Title: Father's Day
Rating: R (this chapter)
Disclaimer: I don't own it.
Chapter 11: Truth or Consequences
The coming of spring brought the steady trickle of melting iciclesand the lighthearted singing of native birds. Teachers and student alike walked with a bit of a spring in their steps at the prospects of another long, harsh winter dwindling to a close. It was early on this particular Friday morning -- the sun had not yet cracked the horizon, though the faintest vestiges of light were beginning to mar the twilight sky. Harry blinked his eyes open, his mouth forming an oval in a sleepy yawn as he rolled onto his back, the warmth from the fireplace soaking into his skin. His right hand reached out towards his nightstand, fumbling for his wire-rimmed spectacles. He hurriedly put them on, blinking the sleep out of his eyes as he glanced at the clock.
It was still early, 6 a.m. or so. Breakfast would not start for another hour, and classes not for another hour after that. Harry absently wondered why his body had woken so early as he leaned back against the thick down pillows. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he rolled onto his side, his emerald gaze trickling over the slumbering form of the woman beside him.
Merlin, Hermione was beautiful. Not that most people would think so -- her hair was still as bushy as ever and she rarely wore makeup. Still, Harry's heart skipped a beat every time his eyes fell on her sleeping figure.
On this particular morning, a white sheet had been pulled over her body, carefully protecting her modesty. Harry still wondered how she managed to do that -- every time he woke up before her it was always the same. Once he had asked, and Hermione had given him a wry smile.
Now, with the flickering light from the fireplace, she looked positively enticing.
Harry rolled onto his side, carefully trying to not disturb her as he slid his fingers underneath the blanket and brushed them along the smooth surface of her flesh. She stirred slightly; although she didn't give any sign of being awake.
A wry grin crossed his features and Harry slowly shifted his weight, dipping his head beneath the covers. He nibbled on the soft flesh of her upper thigh, drawing a slight moan from Hermione, who shifted restlessly under his ministrations.
So she was awake, but was feigning sleep. Harry's grin broadened. Well, if she wanted to play hard to get, he was game.
He dipped his head a bit lower in an action he knew would drive Hermione nuts. Sure enough, she responded as respected, her body thrashing under the covers under his careful ministrations. Harry stifled his grin as he brought her to the edge of her control, stopping at the last moment to inch his way up her body until he was nestled in between her thighs, joining with her in one quick stroke.
Their lovemaking was agonizingly slow, but Harry was determined to prolong their joining. He was determined to make up all those years he spent away from his soon-to-be wife. What seemed like hours later, after thrusts and counterthrusts and gasps and whispers, Harry lay entwined with Hermione, their limbs entangled so that it was difficult to tell where one ended and the other began.
Hermione's chocolate gaze flickered over Harry, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "What was that for?"
"Because I love you," Harry said, giving the younger woman a slight peck on the nose. Hermione giggled in a very un-Hermione-like fashion, slowly rolling out of the bed as she began to pull on her bathrobe.
"You are positively insatiable, Mr. Potter," she said with a grin as she tied the belt around her middle. Harry grinned, rolling out of bed after her and crossing the room until he was behind her. He wrapped his arms around her middle and hugged her to his chest.
"Then I guess you can consider yourself a very lucky woman, Mrs. Potter," Harry said with a grin, which quickly faded to a frown as he felt Hermione stiffen in his arms. "Hermione?" Harry asked, tentatively. "What's wrong?"
Hermione shook her head, stepping out of Harry's embrace and running a hand through her hair. "It's nothing, Harry. You just caught me off guard, that's all."
Harry frowned. "If this is about you taking my name, I really don't think it's necessary," Harry said with a flush, even though he knew very much he would love for Hermione to take his last name. But perhaps Hermione was one of those modern women, he thought to himself. He grimaced inwardly as his mind rolled over the idea of taking Hermione's name. It didn't sound right, and Harry hoped she wouldn't ask that of him.
"It's not that, Harry," Hermione said with a blush. "It's just so hard to believe that we're actually going to get married. That's all."
"Are you double-guessing your decision?" Harry asked with a lump in his throat as he hurriedly threw on a bathrobe.
"Don't be silly, Harry," Hermione said, taking a tentative step towards him. Harry froze, his gaze meeting Hermione's as she rose on her toes, brushing her lips over Harry's. "It just feels surreal. I can't believe it's actually happening."
Relief flooded his body as Harry brushed his lips across her forehead, resting his chin on the top of her head. "Everything will be alright," Harry said quietly. "You'll see." Hermione nodded in agreement.
"Everything will turn out okay," Hermione whispered, resting her head against his chest.
"One thing though, Hermione," Harry said, a wry grin crossing his face. Hermione's eyebrows furrowed in confusion as she leaned back, her gaze meeting Harry's.
"You might want to hurry and get dressed. We've already missed breakfast and I don't think McGonagall will be too happy if we miss our morning classes."
Hermione's eyes widened as she glanced at the clock, her eyes widening as she saw the time. Letting out a small squeak of surprise, Hermione began rushing to gather her things.
Harry let out a short chuckle as he watched Hermione dash about the room and out the door without another word.
* * *
The morning passed by far too slowly for Harry's tastes, but for the first time that year, Harry actually had a hard time trying to keep the attention of the first-years. It was mid-April, and today was the day that they had their final scheduled flying lesson.
Harry occasional stole glances at the nervous first years as they studied from their books, but none seemed as nervous as Artie. A slight smile crossed Harry's face as Artie chewed on the back of his quill until it was so raggedy it was impossible to tell that that's what it was. The former Auror glanced at the clock. It was 10:30 a.m. The flying test was scheduled to take place at three o'clock.
Pretty soon the first years were streaming out of the room. Harry watched as the students left in pairs of twos or threes, waiting until the majority had left until he motioned for Artie to come to the desk. Artie swallowed a nervous lump in his throat and gave Harry a slight nod, his skin seeming to pale as he closed the distance between Harry and the desk.
"Ye - Yes, Harry," Artie said, trying to disguise the slight tremble in his voice. Harry gave the boy a sympathetic smile.
"Big day today, isn't it?" Harry remarked, hoping that he could quell some of the younger boy's fears. Artie gave a little nod. Harry returned the nod, not missing the way Artie's hands wound around his books as if he would fall over if he loosened his grip.
"You remember that it's no different than how we practiced," Harry tried to reassure the red-headed student. "Take it easy, relax, and remember to use soft hands."
Artie gave a slight squeak that sounded like a mix between okay and no way, and Harry stifled a grin as he reached into the fold of his robes.
"I also thought you might like to see these," Harry said, handing the two pieces of paper to Artie. The younger boy frowned, his forehead wrinkling as he glanced at Harry in confusion. Hesitantly, he reached out with his right hand, studying the gift for a brief moment before his eyes widened.
"Cannon tickets!" Artie exclaimed, his face lighting up as he ripped the tickets from Harry's hands. Harry stifled a grin. "You got us Cannon tickets?"
"For their match against Puddlemere United at the end of the year," Harry said with a grin, remembering the approving smile on Hermione's face as he had told her of his plans.
"Wow," Artie said, his blue eyes wide with excitement as he stared at the tickets.
"I even managed to talk to the team manager. He said you could come and watch them practice, and maybe even take a few shots at guarding the goals if you want," Harry added, carefully, his green eyes scanning over Artie's reaction. He wasn't sure if the boy would be too thrilled at the prospect of hovering in the air and deflecting the quaffle, but he decided it'd be worth a try. It really would be a shame if Ron's son never had a chance to play Quidditch.
That, and the match was scheduled for Father's Day, and Harry thought it might be a good way for Artie to remember Ron.
Artie snapped his head back to Harry, a frightened expression crossing his face, and for a moment Harry thought Artie would refuse. Then the boy swallowed, closing his eyes for a brief moment as if to reassure himself, and then nodded.
"That'd be great, Harry," Artie said, as Harry's eyes widened in shock. Did Artie just say yes? A broad grin broke out across his face and Harry smiled at the younger boy. Maybe that Gryffindor courage was finally starting to peek through.
Harry held out his hand, and Artie gently returned the tickets to his outstretched palm.
"Thanks, Harry," Artie said, a broad smile erupting on his face. Harry nodded, slowly sliding the tickets into the drawer of his desk and muttering a locking charm.
"Just remember to breathe," Harry admonished Artie one last time. Artie inhaled deeply, giving Harry a resolute nod and heading out of the room. Harry leaned back in his chair and smiled.
At one o'clock, Harry walked his way over to Hermione's classroom, where the third years would be getting out any moment. Sure enough, Harry arrived at the door just as a stream of students began to trickle out of the doorway. A few gave Harry sheepish grins as he stepped to the side, and a couple of Hufflepuff girls "ooohed" and "aaahed" - no doubt at the not-so-clandestine relationship he and Hermione shared. It was common news around the school now that the two were to wed. Even Headmistress McGonagall congratulated them - before offering her advice that they find a place to live outside of Hogwarts to maintain propriety. Hermione had blushed furiously at that.
Harry nodded to a few members of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, waiting until the last student streamed out of the room before stepping inside. Hermione was seated behind the desk, her hair pulled into a ponytail as she scribbled some notes on a piece of parchment. Harry cleared his throat and the chestnut-haired witch lifted her head, a broad smile crossing her face.
"Harry," Hermione said warmly. "Did you give Artie the tickets?"
Harry nodded, a broad grin stretching across his face. "He loved them."
Hermione's smile broadened. "I knew he would. Harry, that was such a perfect gift idea. Ron would have loved it."
The dark-headed wizard nodded, crossing the room and taking a seat in a chair next to Hermione's desk. He peered over her arm, glancing at the notations she seemed to be making for today.
"Classes going alright?" Harry asked. Hermione nodded.
"They're okay, but things are starting to pick up. Final exams are not that far away, and there's still so much we need to cover."
Harry grinned. "I'm sure you'll get through it all Hermione. You have two months yet."
"Only two months, Harry," Hermione said with a hint of exasperation in her voice. "That's not much time."
He was about to protest, but decided that it would be a better idea to change the topic of conversation. "Are you going to come to the flying test today?"
Hermione nodded. "Is Artie nervous?"
"More than anything," Harry acknowledged with a grin. "But he'll be alright."
His fiancé was about to open her mouth to respond when the door to the transfiguration room burst open, and in walked an extremely livid Professor Snape.
"Potter! You and I have to talk. Now!" He hissed, his dark eyes flashing with malevolent intent.
So often had Harry been on the receiving end of one of Professor Snape's bad moods that he should have been accustomed to the occasional malevolence that his former professor usually afforded him. On this occasion though, Harry was completely off guard, and he cast a quick glance at Hermione.
"Professor Snape?" Harry said, momentarily forgetting the fact that the dark-haired man was no longer his professor. "What is the problem?"
"I'll tell you what the problem is, Potter," Snape hissed, his fingers curling around the edge of his wand as if he were fighting the urge to hex Harry into the next century. "You seem to have a problem keeping your hands off my potion supplies. This is the third time I've had ingredients disappear and the very last…" he hissed, lifting his wand and leveling it at Harry's forehead.
In a flash Harry was on his feet, his wand ready in his right hand, anger flooding his body as he and Professor Snape stood less than a meter apart from each other, wands at the ready.
"Severus," Hermione said in a low tone that belied more than a hint of warning. "When did you notice the missing ingredients?"
"This morning," Snape hissed, his steely gaze leveled on the wizard who was his former student.
"Then it's not possible that Harry could have taken the ingredients," Hermione said lightly. Snape's gaze flickered from Harry to Hermione and back to Harry again.
"The only way you would know that, Miss Granger, is if he were somewhere else," Snape said in a low tone, and Harry inwardly winced at the predicament he and Hermione had gotten into. While fraternization among Hogwarts teachers was not expressly forbidden, it was generally considered poor taste and off limits to cross certain lines of courtship while on school grounds.
"He was, Severus," Hermione said evenly. "And that is all you need to know at the moment.
Snape hesitated for a brief moment, and then (very reluctantly, Harry thought to himself) lowered his wand. None of the anger abated from his eyes, and the callous professor cast a vengeful glance between Harry and Hermione.
"I will be speaking to the Headmistress about this," he said curtly, spinning on his heel and exiting the room. As soon as the door slammed behind him, Hermione slumped into her chair, exasperation etched on her face.
"What was that about, Harry?"
Harry frowned, shaking his head as he tried to contemplate the recent events. "I have no idea, Hermione. I haven't even thought about taking ingredients since our second year."
"I know that," Hermione admonished. "But who would be foolish enough to break into a teacher's office?"
"Besides you?" Harry asked, a wry grin crossing his features. A rose tinge spread across Hermione's cheeks and she shook her unruly hair furiously.
"Harry, I'm being serious."
"I know," Harry said with a frown, sighing as he drummed his fingers on her desk. A vague suspicion gnawed at his stomach, but he couldn't pinpoint it immediately.
"Didn't you say your Marauder's Map had gone missing earlier," Hermione asked, her brown eyes thoughtful. Harry gave her a slight nod.
Marauders Map … Artie …
Artie was the only one besides Hermione, Fred, and George who knew about the Marauders Map.
Harry glanced at Hermione, both of their eyes flickering in realization at the same time.
"Artie," they said in unison.
A surge of anger rushed through Harry's veins, but he squelched it almost immediately and began walking towards the door, intent on making his way to the Gryffindor common room and confronting the boy. Hermione quickly fell in step with him, gripping his arm as they left her office and began to part ways.
"Harry, where are you going?" Hermione asked.
"To the Gryffindor common room," Harry muttered. "To beat some sense into that boy."
Hermione shook her head. "They're not there," she said, her voice low. "I know where they are. Follow me."
Harry stared at her in confusion for a moment, but set off after her as she made her way down the hallway.
He followed her as she made her way down rows of staircases, sidestepping clusters of huddling students as Hermione led him to a place he had not been in years. The women's restroom on the second floor - the very one where they had made the polyjuice potion their second year.
The two Hogwarts professors stopped outside the door, casting a wary glance at each other. Harry gave Hermione a slight nod and together they burst into the door simultaneously.
It probably would have frightened any student to have a Hogwarts professor walk in on them while they were in the middle of violating one of the rules. But Amelia, Todd, and Artie had looks of sheer terror spring across their faces as two of their professors barged into the room. They scrambled to their feet, and Artie quickly cast a glance over his shoulder, as if searching for another exit he could run from.
Harry suppressed his urge to throttle his charge, instead gripping his fingers around his wand and scanning the room. In the middle of the floor, ironically, very close to the spot where Hermione had set up shop those many years ago, was a simmering cauldron and less than a meter away was the Marauder's Map; inactivated, of course.
The former Auror opened and closed his mouth, trying to find the words to express his outrage, but the tentative grip of Hermione's hand on his shoulder calmed him somewhat, and he glanced at her for a brief moment. As head of Gryffindor House, any disciplinary actions would come from her, and no doubt this was possibly as serious as it got.
"Would you three care to explain yourselves?" Hermione asked quietly, disappointment evident on her face. Amelia looked close to tears and Todd looked positively terrified.
None of the three students spoke.
Hermione stepped forward, leaning down and examining the cauldron carefully. After a moment she nodded and rose to her feet. Her gaze bypassed Todd and Artie, coming to rest on the young girl.
"Amelia, why were you and the others creating the polyjuice potion?"
"I … um … I …" Amelia stammered, her eyes wide with tears.
"She … um … um …" Todd added, before falling silent under Hermione's stern glare.
"They were helping me," Artie spoke up; not flinching as all eyes fell on him. Harry's mind raced as he tried to process this news.
"Helping you?" Harry repeated, not fully comprehending that Artie might have been the ringleader of this escapade. Artie nodded, and Harry closed his eyes, trying to will himself to calm.
Calm down, Harry, I'm sure there's a perfectly reasonable explanation, a voice in his head chided. Yes, like he was under the Imperius curse, or that he's not really Artie, or …
"Artie, why were you three brewing the polyjuice potion," Hermione asked, finally shaking Harry out of his reverie. The younger wizard squirmed artfully under Hermione's inquisition, as if realizing he'd just called attention to himself that he really didn't want.
"Well, I um, um…" Artie stammered.
"We were trying to find out his dad's killer," Todd interrupted, finally finding his voice again.
"Ron's killer?" Hermione said flatly, her tone dubious.
What the … Harry thought.
"Yes," Amelia finally piped up. "Artie heard…"
"Amelia…" Artie hissed, his eyes narrowing in anger. Amelia cast a dirty glance back at him.
"It's too late, Artie," Amelia said angrily. "They caught us, and now we're going to be expelled, so we might as well tell them the truth." She inhaled deeply, as if hiding her terror at the prospect of being kicked out of Hogwarts, and looked at Hermione. "We were going to use the polyjuice potion with some of Ginny's hair and try to get Draco to confess to the murder."
"Draco?" Hermione said, exasperation etched in her voice, her voice hinting that she was unable to believe the predicament she was in. Harry felt his eyes narrow at the mention of Draco's name - he'd long suspected that Malfoy might have had something to do with Ron's death, but without proof he knew his accusations would fall by the wayside.
"Amelia!" Artie hissed, angry tears welling in his eyes as he began to sprint for the door. Harry quickly intercepted him, his hand closing around the boy's wrist in a death grip and wrenching the angry student around. Artie lashed out at Harry, but Harry grabbed Artie's other wrist with his other hand and held onto the boy.
Hermione watched the exchange in silence, waiting until Artie's struggles finally ceased before she turned her attention from the other two to Artie, her face passive.
"Artie, why do you think Draco Malfoy murdered your father?" she asked evenly.
Artie shuddered in Harry's grasp for a brief moment, and for a second Harry thought he would run again. But then Artie's shoulders slumped and he stifled a sob.
"Because I was there!" Artie yelled, his face reddening as the tears streamed down his cheeks. "I know what happened!"