Disclaimer: Copyright J.K. Rowling
It was six in the morning, and the Potions and Plant Poisoning floor of St Mungo's Hospital was almost deserted. Cold, white halls stretched endlessly, lined with closed doors to wards, revealing nothing of the patients contained within. Healers swept by with a rustle of lime-green robes, but none spared a glance for the young boy and girl seated on a bench outside the Pollingtonious Ward, fast asleep.
At the creak of a door, Rose's eyes lifted open. Hugo was snoring gently against her shoulder. It seemed startlingly quiet here – the night at the Burrow had been a blur of relatives coming and going, hugging the two teenagers tightly and assuring them with trembling voices that everything was going to be all right. The crowd of Weasleys had followed them to St Mungo's, but there they had been separated. As immediate family, only Rose and Hugo had been allowed to proceed to the third floor, while the rest waited downstairs in reception.
Rose's head was pounding from crying all night. Everything seemed muffled around her, as though her ears were stuffed with wool. She looked around and saw her father for the first time since the wedding, emerging from the ward. Closing the door softly behind him, Ron Weasley gave her a watery smile.
"Dad," she croaked, easing Hugo's head off her shoulder and rising to her feet.
He enclosed her in a tight hug, his whiskers scratching her cheek, his breathing laboured. She buried her face in his shoulder for a moment, inhaling his comforting scent. Then, pulling away, she looked at him, trying to read his expression. "H-how is she?"
"She'll live," her father said, rubbing a hand against his eyes. He looked as dazed and tired as she felt. "Healer Dombryck says they managed to get most of the poison out of her system. She's still unconscious, though. Blimey, we were lucky, Rosie… I got her here fast, and she didn't drink a lot of the wine."
The words dimly registered in Rose's mind. The wine, the wedding… she felt it was all important but couldn't quite remember how. "Can I - can I see her?" she asked tentatively, afraid of the answer.
But her father nodded slowly. "You can go in first. I'll wake Hugo." He made his way to the bench where his son was slumped, still asleep. Rose put her hand on the door, breathed in deeply, then pushed it open and stepped inside.
The ward was private, for which she was thankful. A white, sterile room, the left corner was occupied by a bed with undrawn curtains, a hard wooden chair beside it. Smoke curled against the morning horizon above the rooftops of London, grey and dreary, and Rose looked through the window at it for a moment before moving to the bed. On the adjacent wall, an ancient wizard with a bulbous nose, snored loudly in his portrait, a golden plaque below him reading: Horatio Pollingtonious.
Hermione Granger lay against the spotless pillows, her bushy brown hair, streaked with some grey, fanned out around her face. She looked a little paler than usual, but otherwise normal. It was as though she were sleeping peacefully; Rose half-expected her to open her eyes at any moment to smile at her, or give her one of those stern, shrewd gazes that saw through everything.
She sat in the chair numbly, trying to derive some comfort from what her father had said outside the ward. She'll live. She'll live. They say she'll live. One of her mother's hands was dangling limply from the bed, and Rose took it in both of hers. It was soft and warm, and sent a momentary flare of hope through her.
"Mum," she said quietly. "Mum, I swear I'm going to find out who did this to you. And… they're going to be sorry." Feeble as they were, the words made her feel slightly better. She sat there for some time, blinking through tears, and watched the rise and fall of her mother's chest under the covers.
"Will that really help anyone, my dear?" came a weary voice from behind her, and turning, startled, she saw the wizard called Pollingtonious sitting up in his portrait, bleary-eyed. "Vengeance destroys all in its path. But healing is one of the greatest gifts in our world. Healing is what saved your mother's life. Perhaps you should think about that."
Stung, Rose let go of her mother's hand and glared at him. "I have thought about it. I'm going to be a Healer when I leave school."
The wizard's bulbous nose quivered as he began to chuckle. "Oh, dear. I did not mean as a vocation. You may do many great things in life, my girl, but healing most certainly will not be one of them. I should know; I co-wrote The Healer's Helpmate."
"I read it – it's rubbish," Rose retorted rudely. Letting go of her mother's hand, she got to her feet. "Now perhaps you should mind your own business."
With one last chuckle, the wizard in the portrait reluctantly obliged.
Scorpius entered the kitchen at noon to see his mother standing by the table, her face contorted with frustration as she traced a slow circle in the air with her wand. Whatever incantation she was performing, she was doing it silently, but he could tell that it was no ordinary household spell.
"What are you doing?" he said, puzzled, and she twisted, startled at the sight of him.
Her eyes were too bright, her cheeks unusually flushed – she looked agitated, unhealthy. "Oh good, you're up," she said after a moment, letting her wand-hand drop to her side. "I thought you were your father. You grow more like him every day, you know – your voice, your looks, everything."
"So I've heard," Scorpius said uncomfortably. "But what are you doing?"
"Just trying to clean up a bit," she replied, her tone a bit too casual. "You should get some breakfast, Scorpius; you must be hungry. I hope you got some sleep after last night."
"A bit, yes. Why aren't you at work? Have they given you time off because of…" He instantly regretted asking the question, when his mother gave an involuntary grimace. Smoothing down her black hair with one hand, she appeared be composing herself.
"I'll be at home from now on, Scorpius. The Ministry has suspended me without pay. I received a letter from them this morning."
Scorpius stared at her. "But they can't - "
"Yes, they can, Scorpius," she said calmly. "I was arrested, and by the same establishment that I am employed by. Obliviators must be trustworthy individuals, with clean criminal records. Along with the Aurors, ours - theirs is the most important task in the wizarding world: upholding the Statute of Secrecy."
"But you're only a suspect, they don't know – I mean, they don't have any proof - that you were responsible," Scorpius insisted. "It isn't fair."
His mother shook her head. "They do have some proof." Her green eyes caught his, and she looked suddenly anxious. "You did believe me last night, didn't you? When I told you that I had nothing to do with it? Because I would never lie to you, Scorpius. I need you to know that."
"I do," he broke in hastily, his eyes moving away from hers. "I believe you, Mum, I know you wouldn't - "
She stepped closer to him, seized his wrist. "No. I can see your doubt. Look at me, Scorpius. You must believe me – the evidence may point in my direction, you may hear people saying different things in school, but I need you to know now that I did not poison Hermione Granger. I had no reason to."
"Mum - "
Her voice grew louder in her desperation, her grip on his wrist tightening. "I don't care if the whole world believes differently, but I can't have you – my son – think of me as a murderer."
Scorpius gently pried her hand away from his wrist. There was a red mark on his skin now from where she had clutched him. "Mum," he said slowly, measuredly, "Don't talk like that. I will always believe you, no matter what people say. You're my mother."
His words barely seemed to register with her; she was staring at his wrist, guilt in her eyes. Warily, Scorpius took a few steps backwards before she could grab it again, moving to the pantry door to get some cereal.
"I was thinking it might be nice if we got some lunch in town," his mother said suddenly as he was turning the door handle. "Just you and me. Would you be ready to leave in the next ten minutes?"
Scorpius's eyes narrowed at the abrupt change of subject. "Is there some reason you want to leave the house?"
His mother had raised her wand, her face set like stone once more. Gradually, she seemed to be returning to her normal self. "There was something else in that letter I received. A notice, to temporarily lift security on our house."
"Why?"
"So that the Ministry can come and search it for evidence."
"What did you find out last night?" Rose asked anxiously, shoving a pumpkin pasty into her mouth. The pleasant tearoom on the top floor of the hospital, with brightly-painted walls and a chirpy young serving witch, had begun to fill up with visitors as the morning wore on.
Aunt Ginny had taken Rose upstairs for a bite to eat while her father and Hugo stayed with her mum. She sat across from her now at the little round table, clad in dark robes, red hair tied back in a tight ponytail. The lines of her face were more pronounced than before. "I don't know that much, being honest. It's been a crazy night. Except…"
"Except?" Rose persisted, leaning forward in her seat. Her aunt seemed slightly uncomfortable at her eagerness.
"Well, Harry dropped into reception a few hours ago. He told me…" For a moment, she was silent, apparently debating whether or not to continue, then seemed to come to some kind of decision. "He told me that they arrested someone."
"What? Who?"
Aunt Ginny looked at her strangely, then spoke again, her voice quiet. "Rosie, he said you described someone to him last night, someone you saw at the wedding. Someone who seemed suspicious. Is that true?"
"I… it's hard to remember." She cast her mind back over the dizzying blur of the night before, searching, and then, with a jolt, remembered her uncle Apparating in just after they arrived in the Burrow. And she had told him…
"Yes," she said at last. "I saw a dark-haired witch, near Mum's table, when I was going out for some fresh air. She was giving me a nasty look because I'd spilt Butterbeer on her earlier; I thought it was rather strange, but -" Her eyes locked on her aunt's, alarmed. "You're saying they arrested her just because of what I said to Uncle Harry?"
"No, not just that." Ginny's mouth tightened. "Harry looked into it after you told him, and some other people had noticed her behaving strangely too – apparently she kept trying to get as close to the bride's family as possible. And then I asked Bill and Fleur… And it turns out this woman wasn't supposed to be there at all. They never sent her an invitation. She certainly isn't a friend of the family, either."
"So you know her?" Rose felt her stomach twist into furious knots, and shoved her plate away from her, unable to eat any more. "Who is she?"
"I can't tell you her name, Rosie. Not here. It's not for definite yet, anyway. The Ministry took her in for questioning last night."
But she could see the anger in her aunt's face, barely concealed, and the tense way she held herself. It was as though she was refraining from leaping to her feet and hexing everyone in the room, just to do something. Rose understood – that was the way she felt, too. She wanted to know everything at once, just so that she could feel less useless. Asking questions helped.
"The same thing happened to your dad, you know," Ginny said suddenly, twisting a napkin in her hands and avoiding her niece's gaze. "In his sixth year, at Hogwarts. A bottle of mead poisoned by Draco Malfoy, intended for Dumbledore. I still remember all of us, standing around his bed. Merlin, he almost died. We'd had been arguing a lot that year, too – I remember thinking how stupid it all was."
"I know," Rose said quietly, unsure of what else to say. She had heard the story many times. Then something occurred to her. "Do you think that this case is similar?"
Her aunt gave her a sharp look. "What do you mean?"
"I mean – when Dad was poisoned, it was meant for someone else, right? Well, do you think it was the same with - " she swallowed, and summoned the words, " – with my mum? That the poison was intended for someone else? Like Uncle Harry?"
"Oh." Ginny paused, and frowned. "Yes, it's a possibility." Her eyes met Rose's. "But your mum has made a lot of enemies in the last twenty years. All the new acts she's passed: protecting house-elves and Muggles, eradicating pro-pureblood laws… Some people in the wizarding world don't like that. More than we like to admit, I think. And now, with her as head of Magical Law Enforcement. – she was bound to be a target sooner or later. We should have been more cautious at the wedding."
The two were silent for some time, listening to the bustle of the tearoom around them. Aunt Ginny had shredded her napkin into tiny pieces by the time Rose spoke again.
"There must be something else," she said, not taking her eyes off her aunt. "Another piece of evidence. They couldn't have just arrested that witch on the grounds of her not being invited to the wedding. I mean, what about the wine – how can they be sure that she poisoned it?"
"I can't say any more, Rosie." Ginny stared down at her empty plate for a moment, then swept the shredded napkin pieces onto it. "We should get going soon."
"You were gone most of the night, too, weren't you?" Rose recalled, barely listening. "I barely saw you in the Burrow, and almost everyone else was there all night, comforting me and Hugo. What were you doing?"
"Making inquiries," her aunt said evasively. She rooted in her pocket and drew out a Sickle and a few Knuts, placing them on the table and making eye-contact with the serving witch. Then, at last, she looked at her niece again, and sighed. "Fine. If I answer some of your questions now, will you promise not to do anything stupid?"
"Of course," Rose said hastily, but her aunt leaned in closer, lowering her voice, her eyes serious once more, boring into hers.
"You're not a child anymore, Rosie. You're almost a fully-grown witch, and that's why I'm trusting you to behave like one. Because you need to realise how much danger you're in. Someone has targeted your mother, and we don't know even know who. What's to stop them from going for your father next? Or your brother? Or you?"
A chill shivered down Rose's spine, and she nodded again. "I understand."
"Glad to hear it." Her aunt stood as the serving-witch came over, smiling brightly at them, and hovered their plates away. "Now, come with me."
"But - " Rose followed her out of the crowded tearoom, weaving around tables and sensing gazes on her back. "Where are we going?"
"To get you some answers."
They sat outside a white-fronted café in Bethnal Green. Scorpius, clad in jeans and a plain white T-shirt, his short, white-blond hair neatly combed, stretched out his long legs before him, propping his chin on his left hand as his mother ordered them tea and toast. Piles of taxis and cars jostled for space on the busy street beyond, impatiently blasting their horns when pedestrians dashed across; their broad, metallic coats gleamed in the dull daylight like those of strange insects.
Every now and then, the table would shudder as an underground train passed beneath them with a rumble. Muggles hurried along the pavement beside the café, little silver phones pressed to their ears, eyes determinedly fixed ahead. Always fixed ahead. Scorpius watched them as they passed. He wondered how many times each of them must have come close to uncovering their world - yet never quite managing it, because of people like his mother.
"They should be gone by dinnertime," his mother said conversationally.
"Who? Oh, yeah. Good." He had almost forgotten, for a moment. They had stepped out of the townhouse just as the grim-faced Ministry officials appeared in the square, camouflaged in Muggle clothing. Astoria Malfoy had nodded briefly to them as they passed, ushering Scorpius along as though he were a little boy again.
"We have nothing to hide, after all," she continued in an undertone, with an acknowledging smile to the waiter as he set two cups before them.
"Well, what kind of evidence is the Ministry looking for, anyway?"
"Anything that can be used against me in the hearing next week. The only substantial charge they could bring against me last night was that I hadn't been invited to the wedding. And at least I can disprove that - I did receive an invitation."
"So all you have to do is present the Wizengamot with that invitation, and they'll be forced to investigate further, and it will become clear that you weren't responsible. Won't it?"
Setting her teacup down, his mother's mouth twisted, as though she has tasted some bitter. "I would hope so, Scorpius. But…"
"But what?" he said, watching her closely. "What is it?"
Astoria Malfoy glanced around, which was a rather unnecessary precaution; they were the only customers eating outside, and the blare of carhorns would easily drown out their words to anyone else who may have been eavesdropping. Then her eyes met Scorpius's, and she said in a low voice, "I think there must be something deeper going on, beneath all of this. Someone wants me to be blamed for what happened, someone with power and influence in the Ministry. And whoever they are, they're not going to let a piece of parchment get in their way."
Neither of them spoke for a few minutes, sipping their tea in silence as the waiter bustled around behind them, wiping the tables down. Scorpius was gratified that his mother had spoken so openly to him for once. Someone was pulling the strings… But what, or who?
"Do you think the Weasleys are behind it themselves?" he said suddenly as soon as the door had swung closed behind the waiter. The question surprised him with its directness. Had it been swimming around in his head since the Howler had arrived yesterday?
His mother, on the other hand, looked as though she had been expecting it. "It's not to be ruled out," she said quietly, "But I think if the Weasleys wanted to discredit me or Draco, they would have done so without endangering a member of their own family."
Scorpius nodded, though he was not quite so sure himself. He glanced up as the waiter emerged once more, setting a tray of toast before them. Each slice was cut into neat triangles, topped with a tasteful amount of butter. His mother took a slice for herself, smiling, once the waiter had left. "Now for the love of Merlin, let's eat," she said lightly, "And forget all about the wizarding world for just a few minutes."
"Sounds like a plan."
"Wait for me here," Aunt Ginny said quietly as they reached the ground floor of St Mungo's. She turned right, towards reception, walking briskly, her robes swishing around her ankles. Tense with curiosity, Rose waited by the bottom of the crowded staircase, standing a little aside, and watched the green-robed Healers hurrying past with clipboards, interspersed with chattering visitors.
Rose had always liked St Mungo's, since she was small - the sharp, clean smell, the determined air of optimism maintained by all, and the silent understanding that seemed to exist between every visitor: that everyone was suffering in some way or another. When she watched the Healers, they always seemed so purposeful and earnest; there was an order to all that they did. Perhaps it was this that had first drawn Rose to the profession, before she had even started at school.
She drew some curious glances from the passersby, and realised for the first time how she must look. Under the baggy grey robes she had been given at the Burrow, she was still wearing the blue bridesmaid's dress. Her hair, so carefully conditioned, straightened and styled by Lily the previous morning, was a frizzy red mess now, her face puffy and swollen from crying. Vaguely, she thought of what a relief it would be to get back home and clean herself up again.
After some minutes' waiting, her aunt appeared through the crowd, Andromeda Tonks in tow. The tall old witch had changed into plainer robes of purple, and paled when she saw Rose. She pressed forward, taking her hand in both of hers.
"We've been in reception all night, waiting for some news. I've been so worried about you, dear, and for your brother too – children should never see such things." She paused, then asked in a lower voice, as people milled around them. "How is your mother?"
"She's all right." Rose attempted a smile, though she felt confused as to why Ginny had fetched Andromeda in the first place. "They say she'll live."
Andromeda seemed to sag slightly, and closed her eyes for a moment. "I heard, but was not sure if it was true. Thank Merlin. Thank… thank Merlin." She did not seem capable of saying anything else in her relief.
"Andromeda," Ginny said respectfully, coming to the witch's other side. "I know you already spoke to me last night, and I'm very grateful, but Rose had some questions too about… what happened."
"Of course she does." Andromeda looked into Rose's eyes, earnestly. "It is hard, not knowing the full truth, but those who keep it from you do so for your own protection. I hope you know that, child. Well, we had better go somewhere quieter, and I will tell you what I can."
Five minutes later, they had relocated to an empty administrator's office on the other side of the Artefact Accidents ward. He had loaned it to them graciously after a few murmured words with Ginny Potter. They sat around the polished wooden desk, the surrounding walls dazzlingly white, the empty corridor visible through the glass door to the office.
"I want to know about the wine," Rose said abruptly, before either of the witches could talk, leaning her elbows on the desk. "How did a bottle of poisoned wine get past the Aurors? And…" A sudden memory struck her, of passing her mother and Andromeda at the table. "You offered me some of it. That must have meant you tasted it too, but how - "
"I did," Andromeda said, looking solemn. "I had a whole flagon of it, my dear. Your mother had been sipping at her own goblet for the past hour without being affected. There was nothing wrong with the bottle, or else many more at the wedding would have been affected. I would have been affected, and I may not have borne it as well as your mother did."
"Well? She's lying unconscious in a ward upstairs, you call that well? She might never wake up!" The words were out, louder and harsher than Rose had intended them, and the raw, ugly fear that ran beneath them was something she barely recognised. She sensed her aunt looking at her in concern, from where she sat in the chair beside her. Andromeda, facing them behind the Healer's desk, flinched, but remained calm.
"She's still alive," she said with dignity. "And she will wake up, I promise you. Your mother is strong. That is all I meant."
Rose nodded, feeling a slight flush come to her cheeks at the outburst. "I'm sorry, Mrs Tonks. I know you didn't mean anything. But – how was my mother the only one affected? Did someone add it to her drink?"
"Here's where things get interesting," Ginny said grimly, speaking for the first time.
"They do indeed." Andromeda looked intently at Rose. "Not long after you left for fresh air, my dear, someone else came over to our table. A very handsome woman. She said she had come to pay her respects to our family. We offered her some of the wine; she declined politely." She paused, as though it was a struggle to get the words out. "We were then briefly distracted by a spectacle on the dancefloor – your brother and cousins playing some prank or other, I think, though I cannot quite recall... When we looked back, the witch had disappeared into the crowd."
"She slipped the poison into Mum's drink while she was looking away," Rose breathed, feeling simultaneously furious, fascinated and frightened.
"That was what I thought." Andromeda sighed. She suddenly looked very weary; the mask of calm she had maintained throughout their conversation seemed to have fallen away.
"It wasn't your fault, Dromeda," Ginny said fiercely, as though continuing some earlier conversation. "You didn't know - "
"I should have," the old witch said softly. Tears were glistening in her eyes. "I should have been watching out for your mother, Rose. And my grandson, too… he could have been the one they poisoned. After everything that happened in the war – with Ted, and Nymphadora, and Remus… Merlin knows I've lost enough family already."
"Don't worry about Teddy," Aunt Ginny said firmly, "He and Victoire are out of the country by now, on their honeymoon to Malta. They'll be safe. Anyway, whoever was behind this, I think their target was Hermione, or one of those closest to her."
Rose felt a chill run through her again, like she had earlier in the tearoom. It was not an entirely bad feeling - spontaneously, she was reminded of that momentary brightness in Harry's eyes at the wedding, after everything had happened.
"I should be getting back," Andromeda said, rising from the desk.
"Of course," Ginny said, getting to her feet. "So should we. Rose needs to be with her family. Thank you, Andromeda. I thought it better that she know the facts than - "
"Just one last question?" Rose pleaded as Andromeda moved around the desk, holding out her hand. "The woman who poisoned my mother. Who is she?"
Andromeda exchanged a glance with Ginny, who nodded, then turned back to Rose. "Astoria Malfoy," she said stiffly. "Her name is Astoria Malfoy."
The thrill Rose had felt mere moments ago evaporated at the witch's utterance. Now she only felt sick dread, fury… and clarity. Cold clarity. She knew now where she had seen that green-eyed witch before – at King's Cross countless times, embracing her pale, blond-haired son, Scorpius, who was in her year. But from a distance.
Always from a distance. Her family would pretend not to watch the Malfoys, and the Malfoys would pretend not to watch them. But the deep enmity that remained between her parents and Draco Malfoy from their days in school was impossible to ignore, much as they tried to pretend that everyone was at peace. After all, one never forgot their childhood tormentors. It simply was not possible.
And now, that peace was beginning to shatter in their minds. Rose had seen it, in the clenched anger of her aunt's expression, the sadness in Andromeda's eyes. Now, for the first time since the war, they had reason to hate the Malfoys once more.
By the time they returned to the square, after spending much of the day wandering aimlessly through arcades and street-markets (staying well away from the Leaky Cauldron; his mother did not wish to encounter any wizards or witches who may have already heard the news) evening was drawing its heavy curtains over the city, and the townhouse was empty.
"Do you think they found anything?" Scorpius asked as they stepped into the hall.
"We won't know until the hearing." His mother squeezed his shoulder. "But I don't think they did. There's no use worrying about it now."
Such futile advice, Scorpius reflected. Worrying was all he could do. He retired to his bedroom early, following a tense, rigid dinner of cold leftovers, rife with meaningful glances shared between his parents and unspoken anxieties. A folded piece of parchment sat waiting for him on his bed. Opening it, he recognised the slanted handwriting immediately.
Scorpius,
I read about your mum in the Prophet. Didn't believe a word of it. The whole thing seems like a set-up to me. Dad and Gran don't believe it either. Anyway, the Wizengamot can't convict on so little evidence. It's ridiculous.
Found something that might cheer you up, though. The latest Quibbler arrived a few minutes ago. Check it out.
Jem
Why his best friend still subscribed to that rag every month, Scorpius could not fathom, but decided to indulge his wishes all the same, and scan the carefully cut-out article that was Spellotaped to the rest of the parchment. A caricature drawing of a red-haired wizard with pimply skin and horn-rimmed glasses grinned malevolently up at Scorpius, and a bold, black headline emblazoned across his chest read:
Percy Weasley… or Fudge Reborn?
Is the recent arrest of Astoria Malfoy, wife of a prominent Gringotts worker, simply another strike in the Ministry's long-dormant Goblin Vendetta? The newly-elected Minister for Magic, Percy Weasley, is known to have served under 'Goblin-Crusher' Cornelius Fudge in his youth, yet he claims that he has not inherited any of his former superior's gold-grabbing ambitions.
BUT HAS HE?
According to a Ministry insider, on receiving news of his election, Percy Weasley loudly expressed his relief at now being able to follow in his former superior's footsteps. "Jumping up and down in joy, so he was, and he started rambling on and on about the gold of Gringotts with us all there, saying how he'd make old Fudge proud of him…"
Could it be that by arresting Astoria Malfoy, Percy Weasley is at last setting carefully-laid plans for the infiltration of Gringotts in motion? An expert informed us of the possibilities. "By arresting all of the wizards and witches working there and leaving the goblins vulnerable, Weasley plans to stage an attack on the bank, brutally slaying all of the goblins working there and thereby seizing control of all the gold in wizarding Britain."
The only question is: WHERE WILL HE STRIKE NEXT?
Putting down the article, Scorpius found himself smiling. He made a mental note to show it to his father later. He felt a great deal lighter – unconsciously, he had been fearing his friend's reaction to the news. Now, he only had the rest of Hogwarts to worry about.
"I hope you understand that you can't tell anyone about this," Aunt Ginny said urgently, as they stood outside the Pollingtonious Ward once more. "Your dad would kill me if he knew. Harry told him it all this morning, but he's been finding it hard to take it in. It would be even worse if he thought you were trying to deal with it too… the fact that your mother was a deliberate target."
"I know," Rose said quietly. "I won't tell anyone, don't worry."
"Good girl." Ginny pulled her into a brief hug. "I knew you'd be strong about this, Rosie. Now, I'd better get back to the kids. You'll be all right here?"
"I will." As her aunt began to walk away, Rose called after her, "Thank you. For believing in me."
Ginny Potter turned, and smiled. "I've always believed in you, Rosie."
As soon as she was gone, Rose collapsed onto the empty bench she had slept the night on, and let her breath out in a whoosh. She was so tired… so worried… It was hard to believe that at this time yesterday, they had all been at the wedding reception, drinking Butterbeer and dancing, her mother safe and healthy and smiling, her only trouble being that she felt hemmed in by all of the people around her. How had so much changed in so little time?
The sudden opening of door lifted her out of her reverie, and she looked up to see Hugo emerge from the ward - pale, wide-eyed and breathing fast. Rose leapt to her feet and clutched at him, panic rising within her. "What's wrong? Is it Mum? Is she worse? Merlin, say something!"
Hugo opened his mouth, then closed it again. "She's… she's awake."
A.N: Back to Hogwarts in the next chapter, I promise! From now on, I'll be updating roughly at the start of every month, though that may change. And proper Rose/Scorpius interaction will take place - in good time. Review if you wish…