Most Noble ━━ George Weasley

x. Mia's Mind

       "Your mum's doing all right now," says Mr Weasley, as they walk down the hallway, to the lifts. He lowers his voice, as he adds, "I'll make sure they tell you what happened... Just not here."

       Mia nods. "Thanks..."

       Is this what Harry feels like?

      "How's... school been?" he says.

       Mia shrugs. "Same as always, I guess..."

       She holds back details about Dumbledore's Army. About Umbridge. About the fact that his son keeps on talking to her. But he doesn't need to know these things. She isn't Harry, she isn't Hermione, she isn't Archie. To Mr Weasley she's the daughter of a couple he knows. A couple he works with, she supposes. But there's no reason for her to tell him things. He isn't Cedric's dad, is he?

       "Fred and George say they've been spending time with you," says Mr Weasley. Mia feels a little mortified; her cheeks burn at the thought. They've talked about me? She doesn't know why she's saying they, though, because she knows only one of them would feel the need to bring her up... But still. Why would he? Isn't that a little weird? "Hopefully they've been nice and all."

       "Oh, yeah, no, they've been really nice," says Mia, panicking. She worries that her silence, and general look of what the fuck, was mistaken for, they are terrible I hate them. She doesn't hate them. She doesn't even mildly dislike them. They're... OK. That is all. But she doesn't like the idea of making their dad think they've been nasty. That's not fair. "I see them, sometimes, when I'm with Archie..."

       Mr Weasley smiles nicely. He has a warm smile. He's the sort of person that was born to be a parent, you know? Mia cannot imagine Mr Weasley, or Mrs Weasley, before being parents. Same as her mum... Her dad wasn't there, so all the pictures she had were of him, before he was a parent, so she can't even comment there.

      The lift makes a ding as they reach the third floor. A woman's voice says the name of the floor, and then, "Wards thirty to thirty-nine are accessible here... Please wait for the doors to open before exiting the lift, thank you." Mia feels her stomach knot, as they step into the hallway, and begin walking. Everything's sterile, large panels above doors marking the separate wards. The third floor, according to the sign inside the lift, is for potions and plant poisons. The different wards mark the severity of each. Mia doesn't know which one she's going to, and anxiously glances across at Mr Weasley, waiting for him to stop at a door.

       They pass thirty-four. Thirty-five. Thirty-six. Mia feels sick to her stomach. She doesn't know what happened to her mum — she doesn't think she wants to — but this is torture. The further they get, the worse Mia feels. How bad is she? she thinks, as they pass thirty-seven, then thirty-eight...

       They stop at thirty-eight.

       Mia doesn't know whether to be relieved, or feel terrible, because her mum is still in thirty-eight. She has to blink furiously to stop herself from crying, or making a puddle of salty water appear in the hallway. Mr Weasley looks across at her, as if checking up on her, before opening the door into the ward.

       Emilia's in a room on her own. Kingsley Shacklebolt and Tonks are by the door of the room, keeping the image of Aurors on watch. Mia feels like she might vomit. The door's opened for her by Mr Weasley, as he says, "I'll give you a minute."

       Mia frowns. She expected the rest of the Order to be crowding around her mum. Obviously she's grateful that she can have this time alone with her, because she feels as if she has more of a right to see her mum in a hospital bed, than someone that has Order meetings with her three times a week. She walks up to her mum, fast asleep. A bandage covers part of her forehead, and there's a red rash snaking up her neck. Mia doesn't know how to react.