A/N: "What is this? A chapter of ToMT on a Sunday?" you cry!

*Snickers*

*Is frightfully sorry for the wait. Lucius was being a butthead.*

*And I had to re-read sections to make sure he wasn't incorrect in his buttheaded-ness*

*And I've got my family hounding me for Book 2 in my original series, Paranormal Division, which I've been trying to get finished and ready to publish*

*And, you know, I'm rubbish at time-management but a master at procrastination*

*Anyway, I hope you like this chapter, and that you're all still reading this fic, despite the above reasons to wander away*

*Begs with big Kitten-y eyes full of hope and sadness and worry*

*Please don't give up on me? I'll do better, I swear.*

Tip of My Tongue

By Kittenshfit17

Chapter 36

Hermione Granger woke to the feel of a small hand caressing her face and she blinked groggily, her eyelids uncooperative as she attempted to rouse herself into wakefulness. Her body felt heavy and sluggish, as though she was attempting to swim through wet cement, but she twitched, her brain beginning to send signals throughout her limbs that they ought to be moving and that they really ought to investigate the cause of the small, stroking hand that kept touching her cheek adoringly, but she couldn't move.

Whimpering, Hermione wrenched her eyes open, blinking against the harsh light of the world beyond the safely of sleep, and coming face to face with the white blond hair and placid smile of her young son. Aurelian Granger was seated on the middle of her chest, his little legs straddling her body and pinning her arms to the bed, preventing movement.

"Mummy?" Aurelian asked hopefully, his face lighting up at the sounds she was emitting as she tried to get her bearings and trying to figure out why her head was aching, and why she couldn't move her legs.

"Aurey?" Hermione asked hoarsely, squinting at the boy in the brightly lit room and wishing someone would lower the curtains.

"You're awake!" Aurelian said softly, though his smile was a thousand watt when he beamed at her adoringly.

He continued smoothing his little hands over her face gently, carefully touching her like she was a special pet.

"What's going on, darling?" Hermione asked of her son, finding that any movement of her head to try and look around was impeded by sparkles of a migraine and therefore, not at all recommended.

"You're in the hospital, Mummy," Aurelian told her. "Everyone's in the hospital. You. Daddy. Scorp's Mum. Uncle Harry. Aunt Ginny. Hospitals are really boring, Mummy. Can we go home? I want to play with my toys."

"The hospital?" Hermione asked, trying to get her brain to cooperate and unsure why she would be in the hospital. "Why?"

"You broke your promise to Daddy," Aurelian told her. "You promised you wouldn't try a cure for the fairy virus on yourself, and you broke it. Daddy had to be restrained back to his bed when he burst in here to yell at you for breaking your promise, Mummy. He was very angry with you."

"Oh, no," Hermione sighed, closing her eyes again as the memories surfaced in a flash of clarity.

She recalled barricading herself in the lab at the Malfoy Chateau in France, after finding herself trapped and unable to get out when she'd been intent on murdering Rita Skeeter. She remembered flinging herself into her research to try and stave off the violent urges she'd felt and the helplessness of her situation, knowing that unless Malfoy came back to get them, they might all die in that decadent yet wretched house. She recalled the appearance of Narcissa, and the way she'd been too far gone by then to stop her research, or to control herself entirely when she was so caught in the effects of the virus.

She remembered, vaguely, discussing with Narcissa her need to question Dolohov due to the signature she'd discovered within the viral cells she'd extracted from her own body. And she remembered drinking the 'antidote' she'd concocted based on guessing quantities of a potion she'd brewed, originally, for a much smaller and much more delicate magical being than herself.

Dear Merlin, she was lucky she hadn't gotten herself killed!

"Daddy was really angry, Mummy," Aurelian told her, nodding gravely as though he was imparting irrefutable wisdom rather than gossip.

"Daddy's not wrong to be upset me with Mummy, sweetheart. I did break my promise," Hermione sighed tiredly. "I'm very happy to see you, you know?"

"I'm happy to see you, too," Aurey told her. "I love you, Mummy."

Hermione's heart melted and she silently vowed to herself that she would never put her life in such jeopardy with her own foolishness ever again.

"I love you too, my darling," Hermione said, managing to wriggle her arms from beneath her son's legs before wrapping them around him and pulling him into a warm hug.

Aurelian stretched out on top of her, burrow his little face against her neck and squeezing her too tightly for her aching body to handle, but Hermione didn't complain. Th effects of the virus had almost robbed her of hugs from her son for the rest of her eternity and she couldn't bear the thought of having come so close to being without him, and he, her.

Tears prickled at her eyes, and Hermione was grateful that for the time being, Aurelian seemed to be her only visitor. She had so many questions she wanted answers to. She wanted to know whether Harry and Ginny still lived – though Aurey had said they were also in the hospital, so it seemed likely that they were, though there was no indication of what state they might be in. She wanted to know what had become of Astoria Greengrass, and whether she had survived all that had been done to her at the hands of Dolohov, or if the picture she'd seen in the newspaper of Draco carrying her prone form like some avenging angel was due to her most unfortunate death.

"She wanted to know what they'd done with Dolohov, and whether the bastard still drew breath. She needed to know if he still lived, though the thought rather terrified her, because she knew that for the sake of the curing the virus, she needed to speak to him about its composition and about how it might've spread from fairies to humans. For that matter, she needed to find out what on earth he had against fairies to have to viciously invented a virus designed to wipe them out. She wanted to know if Ginny and the other pregnant women afflicted by the virus were still holding up alright, or if they had worsened since she'd foolishly drank that stupid concoction. She wanted to know her own diagnosis, too. Had ingesting the botched antidote she'd invented managed to cure her? Or was she in just as much danger as the others?

Of course, she wasn't pregnant, so eventually the virus was rip through the stores of estrogen in her body and she would eventually succumb or heal without it. But that was beside the point. The ache in her head was making her think that she might not be doing as well as she would like, but there was no one except Aurelian to ask, and the boy was so young that Hermione fervidly hoped he didn't have any of the answers she sought. Good god, how long had she been like this? Who had been caring for him? Where was her mother? What would become of them all if she didn't get better?

But all of it would have to wait while she enjoyed a quiet moment with her son. She closed her eyes tightly, breathing in the freshly bathed scent of Aurey's hair as she held the little boy close, and she hoped that no one would notice the silent tears that slipped from the corners of her eyes to be lost in her hair.

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

Lucius Malfoy stalked into the hospital regardless of the heavy Auror presence guarding Dolohov, his son, and Potter's rooms. He knew he was taking a gamble, being there, but he had to do something. This rubbish had gone on long enough, thank you very much!

His daughter in law, despite everything, still lived. Dolohov, the useless wretch, hadn't even managed to kill her. He'd had one job, confound it all! Remove the witch from the equation to protect the offshore accounts and the less than legal dealings he still involved himself in for the sake of his fortune. Was that so hard?

Apparently, it was. Scowling, Lucius passed the door to the room where he knew they were keeping the ex-Death Eater, noting the number of guards had diminished a little today. Of course, they had. The wretch was dying. Draco had indicated that he'd hit the bastard with a wandless Killing Curse, and for all that it was illegal and hadn't taken quite as instantly as Draco might've liked, there was no coming back from that. Lucius only prayed that the stupid cunt wouldn't awaken at all in his final hours, lest he utter the truth about his motives and just who had put him up to the kidnapping and the murder in the first place.

Lucius didn't fancy another stint in Azkaban, thank you very much.

In any case, he needed to ensure that this could in no way come back on him. Draco's interference had really bollocksed things up, and Lucius was of a mind to beat the little shit for his impudence just as soon as they were free of prying eyes. How dare he go against the Patriarch of the Malfoy family? How dare he punch and hex Lucius for the plots he'd implemented to protect them? It wasn't like he loved the stupid bint. What had he been thinking? Scorpius would undoubtedly be better off without the adulterous vixen in his life, and the boy was still young enough that he wouldn't have remembered the woman.

It had been a perfect solution. No divorce scandal. No revelation of offshore accounts following investigative proceedings to determine fault and alimony. No messy affair being aired before the public. No negative backlash on a family who had already endured more than enough of that following the war. Dolohov could have quietly and quickly killed the silly bint and run off to his mother country for the rest of his miserable days, unable to strike out at any of them in retaliation for his detainment.

It had been neat, well-planned, easily executed, and logical.

And yet, both his wife and his son had ignored his advice and made their own choices that had instead landed them in this mess! Why did no one respect his authority as head of the family? And now look where it had landed them.

Amid the biggest scandal to sweep the wizarding world since the Dark Lord.

Draco's divorce splashed across the pages of the Daily Prophet, Astoria's affair shared with the public. Narcissa arrested! Draco, returning a conquering hero who might never recover from the depletion of saving a woman he didn't love. Worse, his own love child revealed to the world!

Granger was another kettle of fish entirely, and just as soon as Lucius had finished cleaning up the mess his family had made with Greengrass and Dolohov, he would need to address the problem the filthy little mudblood had become.

Lucius had known of Draco's interest in the girl when he'd been a teenager. Of course, he had. How could he not? When Draco wasn't sneering about Potter, he was grousing about Granger at every opportunity. When Draco had come to him at sixteen and requested that Lucius overlook her bloodline for the sake of saving her, should the Dark Lord set his sights on the girl for her association with Potter, Lucius had told him no. They couldn't afford to be seen as weak. Not after everything that had happened in the Department of Mysteries. Not after Draco had been prematurely forced to take the Dark Mark in Lucius's place when he'd been arrested and sentenced.

Not when her blood was impure.

And yet, the warnings had not stopped the boy for long, it seemed. No, not a scant few years later, he'd shagged the little trollop and gotten her pregnant. Lucius was furious with him for it, and especially with his wife for the deception she knowingly provided where the boy was concerned.

A second grandson.

Lucius Malfoy had a half-blood for a first-born grandson. What was the world coming to? This was unacceptable. It would need to be handled.

Very delicately.

Lucius suspected that while Draco had put up a fight and rescued his ex-wife despite their lack of love, he would undoubtedly do more than that where Granger was concerned. He'd never relinquished his feelings for the mudblood. Lucius should've known that was the case when he'd chosen a career within the Ministry that put him in direct contact with the bitch. But no. He'd told himself the boy was content in his marriage the Astoria, and that he would never dream of defying Lucius's orders. Meanwhile, he already had done.

Siring a half-blood.

Merlin, his son really was turning out to be quite the disappointment, Lucius thought bitterly as he continued on through the hospital, intent on reaching the same son's room.

Before he could, several Healers hurried past and into the room Lucius knew Granger was currently occupying. Merlin's beard, this hospital was just full of reasons he ought not to be here, wasn't it? Next, he'd have to endure the indignity of the mudblood surviving whatever had landed her here – whatever has seen Narcissa bringing her here. And that would be one more mess he would need to clean up.

Narcissa.

Another problem he needed to deal with. His wife hadn't been home in days. She refused to leave the hospital for the sake of returning home. Lucius had tried to coax her to return to the Manor, but she wouldn't be budged from their son's side. Part of him suspected she was furious with him and that she didn't trust either of them to be alone with the other, at present. Lucius didn't entirely blame her. He wanted to do unspeakable things to his wife for her deception. For five years, she had lied through her perfect white teeth about a book-club, just for the sake of meeting with a mudblood in secret. For the sake of their grandson. A grandson she hadn't seen fit to tell him about.

She had kept it from him, knowing he would disapprove her association, and likely knowing that he'd have thought to do something to handle the potential scandal by erasing the problem before it could become an issue. He didn't doubt that, should he try, Narcissa would fight him on it. And while she wasn't insane, as her elder sister had turned out to be, Narcissa had a mean streak a mile wide. Merlin, if he tried anything where the boy and his mudblood mother were concerned, Lucius suspected he would find himself in a shallow grave.

Oh yes, she was undoubtedly furious with him and willing to hex him into oblivion for the danger their son had placed himself in as a result of all this drama. It had been his actions that had landed them in this mess, by her reckoning. Never mind that if everyone else had done as they were told and let him handle it, there would be no mess! He supposed he couldn't blame her for not wanting to return home. They hadn't had a fight like the one that was brewing since he'd failed at the Department of Mysteries and landed their son with the Dark Mark before he'd even turned seventeen. Lucius still had scars from the epic battle they had waged within the Manor beyond the prying eyes of the Dark Lord and his followers over that particular screw-up.

When she finally did come home, she was likely going to make him pay for what Draco had put himself through. Worse, Lucius was of a mind to remind her that he was in charge of this family and that her actions and her lies had compromised not only their happiness, but their sodding marriage. Merlin, he'd wanted to strangle her when he'd learned of her lies about the half-blood. He still did, if he was being honest. Yes, maybe she was right to refuse to return home, for the time being.

Before he could reach his son's room, a shock of platinum hair burst free of the room where Healers were checking on Granger and Lucius's heart stopped.

Merlin's beard!

The half-blood bastard. Draco's firstborn. There he was!

He was tall for a boy his age. His hair the tell-tale white-blond of the Malfoy bloodline, and his features almost a mirror image of Draco's at that age. He clutched a green toy dragon under his arm, and he was dressed smartly enough, for a half-blood, anyway. He hurried out of the room as though on a mission, striding with that purposeful gait of a child, uncaring for the adults moving around him and the way a Healer had to swivel precariously to keep from crashing into the boy as he moved. The boy paid him no mind, continuing on as though the world should move around him, and not the other way around.

He was also alone.

Unbidden, Lucius's feet followed the path the boy took as he rounded the corner, heading away from his mother's room and off into the hospital. Perhaps handling this problem wouldn't be so difficult, after all.