Title: Father's Day
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and company is owned by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic, Raincoast, and Warner Bros.
Author's Notes: Thanks for your reviews. This chapter is dedicated to Sarah, who pointed out a plot hole in my story that needed resolving. Also, for those of you who are a bit miffed about the D/G thing, I never think that would happen in canon. But this is an AU story, and I am allowed a bit of liberty. I did try to explain it as best as possible. And to Heaven, well, I threatened not to write anymore until you gave me a good scene between Harry and Hermione in Crossways guest house. I'm not completely satisfied (for obvious reasons) but you did give me a bit more, so this chapter is for you too.
Chapter 14: Heart of a Lion
It was the almost undetectable sound of rustling that brought Harry out of restless sleep and his gaze to rest on the eleven-year-old in the hospital bed. Artie's eyes were opened, though they bore a dazed expression. The former Auror felt a rush of elation as he leaned over the bed, unable to keep himself from extending his left hand and brushing the hair out of Artie's face.
Artie seemed surprised at the contact, his blue eyes shifting into focus. His head turned towards Harry, albeit slowly, his eyes widening when they fell upon the visage of his caretaker.
"Hey there, Artie," Harry whispered softly, relief flooding his features. Artie seemed to be trying to gather his thoughts. Harry shook his head quietly. "Artie, you don't have to speak. I'm really sorry I didn't make it to your flying test yesterday. Can you forgive me?"
Artie frowned, his eyebrows furrowing as he seemed to mull over something before he spoke, his tiny voice dry and raspy. "Why?"
Harry pressed his lips together in a fine line. "I don't really have a good excuse, Artie. I went to go see your uncle. I lost control of my temper and it was wrong of me. I'm really, really sorry I wasn't there," Harry said, swallowing a lump starting to rise in his throat."
Artie gave Harry a slight nod, and Harry felt the knot in his stomach begin to untangle. No, things would not be perfect - he would have to make it up to Artie, but he could manage that.
"Do I have to get back on a broom again?" Artie managed to choke out, drawing a smile to Harry's face and tears to his eyes.
"You're not going to let a little thing like the Whomping Willow scare you off, are you?" Harry asked, the grin broadening on his face. Artie tried to laugh, his breath catching in his throat and instead managed a half snort, half wince.
"Guess not," Artie muttered, and Harry gave him a sympathetic look.
"There are times you're going to fall, Artie," Harry said quietly, regarding the younger wizard seriously. "It's up to you to get back on the broom and keep going."
Artie pursed his lips, as if contemplating this bit of advice. Harry reached out with his right hand, musing Artie's hair as he stood to his feet.
"Get some rest, okay?" Harry whispered, leaning down and brushing his lips across Artie's forehead. Artie nodded, his eyes already beginning to droop as Harry began to walk out of the room. Just before he could leave, Madame Pomfrey grabbed him by the shoulder.
"Harry?"
Harry looked over his shoulder, regarding Madame Pomfrey's solemn expression with a curious look.
"I'm sorry to disturb you, but I thought you should know that Arthur and Molly were here earlier, visiting Artie," the school nurse said solemnly. Harry nodded, seeing nothing at all unusual about this. No doubt Headmistress McGonagall would have contacted Artie's grandparents to let them know he'd be okay.
"I thought you should know, because Molly was furious that you weren't here," Madame Pomfrey said, finally drawing a frown across Harry's face. "I put a silencing charm around Artie's bed and was able to stifle most of the yelling, but she was talking about going to the Ministry and getting an order to regain custody of Artie."
Harry felt his heart drop. Briefly he closed his eyes, wondering if this last mistake he made would be his last.
No, Harry's mind screamed. I will not let them take Artie. Harry lifted his chin, his green eyes flashing defiance, and gave Madame Pomfrey a nod. "Thank you. I will deal with it."
Madame Pomfrey gave Harry a weak smile, canting her head for a moment as if deciding something, and then nodded. Harry watched as she turned on her heel to attend to some other task. He took in a deep breath before leaving the hospital ward, intent on finding Hermione.
* * *
Two hours later, Harry had still not located his fiancé, and frustration was beginning to build in his body. He'd searched nearly every classroom, her bedroom, her office, his office, the owlery, the Gryffindor corridor, the dungeons, and as much of the Hogwarts grounds as he dared. Now he was tired and sweaty - his robes clung to his body as he moved through the hallway. As it was a weekend, few students were in the halls, but hushed whispers radiated from the various corridors as small groups of students bustled towards one place or the other.
"Malfoy … hospital …"
"Crying…"
Those words caught his ears, and Harry quickly spun around on his heel, stepping in front of a pair of Hufflepuff girls who looked to be on their way outside to enjoy the beginnings of the summer.
"What were you talking about?" Harry asked, trying to keep his voice as non-threatening as possible.
The two girls, one was short and had curly brown hair and blue eyes, and the other was taller with lighter hair and green eyes, stared at Harry in fear. Apparently they had not counted on a teacher listening to what they had to say.
"What do you mean Professor?" the smaller girl asked.
"What happened to Ginny?" Harry said slowly, inwardly cringing at how testy his voice sounded. But his patience had already worn thin from searching for Hermione.
"Um…you haven't heard?" the taller one asked. Harry shook his head, stifling his exasperation. Would he be asking if he has heard?
"Madame Malfoy was taken to the hospital today by Professor Granger," the smaller one said.
"She wouldn't stop crying," the taller one added.
Harry felt his heart freeze up and he quickly thanked the two girls before rushing off to his fireplace. A feeling of dread settled over his body as he threw the floo powder into the fireplace and asked to be taken to St. Mungo's.
* * *
Harry stepped onto the fourth floor, his eyes darting up and down along the hallway. St. Mungo's had relatively few private rooms, and Harry had seen none of them any of the times he'd been here. They were mainly for the wealthier wizard families who could afford to purchase the hospital if they so chose.
It was to one of these rooms that he was headed to now.
He stepped inside room 456, grimacing at the loud creak the door gave as he peered inside. Ginny appeared to be asleep - her hair had been pushed behind her ears and her hands were resting palm down by her sides. Hermione was sitting in a chair by Ginny's side, reading what appeared to be a muggle book. She glanced up as Harry stepped inside the room, meeting his gaze silently. Whether or not she was happy to see him Harry couldn't discern.
"How is she doing?" Harry asked, shoving the unwelcome thoughts out of his mind as he made his way to Ginny's bedside and leaned down, brushing his lips across her forehead.
"Better, now," Hermione said, her eyes flashing in concern as she appraised Ginny silently. After a second she gave a slight nod, apparently satisfied. "She's taken a light sleeping draught and was out like a light."
Harry nodded, brushing a hand over Ginny's forehead, flinching at how cold her skin felt. Guilt tugged at his insides. Ginny had been like a little sister to him - and he was pretty certain he knew what this was all about.
Seeking affirmation, his stare moved to Hermione's. "What happened?" he asked.
Hermione sighed, closing her book and setting it down on the counter. She met Harry's curious gaze with slight rebuke. "Ginny was supposed to meet me this morning and I was going to accompany her to visit Draco. When she did not show up, I flooed to her place and found her curled up on top of her covers in fetal position. She kept repeating 'He didn't do it.' When I tried to rouse her, she didn't respond. That's when I brought her here."
The former Auror closed his eyes momentarily, wincing at the fresh stab at pain that lanced through his heart. Ginny was suffering from a nervous breakdown and it was his fault.
No, it's Draco's fault, a voice in Harry's mind chided. Harry shook his head against the silent chastisement. My fault. All my fault. Not Draco's. Mine.
Harry opened his eyes, his right fist clenching as he stared at the prone figure of his friend. Determination flooded him and he silently vowed that he would do all it took to help Ginny get through this.
"Harry?"
Hermione's quiet voice called him out of the haze of his thoughts and he turned and glanced at the woman who would be his wife. A knot of fear arose in his stomach at the mournful expression on Hermione's face.
"I think we need to talk," she said quietly. Harry's throat ran dry but he nodded, his mind pouring over a million different apologies he could offer. None of them seemed to work in his mind.
"Let's go outside," Hermione said, her right hand playing with the engagement ring on her left hand. Harry wasn't sure he liked that, but he saw little choice as he followed Hermione out of the room.
It wasn't until they stepped outside that all of Harry's fears and concerns overloaded his mind. He was about to open his mouth to speak when Hermione slowly turned on her heel and stared at Harry straight in the eyes, her mahogany gaze bright with unshed tears.
"Harry, I can't do this."
All of the words he was going to say flooded out of his mind in one big whoosh as he stared at Hermione numbly, not quite processing what she was saying.
"What?"
"I…" Hermione closed her eyes, her voice trailing off as she pressed her lips together, clearly on the edge of losing her composure. Harry felt a sting behind his eyes and he closed them momentarily, inhaling sharply as Hermione's smaller hands reached out and took his own. He felt the cool press of metal in the center of his palm and he choked back a sob. Slowly, Harry closed his fist around the ring and opened his eyes, meeting Hermione's tearful gaze.
"I can't marry you if you're going to do this, Harry," Hermione said quietly. "You're supposed to be able to trust me, but you don't…"
"But I do trust you, Hermione," Harry protested.
"You didn't trust my judgment when I was trying to clarify what Artie saw. You immediately jumped to your own conclusions and got angry with me. Ron used to do that when we were younger, remember? Then you went off on your own and confronted Draco without even asking me, Harry. You're not an Auror anymore, Harry. You should have just turned over the information to the Ministry and let them make the decision. Or you should have at least told me where you were going. But you wanted to make the final decision, Harry."
"I'm sorry."
Hermione closed her eyes, a tear slipping down her cheek. "I don't know if 'I'm sorry' is going to
work this time Harry. I just don't know."
Harry closed his eyes, clamping down on his protest because everything Hermione had said so far was true, and he knew it.
Inhaling sharply, Harry finally opened his eyes, blinking through the tears as he reached out and gently took Hermione's hand, returning the engagement ring to her palm. The tears were now flowing freely down Hermione's cheeks as she stared at the small circle of gold in her palm. Harry closed the fingers of her hands over the ring, not bothering to stifle the tears that now trailed rivers down his face.
"Keep it," Harry managed to choke out, much to his utter amazement. "It was a gift."
And with that Harry slowly turned, walking down the hallway towards the elevator, leaving Hermione standing in the hallway, the engagement ring tucked securely into the palm of her hand.
* * *
It took Harry a few hours to regain his composure before he could think clearly again. He traveled to Grimmauld Place, not wanting to be around other people as he tried to regain control of his thoughts. The memories of Hermione's tearful breakup tore at his senses, but Harry tried to shove them away. He loved Hermione, and he always would. He needed Hermione - she was as much a part of him as the air he breathed. And she needed him, he was sure of it.
But what he needed didn't matter at the moment. His concern - his focus needed to rest on Ginny. It was with great tribulation that Harry managed to shove the thoughts of Hermione into a corner of his mind where it could be smothered until a later date. Lifting his chin slightly, Harry made a silent resolution to fix this mess he had made.
* * *
There were a few sources of constancy in Harry's life. Voldemort was dead. Quidditch was always fun. And the Burrow would always be the Burrow. These were sources of comfort for Harry.
But today, as he stepped up to the doorway of the place he used to call home, a feeling of dread settled over him. Whatever happened today, he was not looking forward to confronting Mrs. Weasley.
Harry lifted his hand, giving the wooden doorway three short raps with his trembling knuckles. There was a shuffling sound of footsteps and he lowered his hand, heaving a deep sigh as the door was flung open and Molly Weasley appeared in the doorway.
"Harry!" Molly cried out, embracing the younger wizard in a stifling hug. "It's so good to see you. Come in, please," she said quickly, ushering Harry inside the kitchen where Arthur Weasley was sitting at the table, browsing over the headlines of the Daily Prophet.
"Arthur and I are so glad you decided to visit us," Molly said. Mr. Weasley averted his gaze, making it clear to Harry that he was less than thrilled to be included in that statement.
"I've been meaning to talk to you too," Harry said finally, tearing his gaze away from the hardwood table and towards Molly's slightly surprised features. A small smile settled across her face as she ushered Harry to a chair at the kitchen table across from Arthur. Molly took a seat by Mr. Weasley's right side.
"What did you want to tell us, dear?" Molly asked. "You know you can talk to us about anything."
Harry briefly closed his eyes, inhaling deeply, trying to will away the tension he felt knot deep in his muscles. It didn't help. Eventually, he opened his eyes and brought his gaze to rest on Molly's.
"You can't have him," Harry said.
Arthur Weasley immediately closed his eyes, as if he had been expecting Harry to say just that. The look in Molly's eyes got cold.
"Pardon, dear?" she said, her voice low.
"I know you want to get custody of Artie," Harry said, not flinching from the hardened look in Molly's eyes. He shook off his nervousness and regarded the woman who had been like a mother to him. "You can't have him. I will not let you."
"Harry, dear," Molly started, "surely by now you realized this is foolishness? Raising children is a difficult task Harry."
"More difficult than facing Voldemort," Harry admitted. "But one I'd not trade for the world."
Molly's eyes hardened. "You left Artie to go on some foolish chase and he was injured!" she accused, her voice raising a bit.
"I made a mistake," Harry said, his voice raising to match Molly's. "No doubt you've made hundreds of them with your children."
Arthur cringed at that last statement, as if bracing himself for the torrent that would be coming at that wizard who dared suggest Molly made a mistake in parenting.
"Excuse me?" Molly said, a sinister trace in her voice. Harry cringed inwardly.
"That came out wrong," Harry said hurriedly, not wanting to risk being on the receiving end of one of Molly's hexes. The creases in Molly's face relaxed a bit, but still retained their hard edge.
"Mrs. Weasley, you've been the closest thing I've known to a mother. You've raised some wonderful children and given them everything they could ever want. But …" Harry closed his eyes, inhaling deeply before regarding Molly with a bright gaze that belied his emotional turmoil. "You will always be Artie's grandparents, but I…" Harry closed his eyes, inhaling deeply before continuing. "I love Artie, Mrs. Weasley. He's the closest thing to a son I'll probably ever get. Please, don't take him away from me."
Harry opened his eyes, shock registering in his body at the tears that were streaming down Molly's face. Even Mr. Weasley's eyes were bright. But Harry wasn't finished. There was still more he had to say.
"Your daughter Ginny is in St. Mungo's now suffering a nervous breakdown because the only family she thinks she has is in prison for murder," Harry said. At this Molly clapped a hand over her mouth, stifling a gasp. Clearly the Weasleys had not heard about this latest bit of news.
"She's in the hospital … because of me," Harry continued, a tear slipping past the dam in his eye and sliding down his cheek. "Because I put Draco there. Because I didn't stop to listen to the voice of reason."
"But did he do it?" Arthur pressed, his eyes bright with tears.
"I don't know," Harry said honestly. "Regardless, your daughter needs you. It's time to end this feud."
Arthur gave a slight nod, and Molly quickly rose to her feet and crossed to the other side of the table, embracing Harry in a fierce hug. Harry rested his chin on the smaller woman's forehead
"Thank you, Harry," Molly whispered, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. She disappeared with a pop, no doubt going to see Ginny.
"Thanks, Harry," Arthur said, stepping around the side of the table and giving Harry a firm handshake. "Your parents would be proud."
Then he too disappeared.
Harry closed his eyes, breathing a sigh of relief. That had gone much better than he hoped for. After a moment of processing this recent turn of events, he stood to his feet.
He had one more stop left.
* * *
The holding cells for prisoners awaiting transport to Azkaban were in the lowest levels of the Ministry. These were the levels Harry had seen most often during his years as an Auror, often escorting Deatheaters to them. Now he was here to see Draco Malfoy.
He found his old nemesis sitting on a cot in the corner of the dreary cell, his elbows resting on his knees. Harry stepped up to the bars of the cell, his hand resting on the bottom of the wand in his pocket. Draco looked up at the sound of footsteps and his eyes promptly narrowed, hatred brewing in his eyes as he met Harry's gaze.
"Potter…" Draco hissed venomously.
"Malfoy," Harry said quietly, unperturbed by the anger Draco showed. He was used to the taunts and threats that came with the job of being an Auror.
"What do you want?" Draco hissed, rising to his feet with such forcefulness that Harry's grip on his wand tightened. In two strides Draco had crossed the tiny cell, gripping the bars of his prison with such forcefulness Harry wondered if they would actually break.
"We need to talk," Harry said, stepping back to ensure he was out of Draco's reach.
"I have nothing to say to you, Potter."
"Why did you see Ron that night?" Harry asked, ignoring the fact that Draco's hands could in any moment arch through the bars and attempt to grab him.
Draco let out a snort. "Why should I tell you?" he said, his grey eyes narrowing.
"Because right now your wife is in St. Mungo's on the verge of losing her mind," Harry whispered quietly. "Ginny needs you, but I'm not letting you out of here until I'm sure you didn't kill Ron."
The former Slytherin's expression changed at the news of his wife. Draco's expression softened a bit, flickering with worry and some other indiscernible emotion before hardening into the cold demeanor he wore so well.
"I didn't kill the Weasel. Let me out now, Potter," Draco said warningly.
"What were you doing at the shop that night?" Harry asked, fighting the urge to pull out his wand.
Draco lunged at the bars, his hands shooting through to grab Harry, but the raven haired wizard jumped back in an instant, out of reach of Draco's grip. The former Gryffindor raised his wand, leveling it at Draco's chest.
"Let me out!" Draco screamed.
"What did you say to Ron?" Harry yelled back, feeling his anger spike at his old enemy.
Draco stared at him for a moment, heavy breaths rocking his shoulders before his hands lowered to his sides. He gave Harry one last spiteful glare before his head turned to the ground and he mumbled something incoherent.
"What?" Harry said, not quite understanding what Draco had just said.
"Open your ears, Potter," Draco retorted. "I said I went to try to talk Ron into ending this silly feud with his sister."
"Why would you do that?" Harry asked, Draco's answer not making any sense. Never in his life had he seen a Slytherin act in a selfless manner unless he was to receive some direct benefit.
"Because Ginny was hurting," Draco hissed. "She was hurting and they were being so damn stubborn. You stupid Gryffindors are all the same. Don't care about anything but your damn pride."
Harry swallowed the anger at Draco's brazen taunt, closing his eyes for a minute. If Draco hadn't killed Ron, then who did?
That was, of course, assuming Draco was telling the truth.
Harry opened his eyes, letting his emerald-hued gaze settle on Draco. After a second he reached into his left pocket, pulling out a key and releasing the lock on Draco's cell. Draco's eyes widened at this, as if he could not believe that Harry Potter was releasing him from the cell.
"I'll take you to Ginny," Harry said quietly. "Let's go."
"Why?" Draco asked, his eyes narrowed. He glanced at the open cell door with suspicion, as if it were a trap waiting to ensnare him.
Harry paused in his step, glancing over his shoulder and regarding Draco with a cool look as he whispered quietly, "For Ginny."