Chapter 28 : Off White Walls and Apartment Bedrooms
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“What happened?” Rose asked, out of breath as she rushed out of S. Mungos fireplace and toward her uncle Harry. “Where’s mum?”
Harry held up his hand. “She’s with Ron, and he was bitten by a baby Basilisk.”
“What- How?” she asked, her eyes wavering between her uncles.
“We were in a cave in Morocco, examining the remains of some odd magic, and Ron turned for a second and was bit,” Told Harry, who must have noticed look of horror on Rose’s face, because he quickly added. “But he’s alive.”
“So, what are they doing?” frantically asked Rose, needing answers.
Harry shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. “They haven’t told us much, except that he is alive.”
“That’s it,” said Rose incredulously. “No word on his condition or how alive he is.”
“Alive is alive Rose,” commented Hugo.
“No, there is standing up and talking alive and there is lying in bed and waiting to die alive. Which one is our father?” She looked sharply back to Harry.
“Rose, he is alive,” stated Harry slowly. “That is all I know. If want to try to get any information out of one these people,” he waved to the hospital staff members who were walking back and forth down the hall. “Then be my guest, but I have been trying to talk to someone for an hour and all I know is that he is alive.”
“Who’s his healer?” Rose said while looking down the hall for anyone who might be in charge of her father’s case.
“Rose,” Hugo said sternly and raised his hands to Rose’s shoulder and pulled her around. “He’s right there.” he pointed to a tall young man with brown hair and healer’s robes on.
Rose tugged out from Hugo’s grasp. “What’s his name,” She said straightening her posture.
“Healer Marshall,” grumbled Hugo, already looking embarrassed for his sister’s upcoming actions.
“Thank you?” she said taking a step forward, only to feel her uncle’s grasp pulling her back by her shirt.
Harry bent his head down and whispered, “To be clear, you do realize that you cannot torture information out of the man.” And he let go of her to continue walking.
“Healer Marshall,” called Rose as she strode over to the man.
“Yes?” Healer Marshall said with a raised eyebrow, confused by the stranger.
Rose thrust out her hand to the man. “Rose Malf-Weasley.” She sputtered, keeping her hand out in midair, and waiting for him to make the connection to who she was. “You are the one working on my father?” she added.
Recognition seemed to dawn on the healer because his young face went from confused to proud, and Rose swore she saw his chest bulge out as he pulled his shoulders back. “Yes, I am the one working on Ron Weasley’s case,” he said in a cockier tone than before.
Rose rolled her eyes, and gave the man a wild expression for repeating information which she already knew. “Right, I was curious if you could give me some information?” she asked masking her annoyance.
“Well he is alive,” Healer Marshall said.
Rose’s cheeks became red, and she crossed her arms. “I swear if I hear one more person tell me that he is alive without explanation as to how, I am going to go ballistic.” There was an edge to her voice that suggested for healer Marshall, not to take the threat lightly. She narrowed her eyes. “I said that I wanted information. And so help me, I am not above stunning you and stealing my father’s file from your hand to get it.” Rose quirked an eye to Healer Marshall, whose own eyes were lingered on the thin file folder that he was currently gripping.
“Right,” Healer Marshall croaked in a strange voice. Gripping the folder tighter, her ushered Rose to the side of the hall and said in a low voice, “This is against hospital policy.”
“I really could care less,” argued Rose impatiently.
The man nodded, as if he hadn’t expected any other response. “So we were able to drain most of the poison,” He said, not breaking eye contact with Rose. “However, no matter the Basilisk’s size, their poison does have its effects. What remains could kill him over night.”
Rose straightened her back and squared shoulders- not accepting that as a valid answer. “Then get the rest of it out,” she barked through gritted teeth.
“It’s not that simple.” Healer Marshall emphasized. “We were only able to remove the poison that was centered at the bite, the rest of it went into his blood-stream and we don’t know how much that was. Also without knowing the exact age of the Basilisk, it is impossible to know how severe the poison is,” he explained, and then looked up to Rose with an uncertain eye. “I mean considering the circumstances, your father was lucky that the Basilisk was only baby and-”
“Lucky!” Rose interrupted. “My father is laying in a bed unconscious and you’re telling me that he is lucky!” she scolded in a way of yelling that didn’t require her to raise her voice.
Healer Marshall waved his hands defensively. “I only meant that at least he wasn’t dead yet.”
“Yet?” said Rose darkly, she repositioned her arms and leaned on her hip staring at healer Marshal as though she were going to attack him for even suggesting the word. “And what do you plan to do to insure that he survives?” Rose hissed.
Healer Marshall scratched the back of his head, too scared to look Rose in the eye. “Well, there isn’t much that we can do, but wait. If your father makes it through the night, then his chances of survival are high, and the poison should dissipate over time.”
“What about Phoenix tears?” eagerly suggested Rose.
A dead look crossed Healer Marshall’s eyes. “We’re a hospital, Ms. Weasley.”
“Your point?” Rose exaggerated darkly.
The man took a step back, fearful about Rose’s reaction to his next words. “Phoenix’s are already rare creatures and their tears are even rarer. Even if we knew where to retrieve some, we wouldn’t have the funds to pay for them.”
Rose began to rub the temples of her forehead. “So basically we just have to wait and see?”
“Yes, and even then it’s going to be a while before he wakes up. Basilisk venom is sure to take a toll on his body.” Healer Marshall closed his folder and met Rose’s eyes. “There are some habits in your father’s life that are going to have to change.”
“Such as?” pushed Rose.
“Well for starters he needs to start eating better, and get more physical exercise,” Healer Marshall said as he ticked off his fingers. “Also, is you father under any stress?”
Rose bowed her head guiltily. “A bit,” she mumbled.
Healer Marshall nodded. “Well that has got to stop. He will need a completely stress free environment, to rest.”
Rose shook her head, a thousand thoughts reeling through her mind at once. “So how is he now?”
“He’s in pain but stabilized.”
There were so many questions that Rose wanted to ask, but she couldn’t narrow in on one. Biting her lip, she and peered up to healer Marshall.
Catching her eye healer Marshall gave a sad smile, and offered some encouragement. “I understand that you are worried, but we are doing the best we can.”
Rose still remained still, only coming to her senses when Hugo came up beside her, and laid an arm across her shoulders. “When will we get to see him?” He asked- having been eavesdropping in on Rose and the Healer’s conversation.
Healer Marshall looked to his folder. “We are moving him in a couple of minutes, you two can see him then.”
“Great.” Hugo sounded relieved.
“I’ll get the room number.” And the healer turned to walk over to the nurse’s station.
Hugo gave a pleased grin down to Rose and motioned for them to follow the healer, but Rose had become frozen; rooted to the spot where she stood. Her face had gone pale, and she suddenly became very interested in the laces of her shoes.
“You coming?” asked Hugo.
Rose kept her eyes focused down, and slowly shook her head. “Not yet,” she said in squeaky voice.
The sigh that Hugo gave was loud and judgmental, but he could sense from the way his sister was sheepishly standing in front of him, that she simply wasn’t ready. Her reaction made Hugo want to pick Rose up, throw her over his shoulder, and force her to go with him, but he didn’. “So are you going to leave?” he asked gloomily.
“No,” replied Rose quickly. “I just need to think.”
“It’s dad,” argued Hugo in a fierce but hushed voice.
“I know who it is,” countered Rose. “But-” she looked between Hugo’s sorrowful eyes, and bent her head down. “It’s dad,” she repeated his previous words, in a softer voice.
Hugo didn’t respond. Rose could feel his eyes boring into her, and she waited guiltily for him to say something, but when he did it wasn’t what Rose had expected. “Will you go to my apartment and pack me a bag?” Hugo asked, a tired expression crossing his face. “I’m not sure how long I am going to be here.”
Rose shot her head up. “Of course,” she said in a relieved, high pitched voice.
“Thanks,” Hugo said dully. He looked back to Healer Marshall, who had his eyes on the siblings, and turned back to Rose. “Rose,” he said, his eyes penetrating though hers, with a worried expression. “Please try not to take too long.”
Rose nodded as he turned to walk away.
The second Rose apparated into Hugo’s apartment, her ears were instantly met with a horrendously loud, shrieking cry.
“Belinda,” a hysteric voice said. “Belinda, Daddy will be home any minute.”
Rose turned around to see a very disoriented woman awkwardly bouncing a wailing baby in her arms. If Rose thought going to the hospital to see her father was going to be awkward, then she had never considered what it would be like to meet the ex-wife to her husband, who was also the mother to her niece. Lexie stood, unaware, with her disheveled black hair thrown into a wad on the top of her head.
“Here, do you want this?” Lexie asked, snatching a stuffed kangaroo off the kitchen table and waving it in her daughter’s face.
The wailing didn’t stop, in fact it got worse. The baby’s cries turned to full out screaming, and for a moment Rose thought that maybe Lexie had needles in her hands. “No?” Lexie said, abandoning the toy by dropping it on the ground, and returning to her graceless bouncing.
“Belinda, what do you want? Please tell me,” she continued, her voice cracking as if she, herself, might start crying any second. “Tell mummy what you want.”
Now, Rose didn’t know a whole lot about babies, but she did know that keeping calm and holding them properly would shut them up- at least, that’s what her little experience in dealing with babies had implied. “Here,” Rose said marching over to the woman, and thrusting out her arms. “Let me hold her.”
Lexie gave Rose a wide eyed expression, and Rose had the suspicion that her previous thoughts about how awkward this moment would be, were currently running through Lexie’s head. However, If Lexie was surprised to see Rose standing in her sort-of-boyfriend’s apartment, she didn’t show it. She just stared at Rose as though nothing could possibly surprise her.
Becoming impatient, Rose wagged her hands to Lexie, ushering her to hand over the flailing baby. It took several seconds, but finally Lexie closed her eyes and handed Belinda over, without protest. Rose was shocked by how instant the Belinda’s response was. The second Rose had balanced her, Belinda’s red face began to calm, and she slowly began to breathe deep breaths of comfort. Lexie and Rose stood for a moment, the sound of Belinda’s sniffles falling into the background. Rose smiled at the baby, but quickly frowned at the realization that Lexie was still in front of her; the awkwardness from before becoming more apparent.
Rose glanced up and watched Lexie, as she looked on, in utter bewilderment as her daughter nuzzled up in Rose’s arms. “This is just great,” she declared, stomping over to the kitchen table and flinging herself into one of the chairs. “Even my own daughter prefers you over me,” she sneered in disbelief.
Rose stared at the woman, almost offended. “Excuse me?” she couldn’t help but remark in a defensive tone.
Immediately, Lexie’s face fell as though she had just realized that she had actually said the comment that she meant only the think. “I’m sorry, that was very rude of me.” There was something about the way that Lexie spoke that made Rose doubt that Lexie really did feel sorry, but that he apology was more of a polite gesture, because she had been raised better than to simply be rude to a person.
“Apology accepted- I think,” Rose mumbled.
Lexie nodded, took a deep breath, and then covered her eyes with her hand. “I don’t know what more I can do,” she stated tonelessly. “I feed her, I burp her, I change her, I love her to the ends of the earth and back, and she hates me. My daughter actually hates me.” She shook her head and turned to Rose. “I keep telling Hugo this, but he doesn’t listen.”
“I’m sure she doesn’t hate you,” Rose said apprehensively- who was she to speak for Belinda, for all Rose knew Belinda could actually sense that Lexie was Voldemort incarnated, and that she hated her with a passion.
Lexie raised a hand and waved around the room. “Do you hear that? That silence? She has never once been that quiet when I hold her.”
Rose looked down to the peacefully sleeping baby in her arms. Her gut wrenching with the thought that she may be having one of these little bundles soon, and it made her feel the slightest bit lightheaded. “Our mother used to swaddle Hugo and I, it might help,” suggested Rose. “And maybe not bouncing her.”
“Hugo bounces her all the time and it works,” Lexie complained. “Everything Hugo does works,” she said bitterly.
“I once read that babies respond differently to different people, maybe you just need to figure out a different technique. She seems to like being still.” Rose looked Lexie in the eye. “You want to take her back and try?”
Lexie stood up and walked over to Rose with a dubious expression. Carefully taking Belinda back into her arms, Lexie began cradled Belinda, her face cringing as Belinda began to squirm again. “Oh no,” she said in a panicked voice.
“Relax,” ordered Rose harshly.
Lexie closed her eyes and slowly began to just sway from side to side. Belinda- who was on the verge of full blown tantrum- slowly stopped squirming and turned her head into Lexie’s chest in a deep sleep. “She’s quiet, and sleeping.” Lexie couldn’t even think of words to describe how happy she was. She looked lovingly down to her daughter and held her closer to her chest; for the first time feeling like proper mother.
Looking back up to Rose, Lexie’s pleased expression became confused. “I hate to be rude again,” she said in a light whisper. “But what are you doing here?”
Rose stood in Hugo’s cramped bedroom with a small duffle bag sitting open on the bed. Strategically, Rose took her time folding his clothes- unfolding them and repeating the process, if there was even the slightest crease.
“Don’t pack that shirt,” Lexie’s voice said from the other side of the room; her arms still holding a sleeping Belinda. “He hate’s it.” Rose watched as Lexie’s eyes ran across the pile of clothes that Rose had laid out. “Or those pants, or that entire pile right there.” She pointed a finger to a pile of shirts.
Rose took a step back. “Would you like to do it?” she asked tired of the criticism. Lexie stared down to Belinda as if she was reluctant to put her down, but eventually she handed Belinda to Rose and walked over to Hugo’s closet.
Rose noticed how Lexie never second guessed herself. Over time she had simply learnt what Hugo’s favorite clothes were. “He hates anything with a stripe,” She said reaching into the closet and pulling down a specific shirt. “And he only wears shirts that are blue, dark green, white, or any shade of grey, but if you buy him a black shirt then you’ve gone too far, and he will only wear it when he needs to do laundry.” She turned around with a pile of shirts and handed them to Rose- quick to take Belinda back in her arms.
“Thanks,” Rose drawled, and started to fold the new pile of clothes. Glancing at Lexie, Rose placed one of the shirts in the bag. “So are you and Hugo- like together?” she casually asked.
Lexie’s smile fell, and her eyes went wide in discomfort. “Not really.” She shrugged, and looked to the wood floor in debate. “I’m not ready for another serious relationship yet,” she said carefully.
“Because of Scorpius?” insinuated Rose.
Lexie’s silence hinted to Rose that Lexie was offended by the question. She hadn’t meant to ask about Scorpius so bluntly, in fact Rose hadn’t intended to speak about him at all. Becoming very interested in the mundane task of folding clothes, Rose waited for Lexie’s response. “Do you really want me to answer that question?” Said Lexie, with a bit of an edge to her tone.
Rose thought it over. “No, I suppose not.” She zipped up the duffle bag and slipped the strap over her shoulder. Looking up, Rose caught Lexie’s glaring eye, and moved to walk around her.
Lexie’s lips moved into a firm crease. “I know what you are probably thinking, and you’re wrong,” she said to Rose’s back.
Rose turned around slowly. “What am I wrong about?”
Readjusting Belinda in her arms, Lexie moved forward. “I’m not completely ignorant about the way Hugo feels about me, and I know he deserves better, but I don’t take him for granted.” She stopped walking and looked at Belinda protectively. “He is an amazing father to our child, and a wonderful friend. And every day he does make me fall the tiniest bit more in love with him.” Lexie looked Rose dead in the eye. “Does that answer your question?”
Rose released a breath of air she hadn’t realized that she had been holding. “Yes.” She nodded.
The door that lead to her father’s room was intimidating. As Rose stood at it she swore that the large oval swirls of the wood were meshing together and forming one large, dark, gaping hole that would suck her alive. She had taken as much time as she could at Hugo’s apartment, and as uncomfortable as that encounter had been, Rose had to admit that she preferred it over her what was to be her next encounter, assuming that she could pluck up the courage to enter the room.
“You know you could go in,” said a voice pulling Rose from her thoughts. Rose looked in front of her and saw Hugo stepping out from the room- his large frame blocking in sight of their mother.
“I know,” Rose said softly. “Here.” She held the bag she’d packed out to Hugo, then moved her eyes to the floor.
“Thanks.” Hugo hooked the bag over his shoulder, leaned against the same wall as Rose, and closed his eyes. Waiting for Rose to say something, he took slow sips from a cup of coffee that he was holding.
“I met Lexie,” Rose said after several minutes.
An anxious look quickly crossed Hugo’s face, and his arm stiffened. “Do I need to go over there?”
Rose shook her head. “I was able to calm Belinda down.”
“Good.” His shoulders relaxed.
They stood in an uncomfortable silence; Rose’s unspoken questions about her father hovering in the air between them. “How does he look?” She gave in and asked.
“Why don’t you go see for yourself,” Hugo countered stiffly.
Rose turned on her brother and narrowed her eyes. “Will you stop? That’s not happening.”
The sigh that Hugo gave was loud and judgmental, and Rose attempted to ignore it. From the corner of her eye, she could see Hugo firmly cross his arms and cock an eyebrow to her; the adult like position making him look much older. “You’re going to regret it if you don’t go in there.” Hugo commented.
Rose closed her eyes not wanting to argue. “He wouldn’t want me in there,” she admitted softly.
“And how would you know what he does and doesn’t want?” There was an outrageous look to her brother’s eyes.
“I know that he hasn’t written me in six months, and that the last time I saw him he could barely look me in the eyes,” said Rose irritably.
Hugo shook his head. “He was surprised, we all were. No one expected you and Scorpius to be married. I mean, I don’t think I would be able to look Belinda in the eye either if I found out that she was married, and didn’t tell me because she was scared.”
A defensive look crossed Rose’s face. “Well, if he was so upset why hasn’t he tried to write me?”
Hugo shrugged. “I don’t know, but I do know that ever since that day in December he hasn’t been the same.” He released a low breath of air. “He may be unconscious right now, but he’s been acting half dead since Christmas.”
Rose didn’t know how to react to that. “That still doesn’t mean that he’ll want me in there,” she whispered.
Hugo pivoted so that he was facing Rose directly; towering over her in an authoritative but comforting way. “No, you’re right, but mum and I need you in there.”
Rose guiltily lowered her eyes. “I don’t want to make the situation worse.” She peered up to Hugo through her eyelashes. “I mean- when he wakes up.” Her lips pressed together in a sheepish expression.
Hugo raised a hand and placed it on her shoulder. “I don’t think that would be possible.” He watched Rose as she started to anxiously gnaw at her bottom lip. “Dad has done a lot of stupid things, but in his mind they were out of love, not hate.” Hugo gave Rose’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “I know that he’d want you in there.”
“You sure?” Rose sounded nervous.
Hugo grinned. “Definitely,” he beamed.
Rose straightened her posture and began to walk forward to the door. Reaching for the handle, she looked over her shoulder at Hugo, who hadn’t moved. “Aren’t you coming in?”
But Hugo looked down to his bag, and shook his head. “I think I’m going to give you and mum a few minutes to talk.”
Nodding, Rose turned back to the door, and twisted the handle to go inside.
The room was small and cramped full of furniture, and equipment. The first thing Rose saw was a large white monitor with blue sparks of magic streaming in a straight line, mimicking the wires of a mechanical machines, and the continuous beep, beep, beep, it gave to indicate the beating of a heart. Towards the center of the room was a small bed with a lump of a very large, unmoving man, asleep in it. And near the head of the bed was an IV stand with two bags of potion- one green, the other purple- hanging from a hook. Each bag was connected to a thin tube, which ran the potions’ liquid into her father’s body.
Rose locked her gaze on her father. It was hard to say that he looked asleep, his unnatural lack of movement making lead Rose to think the worst. His skin was a ghostly shade of white and his hair had a slightly more dusting of grey. Upon looking at his face, Rose saw the set lines of new creases that had formed over the recent months. All in all, Ron didn’t look well and Rose was unsure of him waking up would have made him look any better.
“I told you that you had no business going on that hunt, and what do you do? You go and get bitten by a Basilisk.” Snapped Hermione.
Rose’s attention moved to her mother- whom she hadn’t seen before- sitting in a chair, with metal finishing and lime green cushioning. Her mother’s body was blocked from Rose’s view by large grey sheets of newspaper that Hermione had held out in front of her.
“One of these days you will listen to me Ronald Weasley, when I say you and Harry are getting too old to be out in the field.” Hermione criticized as she turned a page in the daily prophet that she was reading.
“Mum, what are you doing?” Rose asked, closing the door behind her.
Hermione’s fingers crunched the sides of the paper, as she slowly peeked her eyes over the top. “Rose,” she said in an uncharacteristically high voice, her eyes narrowing in and capturing those of her daughter’s; holding Rose’s gaze in place, in fear that she might try to look away. “Chiding him,” she answered bluntly, her cheeks becoming red.
Rose accepted the answer, pushed herself further into the room, and watched as Hermione closed and neatly folded the paper. Neither one saying nor attempting to say anything to one another. Slowly, Rose lowered herself onto a skinny visiting bench, which had three cushions that matched the lime green one of her mother’s chair.
One of the first things Rose noticed about her mother was that she was wearing jeans and a t-shirt, instead of her usual business attire. There were a set of dark blue circles that highlighted the whites of her eyes, and her messy mane of hair was pushed back into a ponytail that sprung out in fifteen different directions.
Swallowing back a breath of air Rose broke the silence. “What’s the point in chiding him, he’s never going to listen.”
“True,” agreed Hermione. “But it makes me feel better to do so.”
Rose gave a whistling breath of air, while she lowered her gaze to her lap, still feeling her mother’s eyes bore into her. Linking her hands together, Rose ran one of her thumbs across her palms. “So…” she drawled, tracing what she believed was her life line.
“How have you been?” Hermione asked politely.
“Good,” Rose said half-heartedly. “I’ve been really good,” she affirmed, peering up to her mother through her eyelashes.
Hermione had her lips pursed together, in attempt to hold back what she really wanted to say; it didn’t work. “You never wrote me back.”
“I’ve been busy,” she lied.
“Rose,” her mother warned, never one to accept a lie.
“I didn’t think there was much to talk about,” Rose admitted in a wispy breath.
“You think I chose sides,” Hermione declared, raising her eye brow to Rose. Rose didn’t answer but moved to stare back down to her palms. Hermione sighed as she stood up- laying her newspaper in her chair- and moved to sit next to Rose.
“Well I didn’t,” she said softly.
“Feels like it,” Muttered Rose.
Hermione breathed through her nose. “Would you think I chose sides if I told you that I knew Scorpius had been transferred to New York?”
Rose’s eyes darted up to her mother’s, her mouth hung open. “Wh- How?” she stammered.
Hermione gave a coy smile. “There is certain paper work that is involved with a transfer. Knowing that you were in need of a new partner, I had requested for the file of the person who was to be sent.” Hermione bit her lip in a way familiar to Rose. “Imagine my surprise when Scorpius’ Malfoy’s file landed on my desk.”
“Why?” Rose said aghast.
Hermione tipped her back and gave a short bark of laughter. “How many daughters do you think I have?” she argued simply. “Do you think I didn’t know why I only saw you on holidays, or why you never came home?” Hermione clicked her tongue. “Let’s just say I got tired of it. So I kept quiet. I chose not to interfere, and I decided to let things play out on their own.”
Rose sucked in her lips at her mother’s confession. “But you had to have known that we wouldn’t have been able to let each other go again.” She eyed her mother, feeling a large lump in her throat but swallowed it back.
Hermione scooted closer to Rose and wrapped an arm across her daughter’s shoulders; giving them a squeeze. “I never thought that things would get this bad between you and your father. I thought that I could bring Ron around to the idea of Scorpius-”
“But he wouldn’t listen,” interrupted Rose.
“No.” Hermione shook her head; her curls bouncing around and tickling Rose’s cheek. “There was a part of him listening.” Hermione stared at Rose with smile, as if that information was to be kept a secret. “You have to let your father come around on his own time. You can’t force him. He has to be eased.”
Remembering what Hugo had said, Rose bent her head down and stared at her wedding rings. “Did you eventually tell him that you knew about Scorpius going to New York?”
Hermione was quiet but gave a confirming nod of the head. “Right after we found out that you were married.” She turned her head to mask tears. “I was so mad at him, and you.”
Rose was about to protest, but Hermione hushed her with a fixed look. “Mother’s dream about their daughter’s wedding days, it’s just what we do.”
Rose didn’t have the nerve to tell her mum that she would have probably never have had a wedding that wasn’t an elopement.
“I’ve been arguing with Ron for months since that day.” Hermione continued. “At one point I practically threatened to divorce him if he didn’t fix things with you. You should have seen the way he looked at me.” She turned her head to Ron; covering her mouth with her fingers. “There was something almost helpless about him, as if he had been trying but was lost.”
“Well he didn’t try,” mumbled Rose.
Hermione laughed and kissed the side of Rose’s head. “Could you just divorce Scorpius if he messed up?”
“No,” whispered Rose quickly.
Hermione wrapped her other arm around Rose, pulling her into a tight embrace. “You know, your father doesn’t always realize what the right decision is,” said Hermione matter of factly. “But he always finds his way to the right path, and when he does, he excels in making it up to you.”
Rose turned her head into her mother’s chest like she did as a child. Hermione tucked her nose into the top of Rose’s hair. “Mum,” Rose said in a muffled voice.
“Hmm,” hummed Hermione, not letting go.
Rose closed her eyes and took in her mother’s comforting scent. “Thank you for not changing Scorpius’ transfer.”
Hermione smiled and stroked Rose’s shoulder. “You’re Welcome love,” she said softly.
One chapter left. Also please notice what Rose said to Hermione about divorcing Scorpius. Have a little faith in me.
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