She can't even be upset at her new patience, for all the work they give her in the next few hours, because she is far too busy floating a little on the fact that Viktor Krum is in London, in her ward.

She'd lost touch with him, back when they started to intercept owl mail. It's been years now since she last wrote him any letter, but she can still remember the last one she received from him. The bottom line had been unmistakeably Viktor - stubborn, honourable, brave. I am going to fight, Hermione. It is what I must do, to make the world safe again.

Out of a fondness for their squadron colleague, she drops a few newspapers on Ivo's nightstand a few hours later, but beyond that she barely has time to stop the rest of the day.

It's evening and dark outside by the time her shift is over, and Hermione could call today a success. No losses. No deaths. Only minimal amount of trauma, overall.

Despite most of the Healers on shift with her having left for their homes already, she is still in the hospital, still in her stark white uniform, when they start lighting up the candles near each bed. Most patients are sleeping, though when she approaches Viktor's bed again, she finds him awake, and reading through today's papers as if maybe this is the first time he's had a chance to.

"So, Mr Krum," she says softly, taking a seat on the edge of his bed and holding her hand out for permission to grab his. "We meet again."