Name Game (completed)

Chapter Eighteen

AUTHOR"S NOTE: Look who's finally got off there butt and decided to write something? ME! So yeah, I guess I haven't updated this in a while. However, for various personal reasons, I would  like to complete this story before November, so updates will hopefully be a little more frequent. Although after that Name Game will be officially finished I intend to develop and extend some of the chapters, and will be pen to any ideas you may have. So basically, if you do have anything to offer please leave a comment and I will take note of it. Dedicated to M, 'cause it has vague elements of Harmony (HarryXHermione).

Hermione's face was pale and drawn. Dark rings circled her eyes like purple bruises and her smart work-robes were crumpled and grubby. Her curly brown hung dejectedly in a matted, greasy curtain, framing the damaged picture. She was still, crouched silently beside her son's bed, one devoted hand resting upon his smooth, seemingly lifeless one.

Ronald, in contrast with his wife, had taken to pacing restlessly up and down the ward, talking loudly about anything and everything that entered his mind. His entire face was tinged tomato red, and the crimson hue of his ears closely resembled the colour of a boiled lobster. As to why this was the case, the surrounding Weasleys were unsure. As of yet their best guess was to assume that the redness of his features occurred in the presence of frustration in addition to humiliation or embarrassment.

A young, but professional-looking Healer entered the ward, and smiled wanly at the motley assortment of redheads who greeted him with hopeful eyes. Nobody said anything.

"Any news?" Hermione asked eventually, lifting her drooped head from the coverlet.

The Healer shook his head sadly.

"I'm sorry. There has been no progress in terms of your son's recovery." He looked desperately about him. "Magically-induced comas are very hard to cure. We're doing our very best, Mr and Mrs Weasley." He sighed. "On the brighter side, his conditions has not worsened. There is still hope. We have an expert coming in tomorrow who will be able to examine your son. With any luck he may be able to offer some insight."

"Thank you, Tobias." Hermione flashed the briefest of smiles at the man, as he left the ward. Ron walked over to Hugo's bed, and slumped on the end of it, his head in his hands. Ginny wandered over and sat next to him. She laid a comforting hand on his arm.

"It's going to be okay, Ron." She stroked her older brother's arm comfortingly. "You heard what the Healer said. There's an expert coming in tomorrow. Hugo could be better before you know it." She attempted and failed to smile optimistically.

"But what about Rose?" Ron's voice began to crack, as he mentioned his daughter's name.

"I..." Ginny faltered. Her niece's disappearance was an extremely sensitive topic. She was on very thin ice. "I'm sure she's fine."

"But what if she's not?"

GInny sighed, heavily and audibly.

"You need to think positively. Harry's investigating. He might have some news by tonight."

Ron swallowed.

"Really? He's been unsuccessful for the past three or so weeks. What makes you so sure that he'll have news this time?"

"I don't know." Ginny admitted, "But he's head of the Auror Office. I'm sure he'll have some sort of lead, sooner or later."

"Wish it would be sooner." Ron shook of his sisters hand roughly away, and slouched still further into the sagging bed. He didn't bother to look up, even when a gentle, but insistent rap was heard at the door. It was, once again, Hermione who spoke.

"Come in." Her voice was perfectly steady, but there was an underlying note of sadness, as though she had resigned herself to the fates of both her children. 

Harry entered. His hair stuck up even more than usual, and his wire-rimmed spectacles sat wonkily upon the bridge of his nose. He crossed the room, muttering the customary greetings, and kissed his unmoving nephew tenderly.

"How is he?"

"There's been no change." Hermione smiled sadly at her oldest friend.

"Can I speak to you?"

She shrugged, as though to indicate no objection.

"Alone." Harry added pointedly.

They left the ward together, and stood, somewhat awkwardly, in the corridor.

"How is he?" Somehow Hermione knew he wasn't referring to Hugo.

"Fine, although it depends how you interpret that word." She was suddenly extremely interested in the blindingly white paintwork that coated the walls.

"You don't think..."

 "No." Her answer was firm, final.

"He loves them so much. I don't know how'll he cope if..." Harry trailed off. There was no need to elaborate.

"Mmm." There wasn't really an answer to that. "Is there any news on Rose.

"Not news, as of such. There's no real development, but I've had an idea."

"I suppose anything's better than nothing. Go on." 

"Well, to be honest, I'm surprised we didn't think of it before. Now I've realised, it seems so blindingly obvious."

"Yes?" Hermione was growing impatient.

"I'll get on with it then. We may as well be straight with one and other. You know that you daughter was going out with Scorpius Malfoy, don't you?"

"I'm not Ron, Harry. I don't necessarily approve, but Rose has every right to go out with who she chooses. And I've never had any real reason to disapprove of him. And I'm not going to deny it, just because he's not my favourite candidate."

"Your very brave to carry on as you do." Harry's emerald eyes drifted admiringly over the woman who stood before him, leaning helplessly against the wall.

"Sometimes I wonder about giving up. But I can't. There are too many people relying on me. Anyway..." She shook her head vigorously. "What't this idea?"

"Scorpius is missing too."

Hermione's intake of breath was just a little too sharp.

"You don't think that...?"

"I don't see why not."

"So what's the next step." Her eyes were big and trusting. She believed in him. And he knew that he couldn't let her down. Not again.

"I've arranged a meeting off sorts. Lunch, at their house. To discuss things, and see if they have any leads. WIll you go?"

She nodded, but an anxious look passed over her face.

"Ron won't like it."

"Are you going to tell him?"

"Well, I'll have to eventually." She scrutinised his expression. "But not straight away."

"Good. You'll be needing an address."

She laughed, or at least performed the closest action to laughing one can do when both of one's children could potentially be on the verge of death. The result was a sort of tearful smirk.

"I know where the Malfoy Manor is. Surely you haven't forgotten our little escapade there."

"Hermione, even the Malfoys have some integrity.  They moved."

Hermione felt a little warmth spreading to her cheeks, and realised she was blushing. it had been wrong of her o assume so, and she was ashamed, even in the eyes of someone she'd known since the age of eleven.

"Sorry."

"That's quite alright." Harry smiled at her. "Do you care for be to accompany you? Or shall you go alone?"