Tyrant Rising

Chapter 2: That's What Hive Was Going to Say (Part 4)

Same Time,

St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries,

London

Ginny gagged, trying desperately to prevent the vile potion she had just swallowed from coming straight back up again. She'd only have to drink another one if it did.

"Come on, it can't taste that bad," despite her concern, Hermione still managed to sound like a disapproving teacher.

"It really does, it's worse than your Mum's casserole." A low blow, Ginny knew, but she felt it was deserved.

"Are you ever going to stop bringing that up?" Hermione asked exasperatedly, despite the hint of a smile tugging at her lips. "Dad said she's improved a lot last time I spoke to him."

"Doesn't take much," Ginny grumbled, flopping back against the sumptuous cushions of her hospital bed and glaring at the comfortingly-pastel wall. "Can't you pull some strings and get them to release me already? I feel fine, and we should both be with Dumbledore for when he wakes up." Hermione frowned, with feeling this time.

"You know I can't do that," reaching forward, she took the redhead's hand in her own and stroked it softly with her thumb. "The mediwitch said you were about thirty seconds from permanent brain damage, and if you don't take the time to rest and drink your potions-" she glanced meaningfully at the small tray of potions still waiting to be drunk "it will end up being permanent." Ginny huffed, unwilling to concede the point.

"Did Dumbledore say anything to you about him?" She asked, hoping to distract Hermione from her insistence on downing the revolting concoctions.

"Apart from the initial patronus about the Lambstead Expedition and the fact that you found Harry Fucking Potter in the wreckage, I haven't spoken to him yet." Hermione sounded as disbelieving as Ginny felt, but that wasn't what struck her.

"You haven't spoken to him yet? But you're his chief advisor, and intelligence officer, and researcher! He needs all of those things right now!" Ginny tried to clamber out of bed in order to shoo Hermione out of the hospital room but was stopped by the soft touch of Hermione's hand against her shoulder.

"Yes, I am, and yes, he does." Hermione agreed evenly, "But my wife is currently in hospital with brain damage that could become permanent if she refuses to take care of herself like she usually does. Dumbledore can handle himself for a bit." Ginny subsided into her bed, chastened, but pleased in spite of herself.

"Why'd I have to marry someone who's always bloody right?" She groused half-heartedly.

"Because you made the mistake of falling in love with her and wouldn't take no for an answer?" Hermione rebutted playfully. "Now drink those potions and we can get you out of bed and back into the thick of things." Leaning forward, she gave Ginny a quick peck on the lips before handing her the next potion in the Healer's regimen.

Sighing, Ginny took the potion and lifted it to her lips, bracing herself for the foul liquid. Glancing at Hermione, a wicked notion seized her. As quickly as she could, Ginny downed the potion, her face contorting involuntarily at the flavour even as she reached for the last two potions. Taking one in each hand, Ginny forced them down, one after the other, employing skills developed in post-mission bar-crawls with her Auror compatriots. The instant the last drop of foul fluid had disappeared down her throat, she reached forward, tangling her fingers in her wife's bushy brown hair and dragging her in for a kiss.

Hermione released a small squeak of surprise at the unexpected gesture, before releasing a small moan as Ginny's soft lips moved against her own, the redhead's tongue lapping at her lips and begging for entrance. Eagerly, Hermione opened her mouth and reciprocated with her own tongue, only to break off in a sudden fit of spluttering gags.