the chance to do it,” said Hermione. She explained how to apply the cold jelly and where before handing over the ultrasound handle. “Don’t worry, I’ll walk you through it.”

                “Thank you, Healer Granger,” said Posey, her eyes now wide with appreciation and pride. Hermione assumed her usual resident never allowed interns the opportunity to learn.

                Hermione used the mouse next to the keyboard and clicked the frames as Posey moved the ultrasound tool over Lavender’s belly as she was instructed. Frames were labeled and circumferences taken as Hermione viewed the trauma in the uterus around the fetus. There was no heartbeat that could be found, nor was there any movement from the unborn child. The placenta had detached from the uterine wall and there was substantial bleeding in the womb. The results were bad. Very bad.

                With a warm smile, Hermione took the ultrasound tool from Posey and had the intern take the machine out of the room after she printed out the pictures and placed them in the chart. Following Posey out of the exam room with a polite “Excuse me,” Hermione hurried down the hall to the medi-witch station and rubbing her face with a shaking hand. The desk was empty, the medi-witches must have called off to another exam room, and Hermione allowed herself that brief moment of grief over the situation in room 302. Ron and Lavender would be devastated. And then horrified when Hermione told them that the baby needed to be delivered immediately. They were first time parents; they were decent people, kind people. Lavender had changed so much since Hogwarts and the ensuing war. The bubbly Gryffindor wouldn’t hurt a gnome! How was this fair?

                Worst day off ever.

                “Healer Granger?” It was Posey. The intern had placed a comforting hand on Hermione’s shoulder as the resident-Healer cried silently over the medi-witch desk. “Are you alright?”

                Hermione shook her head and straightened herself, wiping the tears from her cheeks, “No. Uhm...I need you to request an immediate delivery team, and a Birth-Inducing Potion - if you don’t mind. The baby is stillborn and it needs to come out today. Do not speak to the patient or her husband, I will do that.”

                “Yes, ma’am.”

                “And Posey,” added Hermione, catching the intern before she turned and took off down the corridor to Green Hall. Posey looked at Hermione with a look of apprehension and nervous eyes, “Who is your Resident?”

                “Healer Malfoy,” said Posey, a slight tremble to her voice. “Why do you ask?”

                Bulstrode, of course. Hermione smiled, “No reason. I was just thinking that I could use another intern since Briony went on maternity leave last week. I’m sure Healer Bulstrode wouldn’t object if I requested you on my service for the foreseeable future.”

                It caused the most genuine smile to spread over Posey’s face, and it warmed Hermione’s heart a little to see the intern look so hopeful. There were ways of making Millicent Bulstrode bend to Hermione’s will. The Slytherin had quite a few skeletons in her closet, most of which Hermione had learned during her years at Hogwarts, and none of which Bulstrode would wish unleashed through the halls of St. Mungo’s in the form of gossip. Besides, Millie had three extra interns on her service in the Permanent Spell-Damage Ward and would more than likely be pleased to unload one of the interns on Hermione, simply to be rid of the extra responsibility.

                Once Posey left, Hermione turned and walked steadily back to the examination room to speak with Ron and Lavender. She pulled Ron out of the room to speak with him first, asking him how he would like to proceed with Lavender before they began the delivery. The entire situation was out of her depth. She had apologized to grieving families, told relatives that a cherished loved one hadn’t pulled through, explained the options to husbands and wives, mothers and fathers about life support charms to keep spouses or children breathing in vegetative states. But this was Lavender and Ron. And Hermione was the baby’s Godmother. The Weasleys were the only family she had left, and she was the bearer of bad news - horrible news.

                She sighed again, fighting not to cry as Ron broke down in the hallway.

                ‘Why today?’ she thought. ‘Why them? Why today?’

                All she had wanted to do that day was sleep-in, not shower, drink half the wine rack in her kitchen and cry...hard. She hoped that this year would provide a tragedy, work-free Grieving Day. Obviously, it was not meant to be. The previous eight years had proven that.

Pain comes in all forms. The small twinge, a bit of soreness, the random pain. The normal pain we live with every day. Then there’s the kind of pain we can’t ignore. A level of pain so great that it blocks out everything else. Makes the rest of the world fade away. Until all we can think about is how much we hurt. How we manage our pain is up to us. Pain. We anesthetize, ride it out, embrace it, ignore it. And for some of us, the best way to manage pain is to just push through it.

                “I’ll speak to her,” said Ron after what seemed like ages. He had pulled himself up to his full height, steeled his shoulders and cleaned his face of any remaining tears. He didn’t say anything after that. He just took several deep breaths and entered the room alone. Hermione could hear Lavender’s cries from outside in the corridor and it shook her to the core. She was really going to have to do this. She was really going to have to sit there and coerce Lavender into giving birth to a stillborn. Hermione had done it a hundred times, it seemed. But never to a friend, never to someone she saw as family. It was horrifying.

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“Come on, Lavender,” urged Hermione. She was sitting between her friend and patient’s legs, held high in the stir-ups of the delivery room bed. “You have to give me one more push.”

                Lavender had been crying ever since she had been told the severity of the situation. It had worsened the moment she had been moved from the exam room to the delivery room and the Birth-Inducing Potion had been administered. Once reality had set in, the usually happy witch had become inconsolable. “Please...just cut it out,” begged Lavender, leaning back against the bed, clutching her husband’s hand. “I can’t do this. Please, don’t make me do this!”

                “I know, Lav,” said Hermione with sympathy. “I know this is the worst possible thing that could ever happen. And I know that I’m a horrible person for asking you to do this, but I need another push. I need you to bear down one more time. The baby is halfway out and we can’t stop now and cut it out. If this was a muggle hospital, I would have signed off on a caesarian section in a heartbeat, Lav. You know I would...I just need one more push.”

Pain is something that you just have to ride out. Hope it goes away on its own. Hope the wound that caused it heals. There are no solutions. No easy answers. You just breathe deep and wait for it to subside. Most of the time, pain can be managed. But sometimes, the pain gets you when you least expect it. Hits way below the belt and doesn’t let up.

Pain. You just have to fight through. Because the truth is, you can’t outrun it. And life...always makes more...

                The pregnant witch lunged forward in a weak push, sobbing.. Hermione shoved her hands into Lavender’s vagina, around the infant to help pull it out. That one push wasn’t enough, and Hermione already felt guilty about the last hour of “one more push, Lav. I just need one more push,” that she had been asking of the devastated woman. “Almost there - you’re doing so well, Lav. But I just need one last push, okay? This is the last one, I promise!”

                She felt like Death incarnate, urging the hysterical mother to birth her dead child. Hermione felt as though she was putting her friend through the most excruciating type of torture imaginable. But Lavender finally beared down in one final push and the baby was expelled with a gush of placenta following after. Usually this was the moment that the husbands’ kissed their sweaty wives and grinned at the sight of a healthy baby being cleaned off and wrapped in warm cloths. But there was no scream from the infant as Hermione cleaned it off and swaddled it. This was not a happy moment. This moment would be written down in history as the worst moment Lavender and Ron had ever experienced in their entire lives.

                She handed the stillborn, sweet little Lyla Molly Weasley, to her parents and turned away as Lavender clutched the infant to her chest and Ron attempted to comfort his wife as best he could. The medi-witch assisting would heal the vaginal tearing, and there would be a representative from the funeral home arriving in an hour to speak with the Weasleys about burial arrangements. Hermione decided that she was no longer needed, so she gave a watery look Ron before leaving him and his wife to grieve in relative privacy. There was nothing else she could do but to show up at the funeral and pay her respects with the rest of the family. Molly would be heartbroken and consoling, Arthur would be the usual pillar of strength as the family patriarch, Percy would remain off to the side with his wife, Audrey, and Charlie and Fleur would be too busy chasing their little ones around to be a help at all. But Hermione could be there to help Ron with his despondent wife, because if anything was certain, it was that Lavender would be catatonic and hysterical for the next few months. The bubbly witch Hermione knew for years would be gone, and in her place would be a tragedy-wrecked woman who lost a child.

                Patients see us as Gods. Or, they see us as monsters. But the fact is, we’re just people. We screw up. We lose our way. Even the best of us have our off days. Still, we move forward. We don’t rest on our laurels or celebrate the lives we saved in the past. Because there’s always some other patient that needs our help. So, we force ourselves to keep trying, to keep learning in the hope that maybe, someday, we’ll come just a little bit closer to the Gods our patients need us to be...

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Granger's Anatomy