"You have a visitor, Ma'am."
The woman in the bed looked up in surprise. A visitor? No one knew she was here; who could be visiting her?
Her eyes drifted to the door, and her breath caught in her throat. For there at the door stood what must be a ghost. The man waited silently at the door, looking intensely at the woman in the bed. She heard the nurse say to him, "She can't speak well yet, but don't worry; she'll regain her voice soon."
The woman knew she must have imagined the slight smile she saw briefly touch the man's lips. If this was the man he appeared to be, the ghost of her memories, he did not smile. Then again, the ghost of her memories would not be here, now, visiting her as she lay injured in the hospital--a Muggle hospital, at that. Perhaps her injuries were more serious than she had been led to believe; did she in fact have a head injury? Or perhaps the medications being pumped into her IV were causing hallucinations. There was no other explanation for the appearance of this man, in her room, announced as her visitor.
As the nurse left the room, the man entered silently.
It was true that the woman had not yet regained the use of her voice; so she waited silently as the man approached her bed. He looked different from how she remembered him; twenty years do change a person. She knew she had changed. But there was no mistaking his identity, despite the impossibility of his presence here.
The man simply stood regarding the woman for several moments. How had she come to be here, in this condition? He knew her injuries were severe; the accident had been serious. He did not yet comprehend her situation, but he chose not to address that question. At present it was more important to gauge her reaction to his unexpected appearance in her hospital room. As yet she had simply gazed at him silently, with little expression on her face. He continued to watch her face as he neared her bed, focusing on her eyes and the confusion he saw there. He kept his expression neutral as he finally spoke.
He tried her married name first but stopped when he saw the pain it caused in her eyes. Next he tried her maiden name, but she shook her head at that. So he reluctantly settled for her Christian name. He saw her eyes widen in surprise and actually had to suppress the grin that threatened to take over his face. It wouldn't do for her to see him grin, of all things.
Remembering her dire health status sobered him quickly, and he continued speaking.
"I am certain that my presence here has surprised you and is causing you to question your sanity. Be assured that I am indeed here in the flesh." He watched her swallow and nod slowly then continued. "It was merely by chance that I became aware of your presence here--both in this town and in this hospital. You see, I read the Muggle news, and I was aware that your parents had relocated here. I knew it was only a matter of time before I was likely to see you here, as well, small town that it is. You should know that I briefly considered relocating, but I chose to retain my life as I know it. I would have hoped that we should meet under different circumstances if our meeting was to be inevitable."
The man interrupted his monologue when he saw the tears forming in the woman's eyes. He was no longer accustomed to speaking at such length, but under the circumstances, he felt compelled to continue. The woman could not very well respond yet, and it seemed important to inform her of his knowledge, seeing as she knew nothing of him or his intentions.
To be sure, he was not completely sure of his intentions himself. He knew only that he could not leave her like this, in this place.
"Correct me if I am mistaken, but I infer that no one else knows you are here. Am I correct?"
After the briefest hesitation, she nodded and lowered her eyes.
"Then I shall send word to..." He paused. Whom would she want to notify of her condition? "Minerva McGonagall? The Minister..." He stopped, seeing that she was struggling to speak. She swallowed several times in a futile attempt to moisten her throat.
"O--own--ly Hair-ry," she croaked.
He nodded. "Very well. And I'm sure I am not mistaken that you do not wish to heal the Muggle way."
Yet again her eyes widened in surprise, or perhaps it was gratitude.
–I have the knowledge and the magical wherewithal to heal you, if you will allow me to do." He waited for her to process his offer and was not surprised to see her nod in acceptance. She trusted him.
"I shall make arrangements to contact Mr. Potter and to have you released into my care."
The woman looked up as the man left the side of her bed. For the first time she noticed a tall, pale young woman standing near the door. The man moved quietly and deliberately, but this woman was absolutely silent. The man spoke quietly to her, so quietly that the injured woman could not hear what he was saying. The silent woman did not say a word but instead made a series of gestures with her hands.
The injured woman was baffled. He knew sign language? The whole scenario was becoming more and more surreal. While the man was a ghost from the past, this unknown woman looked not much more substantial than a ghost in the here and now. She was quite pale, her wispy hair so blonde it was nearly white. She listened intently as the man spoke quietly to her again, and then she slipped silently from the room.
The man spoke more loudly as he made his way back toward the bed. –Lil--Elspeth will send an owl to Mr. Potter and take care of the paperwork to secure your release." The woman was certain he had started to say a different name. She had her suspicions as to what name it was, but she chose to ignore it for now. She struggled to find her voice and was able to form a single-word question: "Malfoy?"
Oddly, the man looked at first startled and then wistful at the mention of that name. "No, she is not a Malfoy, though I do see the resemblance to that family. I shall tell you Elspeth's story if you wish, but not at this time. First I would like to know what you remember of the accident.â€
He could picture the Muggle news article more vividly than he cared to do: "Auto Accident Kills 3, Injures One...recent arrivals and their daughter...unidentified driver killed instantly...sole survivor in serious condition but expected to recover...long rehabilitation...." He had known immediately whom the article referred to, including the identity of the driver, though the Muggle reporters would ever remain in the dark. He supposed he would have to throw them a bone; Muggles liked closure. What harm was there in letting the community know the driver was the woman's husband? A name and a few unimportant details would satisfy them.
The Muggles were a distraction; what mattered right now was this woman's memory of the event. He sincerely hoped she was fully informed, as he did not wish to be the one to deliver the news.
He spotted a cup of water on the side table and gently helped the woman to sip from it. Once she had wetted her throat, she would be able to speak more easily. He noticed her studying him and fully understood her confusion. Twenty years changed a person, and he probably had changed more than most. Once she was satisfied, he replaced the cup on the table and stepped back.
"My...fault," the woman was saying. "All...my...fault." She looked straight at him, and the look on her face would have broken his heart even twenty long years ago, back when his heart had been made of stone.
"What have I done?" She burst into tears.