Chapter 131: CPR!

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"Viktor did a partial self-transfiguration, though he admitted to me he tried to do a full-body one. He came up with Daphne just after time ran out."

"Tell him about right after he passed out," Harry suggests. I don't miss the amused tone, but apparently Hermione does.

"Well the first bystanders got to you right as you...er...started glowing. That was...well, it stopped them dead in their tracks." She seemed to shudder at the memory of it. "The healers reached you shortly after you passed out and collapsed on top of Fleur."

"I think you missed two important pieces of that story, Hermione." Harry with a grin.

This time she catches it, and swings an arm out to whack him while sending him a glare. "He has been in here for five days and all you can think about—"

"—is making him feel better! Here William, watch this." He holds a strategically-folded Daily Prophet open to show a black and white picture of me apparently on fire for the briefest of moments, then suddenly passing out right onto Fleur's chest. 

My memory is a little fuzzy, but I could have sworn the glow lasted longer than that. 

With the neck wounds closed and barely visible and the black and white picture showing very little evidence of blood, it looks like we're both just sleeping. Sleeping with my head on her chest.

My raspy laugh comes out again. "Damn...missed it..." Hermione's light slap to my chest causes another round of coughing.

"Geez, Hermione, he's been in here for five days and you're trying to keep him in here longer." Harry's smirk does not falter under Hermione's glare. 

"But more importantly, William, Hermione got there before the Healers. She rolled you off Fleur, checked your pulse, cast a Warming Charm on Fleur, and then began Muggle CPR on her. Neville says she was incredible!"

Hermione blushes. "I didn't know there was a spell that expels water from the lungs."

"Mouth-to-mouth?" I ask, then start coughing even harder when Hermione slaps my chest again.

"Hermione!" Harry says, laughing.

She looks at me with a horrified face, but before she can apologize, Madam Pomfrey interrupts. "Awake, Mr. Lerner? Very good. Off you go, you two. You may notify the others."

"Sorry, you prat," Hermione whispers and gives me one last squeeze. "We'll be back."

"See you in a bit," Harry says, squeezing my shoulder.

"Others?" I ask Madam Pomfrey once they've left.

"Yes, you've had quite the parade of visitors," she replies with a face that shows she is less than pleased about that. "How do you feel? No memory loss?"

"Sore all over, throat hurts," I croak out. "I remember everything, though."

"Very good." I almost laugh that it sounds like she is calling it very good that I'm sore all over and my throat hurts. "You are once again magically exhausted, Mr. Lerner." She says that as sternly as Professor McGonagall.

"Sorry," I say, appropriately chastised.

She takes a deep breath. "I would have preferred you left Ms. Delacour's treatment to us, but I suppose, under the circumstances, you may be forgiven this time."

"She okay?"

She frowns at me. "She is. I wish you would have brought her straight to us, though."

"Sorry, no good on a broom...had to go fast. She looked...like she was..."

"It's okay, Mr. Lerner," she says in a softer voice. "It turned out okay." She pats my arm for a moment, then goes back to her usual business-like manner. "Now that you're awake, you'll need to take these two potions: one for the pain and one for nutrition. We'll try a light meal in a bit, but I think you'll be interrupted before too long."

The nutrition one actually tastes decent, but as I'm choking down the painkiller potion, a firm knock at the door sounds out just a moment before it is opened to reveal Harry leading the Delacour family in. 

The two younger Delacours are in the powder-blue robes of Beauxbatons, even though I'm fairly certain that Gabrielle is too young to attend. 

Their mother is wearing a similar color, slightly lighter, perhaps, but hers is a slim dress that somehow shows very little skin and yet leaves little of her figure to the imagination.

My imagination probably wouldn't have been as good as the real thing anyway. She's got the same perfect hair and regal bearing, but her face is narrower and more delicate than Fleur's, and completely free of wrinkles and blemishes.

The patriarch enters last, wearing impeccably tailored navy blue – almost black dress robes. I'm actually surprised to see long, light brown hair falling in lazy waves to his shoulders. 

From seeing his daughters I would have expected blonde. His deep blue eyes match those of his wife and daughters quite well, though.

"Merci, 'Arry," Fleur says, turning to the blushing Gryffindor as her parents walk straight to my bedside.

"Monsieur Lerner," Mrs. Delacour says, leaning over and kissing me on both cheeks. "I cannot thank you enough for what you did for my daughter." My cheeks become quite heated, and not just because of the kiss, either. This woman might have her half-Veela aura completely under control, but that doesn't mean she's not an astonishingly beautiful creature.

"I...uh..."

"Oui, Monsieur," Mr. Delacour says, shaking my hand, "both you and M. Potter have done the Delacour family a great service. It is a debt we can never repay."

"I-I'm sure anyone would have done the same," I say weakly, but at least my voice is becoming a little easier to use.

Fleur's mother smiles kindly. "Non, monsieur, you and M. Potter moved to save my daughter without a second thought."

"Even before me," her father says, and I can see he's angry at himself for that. "That was quick thinking on your part, and very impressive magic."

"Thank you."

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