To Fall for Somebody New Chapter 28: Curses, a harry potter fanfic

August Auction | Day 24, Auction 3 | [pairing] RonHermione
IPC #8 | [word] Fight
365 #181 | Language

Monthlies & Fortnightlies
Pick-a-Wick | 16. Hot fudge brownie | [genre] family

WC: 889

o . o . o

Curses

Hermione sped through the halls of St. Mungo's, droplets of rain leaving a wet trail on the floor behind her. Under normal circumstances, she'd be horrified by that - so many hazards - but today she didn't even give it a second thought.

"Am I too late? Has it started?" Hermione asked as she burst into the little room. "I only just found out! Millicent waited until after the Wizengamot's hearing to tell me about it. I swear she thinks that just because I'm ambitious I don't care about my children!"

"You're just in time," Ron greeted, kissing his wife's cheek quickly and then moving aside so she could stand next to the bed.

"Hi my little pumpkin," she whispered, her voice taking on that soothing maternal tone as she ran her fingers through little Hugo's curls. "Are you alright?"

Hugo nodded, though his lip was pushed out in a determined pout. He leaned into his mother's touch, immediately more assured by her presence. Hermione had always been his favourite, much to Ron's chagrin, though she constantly assured him that Hugo loved him just as much.

"What happened, Ron?" she asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

"They were playing," Ron answered, shrugging casually. "They were running around outside and -"

"In the rain?" Hermione interrupted, sounding horrified.

"Of course in the rain, 'Mione! They're kids, not china dolls, a little rain won't hurt them," he protested, his temper always flaring at the slightest implication that his parenting skills weren't up to snuff. "Besides, it wasn't raining this hard in St. Albans. Anyway, they were running around, playing dragons and pretending to fly and Rose slipped. She threw out her arms and it was just kind of like a blast of air came from her hands. It kept her from falling, but it caught Hugo and he hit the ground."

"Why did you think that was a good idea?" she hissed. "They could've been so badly hurt!"

Ron rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to reply but the door opened once more, cutting him off - probably for the best - as the healer walked in.

"Minister, I'm glad you could join us, and I'm sure your son is as well," she said, smiling warmly at the little family before turning to Hugo. "Now, Hugo, because you're allergic to seafood, we can't use the potion we normally would to heal breaks, so we're going to have to do this the muggle way. And I have a very important question for you - what is your favourite colour?"

"Yellow!" Hugo replied, grinning despite his injury.

"Okay, then," the healer said, tapping a pile of wet-looking fabric with her wand. It started to yellow, gradually growing in saturation until it reached a bright, lemon yellow.

Hugo wriggled excitedly until the healer reached out and took his arm as gently as possible, and then he hissed in pain, his eyes watering. She tapped her fingers along the bone, ignoring his whimpering as she searched for the exact spot of the break. When she found it, she nodded to Ron and Hermione, who took up positions on either side of their son, both reaching out to offer him a comforting touch. The healer wrapped her fingers around either side of the break and tugged hard to realign the bones.

"Bloody hell!" Hugo swore as sharp pain radiated through his arm.

"Hugo!" Hermione gasped, disappointed by her four year old's choice of language.

"It's fine, 'Mione, I think a little swearing is warranted under the circumstances," Ron said, gently brushing away a tear that had fallen on his son's cheek.

"Ron, he's four," she argued, her face adopting that stubborn expression she always got when she was ready to fight. "He shouldn't be allowed to swear at all."

The healer grinned at the silly argument as she wound first gauze and then the plaster fabric around Hugo's wrist and arm.

"Sometimes you just need to curse, Hermione," Ron retorted. "It's just the best way to express yourself."

"No, there are always better words," she answered, crossing her arms. "Cursing is indicative of a poor vocabulary."

"Actually, studies show that cursing is indicative of a higher IQ," Ron replied, recalling something he had read in one of the many parenting books he'd read when he was still nervous about having Rose. "Means we've got a little smarty-pants over here."

Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but no words came to her. Ron could sense the tension beneath the surface though, and he knew that she was only arguing because she was scared. He reached out to her across the bed, and Hermione sighed, placing her hand in his and letting her shoulders drop.

"He's fine, Hermione," Ron reassured her, squeezing her hand. "It's just a broken bone, that's all."

She nodded, swallowing thickly. Ron knew she was playing the 'what if' game in her mind, but she didn't want to scare Hugo. He made a mental note to hold her extra tight after the kids went to bed. She got a lot of criticism from people who thought she was a bad mother for continuing to pursue her ambitions after the kids were born, but Ron knew it couldn't be farther from the truth. She was a great mom, and he didn't think anyone could do it better.