Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise, therefore, you cannot sue. Mwahahaha.
Beta'd by the wonderfulness of Michy
Written for The Disney Character Competition - Louis
Written for the Scavenger Hunt - An angsty/Tragic fic.
WARNING - Please take care while reading this story, as the subject matter is extremely sensitive, and may be triggering.
xxxx
Denial
Lost in a sea of fear and denial, she searched and searched for the missing puzzle piece of her soul, but she couldn't find him. He had to be here somewhere, for it was impossible to just disappear, even with magic. She looked around the flat they shared, checking every crevice and hidey hole. He was crawling now, after all. He wasn't there.
His accidental magic had been showing quite strongly, and she worried that he had Apparated himself somewhere accidentally. Or perhaps Ron had taken him somewhere for the day. Maybe Ron had taken him to the Burrow, or to stay with Harry. She knew he had to be somewhere, because for him not to be would be inconceivable.
Placing an alert charm on the flat just in case, she left to go to the Burrow. That was the most likely of places he would be.
"Hey, Molly," she said, entering through the back door to find only the Weasley matriarch in the kitchen. "Has Ron been by with Hugo?"
She watched in confusion as Molly turned pale and stammered a reply that made absolutely no sense to her.
"Well, if he comes by, tell him to come home straight away, okay?" She said, leaving a concerned and tearful Molly Weasley behind.
Apparating straight to Harry's house, she knocked on the door to no reply. He mustn't be home. Obviously, Hugo wasn't here then. She decided to return home, sure that she would find him awaiting her. That the alarm charm had not gone off had no effect on her firm belief.
She checked room by room, but she still couldn't find him. Panic welled up inside her again, as memories of this happening before flew through her mind. She must be hallucinating, she told herself. This had never happened before. It can't have, because then she would know where to find him.
She sat at the table in an effort to calm herself and glanced at the paper. Some poor witch had lost her husband and son in a Muggle car crash a year ago today, said the front page. She didn't read the story fully, as the very thought of such a thing happening was enough to strike fear in her chest.
She looked closer at the picture. Odd, but that was the same car that Ron drove. She'd have to warn him to take it easy on the roads, and maybe she could look up some protective charms for the interior of the car, just to be safe. She found it strange that she didn't remember this accident happening. Surely if the anniversary made the front page, then the actual event must have.
Turning to page nine, where the story would be continued, she froze. Why was there a picture of her son and her husband on page nine? She turned back to the front page, and surely enough, it said page nine. She shook her head. Someone should write to the Prophet and complain about such an error. Everyone would surely see that and think the worst.
Ron and Hugo were fine. Hugo was crawling now. Ron was an Auror, with Harry. They were fine. Weren't they?
xxxxx
Harry Floo'd over to Hermione's flat after a frantic call from Molly Weasley. He hadn't been able to understand her completely when her head suddenly appeared in his office fire, but something was surely wrong with Hermione. That much he had picked up on.
He exited the flames to find his best friend sitting at the table with this morning's Prophet in front of her. He sighed sadly. Of course that would make her sad, such a vivid reminder of what happened. Not that she need a reminder, he was sure, but still.
"Are you alright, Hermione?" he asked when she didn't move.
"Are Hugo and Ron at your house, Harry? I tried the Burrow, but they're not there, and I tried yours but there was no answer. I've looked everywhere for them, Harry, but I can't find them. And look, have you seen this error in the Prophet? On the front page, it says the article is continued on page nine, but it can't be, because there are pictures of my Ron and Hugo, and they're both fine, they are, Harry, they're both fine."
She talked without taking breath, looking at Harry with frantic eyes, willing him to tell her that her husband and son were both safe and sound at his house. Tears fell down Harry's face as he watched her talk. He'd known she was having problems accepting the deaths of her husband and son, but he had no idea she'd forced herself into denial like this.
"Hermione, sweetie, Ron and Hughie are both, well, they died. A year ago. That article is about them, for the anniversary," he told her gently, holding his arms out in case she collapsed into them.
Instead, she got angry.
"How dare you, Harry Potter! How dare you say such things! THEY ARE BOTH FINE!" She screamed hysterically, slapping and hitting every part of him she could reach. He let her hit him, raising his arms in time to catch her as she fell, tears pouring from her eyes as she muttered to herself a mantra of, "They're fine. They're fine. They're both fine."
He held her as she cried, knowing what he had to do, but hating himself for it. She would hate him for it too. Picking her up, noting that she was far too light, he moved towards the Floo. She kept up her mantra, not seeming to even realise he was moving, so he tucked her head into his robes so she wouldn't get soot in her mouth.
"St Mungo's."
xxxx
Hermione lay in her bed, staring up at the white ceiling. Everything was white in this room. The walls, the floor, the blankets. Even the restraints on her wrists. They were keeping her captive here. They told her horrible lies, lies that she wouldn't listen too, wouldn't believe. Instead, she stared at the ceiling and waited. Her Ron would come and save her from these kidnappers. He would save her, and he would take her to Hugo. Because they were both fine. They were fine. They were fine.