fever in the morning, fever all through the night [hermione]

[Deleted]

Xanthippe was at St. Mungo's, and she was scared. The nurses at Hogwarts had made it abundantly clear that there was something very wrong with her, and that the trip to the hospital was only to confirm their fears. Her mother hadn't been able to take off of work, and neither had her father, despite the fact that it was a Sunday. It made her feel even worse than she already felt, not to have them there, but her godmother was there, and Xan wasn't totally freaking out, yet. The Healer had taken some of her blood, which was worrying enough in itself - most of the time, spells were more than enough to diagnose the problem. There had been a whole slew of spells, too, of course, and Xan's fever had been rising all the while. As far as she knew, it had topped out at just higher than 104, and had been holding steady there for the last half an hour or so while she waited for the test results. At first Xan had been sitting up extremely straight in the bed, waiting anxiously for the Healer to return, but as time had elapsed, she had gradually begun to slump her shoulders, curling ore and more gradually until she was almost in the fetal position, her back to her godmother. She was trying to hide the tears that were pooling in her eyes, because she was Xanthippe Meagle. She was never anything other than happy. She didn't cry.

@hermionejean

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Hermione had been a visitor to Saint Mungos plenty of times; first when they visited her now father-in-law Arthur Weasley, and then various different employees including Harry last year. If she had to have guessed which of her kids would have ended up having to have been moved to Saint Mungos, she would have guessed Hugo, not her goddaughter Xanthippe. But here she was, waiting in the hospital room with the Ravenclaw for the Healers to return with her blood tests. This was unusual and Hermione couldn’t help but feel worried. Leslie had not been able to get away from Hogwarts, and had asked her to come in her stead. Hermione had told Ron and Harry where she’d be; she had complete faith in them if anything should happen at the Ministry while she was caring for Xan.

As Xan rolled away from her, Hermione stood up and gently soaked a washcloth in cool water. “Here Xan,” she said softly, pressing the cool compress to her sweaty, warm forehead. She saw the tears forming in Xanthippe’s eyes, but said nothing; it was why she had turned away from her after all. “The Healers will be back soon and they’ll be able to figure out why your fever won’t go down. Don’t worry, I’ll stay right here with you,” she promised, dabbing the girls forehead gently.  Truth be told, she was nervous about what was wrong with her goddaughter, but she wasn't going to let that come through.

@xanthippe

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The feeling of the cool washcloth against her head startled Xan; for one thing, the change in temperature was unexpected. It felt nice, though, so she didn’t push her godmother away from her despite the inexplicable need Xan felt to protect herself against anyone who wanted to touch her. Hermione’s voice was soothing, and she seemed so sure that the Healers would have a solution. Not for the first time, Xan felt guilty for trying to shut others out. Logic dictated that the people who cared for her wouldn’t just stop caring for her because she was sick, but logical also dictated that because Xan cared about those same people, she wouldn’t want to put any undue burden on them because she was sick. Still, her godmother’s statement warranted a response, and Xan knew if she kept any sort of vow of silence, then people were going to start worrying even more. “Thank you for staying with me.” The Ravenclaw managed to squeak out. Her voice was surprisingly rough, probably because the fever was dehydrating her like crazy. Xan ignored that, though. There was something she wanted to ask Hermione, but she was worried that it was going to sound bad, or that her godmother wouldn’t answer. The question was going to nag her until she asked it, though, so like any good Ravenclaw, Xan did the logical thing: she asked. “Were you ever worried that you were going to die?” Her aunt had, after all, been Harry Potter’s best friend, and thus had been put in a lot of dangerous situations. Xan just wanted to know if her newfound fear of dying was natural.

@hermionejean

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Hermione smiled sadly at her goddaughter. “Of course Xan, I would never leave you, not like this,” she said softly, dabbing absentmindedly at her forehead. She gently lifted up Xan’s head and dabbed the back of her neck as well; her parents had taught her that it was the place where heat seemed to generate, so by cooling it it can cool a person of. She hoped for the girls’ sake this was true. She’d never seen anyone this sick before and not know what was wrong. She knew Hugo was in a right state of a mess; she’d have to remember to owl him if Xan would ever get to sleep to keep him updated on her status. She couldn’t help but smile, even though the situation was so serious. Hugo’s demeanor had changed; he was so much happier now that he had found Xanthippe. She knew Ron was worried that he wasn’t experiencing enough of the world before wanting to settle down with one person, but privately Hermione thought it was silly. Hugo had shown love and affection to three people his entire life; his parents and Rose. It wasn’t that he wasn’t capable, just that he hadn’t shown interest. Hermione couldn’t care less if her son had ended up with anyone in the end; she just wanted him to be happy. It was clear to her that Xanthippe was that happiness, regardless of how old they were. Besides, Hermione had known she was in love with Ron when she had turned sixteen, so it wasn’t that different.

Hermione chuckled as she was brought out of her thoughts with Xan’s second question. “All of the time,” she said, smiling. “One instance that particularly stands out to me was at Malfoy Manor in the early months of 1998. We’d been captured by Snatchers, Voldemort’s wizard catchers he used during the Second War. Because of my Muggleborn status, Bellatrix Lestrange chose to torture me to get information regarding the Sword of Godric Gryffindor. She used...a combination of techniques, but it was the first real time that I thought ‘this is it, I’m going to die,’” she told her. Silently she remembered that she had regretted never telling Ron how she really felt about him in that moment, but she kept that to herself. She cleared her throat and gave Xanthippe a stern look. “But you Xanthippe Hermione Meagle. You are not here to die,” she declared, eyes bright.

@xanthippe

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Xan whimpered a little when her godmother dabbed the back of her neck with the cloth. It felt good, but also bad, like someone had thrown her into an ice bath all at once. She just hoped that keeping her head cool would help the rest of her body settle down - it was dangerous, she knew, for a fever to continue as long as hers had without breaking. Her godmother's speech, talking about how she thought she was going to die, was a welcome distraction even if it was a little macabre. Xan was glad that Hermione hadn't died at Malfoy Manor - her life would be so different without her godmother's unconditional support. The fact that Hugo wouldn't exist if Hermione was dead also crossed her mind, but Xan was trying only to think of one thing at a time - multitasking thoughts had become harder and harder the higher her fever got, and she was still more mentally slow than she was used to.

While Xan was trying to a formulate a response to her godmother's story, a Healer bustled in, carrying a small cup of pills and a large glass of water. The Healer explained that the pills were Muggle fever reducers, and that they were the best bet for keeping her fever down. Xan had never taken Muggle medicine before, but she supposed that it was better than nothing. Xan's eyes flitted to her godmother for a moment before she knocked back the pills - two small orange ones - and gratefully gulped the entire glass of lukewarm water. The Healer bustled out, and Xan swallowed again, still not used to the sensation of pills crawling down her throat. There was no instantaneous relief like there was with many potions, but Xan hoped that longterm the pills would help. "I just wish that people would realize that sometimes I just want permission to be not okay." She said miserably. "I told Isaac and Winnie yesterday that I was coming to Mungo's, and they kept saying I'd be fine, and all I wanted to scream that I might not be fine, and if something happens to me, I don't want them to be even more hurt because they never expected it to happen." Xan hated being sick, but she hated even more that no one seemed to understand how scary this was for her. She didn't know what was happening, and no one knew how to help, and that was overwhelming, even for a positive person. "I just don't want people to suffer because of me." She told her godmother, licking her lips to restore a little moisture to them, though the action didn't help much. She wished for another glass of water, but didn't want to ask. She didn't what to ask any questions, because she was afraid of the answer.

[Deleted]

“I know it feels cold Xan but with the rest of you burning up, we got to keep some of you cool,” Hermione told her goddaughter with a sympathetic smile when she whimpered at the cold cloth. She sat back as the Healers got to work with giving Xan the proper medications and water and signaled for them to wait outside for her. She took out her wand and tapped the glass; it immediately refilled itself with refreshingly cold water. “You need your fluids, Xan,” she said quietly, before Xan’s outburst left her temporarily speechless. “Is that what you want to hear? That the Healers don’t know what’s wrong with you, and there’s a possibility you won’t recover?” she asked her softly, reaching over and taking her hot hand. “Because yes, that is what everyone is thinking Xan, even if they refuse to admit it. They don’t talk that way because it is their worst nightmare come true; do you think about your nightmares all the time, Xan?” she reasoned. She knew she was sounding harsh, but if that was what Xan needed to hear, better from her than anyone else she supposed.

Squeezing her hand, she excused herself and walked out to where the Healers were waiting for her. Wiping a stray tear from her cheek, she cleared her throat and they stopped talking amongst themselves. “Well? I need an update on my goddaughters condition,” she asked, her voice only quavering slightly.

@xanthippe

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Xan nodded weakly when her godmother told her that the cold cloth was a necessary evil. She was trying her best not to complain about the situation, and she was doing well in that, she thought. The whimper had been involuntary, anyways, so she didn’t feel like she had betrayed her silent promise to herself by making the noise. When her godmother refilled her glass of water, Xan took it eagerly. She forced herself to sip this one instead of gulping as she had with the last one – drinking water too fast just sounded like a way to make her stomach hurt, and she didn’t need to add something else to the long list of things that were going wrong for her.

“I don’t have nightmares. I’m Xan Meagle.” And that was the crux of the problem: not only were people not willing to admit that she might die, she was expected to smile through it all. She didn’t answer the rest of Hermione’s questions, staring straight forward instead. She only turned her head when her godmother squeezed her hand. Xan felt a pang when she saw her godmother wipe away a tear, and bit her lip. When her godmother left the room, Xan only paused a moment before following her, approaching the closed door. She needed to know what was being said. Xan pressed her ear against the door, just in time to hear a Healer say two words that finally seemed to cool her feverish body.

Medias Ignis.

She was dying.

@hermionejean

[Deleted]

Medias Ignis. Hermione nodded once to let them know she understood what they were telling her. It meant that her goddaughter had this...fire inside her eating away at her magic. It meant she was dying. She gestured for the Healers to leave her and she pulled out her wand. Silently thinking of what to say, she closed her eyes. “Expecto Patronum,” she whispered, imagining the family vacation this summer in New Zealand. Her silvery otter patronus burst from the tip of her wand. It cantered off out of the hospital, heading to Hogwarts and Neville Longbottom. It would soon arrive in his study and tell him that Xanthippe’s condition was worse than expected, and that her mother and Hugo would need to leave immediately for the hospital. Xan would want her parents there, and she knew Hugo would never forgive her if she didn’t send for him. Another moment and a second otter was sent to Xan’s father. Knowing that she had alerted the people she needed to, Hermione’s shoulder began to shake and she slid down the wall, sobbing quietly into her hands. Everything she was feeling was coming out in floods; Xan was like another daughter to her, she was Hugo’s love, she was...Xanthippe. She couldn’t die, she was loved by too many people to go so soon.

Hermione stayed down on the ground for several minutes, until at last she felt she could compose herself to go see Xan. She took several deep shuddering breaths and stood up. Pulling out a hand mirror, she saw her face was still splotchy and tear-stained; she put her wand to her face and muttered a few words, reminding herself to thank Ginny for teaching her this spell during her seventh repeat year. Taking another deep breath, she put her wand away and walked back into the ward where Xanthippe was waiting. Immediately, she noticed a change in her goddaughters demeanor; she seemed resigned but somehow at peace. Her face fell. “You heard,” she said softly.

@xanthippe

[Deleted]

The world was falling down around Xan’s ears, and she didn’t know what to do. She had always been the person to hold other people up when their words were falling apart. She was Xan Meagle, ball of light in the dark. But now the light had been snuffed out, and all Xan could think was that she didn’t want to die. She was too young to die. She was supposed to live to be old and grey – she was supposed to die of old age in Hugo’s arms when she was a hundred and three, not of some fire eating her up from the inside when she was sixteen. There was still so much that she wanted to do. She wanted to graduate school and see New Zealand in the summer time and get to walk down the aisle at her wedding and do so many things! She wasn’t supposed to be the first person in her family to die. This wasn’t how anything was supposed to happen. So yes, the world was falling down, and Xan was so, so alone.

Her godmother reappeared in her room a few minutes after the dreaded words had been said, and Xan didn’t have the energy to pretend that she hadn’t heard what had been said. “I heard.” Xan replied, voice warbling. She started to count to ten to calm herself down, but only made it to three before she grabbed the glass that had been sitting on the bedside table, still half-full of water, and slammed it onto the ground, watching it shatter. “It’s not fair!” She screamed. “What did I do to deserve to die!?” What had she done other than love and light up rooms and tell people that everything was going to be okay?! It wasn’t fair and Xan knew that no one had ever promised that life was fair, but damnit, she was sixteen, and it just didn’t seem right that she would learn so hard a lesson so early. Without a warning, Xan threw herself into her godmother’s arms, and the dam broke. The tears that she had held back in the hospital wing with Hugo, the tears she had held back when she had written to her parents, the tears she had held back when she had told her siblings – they all came rushing out in one enormous wave.

Xanthippe Meagle was going to die, and that wasn’t fair, and for the first time in her life, she let herself sob.

@hermionejean

[Deleted]

There were no words, how could there be with what this situation was? Hermione couldn’t tell her to calm down, or tell her that everything was going to be alright. Because that wasn’t the truth; Xan was sick, really sick, and she might die. It was like Hermione’s world was breaking apart; while Xan was not biologically hers, she had always considered the Meagle triples as an obvious extension to her own family; to lose one would be like losing Rose or Hugo.

So instead of talking, Hermione just held Xan, tears streaming silently down her own face as her goddaughter sobbed. They sat like there for a time, Hermione could not tell how long it was, but she felt that maybe, as long as she held onto her, she wouldn’t leave them forever.

@xanthippe