A/N: Broken record alert!! THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU for all the reviews!!! You guys are soooo awesome and kind and nice and.. well, you get the idea, and please keep reviewing! Now, I realize I should have chosen "Angst" as the second category.. seems a lot of tears are being shed in this story! But like the Good Book says "Weeping may last for a time, but joy comes in the morning." I promise that joy is coming in the next chapter. :) Thanks for staying with me... and here's another one.
Chapter Ten
When Harry looked back, he could hardly believe that three months had gone by. Those three months felt so much longer,
so much more substantial than any other period of time in his life since Hogwarts. Rarely now did he think about the
life he had led before Emerson; the endless Quidditch road tours, the drinking parties, the flashy, superficial women.
He felt now that his life held a loftier purpose, much more meaningful and almost entirely due to someone who had been
an unplanned and unexpected surprise.
Emerson was a happy, healthy and beautiful baby. At six months old she was a bundle of energy and assorted noises - babbling, squealing, laughter. She was completely enamored with Hedwig, loved to imitate the bird's squawks, to Harry's great amusement. It wasn't easy being a single parent but with help from various sources and much trial and error, he'd gotten her onto a schedule - which simplified things a bit. She slept through the night now and was onto solid food, although there were times when nothing but her bottle would do.
Harry knew he could not have come this far without the help of his friends. They had been an impenetrable fortress of support and solidarity for him. As Harry had expected, the news about Em had taken the wizarding world by storm. Even with the official releases Harry had put out, the Daily Prophet and the other papers and magazines had had a field day, publishing such astonishing rubbish that Harry was rendered speechless more than once. They would be the stuff of great laughs in the future but in the moment they were nothing but incredibly irritating.
Worse, the media frenzy did not seem to have any intention of dying down for a while. Not unless some other scandal erupted which, knowing Harry's luck, was quite unlikely.
But he tried not to worry about those things. He stopped reading the papers and instead concentrated his efforts on shielding his daughter and enjoying the love of his friends.
He bought a 5048 sq. ft. estate in the Hertfordshire countryside near Borehamwood, built on more than twenty rolling acres and set about making a home for Emerson. The house was unplottable and had never been connected to the Floo Network. The only way in or out of there was by apparation or Portkey and only the people who were at the party, and a select few others, had authorization to breach the heavy wards.
Effectively removing a great weight off his mind and supplying numerous answers were Julia's parents, Herb and Enigi Thomas. Their response had come a week after his letter and they had been shocked and dismayed by how Emerson had been delivered to him. According to them, a friend of Julia's who traveled to Europe frequently on business had offered to bring the baby to Harry. Herb and Enigi said that Julia had declined the offer at first, telling her friend that her parents would bring Em over themselves.
But the friend insisted. "It's the least I can do and you know I'll be really careful and make sure she gets to him safely! How long have we been friends? Years upon years. Please let me do this for you."
Julia relented.
And then her friend had gone and basically dumped Emerson.
Herb and Enigi had been understandably furious and were only grateful that nothing horrible had resulted. They were also thankful that Julia never had to know what a final act of dangerous betrayal her so-called "friend" had wreaked. They said Julia passed away in her sleep the same night Harry found Emerson. She had been cremated and her ashes scattered over the Susquehanna River in the Chesapeake Bay, per her wishes. She had made many camping trips to the area during her school years.
Like Harry, Julia had been an only child and thus Emerson was Herb and Enigi's only link to their daughter. Knowing what a void a lack of family could create and hoping to offer some comfort in the midst of their grief, Harry gave them his solemn word that he would make sure that Emerson always was a part of their life. He sent them monthly updates and had arranged for them to visit after the Christmas holidays.
Emerson was the center of his world but Harry made sure to include his friends as much as possible. After that first time when she grabbed his red hair, the baby loved Ron and had strangely taken a great liking to Snape.
She was also a big fan of Malfoy, ever since he had fed her her first taste of ice-cream, over Harry's objections.
"No, Malfoy! The books say she shouldn't have dairy before she's six months," he half-yelled as Malfoy moved an admittedly minuscule amount of vanilla ice-cream towards Em's eagerly open mouth.
"Come on, Potter. This is barely anything," Malfoy drawled as the spoon arrived at and was swallowed by the little lips.
Harry stared at his daughter, worried, expecting something horrible to happen, but at first Emerson just looked puzzled.
Then her eyes widened. "Mmmmmm!" she said, kicking her legs and trying to grab the bowl from Malfoy, who laughed.
"See. She's fine. She likes it," he said, looking at Harry who gazed in awe at his daughter going wild. He let Malfoy give her two more spoonfuls before he took her away, to Emerson's great distress. But from then on she loved Malfoy, whether because of the ice-cream or because as Ron said "She just likes men. You're gonna have trouble on your hands, Harry mate, when she gets older. Look at her. It's obvious she's gonna be a real heartbreaker."
But regardless of how much she liked all his friends, Emerson was thoroughly and completely Daddy's girl. She knew him on sight, usually greeting him with a dazzling smile and a round of squealing. She loved being with him; nobody could calm her like he could. Hermione had taken a picture of her asleep on Harry's chest as he too slept on the sofa. She'd framed it and given it to Harry for Christmas and it was currently in a prominent place on his nightstand.
And who could forget Hermione? She was priceless, invaluable. She was the only person besides Harry whom Emerson squealed to see. Harry's decision to buy the estate in Hertfordshire had been largely based on Hermione's reaction to the place. She'd gone into raptures when she first saw it and while he agreed on the finer points of Ballynore (as he'd taken to calling it), it was his secret hope that one day it would be her home too that helped him make the final decision.
Harry's feelings for Hermione had grown so much over the past months that they were almost painful. And it didn't help that she had been looking increasingly troubled lately. She spent a lot of time at Ballynore, helping him with Emerson and always seemed extremely unhappy when she had to leave. She was wonderful with the baby and Em obviously adored her.
Harry kept trying to find out what was wrong, he wanted to help her so badly, but Hermione had become adept at changing the subject, assuring him that she was fine while giving him strained smiles. He didn't know what to do. Ron was still on the road with the Cannons and Harry didn't know who else to talk to.
There was a tension building between them, getting slowly unbearable but increasing steadily nonetheless.
And like a rubber band stretched too far, a snap was inevitable.
***********
It was a week into the new year and Harry had come to a decision.
Emerson's grandparents had just left to return to Dallas after a wonderful week at Ballynore. They were delighted by their granddaughter, marvelling at how much she resembled Julia and repeatedly expressing their gratitude to Harry for allowing them to visit and for talking such excellent care of Emerson. Herb and Enigi were warm, open people; it was easy to see where Julia had gotten her personality and they had all parted on good terms.
But the decision he had made had to do with Hermione. Harry had awoken that morning to a thought nagging at him: why was he so afraid to tell Hermione how he felt? Why didn't he just do it? They had been best friends upwards of 15 years. Could telling her that he felt more than friendship, and had for a long time, be that bad? Was it really likely that their friendship would just collapse if she didn't feel the same way?
"What do you think, Em? Should I tell her?" he asked his daughter as he spooned mashed carrots into her mouth.
Emerson clapped her hands and nodded, though Harry didn't know if she was really nodding her approval. She'd discovered the activity recently and had taken to nodding at every sound.
Harry chose to take it as an affirmative. "You think so, huh? I'll tell her I love her. All she has to do is say yes or no, right?"
"Babababa," Emerson said, agreeing. She nodded vigorously.
"Yeah. I'll do that. I'll tell her how I feel. Today. If she feels the same way, I hope she'll be your new mum. Would you like that? Hermione as your mum?"
Em smacked her lips. "Babababa."
Harry grinned at her as he wiped an orange gob off the corner of her mouth.
He knew he would be taking a huge risk. But now that he had made a decision, he also felt a great sense of relief.
All that remained now was getting his point across, and Hermione's reaction and answer.
************
Meanwhile Hermione was having the day from hell. Everything that could go wrong, did and it didn't help that the day before she had had the biggest fight of her relationship with Ian.
Hermione sighed. Ian had surprised her by asking her to move in with him and when she balked he had turned culpatory. He accused her of not being "invested in the relationship"; of putting her friends, especially Harry, before him.
Hermione was starting to get annoyed. "I don't know why you're making such a big deal about this. You knew from before we started dating how much my friends mean to me. Why are you acting like this?"
"If I didn't know better, I'd say you were in love with him," he spat.
Hermione froze then started when Ian stood up suddenly. She looked up to see him glaring at her in absolute disgust. "It's true, isn't it? You are in love with him!" He threw down his napkin and grabbed his cloak. "Then there's no point in continuing this, is there? I don't have to be with someone who doesn't appreciate me. There are plenty of witches out there who would love to be with me. Which is more than can be said about your beloved Harry. You're just a friend to him. He doesn't want you. He never will." With those last nasty words, Ian disapparated leaving a stunned and stung Hermione with the bill.
She would never tell him that, of course, but Ian had hit the nail squarely on the head, and Hermione was devastated. Not because she had been systematically dumped in a restaurant - she was more than relieved that the relationship was over - but because, to her eyes, there was no prospect of the reciprocal of feelings from the man she loved. And Ian had picked up on her fear and thrown it in her face. Asshole. That fucking bastard. Yeah, she was more than happy to be rid of him.
Against her better judgment (she much wanted to go home and cry), after work Hermione apparated to Ballynore.
Harry came into the living room as the chimes sounded that he had charmed to play when someone arrived. He broke into a smile when he saw her and even as her heart sped up at the sight, Hermione felt a wave of anger ripple through her. How dare he look so good? How dare he look so fucking calm and unencumbered when she was slowly wasting away inside for want of him?
If she hadn't been so emotional, Hermione would have noticed that Harry seemed extremely nervous about something. But as it was, she was suddenly furious. Every nasty, resentful, shocking thought that she had shamefully suppressed suddenly erupted to the forefront of her mind. Her hands shook as she watched Harry approach her.
"Hey," Harry said. "Have a good day? I sure hope yours was better than mine. I made the mistake today of opening the Prophet-"
"Oh shut the hell up and quit being such a baby!" Hermione burst out. "You already have one here."
Harry stopped short. "What's wrong?"
Hermione gave a harsh laugh. "You want to know what's wrong? Everything! Every bloody thing is wrong; nothing at all is right. My life is such a big fucking joke!" she said, her voice rising with every word.
Harry was gaping at her in shock and somewhere in the back of her mind a warning bell was going off. But the dam had been breached and would not be contained, not until everything inside had come gushing forth.
She glared at him. "I am so sick and tired of listening to you whine about the stupid press! Don't you know by now that that's how they are regarding you and how they always will be? If you're so worried about what the damn newspapers say, maybe you should be more careful than just going out and fucking some random pretty face. Or at the very least, try to use some bloody protection!"
Harry was looking at her as if she had slapped him and suddenly all the feelings that had flared just as quickly drained away, leaving her filled with horror. Hermione brought her hand up to her mouth, her eyes wide but before she could get a word out, before she could tell Harry that she hadn't meant that, she didn't think that at all, Emerson started crying upstairs.
Harry's face had closed but when he spoke, his voice was so cold that she shivered involuntarily. "If that's how you really feel, Hermione, then maybe you shouldn't be here."
He turned on his heel and strode out of the room and Hermione watched him go, her eyes filling up and her heart shattering into a couple million pieces within her chest. Why had she said that? Oh dear God, why had she said that? But no answer emerged from the backwash of misery that smothered her mind and choking back her sobs, Hermione concentrated and apparated home.
**********
That night, barely twenty miles apart, two confused young people lay alone in their beds and shed anguished tears. They wept for their friendship. For their future. For the lost chance that might have been wonderful.
************
End Notes: Here's the pic that inspired Ballynore: www.siderow.com/pages/76.html
Nice place, no? I see Ballynore has having a more wide open space of a backyard, though. Not so many trees so close to
the house.