Title: Challenge

Author: LilyAyl

1) Ron or Harry being naked
2) A proposal (from anyone to anyone)
3) Apple juice has to be mentioned
4) Someone has to choke on home-made cake/pie
5) Blaise's mum has to make an appearance

There were days when Agnes Zabini wondered if it were too late to change her profession. She had been a mediwitch for many long years, but the last one had been the hardest yet.

The war was over, but not without casualities. The final battle, only ten months ago, had claimed many of the greatest wizards and witches that Agnes had over known and it had left three children, just on the threshold of adulthood in limbo.

The three each had his or her own room in the special wing. Draco Malfoy had paid for them to always recieve the best, which was why 10 months ago, Agnes had volunteered to leave her regular work and be assigned as the private nurse for the three people sequestered in the tower.

The first room in the tower belonged to Ronald Billius Weasley. Ronald Weasley had been cursed into his coma when he had leapt to protect the so-called Savior of the world and his best friend. Voldemort had shown no mercy for his loyalty. During the day, Ronald's mother and family would come. His mother would bathe him slowly and his sister would try to coax him to drink some apple juice or try their mum's homemade pie while her husband, Draco Malfoy, stood in the background.

One time one of his brothers had managed to make him take a bite of pie into his mouth, hoping that if he ate some of their mother's food that he would miraculously be better again. Instead, the comatose boy had started to turn blue, being unable to breathe. He was choking. When she had managed to clear his windpipe, Agnes had to tell the Weasley's that no more food was to be brought. Even still, Ronald's room was never empty, not even at night.

When Mrs. Weasley left, a short, dark-haired girl would dart into the room. Agnes was always careful to make sure that the girl never saw her. Technically the girl should have been thrown out, but Agnes had watched the girl sit by Ronald's bed. She would kiss him, hold his hand, and rest her head on his bed. She never spoke to him, just sat and waited. Then, as soon as the sun rose, she would kiss him and leave. As the months passed, Agnes had noticed that the girl's stomach was growing larger. When she went into labor last month, Agnes had finally learned her name: Pansy Parkinson.

The child was a bald little boy and Pansy had named him Ian. Now she brought the child with her every night. Agnes always had to remember to cast a silencing charm on the room so that the mother and babe would not be found. She checked the wards around the room and peeked into the window. Pansy and Ian were there and it looked like Pansy was singing to her son while she watched her beloved sleep. Agnes turned away and walked up the stairs to the next room.

The second room belonged to Luna Potter. Voldemort had tortured her in front of Harry Potter, trying to make her break. However by the time Harry gave in, Luna had already broken. She now just sat in her room and stared blindly out her window or drew pictures. She could dress, feed, and care for herself. However, she did not seem to hear or see or taste anything. As though Voldemort had robbed her of the ability to feel.

Harry visited her everyday and slept in the room every night. He kept up a constant chain of chatter to make up for her silence. As Agnes passed by the room she could hear him still, despite the late hour.

"...tell you about the creature they brought into the office today? It was huge and looked a lot like what some used to call a Trunuc. Do you know anything about those Luna-love?"

His conversation was not always so nonchalant, however, and Agnes could remember times when he'd be desperate, holding his wife's hands in his. Please Luna, just say something, anything. I need you, Luna. I need you to help me believe some more. I'm not good at this alone, Luna. You know that. Please, Luna! Say something! But Luna Potter had only stared blankly at some point in the opposite wall.

Agnes was always careful to allow the two as much time alone as possible. She'd remembered once when Luna Potter had seem so close to waking up out of her living dream. She had started to remove Harry's clothes, taking each piece off carefully until her husband stood completely naked before her. She had then reached to remove her own clothing. Agnes had thought she looked like she was remembering something, perhaps the first night they had been together and from the look on Harry's face, he was remembering too. But then she stopped and walked back to her window. Harry had dressed silently then and left for a few hours. Agnes passed the room and continued up the stairs.

The last room in the tower was the hardest for Agnes to enter. This room belonged to Hermione Granger. Once upon a time, she had thought this last girl was the easiest of the three charges, as if any of them weren't emotionally draining. Like the others, this girl received constant visitors while daytime, but she had not ever had any nightly ones, at least not any that Agnes had known of. However, then she had walked into the room one night while someone else was there.

She could not see who had decided to visit Hermione, but she could hear the voice and that was enough. The boy, her boy, was speaking quietly, pleading in the way she knew he could plead and apologizing endlessly. I miss you, Hermione. I miss watching you chew your lip while reading and I miss the way you roll your eyes when I say something stupid. I miss you and I'm so sorry that it took this whole mess to make me realize that. In either of the other rooms, Agnes would have left and allowed the confession to continue in peace, but this voice belonged to her son and she was curious. I never asked you before, because I was scared, and I know that asking now does nothing, but will you marry me? I know you can't say 'yes' yet, but I promise that until you do, I will be yours. I will devote my life and love to you, because there is no one else in the world that I want to be with more than you. I love you, Hermione Granger, always.

Agnes entered Hermione's room. She smoothed out the girl's sheets and sat in the chair by her bed. Agnes pushed the curls away from Hermione's face and patted her hand. If this girl was truly the one her son had chosen to be with for life, then Agnes was going to make damn well sure the girl was comfortable and healthy. Agnes pulled out her knitting needles and yarn and began to continue knitting baby clothes. Some she would leave in Ronald's room for Ian and the rest she saved in hope that one day Hermione would wake up and that she would say 'yes' to her son. Until then, she would wait.

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