Chapter 36
Harry didn't know what to do after he'd taken Hermione's lead and send Malfoy away under the excuse that he'd drunken himself into stupor. A clattering noise in the Hall made him aware that the Ball was still being held, and he made his way back mechanically.
Using skills of masking emotions to the fullest, he managed to get through the end of the feast, without giving way to any anger. Slowly, the boiling anger made way for a tired insensitivity. By the time the last guest had departed, and the guests staying in his house had left for their rooms, Harry felt strangely empty.
He didn't visit Hermione that night. He felt he had too much to ponder about, before he could have the energy needed to face her. He had enough presence of mind to want to protect her from being the scapegoat for his frustrations.
With empty eyes, he made his way to his bedchamber, readying himself for bed. Though very peaceful on the outside, the master of the mansion could not find sleep for many hours. Staring at the back of his eyelids, tired thoughts floated in and out of his consciousness, none of them staying long enough to make sense.
It was therefore with a shock that he realised he was watching a body curled up in a corner of a room. On closer inspection, it revealed itself to be a female body, wracking with sobs. With his sense of protectiveness, he felt himself moving closer to the bundle, wanting to caress the beautiful dark hair, flowing long over her shoulders and back.
Before he'd reached the woman, her face turned fully towards him. Accusing dark eyes arrested him. Before he could recover and comprehend what was happening, the eyes softened in a saddened glance. The woman reached out tentatively, and the hope in her voice was heart wrenching when she uttered his name:
"Cedric?"
"Cho!"
Harry awoke with a start. Heart pounding, he tried to gather his thoughts without unnecessary panic. This hadn't been the first time. The memory of the first dream came back to him. But what did it all mean?
His guilt wasn't as large as it should've been. His regard for Hermione had grown too much to feel guilt about that. At least, he didn't feel as if he was betraying Cho because of his regard for Hermione.
With that startling realisation, he questioned himself about what was unfair in his treatment of Cho. With a clarity he hadn't possessed in a long time it struck him. He was keeping Cho in this world. Away from her own love.
And for what reason?
Why had he refused to follow the advice of the Healers all those years ago? Was it realy to avoid a scandal? Why had he fought so hard to keep Cho in this world? It was clear now, that she wouldn't ever wake up anymore. Or would she? Did he even want her to wake up? It would mean the end of his Hermione. It would mean only Lily's governess, Miss Granger.
But was he really that selfish?
Or was it time to let Cho go? To let her find peace. To allow himself to find his own peace?
Confusing thoughts about what to do in relation to his future increased when he realised there was also the matter of the Ministry. Nothing felt easy, and he knew there were heavy decisions to be made.
Sooner rather then later…
***
The candle at her vanity had halved by the time Hermione realised Harry wasn't coming. With that she let her hand fall on the journal that contained her heart.
Without much deliberation, she set out to write. Pages filled themselves with her discoveries, about the people around her, and about herself. As per usual, she lingered on the joy and the pain of having Lily so close to her. Of her selfish desire to want more. More than just teaching Lily, but holding her in her arms. Kissing her forehead, even when she wasn't asleep. Caressing her hair to calm her down… To let her know she was loved and cared for. That she wasn't alone in this world, and most of all that she was worthy. Worthy of motherly love…
It broke Hermione's heart to see Lily suffer, and to see the people around her blind to that pain. Hermione knew the pain of growing up without a mother's touch. The want of a female embrace without feeling ashamed of receiving it out of pity.
Hermione knew all to well why Lily didn't allow herself to be close to her aunt Ginny, or her governess. It was pride and an aversion to pity. It was why she rebuffed Harold and even little James on occasion, and fought for attention from the three other Weasley boys…
Hermione also knew why she monopolised the time with her father. He was the only one who she thought really cared for her, and losing him would mean losing everything. Lily clung to her father's affections, but was never certain of it. Something Hermione could also understand very well indeed.
All thoughts and feelings became more clear when writing it down. Doubts disappeared, but still, a course of action to take eluded her. She was in no position to take any action, aside from guiding Lily through a basic education. Everything more wasn't up to a governess…
After exhausting the topic of her daughter, her quill commanded attention for her feelings towards the father of her child.
Lately, she felt very unsure about herself, and about him. Their last meeting had been so intense. In that moment, she had been sure she loved him. And that he loved her.
But now… She questioned her own sanity. Was love to be something purely physical? Hermione had always considered love to be a pure emotion. Her desire for being with the man who'd wanted an heir… That desire had always caged her. It wasn't anything pure, it was sinful and selfish, and it had scratched her soul through the years.
Lately that desire had been fulfilled. But was that enough to constitute a love? Fulfilment of a body's desire? Soothing of a heart's whimsical wishes?
He was married. She didn't even know if he'd ever loved his wife. Did he betray her memory by accepting her? Could she respect him for that?
Or more accurately, could she respect a man who didn't respect her?
With clarity, she discovered that this was what had hurt her most lately. Moreover because it was her own fault. She let him use her body, because her desire for him was too great. She couldn't refuse him. Even writing down this truth she felt her body react fiery to the knowledge of the effect caused by his touches.
But she was decidedly underneath him in any way. She knew that already, but now she recognised that he didn't really do anything to show her that it didn't matter to him. This brought doubt to her mind. Did he really think her as inferior, only good enough to sooth his needs as a man?
On some level, she didn't doubt that he felt at least a little more for her than just animalistic attraction. But what did he feel for her? Did he blame her for causing him to break his society's rules? Did he feel disdain for her on some level?
Was he even interested in anything besides her body?
To that she knew the answer. No… He didn't talk to her, or ask her anything, he didn't share his worries or value her opinion. She had to fight to get even this far with disciplining Lily. And she wasn't in the position to ask him, or to inform him of her opinions. Her thoughts about Lily would only hurt him. But neither could she lay her worries and her questions at his door.
She wasn't allowed the desire that he'd share his worries with her. Only a wife had that right. And she was even lower then a common mistress…
It was with that realisation that she started. She had allowed herself to forget about the meaning of the magic of Firelight…
Reality came back to her. In less then three weeks, her notice would come to term. Maybe she could get a few more days, maybe even weeks, if the master of this house decided to keep her until she had a new family commission. Hermione knew Miss Weasley had contacted her former Headmistress Madam McGonnagal about a new family. Depending on the successfulness of her search, Hermione would be off.
Her bond with the Potters would simply be that she had been the sixth governess of little Miss Potter. Nothing more.
Her heart couldn't break again. She refused to let it come to that. Drawing her courage around her as a cloak of protection, she put down her quill.
It was then that Hermione noticed the first rays of sunlight had illuminated her room since more then a few moments. Checking the time she closed her diary with tired resignation.
Looking up into the mirror, the image reflected there was not presentable. Dark circles around her eyes betrayed her body's exhaustion, that was only rivalled by her heart's. Indifferently, she noticed a light bruising on her arm also. Mr. Malfoy had left a mark…
Sleeves would hide that, but Hermione got up to find her potions anyway. Selecting a few bottles and flasks she set herself back in front of her vanity. First she took care of her arm and the dark circles around her eyes. Carefully applying different lotions, she saw the colouration vanish. Selecting a few other potions, she mixed dosages and swallowed her brew in one go.
Not revealing her distaste, even in the privacy of her own bedchamber, she set out to replace everything. Doing so, she felt her brew take effect: the tiredness seemed to seep out of her, and by the time she was dressed and ready, no one would ever guess she hadn't slept all night.
With that, she had her mask again firmly in place, and could bear a day of strict decorum and façades.
Business as usual…
***
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