"Please, I need to use the Floo, where can I—?"
"This way, Mr. Potter," she said immediately. She grabbed the crook of his arm and led him to the end of the hall, into a tea room. He fell down onto the threadbare carpet and threw a handful of Floo powder into the fireplace. He closed his eyes as his head soared and spun. He blinked them open once he heard the sounds of quiet sobs.
Draco blinked, mildly surprised, his arms wrapped around Scorpius. They looked to have been on their way somewhere (Draco was holding the Floo pot, Scorpius had a coat on).
"Harry."
"Scorpius needs to come to St. Mungo's right now."
Draco's eyes flooded with fear. His arm around Scorpius tightened. "Why?"
"You know why."
"We were on our way anyway. Which ward?"
"I'll meet you down at the main Floo connection."
Scorpius walked ten paces ahead of them the entire way. He turned the wrong direction preemptively, so keyed in on finding Albus that he clearly wasn't thinking straight. Harry called corrective directions to him each time, gently redirecting him. Scorpius finally spotted the double doors of the Dark Magic ward and broke into a run, barreling through the doors, his face nearly whiter than his blond hair. The alarmed cry he gave a moment later nearly made Harry fall over. He stopped in place, his heart inching down. No, no, no, no, no—
"Where is he?" Scorpius asked, panicked. He'd fallen still in the doorway. His head was turned in the direction of the bed Albus had been in. "Where did he go?!"
Harry's vision was tilting. He briefly heard Ginny tell Scorpius that they'd taken Albus away to try a new procedure, but Harry's mind was already reeling even from the few seconds that he'd thought Al was—no, no. No.
"Potter. Potter!" Draco roughly shook Harry, hard enough that Harry's glasses slid down the bridge of his nose and nearly fell off. Harry stumbled and leaned against the corridor wall. "Are you going to faint, you stupid, dramatic git? Get up! Get up!"
Even through his blurry vision, Harry recognized that Draco looked liable to punch him in the face. Ron seemed to agree with the urge to punch somebody, but it wasn't Harry. He was crossing their path, levitating a tray burdened with nearly a dozen tea mugs, and at the sound of Draco's words, he let the tray crash to the floor. Draco barely had time to shield his face as Ron launched forward.
"Don't—you—dare! My—best—mate! You—have—no—idea!"
"You punch like a girl!" Draco yelled, hands half-heartedly shielding his body from Ron's various punches.
"How about I tell Hermione or Ginny or Angelina what you just said and let them show you how a girl punches?!" Ron roared. "Let me get your face! Let me hit your face!"
"Get off me, you idiot!"
"Ron!" Molly shrieked. "Stop this! We have enough going on! Now, Ronald!"
A Weasley—Percy perhaps, it was difficult to tell with his glasses still lowered—hurried out and grasped Ron's shoulders, pulling him back. Harry reached up and straightened his glasses. To Harry's horror, Ron had tears glistening in his eyes. His cloak was splattered with scalding tea.
"You have no idea," Ron said, chest heaving, emotion smothering the hall. "Don't say that to him."
"I know that Harry falling apart doesn't do his family any good," Draco snapped coldly.
Ginny appeared in the doorway. It was the first time she'd left Albus's side since they'd arrived. She clenched her jaw as her eyes scanned over the scene.
"That's enough!" she snapped. The circles underneath her eyes were darker than Harry had ever seen. "Draco, I don't need you telling Harry how to care for his family. Ron, Harry doesn't need you fist-fighting for him. Harry, I'm sorry, I tried to tell the Healer to warn you that Albus had left, so you wouldn't think—"
She broke off, as unable to speak the words as Harry was of thinking them. Scorpius was still staring at Albus's empty, blood-stained bed.
"Let's all sit," Molly ordered. When nobody moved, she narrowed her eyes. "That was not a suggestion. Now!"
Everybody—even Draco—moved forward towards the ward. Molly waved her wand, cleared the tea mess, and then sent George to get more tea for everybody. Harry waited until everybody had entered the room except for Ginny. They stared at each other for a moment, exhausted eyes boring into exhausted eyes, a million horrible worries perched right at the forefront of their minds. Harry could've burst into tears as easily as his wife could've. But instead, they took a step forward at nearly the same moment and met in the middle. Harry slowly wrapped his arms around her; she did the same. They stood in the middle of the hall, faces pressed into shoulders, breathing deeply to subdue the building sobs. Harry squeezed his eyes shut until the burning stopped. He tightened his grip on Ginny and felt perfectly understood within her embrace. She was hurting as much as he was. She felt the same. It was a blessing and a curse.
"It's not over yet," she whispered into his neck, fiercely and thick. "Don't give up."
He couldn't reply; to speak would be to cry. He buried his face into her jumper and held her tighter.
He and Ginny had consumed seven mugs of tea since arriving at St. Mungo's. Harry's heart was racing and his palms were sweaty, but that could've easily been from the stress rather than the caffeine.
It took three hours, but finally, Victoire reappeared. She was covered in blood and was exceptionally peaky. The entire room seemed to be holding their breath. And then—she smiled.
Ginny bowed forward, her face pressing into her thighs, her breaths coming out in thankful, rapid gasps. Molly hurried forward and began Scourgifying the blood from Victoire's robes. Harry's head was spinning again. All he could think was thank Merlin.
"We used some Muggle machine. It cycled his blood in and out of his body. We mixed essence of dittany in with it as it cycled through. We really didn't think..." Victoire trailed off. She offered Hermione a weak smile. "Thank Merlin for your library skills, Aunt Hermione."
For about the millionth time in Harry's life, he was breathless with gratitude for the existence of Hermione Granger. He rose to pull her into a hug, but half a dozen other family members had beaten him to it. She looked a bit surprised from the middle of the exuberant huddle, her dark, elegant hand patting each of their backs in turn. Scorpius Malfoy wormed his way into the embrace without a moment's hesitation.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you—" he kept repeating tearfully, his arms squeezing Hermione tightly. She'd never looked less dignified. She'd never looked more loved.
"Well, I broke nearly a dozen serious laws tonight, so if I get booted from office—"
"Nobody would dare," Ron told her fondly.
Harry and Ginny were taken back to see Albus, tucked away in a private post-procedure room. He was still asleep, but he looked better already (or, at least, he wasn't bleeding profusely). They sat side-by-side at his bedside, hands joined, eyes resting on their middle child. They shared a quiet sigh. There were no words to explain the relief coursing through Harry, the relief he knew that Ginny felt, too.
Ginny's relief gave way to a cautious contentment. Harry's gave way to a building rage.
"Carrow did this. He knew what this curse did. His dad created it. It might not be an Unforgivable, but it is unforgivable. What did Hermione do with him? Where is he now?"
Ginny looked at him. "I don't know. Hermione didn't say. I didn't think to ask, not with Al...you know."
He did know. Their son's life had taken precedence over everything. Harry rose.
"I've got to find out. I need to make a statement. I need to make sure he's punished."
She looked like she would've liked to have asked him to stay, but she knew him better than that. She nodded once.
"Give him my love," she bit darkly. Her eyes were cold. Harry felt a brief chill.
"I'll do just that."
Ginny was gripping Albus's hand as Harry quietly walked from the room. He made it a few steps and then spotted the very person he was looking for. Hermione was wringing her hands.
"How is he?"
"Better. Much better," Harry said, and then he seized Hermione in a sudden hug.
"Harry, I really didn't do anything, I only did what I always do—"
"And what you always do always saves the day. You saved his life, Hermione."
She patted Harry's back. He was preparing to pull back when he heard a sudden snap, followed by the sound of smoke. He reared back like he'd been punched in the face.
Rita Skeeter stared at him. He stared at her. Hermione cautiously grabbed onto Harry's hand in warning.
"Oh," Rita cackled gleefully. She peered over the top of her gaudy spectacles as she examined the photo she'd captured. "Ginny Potter runs into Draco Malfoy's arms; Harry Potter is seen in Hermione Granger's. I always knew there was something there. I always knew you wouldn't be faithful. I came here to see what Scorpius Malfoy did to Albus Potter, and instead, I find this." She leaned to the right, peeking towards the halfway open door Harry had just come out of it, the door leading to his critically ill son and his wife. "Now, all I need is a statement from my nasty colleague who's gotten exactly what she's always deserved—"
"Harry—no!" Hermione cried, horrified. But it was too late. His mind snapped, his rage surged. He wrenched his hand from her grasp and threw himself at Rita Skeeter. She let out a shrill shriek as he slammed her into the wall, his hands pressing her shoulders back against the wood paneling. She made fruitless grasps for her wand, but Harry shoved his hand into her cloak pocket and removed it before she could even graze it. He threw it down the hallway, his heart racing, his rage over everything cumulating in this one, awful moment. Rita let out a terrified squeak, her eyes magnified in horror behind her glasses. Harry's vision was blurrier than it ought to have been.
"I swear on everything, I swear on everyone I love, Rita, if you print one more bloody thing about my family—one more word about my wife, one more word about my son or Scorpius Malfoy or James or Teddy or anybody—I will make you wish you were dead."
"Harry!" Hermione shrieked. "He doesn't mean that, Rita, he's not thinking clearly—"
"I mean precisely what I say!" Harry roared. Rita was breathing deeply, eyes chained on Harry's face. "This is your fault. This is you, Rita. This is what Ginny's been trying to tell you for decades. Your words have consequences. Every time you exaggerate and lie, somebody gets hurt, and this time, it was my son! You are responsible! You nearly took his life!"
"I did no such thing! I can't be responsible for the ways people respond to my words, those are their actions—"
"Halloran Carrow used your words to bait my sons! Halloran Carrow has surely been reading your shit articles for his entire life! You've been making weekly statements about my insanity for his entire lifespan; you've suggested over and over again that I'm not fit to be in power, you've planted the idea that I'm executing people over past crimes without considering anything, much less the fact that I didn't have the power to make those decisions alone in the first place—"
Rita laughed nervously. "You're Harry Potter; your opinion is law."
"And now he's tried to execute me and nearly succeeded in executing my son! My child, Rita! And I've HAD ENOUGH!"
His words echoed down the hallway. Hermione recoiled.
"I AM TIRED OF YOU USING MY FAMILY TO GET ATTENTION! I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF WAKING TO LIES ABOUT MY FAMILY! I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF MY WIFE WAKING WITH TENSION HEADACHES BECAUSE OF YOU, ENOUGH OF MY CHILDREN FLINCHING EVERY TIME A PROPHET IS DELIVERED TO SOMEBODY SITTING NEAR THEM AT SCHOOL, ENOUGH OF BEING ACCUSED OF CHEATING ANYTIME I SO MUCH AS SMILE AT SOMEBODY IN PUBLIC!"
People were coming out of their wards now, interested and drawn to the conflict. Harry couldn't care less.
"I DIDN'T SACRIFICE EVERYTHING SO YOU COULD TORMENT THE PEOPLE I LOVE! ALL I HAVE ASKED IN RETURN—ALL I HAVE EVER ASKED IN RETURN FOR ALL HERMIONE, RON, AND I DID—WAS PRIVACY AND RESPECT! AND I HAVE BEEN DENIED THAT AT EVERY TURN! AND IF IT WERE JUST PEOPLE WANTING DAMN—SODDING—AUTOGRAPHS, THAT'D BE ONE THING! BUT IT'S YOU INVADING MY PRIVACY! IT'S YOU ACCOSTING MY UNDERAGE CHILDREN! IT'S YOU CALLING MY WIFE, CALLING HERMIONE, CALLING ALL MY FEMALE RELATIVES SLUTS AT EVERY TURN; IT'S YOU MAKING MY SON'S LIFE COMPLICATED AT EVERY OPPORTUNITY! ENOUGH!"
People were whispering and staring. Hermione had her face buried in her hands. Rita was cringing back from Harry, eyes widened in horror, obviously convinced he was going to strangle her at any moment—and he hadn't yet ruled that out. He was momentarily distracted by an approaching figure.
"Autograph?" the man asked brightly, entirely indifferent to the screaming. "Why, honestly, if you wanted my autograph dear lady, all this fuss was surely unnecessary! I have headshots in the following styles: autumn, beach, and Father Christmas—"
"Gilderoy!" A Healer hissed, hurriedly coming over and taking Gilderoy Lockhart into her arms. Everybody was gaping. "S-sorry, Mr. Potter, he doesn't...he doesn't really understand..."
Harry was slowly coming back to his senses. He could feel his pulse throbbing in his head. He let go of Rita's shoulders and stepped back. He swallowed hard.
"By all means, Lockhart," he said, turning his eyes to the frail, lost man. "Give Rita an autograph. We all know how she likes to cozy up to the rich and famous and suck everything from them."
He thought about his next words just long enough to understand that Hermione would be furious with him. But he had to do what he had to. He couldn't have Rita Skeeter spying on Albus while he recovered. He couldn't have her accusing Scorpius of doing this to him.
He turned around and stared at all the Healers, Medi-wizards/witches, and visiting family crowded around.
"Rita Skeeter is an unregistered animagus who has trespassed on private property innumerable times, and the Ministry knows this and refuses to do anything about it."
The buzzing conversation had already begun as he stormed off.
"Why'd you have to do that, mate?!" Ron hissed.
Harry tried to step through the doorway, but Ron flung his hand out and pressed it to the doorframe, barring Harry's entrance. Inside the room, Scorpius and Albus were lying on the bed facing each other, involved in their own conversation. The rest of the Weasley, Granger-Weasley, and Potter clan were lounging about the ward, involved in their own conversations, allowing the boys to have their moment. Harry met Ron's eyes.
"How can you ask me that, Ron?" he demanded. "You know why I had to do it."
"Er...because you publically spat in Hermione's face?" Ron demanded. "Hermione's been working with Ginny and Malfoy nonstop; she was doing something!"
Harry felt a brief sting of shame. Hermione had already run off to the office to deal with the press ahead of time. Harry couldn't meet Ron's eyes.
"Not quickly enough. I had to do it, Ron. We've tried to do it her way. We've tried to be patient, we've tried to change the laws first, but you read Rita's last article. Did you like her saying those things about your little sister? Because she was going to say those same things about your wife, Ron. Who knows who would've been next? Rose? Roxanne? Victoire? Lily?"
Harry tried to shove past Ron again. Ron pushed him aggressively back this time.
"No, we're talking about this!" Ron snapped. "We can either talk about it here in the doorway, or we can talk about it in the tea room."
"How about we don't talk about it at all?"
"How about you stop acting like a massive git just because you're upset and angry and frightened? Hermione and I didn't do any of this. We've been on your side longer than anybody. And we're not going to let you take all of this out on us." A pause. Ron glowered. "And I won't let you take it out on my wife."
"Oh, here we go..."
"Yeah, here we go!" Ron said. "You'd better believe it, Harry! Here we sodding go! If I'd done the same to Ginny you'd be in my face with 'my wifethis' and 'my wife that'!"
"That's different."
"Yeah? How so? How's it different at all?" Ron challenged.
Harry parted his lips, but he found himself at a loss of what to say. Everything he instinctively thought to reply with was wrong and cruel, and surely only something he was thinking because he was furious and guilty.
"Hermione's not just 'your wife', she's my friend."
"And your wife is my sister. What the hell are you getting at? What does that have to do with anything?"
It didn't have anything to do with anything. Harry was just trying to piss Ron off enough to make him storm away, so he could avoid this conversation.
"Well, when you start acting like Hermione's yours and you get to dictate who and under what terms people interact with her—"
"Now you're just trying to piss me off, Harry. Stop. You don't need to try; I'm already pissed off at you," Ron said coldly.
Harry saw a flash of red. He glanced over Ron's outstretched arm; Ginny was approaching. Ron glowered at her and pointed in the opposite direction.
"Stay out of it, Ginny! This has nothing to do with you! And, frankly, you've done enough, too."
She scoffed. "You aren't going to talk to me like that—"
"Ginny!" Molly scolded, off from where Harry couldn't see her. "Stay out of Ron's business!"
"Mum!" Ginny complained.
She went over to argue with Molly. Harry ground his teeth.
"Tea room," he said curtly.
"Fine. Great," Ron snapped.
They didn't say a word as they walked to the end of the corridor. It was empty except for Teddy and Victoire, stretched out on the sofa, Teddy's ear resting over Victoire's budding baby bump. He appeared to be mid-coo.
"I know it doesn't have fully-formed ears yet," Teddy told them defensively, after a moment's pause. "But that doesn't mean it can't feel the vibrations of words."
"Don't call it 'it'," Victoire complained.
"What? You just called it 'it'!"
"Could you two take this elsewhere?" Ron requested.
"We could."
"Go, Vic," Ron ordered. "Please."
"Oh, fine."
Teddy and Victoire were bickering about unisex names as they left the tea room, leaving Ron and Harry facing each other, uncertain.
"I wasn't trying to make life harder for Hermione," Harry finally said. He looked at his hands. He pressed his thumb over I must not tell lies and watched the skin blanch. "I just—lost it, honestly, Ron. I needed something to be done about this—right then. Hermione...I know she's been trying to do things the 'right way'...but don't you see how much pain that's caused my family?"
"It's bigger than you and your family, mate. I know it's difficult to see that
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