Mindgames - Chapter Seven
Epilogue - Loose Ends and Reassurances
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Disclaimer - See Chapter One
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Lavender sat quietly in the Headmaster's office, fearfully awaiting the words that would be the final say on her fate. Every so often her eyes were drawn to the desk at which Dumbledore sat, her gaze locked in horrid fascination on the snapped wands of Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson, already long gone from the school grounds.
Once again, though, the venal nature of some of the people who were supposed to be looking out for everyone's best interests was revealed. Since the incident occurred on school ground, Hogwarts' charter dictated that the Board of Governors had the final say on whether or not student behavior should be brought to the attention of higher authorities for criminal prosecution. By a slim majority the Governors had voted for expulsion and the striking of all academic records of the two Slytherins, but balked at involving the Ministry. The mealy-mouthed statement the majority issued stated that 'no lasting harm was done, and that while criminal intent was suggested by the circumstances, true felonious intent could not be conclusively proven, and therefore harsher measures could not be justified.' So Malfoy and Parkinson walked, disgraced insofar as the school was concerned, but free to continue to cause trouble once they were situated.
Lavender's case was a bit different, and while her wand was still confiscated, she had yet to hear the sound of it breaking. Everyone agreed that her behavior was shocking and a betrayal of her responsibilities to her House and her schoolmates, but there were enough incurable romantics mixed in with Purebloods on the board that the group became deadlocked, which ended up dumping the whole mess right back in Dumbledore's lap. She'd been waiting in a sort of limbo to hear his decision, and apparently was about to do so.
The professor was staring at her over the top of his half moon spectacles, and while his gaze was somewhat more sympathetic than on that horrible day when everything had come tumbling down, it was still not pleasant. "Have you had a chance to think over your actions, Miss Brown? Do you begin to comprehend just how serious your betrayal of your friends could have turned out?"
"Professor Snape explained about the potion, sir, and that there was no known antidote. If we'd both drunk it, we'd be dead now."
"Yes, the potion; that was quite serious, but not as serious as this." He removed a small, silk wrapped packet from a drawer and laid it one the desk before unwrapping it. The exaggerated care with which he did so, obviously avoiding touching the contents, made her a bit nervous, so she was shocked to see the packet she'd planted in Hermione's pillow revealed to view. "You do recognize this, don't you, Miss Brown?"
"Of course, Professor, that's the charm Pansy Parkinson gave me to plant in Hermione's pillow," she replied confidently, though that confidence was fading in the face of the extreme caution he was displaying.
"And did Miss Parkinson explain its effects to you?" he pressed, his eyes piercing her soul.
"She said it would help her realize that she and Harry weren't right for each other, and that they would both be happier if they looked for love elsewhere." She swallowed. "I'm guessing that it doesn't do that, does it?"
"No, Miss Brown, it does not," the headmaster replied, his tone severe. "This curse is designed to seek out a person's worst insecurities and magnify them to a pathological level. A person exposed to it for a long enough period of time would become trapped in his or her own mind, reduced to a catatonic state from which there would be little chance of escape. If not for Mr. Potter's fortuitous discovery of your addition to Miss Granger's bedding, she might very well have spent the rest of her days in the long-term care wing of St. Mungo's."
Lavender felt sick to her stomach. She didn't like Hermione; even leaving Harry out of the picture, she thought she was a bossy, know-it-all Miss Goody-Two-Shoes. But no matter how annoying she was, she didn't deserve to have that happen to her. No one did. "Oh, god, I am so sorry…I didn't know, I swear…how terrible…"
"Well, you're finally beginning to wise up, Lav; a little late, but better late than never, I suppose." Lavender twisted in her chair to see Harry standing behind her, having apparently entered the office in silence while Dumbledore distracted her. The expression on his face was closed and shuttered, the only sign of emotion in his eyes; those flashed with barely suppressed rage, and Lavender's heart sank as she finally understood that he would never look at her with friendship again.
It came as something of a shock to her how much that idea hurt, even more than losing the pipedream of having his love. Of all the boys she'd known over the years, Harry had been one of the very few who had ever looked past her outer appearance and seen her for herself. He'd never stared at her with open lust like the Slytherins, or become tongue-tied and confused like the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. Even her own Housemates had for the most part fallen into one of those two categories, but never Harry, and now that it was too late, she realized just how important that had been to her.
Harry moved across the room, deliberately swinging wide around her chair to prevent even the slightest chance that she would touch him, and came to a standstill next to the professor's desk. The initial anger that had radiated from his gaze was now hooded, his face betraying nothing of what was going on in his mind.
"Is Miss Granger joining us, Harry?" the professor asked, and Harry nodded.
"She had to help some First Years in the library, but she said she'd be along in a few minutes, sir," he replied. "I came ahead because I wanted a chance to talk to her when Hermione wasn't here."
"Very well. Miss Brown, you have been waiting to hear what decision has been made regarding your status." At her slight nod Dumbledore continued, "It should come as no surprise to you that you will not be graduating with your classmates. A group was empanelled to decide what the appropriate punishment would be for your irresponsible actions.
"At their direction, your NEWT scores have been sealed for a period of ten years. During that time, your behavior will be monitored, and if at the end of the ten years your record shows no evidence of further questionable behavior, your scores will be unsealed and the results officially entered in the records for your class. Your OWLs still stand, and any career or activity that they justify is open to you in the interim. The Muggle term for this arrangement is, I believe, 'probation'.
Lavender swallowed nervously as she felt relief washing through her. Given the nature of her actions, her punishment could have been far worse, and she knew just how lucky she was to get off so lightly. One question bothered her, though. "Professor? Could you tell me who it was that reached this decision? I'm not complaining, I just want to be able to thank them for giving me a second chance."
Dumbledore held himself silent for a few moments, weighing her words, before responding. "The panel consisted of myself and your Head of House, Professor McGonagall, and the primary injured parties, Mr. Potter and Miss Granger." He paused as she gasped in surprise, her gaze shifting briefly to the angry young man standing next to the professor's desk, and then continued. "You might also be interested to know that this method of dealing with your case was devised almost in its entirety by Miss Granger."
"If it were up to me," Harry interjected, "your wand would be lying broken with the other two and you'd be out on your arse. Luckily for you, Hermione is far more forgiving than I could ever be." He leaned forward as she sank back into her chair. "Do you have the least inkling what you did to her? How much you hurt her? I can't believe you; she thought you were her friend, and you tried to steal her boyfriend! And then, when I wouldn't play along, you go to someone like Parkinson for help to assault her!"
"Harry, no…I didn't think…" she sobbed.
"That's right, you didn't; or rather, you did what you always do, and thought of nothing but yourself, of what you wanted! When you couldn't get it any other way, you tried to take it from her by force! In my book, there's only one name for someone like that." He paused and then spat out the ugly word: "Rapist."
Lavender almost doubled over as Harry's condemnation hit her in the gut like a punch. That word, that hated word, she never in a million years would have dreamed someone would apply that to her. And what was worse, she realized she deserved it. "No…" she whimpered.
"No?" Harry scoffed. "What, you don't like hearing the truth?"
"Harry," Dumbledore cautioned, concerned with how agitated he was becoming, "that's enough."
"No, it's not, Professor," Harry disagreed. "I didn't object to Hermione's wishes concerning her, but I'm damned well going to have my say. I deserve that much justice."
"Is it justice you want, Harry, or vengeance?" his mentor asked softly.
"They're one and the same," Harry replied, drawing his wand. "Legilimens!"
She was five years old, and Mummy and Da were fighting again, Mummy wanted to go out and have fun, and Da wanted her to stay home where she belonged…she was seven years old, and the children in the neighborhood teased her all the time, asking her what last name she was using today…she was nine years old, and Da was gone and Mum was always drinking, and told her that once she was older she'd understand what it was that the boys really wanted…she was eleven years old but she'd begun developing early and looked like she was fifteen, and her few girlfriends were jealous of the attention the boys paid her, but she didn't care because she was popular…she was thirteen years old and she'd found out her Mum was right, she could get a boy to do whatever she wanted, and all she had to in return was-
"Harry, stop it, that's enough!"
Lavender found herself curled on the floor in a fetal position, her body racked with sobs as the images faded from her mind. Dimly she was aware of Hermione arguing with Harry in the background. As the tremors faded she began to comprehend the words that had been just so much noise moments before. "-you can't, Harry," Hermione was saying. "No matter what you think she deserves, you can't lower yourself to her level, I won't let you…"
Harry was on his knees, sickened by what he'd done, and by what he'd seen when he'd invaded Lavender's mind. All he'd wanted to do was expose her to her own insecurities so she'd have a taste of what she'd put Hermione through. He didn't think he'd end up feeling sorry for her; he didn't want to feel sorry for her, he wanted to hate her for what she'd done, but that was no longer an option. She had been shaped by events beyond her control, just as he had, but while he had discovered the strength to overcome that shaping, Lavender had not. After that brief glimpse, Harry found himself hoping that perhaps now she would find the strength, and realized the wisdom of the mercy the girl he loved had shown her attacker.
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The Graduation Ball was in full swing; there was a bit of a hysterical edge to the gaiety, but that was hardly surprising. As one wag had observed, it was very rare that a graduating student could say, "My god, I can't believe we made it though alive!" and have it be the literal truth. That virtually all of their class had survived more or less untouched by the tribulations of the wizarding world was as much a testament to their pluck and courage as it was to the efforts of those who watched over them, and both students and teachers were pardonably proud of their accomplishments.
The long trestle tables that normally occupied the Great Hall had disappeared for the evening, replaced by a number of midsize round tables that provided more convivial seating for the graduating class, their escorts and their families, while still leaving a large space in the center of the floor open for dancing. In this way it was similar to the arrangements made over the years for the occasional balls, but in this case there were no seasonal decorations creating the atmosphere.
Harry and Hermione were currently seated at one of the tables devoted to the Gryffindor students and their relations, having taken a break from the dance floor to soothe their parched throats and rest their tired feet. Hermione was happily chatting with the present with which Professor McGonagall had surprised her; her parents, the first wholly Muggle couple to set foot with Hogwarts' halls in over five hundred years. The professor had told the stunned girl that it was only fair, since they had produced highest-scoring witch since the NEWT system had been established over two hundred years earlier.
The Drs. Granger's brief exposures to the Wizarding world over the years, consisting as they did mostly of the annual trips to Diagon Alley for Hermione's school supplies, had hardly prepared them for the wondrous nature of Hogwarts, and they finally began to understand the deep hold this strange world had on their daughter. Then again, Alice Granger had whispered to her husband, perhaps it wasn't their world, but the wizard who held her that had claimed their daughter as she watched Hermione and Harry together on the dance floor.
As for the wizard in question, Harry felt a tranquility far out of keeping with his usual emotional state. Yes, the threat of Voldemort still hung over their heads, though the Order's efforts seemed to finally be paying off in the form of heightened public awareness and reduced Death Eater activity, but that threat was in the future. And he was preparing for that future; he wasn't ready, not yet, but he was close, and he was anxious to see the threat end.
Not only that, but he finally believed he would see it end, and had the hope within him that he would be there to see what followed. It was a very odd feeling, that hope. It was an emotion alien to the Boy From The Cupboard Under The Stairs who had learned that he was the Boy Who Lived. Hope was something he felt for others, not for himself, and the first time he realized what it was that he was feeling, he'd been overcome with guilt at its selfishness. It had taken Professor Lupin to make him see that what defined selfishness was not what one hoped for oneself, but what one was willing to do to fulfill that hope. In some ways, the old Marauder had reasoned, the person who was filled with selfish hopes was capable of far more selfless acts than one who had no hope at all.
Harry smiled as before him he saw further evidence that in a world with hope, all things were possible. Out on the dance floor were two couples that drew his gaze to them; the first was familiar, the second a complete shock.
The first couple was, of course, Ron and Luna. Everyone thought she had him wrapped around her little finger, and Ron was certainly known to jump when she yelled 'Frog!', yet there were definite signs that the relationship went both ways. For one thing, though her fashion sense remained eclectic, it was more along the lines of that worn by a free spirit rather than a suspected mental patient. For another, while she was still fascinated by things like the mythical Crumple-Horned Snorkack, she no longer acted as if she was staring at one perched on your shoulder while she talked to you. They suited each other, and even Molly Weasley seemed to approve of the match.
As happy as the first couple made Harry, it was the second one that filled him with hope. Out on the dance floor a smiling and laughing Blaise Zabini was twirling the night away in the arms of (and he still could remember the shocked stares of the other students when they had walked in together) Neville Longbottom. True, he looked more than a little poleaxed by the whole situation, but they gave every indication of being more than just casual acquaintances. Here and there around the room he had seen speculative glances passing between various Slytherins and members of the other houses, and he found himself wondering what other unexpected consequences Lavender's plot might eventually generate.
"Sickle for your thoughts?" a much loved voice whispered in his ear, and he turned his attention back to the person who had made such a difference in his life. He gave her a quick kiss and chuckled. "What's so funny?" she asked, one eyebrow arched.
"I was just thinking, 'I must remember to buy Trevor a nice, large box of crickets one of these days'," he said, smiling as she laughed.
"Yes, I suppose it is rather unusual to be grateful for a lost toad," she replied. "Just imagine, we might never have become friends."
Harry shuddered at the thought. "Don't say that, even as a joke. I don't ever want to think of my life without you in it. I don't want to live a life that doesn't have you in it."
Hermione's eyes saddened a little at his words. "Harry…I know you think you mean that, but honestly-"
His hand gently covered her mouth before she could complete whatever she was going to say. "Come on, let's go for a walk," he said, rising and taking her hand.
"All right, I could do with stretching my legs a bit," she replied.
One of the things that made the Graduation Ball different from the other dances held at the school was the opening of the ornamental gardens to the attendees. Normally restricted to the use of the staff, graduating students were now considered to be adults, which meant the teachers could turn a blind eye to the activities that were occurring on benches and in bowers throughout the carefully manicured and sculptured garden. Here and there the occasional professor wandered, but usually accompanied by their loved ones.
Harry led Hermione through the gardens to the place he had marked for his own use, a small gazebo with a crystal roof, covered with night-blooming jasmine in full flower. For this one occasion he'd chosen to trade ruthlessly on his reputation and had recruited Dobby and a few of the other house elves to make sure no one else found their way to this location. He had something he needed to say to Hermione, and he needed the right setting to do so.
She gasped in delight as the gazebo came into view, its crystal dome and spire shimmering with fairy lights, the blossoms of the jasmine seemingly lit with their own unearthly glow. "Harry, it's beautiful," she breathed, and he smiled as he led her inside.
Once inside he activated the charm he'd prepared earlier, and the dance music from the great hall began to drift down from the crystal dome above them. "May I have this dance?" he asked, and she laughed as she came into his arms.
They swayed together through two numbers, and then by mutual consent found a seat on the padded bench that ran around the inside of the gazebo. Hermione tilted her head back, gazing up at the beauty of the stars flickering through the crystalline panels above them, while Harry contented himself with gazing at the beauty beside him. "You're wrong, you know," he said suddenly, startling her attention back to him.
"Wrong, what about?" she asked, puzzled by the odd remark.
"Wrong to think I could survive without you, that I could ever be happy without you," he said, determined to make her understand just how much she meant to him.
"Harry, we've had this talk before; you know how uncertain life can be, especially now. You have to face the idea that something could happen to me. I can't bear the idea that you couldn't survive if it did."
"Could you?" he asked. "Could you survive, go on if something happened to me?"
"That's different," she demurred, not answering him (which was an answer in itself). "I'm just Hermione, you're Harry Potter. You have too many people who depend on you to be there for them to let something happening to me stop you."
He shook his head. "Hermione, to them out there, to the rest of the world, I can be Harry Potter, the Boy Who Must Face Voldemort. I can be their hero if I have to be. But to you, I'm just Harry, the boy whose glasses you fixed on the train, the boy you nagged into doing his homework, the boy you helped find the ability to love, and who fell in love with you. If something happened to you, Harry Potter would go on and do what he had to do, but the real Harry, just Harry, he'd be gone, gone with you to wherever you went, and he'd never be back again." He took her hands in his, his eyes focused on hers as he fought to make her accept the truth of what he said.
Finally he saw it in her eyes, and felt in the feathery touch of her fingers as her hand cupped his cheek. "Oh, Harry, whatever am I going to do with you?" she asked, and then gasped as he dropped to one knee in front of her.
"You can spend the rest of your life with me," he said softly. "I know we're young; I know we have responsibilities we have to fulfill, duties we have to perform. I know we can't have a life together until our world is free from the threat hanging over it, but that doesn't mean we can't make a pledge to have that life…if you'll have me."
"Harry…" she started to speak, but once again he stopped her.
"Please, Hermione, let me finish before you say anything." He waited for her to nod, and then continued. "Do you remember asking me once what I wanted to do with my life after Voldemort was gone? I didn't answer you at the time; I told you that I hadn't thought that far ahead. Well, that was a lie; I had thought about it, and knew what I wanted out of life. I just didn't know how to put it into words.
"Every morning, for the rest of my life, I want to wake up next to you. I want your face to be the first thing I see when I open my eyes, and your voice to be the first sound I hear. I want to sit across the table from you at breakfast while we discuss what we're going to do that day, and you read the Daily Prophet and complain about its inaccuracies. I want to be there to support you and cheer you on in whatever career you choose to follow, and have you do the same for me. I want us to fight and make up, and fight again because making up feels so good.
"I want to be the father of our children together, to watch you read to them from your favorite books, to teach them how to ride their first brooms, to see their faces when they get their Hogwarts letters. I want us to stand on Platform 9¾ and wave goodbye when they go off to school, and then go home and make love in every room and discover each other all over again.
"I want us to watch out children grow up in a world without fear, find love, and start lives of their own. I want us to spoil our grandchildren the way grandparents are supposed to spoil them, and listen to our children complain about it.
"I want us to live long, happy lives together, and when the time comes, a hundred or more years from now, I want us to go on to the next adventure together. I want to live my life with you, Hermione, because life without you isn't life at all. All I ask is that you give me a chance to prove it. Say yes, Hermione; say that someday, when the time is right, you will be my wife?"
Hermione looked down into the hopeful, fearful face of the young man she loved, and felt the last of her own fears fade away. The nagging little voice was silent at last, banished by the sincerity of his words and the intensity of his feelings. "Yes, Harry," she said, smiling.
The fearful expression vanished as Harry's face lit up with a huge smile and he flung his arms around her, hugging her fiercely before covering her mouth with a passionate kiss. After a few moments that left them both breathless they broke apart, and Hermione's eyes widened as Harry withdrew a small, velvet covered box from within his robes. "I asked Professor Dumbledore, and he opened the Floo connection to Gringotts for me," he explained. He opened the box, showing her the two rings nestled inside. "The last time I visited my vault I saw these, but didn't understand what they were until our recent experiences made me research Wizarding customs." He turned the box so the light reflected on the diamonds and rubies set in the two rings, one for a man, and one for a woman.
"These were my great-grandparents' betrothal rings. They wore them to signify their commitment to one another prior to their formal engagement." He removed the woman's ring from its space and, taking her left hand in his, slid it onto her ring finger. Hermione felt the ring adjust itself to her, and then he was extending the box to her. "Now you," he said, and with trembling fingers she mirrored his actions, sliding the gold band onto his finger. As both rings finally settled into their place the rubies on them flared brilliantly before reducing to a steady, warm glow like the flickering of a banked fire.
Hermione turned her hand and admired the setting adorning her finger. The band was simple, a narrow strip of gold supporting an oval setting. The setting itself was topped with white gold, in which eight small diamonds surrounded a cabochon ruby that radiated comforting warmth, the glow from its depths catching and refracting in the facets of the diamonds.
Harry's ring complemented hers in a masculine fashion. It was a plain gold band, rising smoothly to a slightly elevated crown that supported its own cabochon ruby, its fires flanked on each side by a small, sparkling diamond. It, too, was lit with an inner light, and it flickered in time with her own.
She leaned forward to once again claim Harry's lips, this time lingering as the passion grew within them. When at last they broke apart, their faces were flushed and their hearts were pounding. Hermione knew her lips were swollen, and she was probably more than a little mussed, but right then she didn't really give a damn. "So this means, what, that we're engaged to be engaged?" she asked, her voice a little shaky, and she blushed as she heard it squeak.
Harry smiled and nodded, his fingers caressing hers, his touch grazing over the ring that even now he had a hard time believing she'd accepted. "Pretty much," he said. "I think your parents will find that easier to accept than if we were to announce a date right now. They're still getting used to thinking of us as adults, I don't think they're quite ready to see their baby walking down the aisle."
"No, I suppose you're right," she agreed, though she realized that while they might not be, she was more than ready to take that walk. If it were possible, she'd be willing to do so right then, but she knew Harry was right in saying they had to wait. It was going to be hard, though; she wanted to start that life he'd envisioned, and blushed furiously at the thought that she wanted to get started on producing that family he wanted, or at least the more pleasurable aspects of the effort…
She rose to her feet and took him by the hand, determined to distract herself from that train of thought before she had her way with him right there in the gazebo. "Shall we go tell them the news?" she asked, looking forward a bit to the reactions they would receive when their new status became common knowledge, and to the squees of her friends when they saw her ring.
"Might as well," Harry agreed, taking her in his arms for another kiss before saying softly, "I love you, Hermione Jane Granger."
"And I love you, Harry James Potter," she replied, and together they walked off into their future.
~Fin~
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AUTHOR'S NOTE - Whew! Well, that ended up being quite a bit longer than I had expected, but I'm reasonably happy with the results.
The description of Hermione's ring is of the ring my Great-Grandfather gave my Great-Grandmother as her engagement ring. It's a bit different from a traditional engagement ring, which is why it has become a betrothal ring in my story. Someday, if I'm very lucky, it may serve that purpose again.
Hope you all enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing it. There are a few things I may go back and polish up a bit later on, but for now, that's the end. Harry and Hermione, together forever…