A/N: *what is this, you cry!*

*A ToMT chapter on a Sunday*

*WHAAAAATTTT*

*sniggers*

I couldn't wait to share it with you. Hope you like it!

*skips away, humming happily*

xx-Kittenshift17

Tip of My Tongue

By Kittenshift17

Chapter 42

Time passed in fits and starts for Draco after the healers ushered him out of the corridor and explained what was happening with Aurelian and Hermione. They wouldn't let him see his son. They wouldn't let him see Granger, either. They wouldn't let him do anything if it meant leaving the confines of his hospital room, which had been sealed off along with every other room on the ward to help contain the potential outbreak of Dragon Pox within the hospital. He'd been told to remain in his room, and when he'd been less than accepting of their ideas about containing him while his eldest son and the mother of his firstborn were in peril, he'd been sedated 'for the sake of his own health'.

Draco was livid when he came to. He would be having stern words with the administrators or the attorneys of the hospital about this, thank you very much indeed!

"Mother?" he asked, blinking open his eyes to find his mother nervously pacing back and forth across the floor of his private hospital room, wringing her hands and chewing her lip as he couldn't ever recall the poised woman who had raised him doing before in living memory.

"Oh, thank Merlin you're awake, Draco," his mother said, hurrying over when he struggled into a sitting position despite the way it made his head spin. The sedatives must still be in his system a little and he was groggy and slightly confused, but lucid enough to recognise his mother and the pressing need to get out of the bed and find his son. "Scorpius has been brought in for testing after exposure to Aurelian and the virus. Edward 'Teddy' Lupin, as well, since they've all been staying with Hermione so regularly. They're still testing now. I'm not permitted to see any of them – evidently anyone under the age of ten or over the age of fifty is at risk of transmitting the infection. It's preposterous! I'm their grandmother, for Merlin's sake! And Teddy's great-aunt. Have these people no decency? And after sedating Draco against his will. Oh, they will be hearing about this at the Ministry, don't you worry! How dare they refuse to let me see to the health of my family!? And after all the fundraisers I've hosted and the donations we've made to keep this hospital afloat!"

"Needless exposure will only worsen things, Cissy, darling," his Father's voice pervaded the room and Draco looked around to find his father seated by the bed with a newspaper on his lap, looking supremely unconcerned that his only living heirs were all bed-ridden in hospital.

"You better not be behind this outbreak, Father," Draco growled, narrowing his eyes on the man who'd so caused the shambles his life was currently in.

"I most certainly am not," Lucius informed him coolly, lowering his newspaper to level Draco an arch look. "I might possess significant influence, but I've no means of fostering a magical virus in a person, Draco. Believe me, if I wanted your bastard son and your mistress dead, they would be dead and not wallowing in this will-they, won't-they limbo and torturing your mother so."

"Lucius!" his mother gasped, scowling viciously at her husband for the callousness of his statement.

Draco rather doubted the truth of his words, but he didn't say anything. Trying to change his father's mind where Granger was concerned was a battle he'd lost many times over throughout his youth, and it no longer seemed worth the effort to battle his father for permission to feel anything for the muggleborn witch. She was now and would forever be the mother of his firstborn, and his father's permission or approval wasn't required on the matter, thank you very much. Frankly, Draco's displeasure with his father at present after everything that had happened meant his opinion of Lucius had greatly diminished and the man just seemed rather infuriatingly behind the times and unwilling to grow as a person.

"Is there any news of Aurelian? Of Granger? You said they've brought Scorpius in, as well?" Draco asked his mother, trying to fling the covers off so that he could charge down to the ward where two of his sons and the woman he was considering courting were sequestered away for their health.

"None," his mother sighed. "The ward has been sealed off but for those being tested. You're not permitted to leave this room. They've already sedated you twice to avoid the scuffle of having you try to invade to protect your boys from something that is un-fight-able, and will only latch onto your weakened immune system following your depletion and rip through you like dragon fire."

"Sealed off the ward? That's never a good sign," Draco said.

"They're calling for anyone who sends their children to the magical primary school Aurelian attends to bring them in to see a Healer for a general health check. They haven't stated Dragon Pox, yet - they don't want to incite panic - but if they uncover any more cases, I fear they will have no choice."

"I need to see them," Draco insisted, rising from the bed before a wave of dizziness overtook him and he had to sit down to avoid falling into his father's lap.

"You are not recovered, darling," his mother shook her head. "And there's a pair of Aurors posted outside the door to intervene should you attempt to leave this room again."

Draco scowled, craning his neck and seeing two burly security guards posted at his door.

"I can't just sit here!" Draco exclaimed.

"The Healers indicated that if you're strong enough to fight the orderlies, they will likely be able to discharge you so that you may continue to convalesce at home," his mother said, sitting down on the edge of his bed and smoothing a hand through his hair as though he was still just a boy.

The act alone indicated how truly frazzled her nerves must be, for his mother was loving, but rarely affectionate in such ways.

"I don't want to go home," he said. "I want to check on my sons."

"Yes, the papers have been very interested in your sons," Lucius drawled from behind his newspaper once more, his tone heavy with the implied 'I told you so'. It was clear that he was scornful that Draco had allowed himself to end up in this position when all Lucius had ever wanted was for the Malfoy name to endure through the ages as a paradigm of riches and class, despite his own affiliations with the Dark Lord.

The scandal of a divorce, a love-child, and all the mess that came along with it were hardly doing the redemption of their good name any favours. Draco wondered what his grandfather would say the next time he entered the portrait gallery featuring his ancestors dating all the way back to the very first Malfoys of French descent who'd settled in England and erected the Manor. He didn't imagine any of them would be thrilled. They hadn't been the last time he'd walked those halls during the height of the war, when they'd hissed at him and cursed his father and Draco himself for becoming embroiled with the Dark Lord. To top it off with a half-blood son and a divorce; they might very well disown him.

"And in you, I'd imagine," Draco retorted, knowing his father had been investigated while Draco had been locked up in this godforsaken room recovering from the depletion. More reporters than he could poke a stick at had tried to invade his room to question him about his father's involvement in the entire plot. Draco imagined that the hospital staff – who'd had to pay extra security to keep the press out of his room – would be glad to see them back of him just as soon as he could be discharged.

The investigation surrounding Astoria's abduction, and his own involvement in it, along with his mother and father's hand in what had come to pass were all under strict scrutiny by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and the wider wizarding world via the vapid papers. Draco, himself, had been questioned at length by four Aurors about everything that had taken place and he'd been truthful up to and including the use of the Killing Curse on Dolohov – though he was told the man still lived, so he wasn't being persecuted for murder. Yet.

"They have seen fit to release me as they've insufficient evidence to hold me," Lucius said pompously, rustling his newspaper and not deigning to meet Draco's gaze.

Draco wondered how many lawyers and Aurors must be on the take to have allowed such a thing when the evidence seemed rather overwhelming to him that the man had botched an attempt to have Draco wife – ex-wife – killed and in doing so almost got Draco, Chief Auror Potter, and the culprit behind Astoria's abduction killed in the process. Would they persecute the matter as double homicide if Astoria died along with her unborn baby? The Healers had been so delicate when they'd broken the news to him about his ex-wife's condition – made all the more sensitive by his attempts to save her and the scandalous stories about her affair filling the papers.

He was bereft on her behalf. Before he'd learned of the affair, when he'd believed the child she carried to be his, Draco had been excited at the thought of becoming a father for a second time. It seemed ludicrous and ironic that he'd already been a father twice over, but only learned of Aurelian's existence alongside his wife's infidelity. Despite the unhappiness of their marriage – which he knew in large part had stemmed from his own cold demeanour – he did respect Astoria and he'd hoped she might go quietly into divorce, that she might better seek the happiness she'd looked for beyond their marriage. It seemed there was to be none of that happiness now. Because of Lucius, Astoria had lost her baby, been brutalised, raped, and beaten to within an inch of her life. Because of Draco, she'd landed in the middle of a messy scandal surrounding her affair, his bastard son with another woman, and now gossip and scrutiny about his two sons by two different women. Merlin, they'd paint him for a rake, for sure. He dreaded reading whatever rot they might've printed that his father must be referring to.

It would be a mercy, despite his attempts to save the Astoria, if she were to quietly pass in her sleep, but Draco rather doubted that would be the case. The only thing that could make this entire mess more complicated would be to have Astoria survive, and knowing his own track record when it came to Lady Luck, his odds were on survival.

"Astoria?" he asked of his mother, frowning.

"She has improved, or so they say," Narcissa admitted. "She's still in a coma, but some of her wounds have begun to heal. They now believe she may yet survive the ordeal."

"It would be far better for everyone if she didn't," Lucius said quietly from behind his newspaper.

"Lucius Malfoy, if you even think…." Narcissa began hotly.

"Scrutiny upon me is too high to end it quietly for the wretched girl," Lucius sighed. "Those guards at the door aren't wholly there for Draco's benefit, dear."

Draco scowled at the man, despite the echoing of his own private thoughts on Astoria's plight.

"Scorpius?" he asked his mother.

"Still being tested," she said. "He has no spots, but Aurelian didn't either before he went to bed two days ago, and yet Miss Granger awoke to him covered in the splotches of the pox in full force."

"Is she sick too?"

"She's been exposed," Narcissa nodded. "As an adult, she shouldn't suffer too poorly, though her recent sufferance of the Fairy Virus means the Healers are keeping a very close eye on her."

"Is Aurelian going to die?" Draco asked tightly, closing his eyes in fear, his stomach in knots at the thought.

He wanted to burn the world to the ground when the best answer anyone could give him was a whispered "I don't know."

~O~

The weeks blurred after that. Draco was released to continue healing at home, and eventually given the all-clear to return to work. Rolf Scamander had personally stopped by the Manor to assure Draco that they could do without him until such time as he was ready, should he wish to return. Draco sensed that the words were meant to be a comfort, but they tasted a lie. The crinkles at the corners of Scamander's eyes and the furrows that had etched themselves into his brow suggested the time while he convalesced, and Granger was also absent, weren't wholly benefitting the department. After the man left, Draco issued an owl to their accountant, inquiring after the finances of the department and instructing him to inject another 'anonymous' donation into the office that they might stay afloat awhile longer, despite missing their best Hunter and best Research Analyst.

At first, Draco had resisted the allure of returning to work to take his mind of his other problems. Once his strength was recovered, he was allowed to call on his sons – both of whom where infected with Dragon Pox – but both boys had to be ensconced in an air bubbles for their own protection, and he couldn't touch them. They were delirious with fever and covered in itchy blotches. Every time he'd been by the hospital, they were asleep, or awake but crying and whimpering, grizzling with the pain of the virus and though they recognized him, it only upset them all the more than he couldn't invade those bubbles to comfort them or hold them. Draco loathed feeling so powerless, and he'd shouted himself hoarse, first at the nursing staff, and then at the security guards, and finally the hospital attorneys, but nothing had helped. Nothing could be done that they weren't already doing to alleviate their symptoms and heal them. Nothing Draco could do or say would change that fact, and there was nothing so disarming as finding that even with all the considerable wealth and influence behind the Malfoy name, nature and the virus were unaffected.

Granger had contracted the virus as well, much to Draco's growing fury and powerlessness. Her weakened immune system following the Fairy Virus she'd survived had left her body open to attack, and her efforts to protect their son had come at the expense of her own health. She wasn't as bad as the children; at least she understood what was happening, but he knew she was in pain and just as worried as he was. She might have only given birth to one of his sons, but from the way she watched over both of them, he knew she loved Scorpius, too. The Healers were confident all three would make a full recovery, but Draco felt utterly useless.

Everyone he knew and cared about expect for his parents was in the hospital, it seemed. He'd called on Astoria after one of his visits with the boys. His ex-Mother-in-Law had been less than pleased to see him, but he'd ignored her to speak quietly with Tori and urge her to wake – filling her in on Scorpius's condition as best he could when all he wanted to do was scream. Despite his efforts to save Astoria, Mrs Greengrass blamed Draco for the scandal of the divorce, and she'd made no attempts at civility whenever he called on his ex-wife, which only made the entire ordeal that much more unpleasant.

With nothing useful to occupy his time, and his brain beginning to conjure heinous scenarios surrounding a fate of punishment should he lose all of them to this, Draco eventually returned to work simply for the sake of having something to do. He couldn't bear to return to the hospital and simply sit, staring and watching helplessly while his boys begged him to make them better and he could not grant their pleas. It didn't help to sit with Granger, who put on a brave face for his benefit, but often fell to a trembling lip as she tried to contain her pain and her own stress that she, too, was banned from touching the children, lest their cases worsen one or the other of their viruses. She was on the mend, thank Merlin, but it didn't make Draco feel any more useful every time he visited her and couldn't even offer her a hug when she broke down in stressed tears and confessed that she had nightmares that they would lose the boys. She had practically begged him not to come back on his last visit, claiming she couldn't bear the thought of all of them in the hospital, and whispering that even if she didn't make it, he had to survive so that the boys would have someone to watch over them who loved them.

When he'd gone home that night, Draco had destroyed his office and made himself sick with his hysteria from it all. Sitting in the rubble that followed, he resolved to return to work; to find something else to think about before he went completely mad.

"You sure about this?" Rolf asked him for the seventh time that morning as Draco slowly garbed himself in his hunting attire, preparing to head out into the field for the first time in almost five months.

"What needs hunting?" he asked seriously, meeting Scamander's gaze steadily, though he suspected the lack of sleep and the fury boiling inside his soil at his own uselessness were evident upon his face. Scamander took a surreptitious step back from him as though that might save him should Draco finally snap his bolt and go on a rampage to alleviate the broiling agony inside himself.

"Rollins has been bleating about needing a Starthorn Dragon to study," Rolf offered. "And Wiggins was saying that she suspects the Snarfulup Rabbit she's been studying is distantly related to the Cantalinian Cottontail, but there's been no one with the skill to track one for her... If you're willing to put in the time… well, I'm sure the Analysts would really appreciate it."

"I'll find them," Draco promised, tucking his weapons and his traps into his belt.

"Malfoy… be careful out there, yeah?" Scamander frowned. "You've only just returned, and the state of things… well… Beast Hunting requires a clear mind to avoid mistakes. Particularly hunting dragons. The last thing we need is to have you land back in the hospital because you catch the fire from one of the beasts while you're distracted. If you need more time, your job will always be here when you're ready. I don't want you to get hurt out there…"

Draco nodded in silence, not bothering to explain that if he sat at home in his ruined office for one more night, or by the beside of his loved ones for one more day without being able to help them, he might very well burn the entire Manor to the ground, and himself along with it. Instead, he headed for the Apparation Point, intent of apparating directly to the Starthorn dragon colony in the mountains far to the north.

"Just… come back in one piece, you hear?" Scamander said, following him and rambling in his own nervous state. Draco had learned that containing so much of his own barely restrained emotions had that effect on others. Even his mother had begun rambling whenever he deigned to join them at dinner for the sake of pushing the food around his plate, barely tasting what little he forced down for the sake of survival. "Please be careful. Granger's not here to put you back together if you get blasted again, remember?"

Rolf winced when he realised what he'd said, the flash of anger and pain evident on Draco's face. Draco didn't answer him before disapparating with a sharp crack. He landed high in the mountains where sightings of Starthorns had been recorded, and he sighed, breathing in the crisp mountain air and trying to clear his head to focus on the hunt. Scamander might be a bumbling idiot with his foot in his mouth, but he was right. The fastest way to land himself back in the hospital alongside his family would be to go mooning about them instead of being on the lookout for sharp fangs. And he'd promised Granger that he would stay alive, even if she didn't, so that someone would watch over Aurelian and Scorpius. He'd promised. He had to get his head in the game and out of that fucking hospital. Something that became instantly easier to manage when a lethal looking claw swiped at his face a short while later when he stalked into a clearing where, unexpectedly, he came across a Starthorn dragon lounging on a rock in the morning sun.

Unbeknownst to Draco Malfoy as he dodged the first fire-blast the beast aimed his way, Hermione Jean Granger was being unwillingly discharged from the hospital, and Astoria Greengrass slowly opened her eyes.