A/N: Hey, Everybody. I'm sorry for the delay. Summer classes and family duties have kept me from writing.
But thanks to everyone: readers, reviewers, followers, and those who have favored this fic.
Thank you to: Pumpkindream, DanaBlood, Elsyia1, Kou Shun'u, Angelus Draco, Anjali Katari, Woemcat, Aya Diefair, callalily32, Guest, hkmac, alina290, Jessica682, Vidocin666, Angel Girl5, and Svetlyachochek for the reviews. I sure appreciate them a lot.
I got a really good question/comment/point. It was pointed out that in Hermione's coma dream, Alex was there and if the dream was really limbo, then how was he there. I'll answer it this way, and I hope it doesn't make anyone angry, but the sequence is up to interpretation. I will let my readers decide if the dream was a true representation of limbo or purely concocted in Hermione's imagination where she desires to see her daughter and Draco and wants to be forgiven by him. Also, on this note, if you recall, Hermione did ask Draco if Cass/Eliza really had her eyes giving the impression that she's semi-aware that what she's in isn't real life. *shrugs* I hope this didn't upset anyone too much.
So some of my reviewers asked some questions earlier back about certain things, and I kind of blatantly ignored them to not give away spoilers. I actually debated about this decision, but I'm going with it. Let's hope it doesn't throw a kink in my story.
Please enjoy the chapter. Send me comments, questions, and the like and I will do my best in answering them.
"Please refrain from exiting the bed, Granger. I assume your strength his fickle at the moment." Blaise got up from his seat, his hands out towards Hermione's squirming body. Though her cheeks were flushed from life and eyes widened in alarm, her movement was slackened and strained. She was still incredibly weak, her body had yet adjusted to the abrupt awakening, her lungs not like they were before. And he doubted those organs were fantastic to begin with from the way she burned her way through those cigarettes.
"I need to see Alex. How could I have...?" Her voice drifted and she managed to roll over onto her knees, the comforter acting like a sticky constrictor, preventing her from doing much, other than tire herself out even further.
A sigh escaped from Blaise as he placed his hands on her shoulders, stopping her from moving. "You're not ready to entertain an eight year old. You can't even get out of this bed. Look at you. You look like you've run miles. Lay back down, and I'll have Mippy make you some broth. We can wait until your healer arrives and assures your health. I imagine he has quite a load to tell you."
"Bugger off!" she spat and wiggled away from him, finally able to shirk the heavy material of the duvet away from her. She got to the edge of the bed and peered down at the floor, a disconcerting frown on her face, like it seemed farther down than she would have preferred. Blaise watched half-amused and half-worried as she gripped one of the posters and carefully wriggled towards the edge of the mattress.
"Can you even walk?" he asked.
She did not answer right away but let a few seconds pass by before replying hesitantly, "I…I don't know. I can feel my legs, but I'm not sure if I can…Blaise, will you please help me down?"
"Sure, if I wanted a lashing from your healer. Can't you be patient? Healer Bogrov will be here soon, assure that you are well and then you can see Alex."
With her hand still on the poster, she settled her bum back on the mattress, her head shaking as was her voice. "I just…A month? That long? There must be some…" Her words faded when hearing mutterings coming from the hallway. One of the double doors opened and in stepped a balding short man with round, golden-framed glasses and behind him was Lucius.
"No, no, no," the healer said and waved his hands at Blaise and then turned around to do the same to Lucius. "I will not have you in here will I examine my patient. Out, out, out."
Hermione relaxed slightly at the Russian wizard's words, being sure to pin a glare on Lucius fluttering robe as he hurriedly exited the room, for this was truly an awful situation. If she had been unconscious for a month, what had gone on? Honestly, it made her ill just thinking about it. When she attempted to divert her attention away from the subject onto the plain, starchy material of the comforter, she actually started to feel woozy, her vision slanting slightly to the side.
"Oh," she whimpered and placed a hand on her forehead and another on her stomach. With little grace, she fell to her side and groaned, "I don't feel so well."
"Expected," the healer stated crisply and placed a comforting hand on her forearm. "Let me help you to your pillows, dear girl."
She was able to slither her way up to the pillows, her mind fogging and brain throbbing. Unable to even resist any sort of treatment, Healer Bogrov checked her pulse, lymph nodes, eye-dilation, and temperature.
"Your natural speaking voice will return to you in a couple of days," the healer informed while probing once again at her throat with his wand. He removed his glasses and rubbed out some smudges with his robe. "As for your strength, it's another matter. It is far more than just recuperating from being comatose. Did Mr. Zabini divulge you any details of what occurred after your accident?"
"He did not, sir," she said softly, her eyelids feeling heavy as did her limbs. It was like they were solid clubs of stone sinking into a large batch of warm bread dough.
"Hmmm." He nodded and snapped his fingers, and a house-elf appeared with a bow. "Hot bowl of broth for the lady."
The elf bowed and disappeared, quickly returning with a tray of broth, salted crackers, and some water. Healer Bogrov took the tray and placed it over Hermione's torso. Lethargically, she gazed at the contents and lifted a tired hand to her spoon. She supposed she was hungry of sorts.
"You eat," the healer told her gruffly, "and I will explain what happened."
She nodded and licked her lips at the broth. The steaming, salty liquid smelt like everything her body needed. With a shaky hand, she dipped the spoon into the bowl and lifted a small amount to her lips, slurping carefully as to not burn her mouth or tongue.
"You nearly left us, Miss Granger," Healer Bogrov said gently and put his glasses back on. "Gave everyone quite a scare, but with some quick spell-work on your friend's part, Mr. Nott, and with my assistance, you were able to pull through."
An hour passed and during that time, she finished her broth and nibbled on one of the crackers and drank all the water as instructed by the healer. He prattled on about the effects of the drowning and how she could no longer smoke or else suffer painful consequences and an even shorter lifespan. He told her that she would need to take care of herself as in 'take into consideration' of her food choices along with pursuing a light exercise routine. He gave her a few suggestions on that but with caution, not wanting her to overexert her lungs which were ridden with scar tissue from nearly bursting from river water and pneumonia.
"You will be prone to respiratory illnesses, Miss Granger. I strongly advise you keep to my words, and I know it will be difficult, especially with a child. I suggest you keep him as healthy as possible, too. Little ones easily contract colds, flus, and the like, and they tend to share with their mothers. Now here is a dosage of an antibiotic." He pulled out a syringe full of a light orange liquid and gestured to her arm. She rolled up the sleeve of her robe and watched as he wiped a small sanitizing cloth below her shoulder before sticking the needle in. She winced at the sting and felt the potion spread through her body like a cold tidal wave in her veins. The medicine did not really make her feel any different, but she supposed that was normal. It wasn't to make her feel better but to prevent her from feeling worse.
"Will I need to be on any medicine for a while?" she asked.
Healer Bogrov nodded his head and pulled out a small pamphlet and quill set, jotting down a prescription on the small square piece of parchment.
"Two capfuls of this a day. One in the morning and one at night. Be sure to eat before partaking."
"Of course." She took the slip of parchment and read the messy scrawl. "I'll…I'll go to the apothecary as soon as I can. Thank you. Is it all right if I see my son now?"
"Yes, and do take care of yourself." He shuffled over to the double doors and tilted his head at her. "Have a good day and a Happy Christmas in case we don't cross paths for a while."
"You, as well," Hermione said.
"And you should rest some more before doing much else today. I know you've been away for a while, but I can tell you are very tired."
He left her alone, and she had to admit he was right. She was exhausted, but she couldn't surpass the thought of seeing Alex again. He must've been terrified seeing her falling into the water and not returning. At the thought, tears prickled her eyes, and she maneuvered up into a more respectful sitting position and scooted towards the edge of the bed. With the help of the bedside table, she was able to gingerly place her feet on the cold marble flooring of the room. Bracing herself for a few moments, she took a step forward and another, her legs feeling like half-cooked noodles.
When she got closer to the doors, one of them opened and Blaise entered, his eyebrows rising in mild-alarm at her near escape.
"So stubborn," he accused.
"I want to see Alex now," she demanded hoarsely and if she had the energy, she would have childishly stomped her foot.
"Mommy!" she heard from the other side of the door, and her son came torpedoing through in a mantra of "Mommies". The first thing Hermione noticed was his flushed, teary-streaked face and the next was how much thinner he was. His cheeks weren't plumpish and round anymore, and clearly she could see the making of sharp features. And it wasn't like he appeared underfed or malnourished; he mostly looked very much like his father's side of the family. More than ever, Alex looked like Draco and…and his hair was very short.
"Button," she called to him and knelt down to gather him in her arms, her heart warming as his own arms clung to her. She rubbed his back and messaged her fingers into the base of his skull, testing his new do with distrust.
"Mommy, I missed you so much," he blubbered into her shoulder.
Cupping his face, she peppered kisses on his forehead, cheeks, and chin and then said, "I'm so sorry, sweetheart, but I'm here now and look at you." Her thumbs swiped at his falling tears. "You look like you grew a little and your hair, it's short. All your curls are gone."
Blaise made an uncomfortable coughing sound and Alex thickly informed, "Grandmother and Grandfather Malfoy make sure I eat all of my vegetables before I have any sweets, and last week they invited a lady over who cut my hair."
At his confession, rage boiled inside of Hermione. In one meager sentence, it was like all of her months-worth of questions were answered, and she was far passed a little miffed.
Patting her son on the cheek and giving him a small smile, letting him know how much she loved him, she then stood up and glared at Blaise.
"Zabini, so help, if he stayed here and you let him, I will-"
"He didn't," he rushed out, shaking his head. "He stayed with me. You stayed here, though. Obviously. But he was here at the Manor often. With his tutors-"
"Tutors!" she shrilled. "I said I was going to supervise those sessions, Blaise! Typical! They probably were ecstatic about my incapacitation!"
Blaise lifted a calming hand and said, "I attended all the sessions, Granger. All of the tutors were in line."
"You and I have very different views on what it means being in line," she hissed and then suddenly felt quite lightheaded, her knees weakening and begging to surrender to gravity. Blaise started towards her, but she held up a hand to stop him. "I'm fine. What I'd really like is to go home. Back to Salem. I've had enough." There was no longer anger in her voice, only exhaustion. "Alex has met Draco's parents and spent more than enough time with them. If the need for tutors is still in place, the States have sufficient ones that can be hired. I want to go home, Blaise."
"But Mommy," Alex sniffled, his damp cheek resting against her stomach, his tears soaking through the robe. "There's going to be a Christmas party in a couple of weeks, and Grandmother Narcissa already got my dress robes for it."
"Of course she did," murmured Hermione and glared at Blaise again like everything that had happened within the last month was his fault. "But we can have a Christmas party back home."
"But Daddy won't be there."
"Oh, Alex." She sighed and caressed his cheeks and softly explained, "He won't be here either. You know that."
"But he is, Mommy," he said earnestly and grabbed her hand. "I'll show you."
Hermione disallowed the boy to take her on his mad excursion and shot Blaise a question glance who very suddenly seemed nervous and was scratching at his day old stubble.
"Explain," she said to him as her child persisted on tugging her hand with audible grunts.
"His portrait is done, Granger."
Her heart flung itself towards the back of her throat at the revelation, unable to formulate sentences but only a single questioning word. "Portrait?"
"He's in Grandfather's office. Let's go see him right now," said Alex, pulling on her hand with all his strength, causing her to teeter slightly.
"Alex," Blaise piped in when seeing the shocked, ill expression on Hermione, most likely wracked with alarm at what was revealed. "I think your ten minute break has concluded. It's time for you to return to the library and finish your lesson with Professor Badgekiss. Your mum is still tired and probably wants to freshen up before taking a trip to see Draco."
"You mean the lesson's not cancelled?" the boy whined and sighed loudly. "But this is important! My mom woke up."
"You only have an hour left and can wait."
Hermione frowned at the authoritativeness in the man's voice directed at her son. There was so many things wrong about the entire situation at hand. Draco had a portrait and was here in the manor where Alex had spoken with him. Along with that, Blaise had somehow thought it was his right to take over as the guardian of her son in her absence. But the most frightening, sickening part was that her boy was addressing Draco's parents and Grandmother and Grandfather. Gods, it had only been a month. Not that much can change in that short amount of time, could it?
"No," Hermione said quietly but firmly. "He stays with me."
And much to her dismay, Blaise glowered at her and replied sharply, "He needs to tend to his studies, Hermione. An hour is not a long time, and you're a slight breeze away from passing out. You need to rest, and he needs to finish his work."
"Don't tell me what we need!" she snapped. "Alex is mine, and I will decide what he needs, and I say he doesn't need to return to his tutor today! He wasn't even supposed to be tutored without my presence! Did you forget or not care?"
"The latter," spat Blaise, his own temper rising.
The corners of Alex's mouth drooped, and he began backing away from the yelling grownups and towards the hallway. They continued to bicker as he left the room and started down the hallways of the manor, his mom's and Blaise's arguing drifting after him and around the corner until he could no longer hear them. He pondered the idea of going back to the library like Blaise wanted him to, but his mom said he didn't have to, yelling something about how she was supposed to be there. If the tutoring sessions were supposed to be supervised with another adult, then it was unnecessary in returning to his teacher.
That fat old bat could wait.
He arrived at the main level and nervously whipped his head back and forth for any sign of an adult. Technically, he wasn't supposed to be wandering the halls without a grownup. It had something to do with the Malfoy family portraits or something. He wasn't sure what, really, but he doubted a white-haired old fart with an unpronounceable name trapped inside a canvas and unable to speak was going to cause him trouble. It's not like they could tattle on him anyway. Alex was actually pretty sure he could do more harm to them if given the chance.
Speaking of…
His grandfather's office door was left ajar, and he poked his head into the room to make sure the man was gone. Alex was unsure where the man went, but he thought he overheard him and Grandmother talking about a lawyer with Blaise or something. Why suddenly they needed to talk to one, the boy wasn't sure. All he knew was that he had a few free minutes to talk with his dad without the man's parents looming over his shoudler. They were great and all, buying him stuff and whatnot, but they never left him alone. Blaise, too. He knew they were trying to be helpful with his mom being in the state she was in, but he thought when he chose to start talking again a week-in-a-half ago, they'd lay off.
When Alex's mother had her accident, and he was not allowed to see her, he hadn't felt like talking. A week later when he was granted permission to visit her, he'd received hope that she would get better and wake up. The healer told his grandfather his mom should wake up in a few days or maybe a week. Four weeks had passed, during which the boy had to slowly come out of his rut of not speaking. His grandfather was quite adamant he begin taking again when his tutor for magical history arrived. With potions, the boy was able to get by only listening and doing what he was told, but this old fat bat asked questions and expected an answer and didn't find it cute when he answered with his response on a piece of parchment.
Blaise had been nice about his decision not to talk and even pled with the tutor to consider not verbally drilling Alex on the information he learned, but Professor Badgekiss had only sniffed with a scandalized stare, appalled that anyone dared even invade on her style of teaching.
Mr. Snape had been the one to succeed in getting Alex to speak again. During his nights at Blaise's apartment, Alex often felt lonely in the big bed without his mom, so he disobeyed her orders and paid a visit to the room across the hallway where Mr. Snape and Mr. Zabini dwelt. Mr. Zabini was very nice when he told him about his mom, and Mr. Snape merely frowned and made a tutting sound.
Alex talked about everything with them, but mostly he preferred to listen to Mr. Snape. He had really cool stories about his time teaching as a professor at Hogwarts. His stories often contained characters of less than remarkable skills in the 'art of potions'. Alex had once asked if there was any special person who was really good at potions that he could remember.
Mr. Snape had not answered right away but pursed his lips pensively, and Mr. Zabini haughtily piped up that Blaise had been more than decent, recalling how the lad came home on holidays with impressive test scores.
In a nasally, bored tone, Mr. Snape had replied, "Your son was mediocre at best, Michaelo."
That had started a very loud shouting match between the two, startling Alex and striking anxiety within his belly, afraid Blaise would wake up and catch him. He hurriedly shuffled back into his bed and forced himself to fall asleep. The next time he visited them, no arguments broke out which was nice, and Mr. Snape encouraged him that even though he knew him too be upset over his mother's accident, it was time move on. And that following morning when Blaise took Alex to the manor, his grandparents told him that Draco's portrait was finished.
Like he thought, Grandfather Lucius' office was empty save for Draco's portrait above the mantle of the fireplace. Quietly, he tiptoed further into the large room and saw his father lounging in a lush, overstuffed armchair with his head rested on his hand with a dull expression, appearing bored out of his mind.
"Daddy," he called to him and avoided rushing too close to the portrait. It was high up, and Alex didn't want to strain his neck from tilting his head back so far, so he settled on the couch facing the flames in the fire-pit and peered up at his father.
The man instantly stiffened at his son's voice and then lax with a pleased, encouraging grin directed at the boy. Behind the frames, he leaned over with his elbows on his knees and said, "My boy, have you finally escaped the grownups and come visit me?"
"Yes." Alex bobbed his head up and down and swung his legs in excitement. "Good news, too. Mom's awake. She's finally awake, Dad, and angrier than ever."
His father scooted further off his chair at the words, his eyes wide and serious. "Where is she? Does she know that I'm here?"
Alex bobbed his head up and down. "Yes."
Draco clicked his heel on the floor in his painted world as if he were waiting for the boy to say something else. After a few passing seconds, he gestured to his son with open hands. "Well…is…is she going to come see me?"
Alex shrugged. "Probably but she's busy right now."
"Doing?"
"Yelling at Mr. Zabini."
His father scoffed and leaned back into his chair, swinging leg so his right ankle rested on his knee. "Of course she bloody is. I shouldn't be so surprised that she's not in a hurry to see me. But aside from that," he paused and clasped his hands together, "was she looking well?"
"No," Alex answered honestly and bunched his knees up underneath his chin, putting his shoes on the expensive dragon-hide leather couch. His bottom lip puckered out at the memory of what his mother looked like and said, "She looks sick, Daddy. Grandfather says that she's going to have to do a whole bunch of things to get healthy."
"And you make sure she does them, Scorpius," his father said gravely. "You make sure that-"
"Thought I would find you here," announced Blaise from the office entrance and closed the door behind him. "Brushing off your studies at the first chance you get. He's very much like you, Draco."
"I can see my dad," argued Alex and stuck out his chin in defiance and sent a pleading look up to his father. "Can't I? I can see you. You're my dad."
His father's mouth twitched at the corners and he drawled, "I don't know, Scorpius. Your studies are important. What subject is today?"
"History of Magic," snarled the boy and folded his arms in protectiveness, hating that his father wasn't sticking up for him.
"I do hope you're not being taught by that large bag-lady Badgekiss. Please don't tell me she outlived even me? For Salazar's sake, she taught my father."
"It's her. She's the one, and she's awful. She smells like wet garlic and swamp."
"Then by all means, my darling boy, evade her as often as possible. Evade anyone who is immune to pouting mouths and teary eyes. It will not benefit you in the future to be associated with such individuals, especially the ones who smell ghastly."
Alex giggled and Blaise let out a mixture of a scoff and a snort. The child wished his dad was really here and that he could hug him or something. He knew that this moving portrait of the man was not really his father but merely a part of magic. This figure had a small part of his father's soul which included memories and emotions and physical likeness, but he knew his father was gone just like Mr. Snape and Mr. Zabini were gone.
Alex's mood darkened at the thought and his smile faded. Softly, he asked Blaise, "Where's my mom?"
Blaise cleared his throat and awkwardly shifted on his feet. He didn't fancy telling the boy about how the woman fainted after tossing him an impressively rude insult. If he wasn't such a gentleman, he would have watched her fall to the floor without a care. But the last thing anyone in the household needed was for Granger to have another bleedin' accident, so he caught her and placed her gracelessly back in bed.
"She's sleeping," he said. "She was very tired."
"Didn't she want to come see Dad?"
Blaise didn't answer, but Draco interceded with a suggestion that he go check on her. The boy agreed and left the room, unknowingly abandoning the awkward tension in the room. When they were both sure Alex was out of earshot, Draco jumped in, "Tell me everything. How is she? How long do we have until my parents return? Merlin, they've either lied to me directly, avoided the truth, or were purposefully vague. Start from the beginning and don't spare any details. How did my parents really find out about Scorpius?"