Chapter rated T for language and themes.

Chapter 23: This Isn't Goodbye

I couldn't see straight. My vision was hazy and I couldn't focus on anything. I saw people whizzing by me in white coats, talking quickly and waving their wands madly. I couldn't really see the people though—they were just blurs. All I could focus on was getting to my father as quickly as I could.

My mum was tugging on my arm, pulling me forward as she took my brother and me to his room. I felt Hugo walking behind me. He wasn't touching me, but he was a solid force—stoic and silent, but no doubt feeling all the things that I felt as he followed Hermione and me along.

Finally, we got to the room that I assumed was his. My mother stopped outside and took a deep breath before pushing the door open, and I almost collapsed the moment I stepped inside. I didn't—but only because Hugo's strong arm wrapped around my shoulders and pulled me close to him.

"Daddy," I breathed as I rushed to his bedside.

Ron Weasley was the happiest man I knew. He was almost always smiling and laughing and teasing me and Hugo. It was the best when he was with Uncle Harry because they would laugh hysterically with each other, telling stories about work and reminiscing about the past, all while mum and Aunt Ginny just rolled their eyes in an attempt to hide their smiles.

My father was always happy, which is why when I saw him lying on the hospital bed, whiter than a sheet with his eyes closed and his goofy grin gone, it grabbed at my heart fiercer than anything my mom had said.

"It might scare you at first."

"He's in bad shape, baby."

I reached down tentatively to hold my father's free hand. His other hand was being held in between the hands of his older brother, George, who was watching him carefully, trying to will him awake with his eyes.

"Hey, runts," Uncle George said when he glanced up at me and Hugo and wiped unshed tears away. "Took you long enough." There was a trace of a smile on his face, but I couldn't smile back—my muscles just wouldn't respond.

I looked over in the corner and saw my Uncle Harry, his back to the room and his arms folded across his chest, looking out the window in silence. He didn't turn when we came in, and none of the others in the room called out to him. I imagined that was because he had probably been in that position for a while. My dad's sister was sitting next to George, apparently reading something that looked like a wizarding medical book, no doubt trying to find a solution to whatever was ailing my father. I almost smiled as I imagined my mother handing her the book and telling her where to look right before she'd left to come and get Hugo and me at Hogwarts. She was always very diligent, my mother.

My mother was standing next to me, crying quietly—I only knew she was crying because she was shaking gently. My brother stood behind me, watching my father with a look of anger, fear, and disbelief on his face.

"What happened?" Hugo asked as I slipped into the chair opposite Uncle George and assumed the same position he was in, holding my father's other hand. He felt so cold.

"A curse," Aunt Ginny said, looking up from her reading. "He and Harry were on assignment, and my brother—the damn fool—always trying to be so brave... Trying to…"

She trailed off as George whipped around and gave her a stern look. I knew what she was going to say though—trying to outshine my uncle. He was always secretly competing with Uncle Harry, and as much as Harry brushed it off like it was no big deal, obviously it had gotten him in trouble this time.

"He should have just stayed working with me at the joke shop," George muttered.

"Oh, like it's less dangerous there," Ginny snapped with good nature.

George smiled. "No, I guess you're right."

"Where are the healers?" Hugo asked. I reached up and brushed a lock of red hair off my father's forehead. Wake up, I willed. Just wake up.

Ginny looked up at my mother, and George looked at Ron. Mum then put her face in her hands.

"Mum…" I said, reaching out to rub a hand down her arm. "Mum, what is it?" I looked around before looking back at her. "Where are the healers?" My voice became a bit more stern.

Several moments passed before anyone said anything, and nervousness and alarm sank into my stomach. What weren't they telling us? Why weren't they saying anything?

"There's nothing they can do for him."

Uncle Harry's voice rang out clearly in the room even with his back turned. He sounded angry, withdrawn. I whipped my head to him and then back to Hermione.

"Hermione, what does that mean?" I said, slipping into my old habit. I thought I heard Uncle George chuckle. Hermione only cried harder.

"These damn idiots," Harry said, still staring out the window. "They don't know what they're dealing with. I've flooed all my contacts throughout the country and in Europe. I've got a few experts apparating in because these bloody fools don't know what the problem is."

"It's a curse, sweetheart," Aunt Ginny said. "It's complicated stuff."

"Complicated, my arse," Harry said, whipping around. "These people are supposed to be the best healers in Europe," he said, gesturing to healers that weren't in the room. "And they can't even figure out a simple curse!"

"Harry…"

"Wait," I said, holding up a hand, unable to believe what I was hearing. "Just wait. I'm confused. What do you mean? What are you saying?"

For a while, no one spoke. Harry seethed and turned back to his window. My mum cried into her hands, while Ginny stared at the book, and George stared at Ron.

"Dad's dying," Hugo finally spoke up. "They're saying dad's going to die."

"What?" I said loudly, horrified. "What are you talking about?" I whipped my head around to all the adults in the room. "Mum? Hermione! Uncle Harry?" I turned to him, but he didn't face me. "He can't be dying—what do you mean—just—fuck, just fix him, come on, someone fucking do something!"

When my mother didn't correct my language, I knew it was bad. She was always trying to get me to stop swearing.

"That's what I'm saying," Harry said to the window. "Bloody fools," he muttered, obviously talking about the healers again.

"What? This can't…"

"Rose," Hermione said, wiping her tears, taking a deep breath, and moving to put a hand on my shoulder. "I… Honey, I brought you here…" She closed her eyes and when she opened them, they were swimming with tears again. "I brought you here to say goodbye."

A cold hand clenched my heart and I let out a sob. "That… Mum… Oh, god…" I grabbed my father's hand tighter, and turned to bury my face onto his bed as I sobbed into it. This couldn't be happening. This couldn't be real. My father couldn't be dying. He was young—he was young and youthful and he was always laughing and telling jokes. He couldn't die. It wasn't possible. Not yet. I mean, I always knew he would die one day—of course he would—but… a long time from now, when he was old and gray with the beard he was always trying to grow and a teasing arm around my mother's shoulders.

I don't know how long I sat there and cried. But when I finally looked up, the other two Weasley's were crying quietly as well, Harry was still in the corner, and my mum had moved to sit with her back against the wall off to the side of me, next to my father's bed. She had her knees bent up to her chest and her arms wrapped around them as she cried into them. She had never looked so young, so small.

I looked around and saw that Hugo was gone.

"Where's—Hugo?" I asked through a sob. No one said anything, so I walked over to where Uncle Harry was. When I got to him, I saw that his face was wet. "Uncle Harry," I said, and he looked down at me. He brushed a hand over my hair and smiled.

"You're just like him, you know," he said quietly, pushing up his glasses. "Not in looks—you got your mother's looks… But his spirit… his old temper," he said with a small smile. "You've got his fire."

"Isn't there anything that can be done?"

He looked at me sadly, and when he didn't say anything, I started to cry again. He wrapped his arms around me, and I cried into his chest.

"I'm trying, Cheeks," he whispered. "I won't let him go that easily."

I didn't realize I had fallen asleep. I didn't realize it until I was being lifted by strong arms, temporarily removing me from my dreams.

"Wha…?"

"Shh, go back to sleep," a voice said that my brain registered as Uncle Harry's. Then I was placed gently onto something soft, and I blinked a bit and saw that he had moved me into a bed in the corner of the room. My eyes drifted shut again on their own accord, and I felt sleep overtaking when I heard voices.

"Ginny…"

"It's okay, baby…"

I heard rustling, and I assumed that my aunt and uncle had gotten into their own small bed together.

"I… Gin, I can't lose him."

"I know."

I tried to fight off sleep so I could listen to their conversation.

"This is my fault."

"Harry," I heard my aunt say in a frantic whisper.

"He… I knew this mission was too much for him. He was exhausted, and it was dangerous. I told him I didn't know if it was a good idea, but he insisted, said he… said he could do anything I could." Uncle Harry paused. "I…"

"It's not your fault that he's so stubborn," Ginny said. "It's no one's fault."

"I should have put my foot down," Harry hissed. "I should have said 'no.' I'm the head of the fucking department. But he's my best friend, and now… now he's going to die because I've always been too afraid to bruise his ego."

"Harry, stop," Ginny whispered gently. "You've been nothing but good to him. Everybody knows that. It's not your fault. You didn't know."

My eyes were closed, and I felt my brain trying to pull me down into sleep, but I refused to let it.

"Why did he have to be so stubborn?" Uncle Harry sounded defeated. I didn't want him to be defeated. If he stopped fighting, it was all over.

"He's a Weasley."

I could almost sense my uncle smiling even though I couldn't see him. They were silent for a while, and I thought they were finished speaking so I let my brain drag me down. But just when I was about to drift, I heard Uncle Harry speak up again.

"Ginny…" he breathed.

"Baby?" I heard her whisper.

"I'm sorry…"

"We'll be okay," she said back.

"No… I mean… Shit, Ginny, I can't…" I heard him sob. "I can't let you lose another brother because of me."

"You stop that," Ginny said gently but firmly. "Ron isn't dying because of you. It's. Not. Your. Fault. And, oh Harry… it's not your fault Fred died."

"I don't know… He… I never had a family growing up, Gin," he said, suddenly changing the subject.

"I know."

"I was lonely and alone for so long. I thought no one would ever love me or be there for me. I didn't think anyone would ever really… care about me, you know? I didn't think I deserved a family, but… Ron…" I heard the emotion in his voice—it was shaking and it sounded like he was trying to hold back tears. "He welcomed me into your family. He…" He cut off, sobbing, and I heard shifting, presumably my aunt moving to hold him closer. "He welcomed me in without question, without… He… Ginny, he's the only brother I've ever known."

He said a few more things, but his voice was muffled, and I assumed that he had buried himself into my aunt's shoulder or into the bed. I didn't want to think about it. I didn't want to think about my strong, fearless uncle crying into his wife's shoulder about the loss of my father—his best friend. I felt tears sliding down my cheeks as my brain finally took over and I began to drift. The last thing I thought off before I fell asleep was of a little black-haired boy with a scar and glasses… on the grounds of Hogwarts, walking along and laughing with his lanky redheaded friend.

I woke up the next morning to the sound of voices talking quietly. I was confused at first… Where am I? Stretching, I yawned and turned over, and then everything hit me again like a cold, hard punch to the chest.

There was my father, cold and nearly lifeless on a hospital bed in St. Mungo's. Tears immediately stung my eyes, but I wiped them away fiercely.

I looked around the room, and the first thing I noticed was that it was bigger than it was last night and there were small beds and soft chairs scattered around. It looked like the room had been magically expanded. I wondered briefly whether St. Mungo's normally allowed things like this, but then I remembered that my uncle was Harry Potter, and not only was he the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at the Ministry, but he was also The Chosen One. No one would have questioned him.

The next thing I saw was a beautiful older woman with long blond hair standing next to a handsome man with shoulder length red hair streaked with gray, a hoop earing in his ear, and scars on his face, adding to the already edgy look that he had. Behind them I saw a young woman and a young man slightly older than me, standing with their arms around each other and talking quietly with their foreheads touching. The young woman looked nearly identical to the older blonde woman, and the man—although it changed frequently—had black hair most likely to match the atmosphere around him. His brown eyes met mine, and I smiled as I stood up and walked over.

"Rose," the older red-haired man rasped as he moved to embrace me.

"Hi, Uncle Bill," I said as I wrapped my arms around his waist.

The older blonde woman came up behind me and put her hands on my shoulders. "Oh, my dear Rose. 'Ow are you 'olding up?"

"Fine," I said to my Aunt Fleur into Bill's chest. Bill pulled back and looked at me, his eyes searching my face. "You look peaked," he said. "Have you eaten?"

"You sound like Gram," I said, making him and a few other people in the room laugh. Then I moved from his arms to go over and embrace my other two cousins.

"Hey, Teddy," I said as I hugged him. He held me tightly, giving me the comfort of his smell and embrace.

"Rose," the young woman said, putting a hand on my shoulder. I turned out of Teddy's arms and went into hers.

"Vic," I said, embracing her. "How's France?" I asked the two of them as I pulled out of Victoire's arms.

"Wonderful," she said. "You'll come down soon?" I nodded and then looked around. Harry was at his window, Ginny and George were in their old positions, and Hermione was sitting in the chair I'd been in last night, watching my father.

"I'm glad you're all here," I said quietly, looking at my father.

"Dom and Louis are still at school," Bill said. "We'll get them… you know… when it's time…" When my father is dead. He covered quickly. "Percy and Audrey are outside with Molly, Angelina, Fred, and Roxanne." I just nodded.

"James is on his way," Uncle Harry spoke up from the window. "He's going to get Lily, Lucy, and Al first."

It was almost like Christmas, or another family gathering, except we weren't here to celebrate.

"Where's Hugo?" I said, glancing around and seeing that he wasn't there.

"I think he went to grab a bite," Teddy said. "You should get something, too. Bill's right."

I smiled, but didn't say anything. "Yeah, I'll go. I'll be back in a bit." People murmured their goodbyes as I left the room. I wasn't hungry at all. There was no way that I would be able to keep food down in my churning stomach. But I wanted to see my brother. He was so much like the other men in my family—afraid to let his fear shine through.

When I walked out of the room, I saw more Weasleys and greeted and hugged them before walking down to the cafeteria. In that moment as I left the swarm of my family, I wished more than anything that Scorpius was here. He would know what to say, what to do. He would hold me and tell me that my father loved me, and that it was okay for me to cry, and he would let me cry into his chest. He would tell me how brave and beautiful I was even though I felt like neither. I wanted him so badly that it only added to the pain I felt at my father's condition. I needed him.

Perhaps that was why, as I was walking, I swore I saw his blonde hair turn a corner. My heart leapt, and I rushed to the hallway he had turned down, but when I got there, no one was in sight. I frowned and wanted to kick myself. I shouldn't even be thinking about Malfoy. And of course he wasn't here. He was at Hogwarts, probably thinking about how he would finally break things off with me when I got back. I wondered if McGonagall had told him about my father. I wondered if he was thinking of me, hoping I was okay.

I shook my head and picked up my pace. I was in the cafeteria shortly, and it wasn't long before I caught sight of my brother's red hair.

"Hey," I said as I sat down in a chair across from him at the table he was sitting at, pushing around food on a paper plate.

"Hey," he said, glancing up at me briefly.

We sat in silence while he slid food around and had his chin resting in his hand, and I watched him.

"Is everyone looking for me or something?" he said after a while.

"No," I said. "Just me." He nodded, still not looking at me. Then he sighed.

"I just can't, Rose…" he said quietly. Then he looked up at me, his eyes blazing. "I can't just fucking sit up there and watch my father die."

My heart thumped briefly, but I didn't say anything for a few moments. Then, "Harry's bringing his… experts or something."

Hugo looked at me with a look that could only be described as pity. "Rose, don't get your hopes up. He's… he just doesn't want to give up. If there's nothing these healers can do—"

"They aren't trained in dark curses," I protested. "It's different."

Hugo just shrugged, and we fell into silence again.

"I need him, Rose," Hugo said quietly. "I can't… I need him."

"I know," I said. "Me, too."

"He…" Hugo sobbed. "He taught me how to fly. He taught me how to play Quidditch. What—" He broke off, sobs consuming him, and I moved over to hold him as he cried.

I tried not to think about Scorpius and I tried not to think about my father. I didn't want to remember times with either of them. I just wanted to hold my brother and take away some of his pain. It was crazy—almost absurd—to think that just a few days ago, Scorpius and me were happy—heading down a scary and exciting path—and my father was probably at home with my mother, teasing her and making her laugh. Now I was without both of them, and I would be for the rest of my life.

Eventually I left my brother there. I told him Hermione would want to see him, but he just shrugged and went back to pushing his food around. I wished there was something I could say or do, but I knew there was nothing. There was nothing left to say, and unlike what me and Uncle Harry wanted to believe, deep down he and I both knew there was nothing left to do.

As I was walking back, I swore I saw Malfoy's blonde hair again, but I just brushed it off as my delusional mind playing terrible, cruel tricks on me. I got back to my father's room, and I saw that no one was milling about around it. I knew it was going to be crowded in the room when I walked in, but it would be a good kind of crowded—a comforting suffocation that distracted me from my father's impending doom.

I pushed into the room, and was shocked to find that it was empty except for two people—my father of course, and my mother, who was curled up in the bed next to him, her arm draped over him and tears falling out of her closed eyes. I pressed my back against the wall so she wouldn't see me.

"… and I was trying to figure out how to kill it, but you just kept yelling at me. And I realized light would kill it, and Harry said to light a fire and"—she laughed through her tears—"I said there wasn't any wood." She laughed again, but it turned into a sob. "And you said I'd gone mad and you said—'are you a witch or not?'" she said as she became overwhelmed with sobs. "I—I think—I—knew—I loved—you then," she said, sobbing uncontrollably. "We—were—twelve—but—I just—knew." She stopped talking as her crying took over, and I listened as my mother sobbed against my father, mourning the man she had loved for thirty years as he laid dying in her arms.

Tears were streaming down my cheeks as I listened to her cry and wail, overwhelmed with grief. I imagined what he would say if he were here. "All those tears just for me, honeydew?" He liked to call her food nicknames because she hated it so much. I managed to smile at the thought.

"I love you, Ron," my mum said, her crying subsiding for a moment. She took a deep breath. "I… I love you so much… I can't… Ron," she said as the tears started again. "I can't do this—without you. I can't—live—without you. I need you. I've always needed you. I love you. Please, Ronald, please. Just wake up. Please. You…" she choked a sob. "You're the love of my life."

Then I heard a sound like she had slapped him. "Come on!" she yelled. "You've killed horcruxes and fought dark wizards! This can't kill you, Ron. It can't… Please, just WAKE UP—I need you! Rose and Hugo—they need you! Please, Ron…"

I wanted to go to her as she began to wail again. I wanted to go to her and hold her in my arms, but I knew she wouldn't want me to see her like this—begging my father for something he had no means to control, just wanting more time with the man she loved so much.

When I walked into the hallway, my eyes were blurry with tears, but I thought I saw a flash of blonde hair. Again, dammit, I thought angrily, trying to tell my brain to pull itself together. But I didn't have time to think about the hair or consider it. Instead, I just collapsed in the chair next the hospital room, buried my face in my hands, and wept.

Next chapter:

Rose gets a surprise visitor at St. Mungo's. And finally, she says goodbye to her father.