A/N: Sorry for the time gap since my last chapter. I had this one mapped out and just didn't get around to it until now.
To the person who suggested I post on AOOO, I actually just got an account about a month ago so I plan on putting this story there once I have the time. Glad you stumbled upon this story on Reddit.
Chapter Thirty One
It was shaping up to be one of the longest nights of Hermione's life, and that was truly saying something. She was hunched over, sitting in an uncomfortable plastic chair in the children's ward at St. Mungo's, her head cradled in her shaky hands. She was seated in the hallway, just outside of Rose's room, her heart breaking each time she heard another blood curdling scream.
Hermione was tormented by the sound of Rose in such dire pain, and she wished nothing more than to be next to her. She'd begged the healers to let her in, but they'd been adamant it would be best for everyone if they worked on Rose alone, at least until her condition improved.
The head healer had expressed grave concern when Hermione brought Rose in, slumped over in her arms, unconscious and moaning in pain. The healers had never seen the after effect of the Cruciatus Curse on someone so young, and they'd been worried about how Rose would respond to treatment. Thankfully, once the healers began their exam, they reported that she hadn't been tortured long, and she was expected to make a full physical recovery. Psychologically... well, Hermione knew far too well what her daughter had in store.
Part of her was still in denial. Her one and only daughter, the apple of her eye, her sweet little girl... tortured in the drawing room at Malfoy Manor, just as she'd been. History had repeated itself, and Rose had endured the very same fate Hermione had sworn no one else ever would and hadn't even fathomed possible.
She couldn't bear it. She remembered every agonizing moment that Bellatrix had inflicted on her. The searing hot pain was something she'd never forget, and she knew Rose wouldn't either. Her little girl would never be the same now. She'd forever be changed.
Hermione heard rustling, and she lifted her head to see Ginny and Molly rushing towards her, distress on both their faces. She slowly stood from her chair to greet the pair.
"Harry sent us a patronus," Ginny said quickly as she tried to catch her breath. "He told us what happened."
Hermione gave a small nod, unsure of what to say. She could see the pity in Ginny's eyes and the worry in Molly's.
Another loud shriek came from inside Rose's room, and the three women grimaced.
"How is she?" Ginny asked hesitantly, taking a seat on one of the empty chairs.
"I don't know," Hermione said with a quivering voice, wringing her hands anxiously. "They told me she's going to be okay... but she sounds terrible. She's in a lot of pain."
"She's tough girl," Ginny said with a small smile.
"How are you holding up?" Molly asked Hermione gently, her signature motherly concern coming through.
Those five words were all it took for Hermione to break. An uncontrollable stream of tears flooded from her red rimmed eyes, and she collapsed into the older woman. Molly quickly braced her up and enveloped her into a comforting embrace.
"Oh, Hermione..." Molly whispered, patting her gently on the back. "Everything's going to be alright. She's safe now. You got her safe."
"It's my fault," Hermione choked out with a muffled sob. "It's all my fault!"
"Everything's going to be alright, dear," Molly soothed. "Rosie is strong, just like you. She's going to pull through."
Hermione allowed herself to be held, thankful for the familiarity of her mother-in-law. She didn't know how long they stayed in their tight embrace. It could have been minutes or it could have been hours. Time wasn't making sense to her, and everything that had happened blurred together.
"Hermione?"
At the sound of the familiar voice, Hermione opened her eyes and lifted her head slightly off of Molly's shoulder. Through her teary blurred vision she saw a woman with brown hair and pale skin approach her.
"Mum?"
Jean Granger held out her arms, and Hermione immediately rushed to her, throwing her arms around her. Jean kissed Hermione's forehead and stroked her hair, whispering words of comfort into her ear.
Hermione felt a weight lift off of her as she melted into her mum. Never had she felt she needed her mother more than she did now, and suddenly, things didn't seem as bleak. Everything was going to be okay.
The next forty-eight hours went by painstaking slow. Hermione was finally allowed into Rose's room after the healers had stabilized her condition. Rose been given a strong sleeping draught so that she could remain unconscious through the worst of the pain. Hermione sat beside her bed, never taking her eyes off of her.
Jean, Molly, and Arthur took turns sitting with them, and Ron had also briefly come by wearing a hospital gown of his own. He'd been receiving treatment for a minor injury sustained to his right leg, and had a room a few floors below. He was feeling guilty for not having better protected Rose. Hermione tried to reassure him that none of it was his fault, though she herself could relate to his feelings. She reminded herself that neither of them could collapse into self pity. They needed to be strong, for Rose.
After having talked with the head healer and being reassured again that Rose would be okay, Hermione finally allowed herself to rest her eyes while slouched down on a rigid chair. Unable to fight it any longer, she drifted off to a much needed sleep.
...
Rose woke to foreign surroundings, disorientated and anxious, her body sore and weak. She'd never felt this unwell in all her life. Every inch of her body burned with a jarring sensation.
She blinked her eyes a few times and it took several moments for her to realize that she was in the hospital, though for a second, she wasn't sure why. Then it hit her, she remembered, and everything flooded to her at once.
She'd been held against her will, the truth Lucius shared had shattered her heart, and finally, Aetes Lestrange had mercilessly cursed her until she'd slipped into a feeble, pathetic state of unconsciousness.
The memories were overwhelming, and as Rose began to spiral, she scanned the room, her blue eyes narrowing in on Hermione. The sight of her mom instantly calmed her, though for a moment Rose hardly recognized her.
She was in the far corner of the room, sleeping on a small plastic chair with her legs extended outward, a frown curved on her pink lips. Her clothing, usually ironed and smooth, was wrinkled and coffee stained, and her face absent of make-up. Other than the dark circles under her eyes, she looked surprisingly young to Rose. Innocent.
As though she could feel someone watch her, Hermione slowly batted her eyes open and locked onto her daughter's gaze.
"Hey," Rose whispered, her voice strained and swollen.
Hermione said nothing for a moment, blinking several times until she registered that it was not a dream. A small smile extended across her face and at the same time several tears formed in the corner of her tired eyes.
"Hi," Hermione whispered back.
The older witch quickly stood and moved towards her daughter, sitting on the edge of the bed. Her arms instinctively reached out to wrap her into a gentle embrace.
"Are you okay?" Hermione asked, as she gently stroked Rose's strawberry hair. "How are you feeling? Are you still experiencing a fair amount of pain? Of course you must be. I can get a healer - "
"Mum," Rose said softly, stopping Hermione's rambling. "It's okay. It hurts... a lot... but I don't need a healer."
"Okay," Hermione said, unsure of what to do or what to say next. She'd waited almost three days for Rose to wake, and now that she had, she felt oddly out of sorts.
"How long have I been here?" Rose asked, taking a better look at her surroundings.
"Almost seventy-two hours," Hermione answered. "Do you remember arriving? The healers working on you?"
"No, I don't."
Relief washed over Hermione. The potions they'd given Rose had worked, and she'd been spared awareness of how terrible the initial aftershocks and burns were.
"I imagine you're not ready to talk about what happened?" Hermione asked, studying her daughter carefully.
"No," Rose replied, averting her eyes from her mother's worried gaze. She wasn't sure she'd ever be ready.
She moved to pull away from Hermione's embrace, but winced in pain, realizing just how sore her muscles were.
"We really should have a healer bring you a potion."
"I'm fine, Mum," Rose said. She didn't want the commotion of others. All she wanted was peace.
"The pain I feel now... it nothing compare to... "
Hermione didn't need her to explain any further. She knew.
"If you don't want a potion, a cool shower will help," Hermione said, tucking a strand of hair behind her daughter's ear. "It will get better. Over time the sensation will gradually lessen and then flare up will only come sometimes when you're stressed."
The advice made Rose pause, remembering the taunting words of Lucius Malfoy.
Did you know that Aetes might be better at the Cruciatus Curse than his late father? He isn't as talented as his dear Aunt Bellatrix mind you, your mother's filthy blood is proof of that.
"Why didn't you ever tell me?" Rose asked Hermione with genuine concern, a hint of hurt in her voice. "About Bellatrix."
"Of course they told you," Hermione said bitterly, sighing heavily before answering. "I always planned to tell you, you know, once you were older."
"Will you now?" Rose asked hesitantly, not sure if she actually wanted to hear the horror her mother had faced in her previous life.
Hermione frowned.
"No," she said firmly. "Not today anyway. Today we need to focus on getting you better and making sure you're okay. You've been through a lot."
Rose cast her eyes down in shame. Everything she'd been through was entirely her own fault. If only she had listened.
"I'm sorry," Rose said quietly, a few tears slipping down her cheek.
"Oh... Rosie," Hermione sighed, taking her daughter's small hand in her own and giving it a squeeze. "None of this is your fault. You understand me?"
"I shouldn't have gone there," Rose sniffled, wiping her nose against her hospital gown sleeve. "I knew you didn't want me to go there, and I went anyway."
"You couldn't have known how dangerous it was," Hermione soothed. "No one did."
Her mother's words did little to comfort her. She still felt she was to blame.
"What do you need?" Hermione asked, sensing her daughter's distress.
Rose sighed. She wanted it to all go away, to forget everything, to escape, even if only for minute.
"I just... I want to sleep."
...
It was late in the evening as Hermione sat with Jean at a small circular table, an untouched bowl of soup and a cold cup of coffee in front of her. She'd relented and gone down to the hospital cafeteria at her mum's insistence. Her appetite was still nonexistent but Jean had already finished her ham sandwich and was sipping on tea. She eyed her daughter carefully.
"Harry came by to check on Rose while you were sleeping," Jean said.
"What?" Hermione said quickly. "Why didn't you wake me?"
"Because you've barely gotten a wink since we've been here."
Hermione sighed heavily, angry with her mum decision but knowing what she said was true.
"You still should have woken me," she said, a hint of annoyance in her voice. "What did he say?"
From what Hermione understood from her mother's ramblings, Harry had been busy. He'd spent the last morning interrogating Lestrange and Carrow with Wilkes, and the afternoon interviewing Scorpius and Draco. Lucius has gone off the grid, slithered away, just like after the war. Several Aurors were assigned to track him down. It appeared that Harry was still conducting his investigation, but he had hinted he was confident he'd gotten to the bottom of it all and would have a report out in the next few days.
"We should get back," Hermione said once her mother had relayed everything. She rose to her feet.
"Hang on," Jean said, not moving from her seat. "There's no reason we need to rush back straight away."
"Mum, really... what if Rose wakes up and I'm not there."
"Then she'll assume you've gone to get some rest and go back to sleep."
Hermione crossed her arms and huffed, irritated with the older woman.
Jean stood slowly, approaching her daughter cautiously.
"You know... Molly and I have been thinking..." she began carefully. "Maybe it's time you take a longer break. Get away from the hospital... go home. Rest."
"No," Hermione said quickly, shaking her head.
"Darling -"
"No," Hermione repeated, this time more firmly. "I won't leave her."
Jean sighed with frustration, giving her stubborn daughter a sympathetic look.
"Hermione, she's safe. She's awake now and doing great. I'm here. Ron's here. Molly and Arthur are here. You need a proper night's sleep."
"Honestly, I'm fi - "
"If I hear you say you're 'fine' one more time, I swear," Jean said sternly. She placed her hands on either side of Hermione's shoulders, looking straight into her eyes. "You need to rest."
"She's my baby," Hermione whispered, feeling tears well in her worn eyes.
"And you're mine," Jean said calmly, her left palm gently cupping the right side of Hermione's face. "You can't be everywhere all the time. You need a break, a moment to recharge."
Hermione cast her eyes down, allowing a few stray tears to roll down her face. "I... I was just so close to losing her."
"I know," Jean said, pulling her daughter into a tight hug. "I know."
At her mother's insistence, and against her better judgement, Hermione agreed that she would take time to look after herself. Much to her displeasure, she'd promised Jean that she'd leave the hospital to eat a balanced meal and fall asleep in bed rather than a rigid chair.
As Hermione stepped out the front door of St. Mungo's hospital, she paused, unsure of what to do or where to go. She knew the logical choice was home, where she could rest and eat, just like her mother had suggested. However, she wasn't feeling very logical, and with all the adrenaline coursing through her, she wanted to act. She felt like doing something impulsive, perhaps something even reckless.
Looking down at her watch, Hermione noted it was already late, just after midnight. She really should go home... yet, her heart was pulling her in different direction, a dangerous one.
After one last moment of hesitation, she made up her mind and disapparated, knowing exactly where she wanted to be and what she wanted to do.
She appeared on the front footsteps of Grimmauld Place, and began knocking forcefully on the large door. It opened swiftly, a frazzled and sleepy Harry on the other side, wearing a black t-shirt and maroon pajama bottoms.
"What's wrong?" He said quickly, taking in her disheveled appearance. "Is it Rose?"
Hermione brushed passed him and entered the old house, taking off her coat and tossing it onto the wooden stairs banister. He closed the door and followed her closely. She turned to him, her eyes intensely staring into his with a swirl of emotions.
Harry opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Hermione launched herself at him, grabbing his messy black hair with hands and crashing their lips together in a frenzy. His hands wrapped around her instinctively, and he deepened the kiss, pulling her in close to him and opening his mouth in unison with hers.
As Hermione slide her hands down to his chest and moaned against his lips, thoughts raced through Harry's mind. What was she doing? Why was she here? Does she really want this?
Harry's thoughts were broken when he felt Hermione push him roughly against the wall, her hands frantically finding the waistband of his pants. As she began to tug at them, he abruptly broke their kiss.
"Hermione, wait," he whispered, staring at her with a mix of perplexion and worry. "What's going on?"
"You saved her," Hermione said, her anguish filled eyes locked onto his. "You saved Rose. You... You - "
She didn't finish, but instead fused their lips together again. Harry was quick to gently push her away, one hand on each of her arms as he steadied her.
"Hey, let just take a breath," he said. "You're emotional. You've just been through hell and back. You're not thinking clearly."
"You don't know what I'm thinking," she shot at him.
"Hermione - "
She looked at Harry with a pained expression, one that he couldn't quite place. She was hurting, he could see that, but there was something more... a desperation in her eyes he'd only seen once before.
"I... I need this, I need... " she trailed off, trying to sort out her scrambled and racing thoughts. "... something to hold onto."
The intensity of her words jolted Harry, and he felt even more conflicted. He wanted this, but he couldn't bear the possibility of her regretting it, not again. He wouldn't be able to take it.
Not knowing what to do, he stood silently, staring into her blazing eyes. When she slowly grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him toward her, he didn't object again. He could sense it now, her need for him, and maybe he was nothing more to her than a distraction from her crumbling reality. He didn't care.
As she trailed warm kisses down Harry's neck and returned her hands to his waistband, he felt himself relax. He closed his eyes, and his hesitation faded away. If she needed a distraction, he'd happily oblige. Anytime.