Chapter 9: Longings
"Harry James Potter, if I trip over your dirty robes one more time, I'm going to hex you into the next century!"
Harry Potter muttered an apology under his breath as he stepped around the dozens of unpacked boxes in the living room of their new flat, scooping up the robes that had somehow found their way to the center of the floor. Hermione glared at Harry, rubbing the back of her head, which had hit against the coffee table, which was, of course, laden with dozens of boxes yet to be unpacked.
"I'm going to work," Harry muttered under his breath, his face flushed. There was a pop and he disappeared from sight.
Hermione clambered to her feet. She glanced around, sighing softly under her breath. For the normally organized Hermione Granger, the mess was highly unusual. The threat to Harry had been an idle one, considering she had yet to actually purchase a new wand. It was a threat borne out of frustration of a witch who had not left the apartment in weeks.
Of course, Hermione sighed inwardly. That was not Harry's fault, either.
After discussing the matter, they'd decided it would be better for Harry to make a gradual appearance in the wizarding world before Hermione started walking out in public. Initially, it had seemed like a good idea. Harry was supposed to enter Auror's training for the Ministry of Magic, and that would give Hermione some time to let the dust settle before she started trying to find a career on her own.
Ideally, it would have also given her time to get settled into her new home.
But as plans rarely work out the way they are intended, they experienced a torrent of Howlers and other unpleasantries as soon as they returned from vacation. Five times in the past month they had moved, hoping that the torrent of hate mail would stop. Eventually, they had given up unpacking altogether and waited for the next time they'd have to move.
The past week had been quiet, however, and their hopes had finally risen that maybe, just maybe, life would get back to normal.
At least as normal as possible for two friends who'd been thrown into an arranged marriage and become intimate.
Hermione sighed, absently running a hand through her unruly hair. The constant bickering between her and Harry was disconcerting, to say the least. Actually, if she was being honest with herself, it was a source of anguish. It hurt to think that their one night of passion had hurt their friendship.
But that's exactly what happened, Hermione thought, berating herself once more for the mistake she had made. Neither of them had talked about the last night of their honeymoon; in fact, they'd both pretended it hadn't happened. But it had happened, and now they were caught in the sort of awkward limbo that lies between friendship and intimacy.
Hermione glanced around the mess that comprised her living room, and made a silent vow that she would begin to unpack this mess today.
I'm tired of running. Enough is enough. She lifted her chin slightly as Hedwig soared through the open window, dropping a rolled up newspaper on the table. After seeing there were no Howlers, Hermione released a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.
Hermione unrolled The Daily Prophet, sinking down into a chair as her eyes caught sight of the first headline.
Trouble in store for the Boy-Who-Lived and the Wife-Who-Killed?
by Rita Skeeter
Could Trouble Be Brewing for the Magical Duo? The verdict is still being decided, reports Daily Prophet reporter Rita Skeeter. Sources close to the pair state that the couple may be in jeopardy after only a month of marriage.
"I think Potter's got in over his head with the Muggle-born," said Draco Malfoy, close confidant of the young Harry Potter. (Confidant? Hermione rolled her eyes, shaking her head. Would they get nothing right?)
Reports from the Magical Law Enforcement Division of the Ministry of Magic have reported trouble every evening with the young couple, whose sudden marriage shocked the magical community.
Owls to Arthur and Molly Weasley, whose son Mrs. Potter was accused of murdering, went unanswered.
"I think this just goes to show how much of a sham this marriage is," said Cornelius Fudge. "I'm sure Wizengamot will be launching a full investigation into the validity of Mr. and Mrs. Potter's marriage."
Ogden, who forcibly removed Cornelius Fudge from his position on Wizengamot after he refused to dismiss the case against Hermione Granger-Potter, declined further comment on the matter. Obviously, such silence must lead one to ask if Ogden is not under some spell cast by the young pair, whose inability to control themselves led to numerous reprimands at Hogwarts.
"Potter and Granger were always getting in trouble," said Pansy Parkinson, former student at Hogwarts. "They attacked Slytherins several times while I was there."
The Ministry will obviously be investigating these allegations, too.
Hermione tossed the paper on the ground angrily. She momentarily thought about throwing something through the window, but instead let out a low sigh and collapsed onto the couch. She blinked back angry tears, trying to block out the latest reminder of the problems between her and Harry. It was the third article this week calling for an investigation into her marriage.
Really, Hermione thought angrily. Do Harry and I need to have sex in the middle of Diagon Alley to get everyone to shut up?
At the same time, she felt deflated. The marriage had been more difficult than she'd originally anticipated. Yes, they fought. Yes, they had nights where one or the other slept on the couch. She sighed. On more than one occasion she'd wondered if she'd made the right decision
No, she admonished herself. Don't start playing the what-if game She had to have faith that she and Harry would be able to overcome these problems. Hermione didn't want to think of the consequences if they couldn't.
She rose to her feet, a determined look set on her face. It was time to rejoin the world.
* * *
Hermione walked down Diagon Alley, her head held high as she pointedly ignored the stares of curious onlookers. She gripped her bags lightly. Her first stop had been to Ollivanders for a new wand (8 ½ inches, oak, unicorn hair). After stopping at Madame Malkins for some new robes and at the apothecary to replenish her potions supplies, she finally feltshe had made enough of a significant presence to spurn another week's worth of rumors. She apparated back to her flat and began to attack the accumulating mess with a vengeance.
As she was cleaning, Hermione made a mental note to thank her parents for allowing her to attend Hogwarts. It did make cleaning a lot easier. She finished around 4 p.m.
The accomplishment made her feel good, yet even the momentary happiness was tainted by the cold reality of their situation. Harry had made a habit of coming home at all sorts of odd hours in the evening. It didn't help improve their marriage any - she'd locked Harry out of the bedroom three times already when he'd come home too late.
Hermione sighed. The logical part of her mind told her that there was a reason Harry was keeping such odd hours, but she was scared to ask. She didn't want to think that he stayed away because he couldn't stand coming home.
She really was tired of staying home.
An idea began formulating in the back of her head. She glanced at her watch. If he did come home any time soon, she'd be cutting it close.
* * *
A few minutes later, she stood in the darkened living room of Ron's empty flat. Most of the furniture was still there, collecting dust. Hermione blinked back a tear, her mind drifting to the thought of Mrs. Weasley and how hard she must be taking Ron's death if she hadn't even come to collect his things yet.
Focus, Hermione.
A pungent odor drifted her way and Hermione crinkled her nose, wand extended as she slowly made her way through the dark room.
"Lumos," she whispered quietly, allowing herself a little bit of light to begin her search.
She was operating on the assumption that Ron's killer would have left some evidence that would have gone unnoticed by the Ministry investigators. She reached the kitchen, the stale smell of decay clouding her head. She kneeled down next to the spot she found Ron's body. Briefly, Hermione allowed her eyes to drift shut, the memories of that day drifting back to her mind.
"Hermione, what's going on? What happened?"
Hermione looked over her shoulder at Harry, who was standing in the doorway of the kitchen, staring at the lifeless form of his best friend.
"I don't know. What happened, Harry?"
"Did you tell someone? You had to have told someone. No one knew where he lived. No one. Hermione, who did you tell? Who did you tell?"
"I didn't tell anyone!"
"Maybe by mistake. Who did you tell?"
"I DIDN'T TELL ANYONE!"
A tear slid down her cheek and Hermione broke out into quiet sobs. Sobs for a friend long gone. Sobs for a life that wasn't meant to be. Sobs for a friendship whose life hung in the balance.
"Who did it, Ron?" She whispered quietly, the sound of her voice a stark contrast to the deathly silence of the house.
Then the light pad of a footstep on the dusty ground. Hermione's head jerked up, her sobs instantly silenced as fear flooded her body.
She wasn't alone.
She rose quickly, her wand extended. A large hand wrapped around her mouth, stifling her scream, while the other plucked her wand out of her hand.
Hermione did the only thing she could. She thrust her left elbow back, catching her attacker in his stomach.
"Ooph."
There was a thud, and Hermione spun around. Harry was doubled over, wheezing lightly, his invisibility cloak next to him. Hermione wasn't sure whether she wanted to hug him or kill him.
Deciding on the former, she closed her eyes and took several deep breaths, willing her racing pulse to slow.
"What are you doing here?"
"I…could…ask…you…same…thing," Harry panted through wheezes, not quite in control of his lungs.
Hermione instantly knelt beside him, helping her husband to his feet. Harry leaned over, resting his hand on his knees. After several moments he finally spoke.
"Hermione, what are you doing here? It's dangerous." He glanced at her, concern etched in his features.
"I was…looking…for something. What about you?" Hermione's eyes narrowed accusingly.
Harry sighed, rising to his feet. "I've been trying to find clues." He mumbled softly as he scooped his invisibility cloak off the ground. Hermione stared at him, the stern expression on her face finally fading as she realized that this was what Harry had been doing all those long nights. Guilt tugged at her insides as her conscience berated her for not being more understanding.
"You've been trying to find Ron's killer?" She whispered quietly. At Harry's slight nod, she continued. "Why didn't you tell me this is why you were coming home late? I could have helped you."
Why didn't you trust me with this? Have I really been that bad of a wife? Have I been that bad of a friend?
Harry reddened slightly, looking ashamed as his gaze drifted towards the ground.
"It's dangerous, Hermione," he mumbled quietly. "The killer is still out there. And we're not exactly everyone's favorite witch and wizard."
Hermione sighed, stifling the chiding voices in her mind. She wrapped her arm through Harry's, dusting some of the grime off his robes. Harry simply stared at her, his expression indiscernible.
"Let's go home," she murmured.
A few minutes later, Harry was lying on the couch drinking a mug of warm tea while Hermione tried to beat the dust out of his cloak.
"Seriously, Harry," she chastised between clouds of dust. "You should have asked me for help. I wasn't at the top of our class for nothing, you know."
When Harry didn't respond, she looked over her shoulder and caught him reading the article from the Daily Prophet. His face was reddening as he read further along.
"Really now, doesn't Skeeter have anything better to do?" He threw the paper towards the corner, setting his mug down so hard Hermione was sure it'd cracked. She bit back a response and slowly set his cloak down, moving to sit next to him on the couch, facing him. She thought about her own reaction to the article and realized Harry was taking it much better than she had.
Hermione reached out, touching him gently on the arm. He flinched slightly under the touch, but made no motion to move away. His emerald gaze remained leveled on the ground.
"Harry, I would have thought you'd be used to it by now. She's been writing these things ever since your fourth year."
Harry clenched his left fist imperceptibly. "At least she could stay out of our marriage," he spat angrily, crossing his arms in front of him and pressing against the couch.
Hermione flushed, looking to the ground. She wasn't sure what to say. Things had been terrible, yes, but she wasn't sure what words could fix the problem. Despair began to creep up her spine. She closed her eyes and fought the tears that threatened to spill over.
"Things aren't that bad, are they?" Harry's voice was soft and wavered a bit. Hermione glanced up and caught his bright green gaze filling with tears. At the saddened expression on his face, the tears that had been building finally spilled over.
"I don't know, Harry, are they?" She whispered and flung herself against him. She felt his arms around her and cradled her tightly to his chest. She began to cry quietly. This was not what she wanted. She was tired of fighting all the time with him. She was tired of feeling like she'd lost her best friend. Harry held her, and Hermione could hear the muffled sobs coming from his throat. Her tear-filled gaze met his, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly.
"I'm sorry, Harry. I'm so sorry." She whispered, the words coming out choked and broken.
I don't want to lose you too. Hermione's heart began to break when she thought of losing the only friend she had left.
"I'm sorry too, Hermione," Harry's voice was strained as he struggled to regain his composure.
They sat like that for a long time, simply holding each other, relishing the quiet comfort that the other provided. For the first time in a long time, Hermione allowed herself to cherish the quiet warmth that Harry provided. Hours seemed to pass before her gaze drifted up to find Harry staring at her. They held each other's gaze for a long time, silent conversations passing through their eyes.
She made the first move, her lips closing the distance to find his as she kissed him hungrily. Hermione felt the shiver of ecstasy shoot through her body as he responded quickly to her, pulling her onto his lap. Harry's tongue pushed into her mouth, wasting no time as he delved into the warmth. Hermione welcomed the intimacy, her hands moving up to pull away layers of robes as she found what she was searching for.
They stared at each other in silence, an unspoken conversation between them. Hermione brought her finger to his lips, silencing him before he had a chance to speak. She grinned, lightly, strangely pleased that she was able to elicit such a response from Harry. Her tongue trailed down his stomach, pausing just below the bellybutton. She'd heard of people doing this, but she had never tried it before. She flushed slightly, unsure of herself. She looked up to find Harry staring down at her, eyes wide.
Moments later, Harry's emerald eyes twinkled as he reached underneath her, scooping her onto his shoulder as he carried her to the bedroom. Where their first time had been quick and awkward, two inexperienced lovers joining for the first time; their second time was a marathon of the senses, friends who had finally found completion in each other's arms.
Later that evening, Hermione lay against Harry, snug in the crook of his arm. A smile slowly spread across her face as she stared at the sleeping wizard next to her. She had a feeling things were going to be alright.
* * *
She didn't wake up when Harry left for work the next morning. In fact, she didn't wake up until an incessant rapping on her door disturbed her dreams.
"Ugh. I'm coming, I'm coming." She muttered, bleary-eyed as she pulled on her bathrobe and began plodding to the door. She opened the door to a very solemn Dumbledore and Remus Lupin.
"Hermione," Dumbledore said gravely, seemingly nonplussed at her choice at attire. "I'm afraid there's been an accident."
* * *
Hermione practically ran to the receptionist at St. Mungo's.
"Harry Potter's room," she whispered breathily, struggling to keep the panic at bay. The elderly witch looked up at her, a look of sympathy crossing her face.
"Fourth floor, dearie."
Hermione ran up four flights of stairs, not willing to wait for an elevator as she sprinted to spell damage ward. She ran into the room, her eyes scanning back and forth until she found him.
Tears sprung to her eyes as she finally caught sight of him - her lover and her best friend, lying in the bed, his eyes closed. His glasses were folded neatly beside him on the night stand. Healer Augustus Pye was standing next to him.
She rushed to his bedside, taking a hold of Harry's limp hand. Tears spilled down her cheeks.
His hand is so cold, Hermione thought. She instinctively reached out a hand, lovingly stroking his cheek. Eventually, she looked at Pye, tears brimming in her eyes.
"What happened?" She whispered, tears spilling out onto the white sheets that covered Harry's lithe form.
Augustus shook her head lightly. "Ambush during a raid. I don't know much beyond that."
Hermione blinked, the tears running freely down her cheeks as she squeezed Harry's hand. She kept her gaze leveled on Harry as she whispered the next words.
"Will he make it?" She stuttered, her heart wrenching in pain.
Augustus sighed, resting a hand on her shoulder. "I'm not sure, dear. Before you came … I would have said no. But maybe now that you're here … maybe he'll start fighting it."
Hermione started sobbing as Augustus left, drawing curtains around Harry's bed. She crawled into bed beside her husband, drawing his cold body into her arms as she hugged him tightly, kissing him on his ear, his cheek, his mouth, anywhere she could possibly find bare skin.
"You better not leave me, Harry," Hermione whispered through her tears. "We're supposed to grow old together … start a family … spend the rest of our lives together …"
She held him, her salty tears mingling with his comatose form as she held him in a death grip. She felt a ripping pain in her heart, as if she were losing a part of herself and would never find it again.
"Please…don't leave me Harry. I love you…"