Later on that morning, as the sun rose, and the general population awoke for another day in the office, or in traffic Lucas Granger sat at the breakfast table. His bowl of corn flakes quickly turning into a soggy mush before his eyes. He grumbled as he pushed the bowl away, and viewed it as a bit of a mistake, to have gone with one of the cheaper brands. Whoever said it was all the same was an idiot.
He stood up from the table, with the wooden chair scraping across the floor as he saw an owl tapping at his kitchen window. He strode over to the work top, and leant over to open the window. As he did so the bird hopped a little closer, and stood looking expectantly at him with a copy of the daily prophet tied to its leg. He rummaged around for some knuts before giving it to the bird, and untying the paper. No sooner had he done so than the bird turned and flew away.
He put the kettle on to make himself a coffee, as he stood he flipped the paper open to the first page, and glanced at the headline.
"Death Eater comes forwards in exchange for mercy." At this his interest peaked, and wondered why he hadn't been contacted by Belatrix and the few other remaining Death Eaters. Who in the small group, would come forwards?
In a sensational twist in the hunt for remaining death eaters one of them came forwards. The man in question, is Felix Fallitruse, He was a high ranking member of the Death Eaters, serving directly under the dark lord, some years ago, but upon increasing investigation has come forward, in exchange for the promise that he won't be subjected to the Dementors kiss.
Lucas read on more, his heart beating increasingly quickly, not knowing why until he read one particular section.
"Back then no one left the death eaters. It was a job for life, but some of the things they were asking me to do… I just couldn't. They started off with easy jobs, and then once you're in they give you harder assignments, things which you would question, had you not already gone so far. Eventually they push you and push you so far, until you would do anything without question, even murder simply for sport.
Well I had a bad incident one night, when we were committing a raid, and I accidentally killed a young boy of about five. It was a reflex reaction, I just saw him out of the corner of my eye. I had killed before but this was just different, the way he looked at me before the spell hit, it made me realise that what we were doing was wrong. The other guys all cheered me and made jokes, but when I got home that night, I couldn't sleep, I couldn't concentrate on anything. I couldn't get on with my life.
I struck a deal with the dark lord. There was a very special assignment he wanted me to do, in order to recruit a new member. I did this one last job, one last murder, and in exchange, my freedom. It was a terrible price to pay, and I know now that freedom is more than I deserve. It's been a fact that has haunted me for the last five years.
As Lucas' eyes came to the end of the line something inside him clicked, everything fell into place, and it finally made a little bit of sense. He knew the truth, the horrible truth. That man, Felix, who had come to his house five years ago, claiming to be for the ministry. That man, who had killed his wife, Michelle Granger, was a death Eater all along.
No ministry official was ever there…The good guys hadn't killed his wife… the whole thing had been orchestrated, so they could get his help… And he had gone along with it. He had offered to help them. All this mess, everything, within the space of a few seconds his perception on the world shifted, and suddenly he had become a monster…
He felt himself convulsing, as though he may be sick, but this passed as the blood drained from his face. He looked about frantically for some way of escaping from the truth. He grabbed the newspaper, and shoved it in the sink, turning the tap on, and tearing at the pages. Trying to destroy what he had read, what he knew. He started pummelling his fist against the hard metal of the sink edge in frustration until his fist was a bloody mess, thick blood and fragments of broken bone on the edge on the sink. He gave a scream, as he dropped to his knees and broke into racking sobs, which hurt his very chest.
What was he to do now?
Hermione sat in bed, awake, with the duvet wrapped round her and her knees pulled up to her chest. She was deep in thought, as the sun crept upwards in the sky, casting shadows across one side of her room. What had happened between her and Harry last night… She didn't know what to think. On one hand she was angry that he had the audacity to say such things when she was to be married, and on the other Hand she pitied him, that he felt that way, and that he had to tell her, knowing what her answer would be.
She had gone to make a coffee this morning, hoping they could just avoid talking about last night, but Harry was gone. The sofa was lacking his presence, as was the rest of the house. He had taken off, last night by the looks of it, and she knew instinctively that he wouldn't be coming back. He was never one to take a loss sitting down. He would be getting as far away from her as he could, just like he always did when things got tough.
She wondered briefly whether she should try calling him or not, to clear things up. She hated leaving things on such bad terms, but in the end she decided against this… they would never be on good terms, not when their wants were so different. He wanted what he couldn't have Hermione could never love him, as she had once done. Not since he had walked out on her, and what they had. She could never forgive him for that.
When she saw him standing on her doorstep that night, as she looked upon him, dressed in her wedding dress, she hoped that in some small way he had grown, had become a more mature person, capable of liking himself enough that he didn't need to depend on others. She knew now though that he hadn't changed one bit. He had left again, feeling the same as ever. On one hand she was pleased to know that the man she loved, was still out there, still existed, but on the other regretted this, as she knew it was a part of her life she had closed off.
She mulled over these thoughts, the coffee she had prepared, going cold on the bedside table, remaining untouched. She glanced at the clock, briefly noticing how slowly the minutes seemed to be going by, despite the fact it felt like she had been thinking for hours. A feeling Harry knew only to well. "What was he thinking?!" she asked in exasperation. Her brain was exhausted, and that was a first.
She jumped as there was a loud knock on the front door, and she briefly wondered if it was Harry, come back for some reason. She climbed out of bed and put her slippers on, before making her way down the stairs. The person knocked again, this time more loudly, and in a slightly hurried manner. Hermione frowned to herself, as she closed the remaining distance, and opened the door.
"Dad?" She asked in surprise as she took a step back. He pushed past her, not saying anything at first. With the brief examination she afforded him he looked ill. He was pale, and had a sweat, as though he had run all the way here. His hair was a mess, and his fist was wrapped in bandages, the stain of blood still showing through.
"Is Harry here?" He asked as he peered into the kitchen.
"No… he's left. He's gone back home." She said as for the first time he turned his attention to her.
"Are you feeling alright?" She asked concernedly, as she took his arm and ushered him into the living room, where he fell upon the sofa.
"I think its time, I spoke to you." He said dryly. She looked down, and saw that his hand was shaking. He saw her watching and quickly stuffed into his pocket. If she didn't know better she would have suspected him of using drugs.
"If this is the pre wedding talk…" she began, before he cut her off.
"No Hermione, this is different. It's the kind of sit down talk."
"Sit down with a coffee, or a stiff drink?" She asked enquiringly.
"A bit of both, together if possible. He said as he sighted a half empty bottle of alcohol form last nights drinking. Normally he would have commented on the fact his daughter shouldn't be drinking like a sailor, but not today.
"Dad, what's wrong?" Has something happened?" Hermione asked, now genuinely scared that some terrible event had transpired. She briefly played over possibilities. Adam could have been in an accident, her father could have been diagnosed with cancer. More likely than all of those was that he was here to tell her that Harry Potter had taken his life… except he had been looking for him hadn't he?"
"Yes, I'm afraid something terrible has happened, five years ago!" An icy chill went down her back as she instantly knew what he was talking about, her mother's death. He didn't seem too bad at the time, he certainly supported her. It hadn't only just hit him now, surely?
"When Mum died?" She asked, to which he simply nodded. He took a gulp of the drink, and continued.
"I'm afraid there is something about that night, that I never told you, I should have, but it's only now that I know. I'm so sorry, Hermione, I hope you can forgive me."
"What is it?" She repeated again, reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder. He flinched as she did this so she drew back sharply.
"Your mother, she didn't die that night due to a heart condition… she was… she was murdered." He cried, as tears began to roll down his face. Hermione stared back at him, a mirror of his pale complexion, now in shock, unable to comment
"That night we were having dinner, when a man from the ministry of magic named Felix knocked at our door. He was being chased by Death Eaters, so we let him hide in our house, but then the Death Eaters…. those…monsters, they found us. I didn't want to risk our safety, that of your mothers… I told them where he was hiding. He heard me say this, and jumped out. It was him that killed your mother, before the others stunned him…"
"I would have stopped him but it all happened so fast. It was just a flash… and then she was just gone… like that!"
"You mean a ministry official, this Felix, he killed Mum?" She asked, tears welling up. He voice came out quietly, like a mouse.
"Yes, I'm afraid so" He said as he shook his head. He to, like Harry, could never let go of the one he loved.
"But…" Hermione said, as she began to think. "I don't remember hearing of a Felix working for the ministry."
"I'm afraid I haven't finished yet." Her father said, as he refused to meet her gaze. "As I stood there, with your mother in my arms, I felt such anger towards this man, and what he stood for. I joined them." He said, causing Hermione to jump from her chair and back away from him. For a moment her breath was taken away, but eventually she managed to speak again.
"You what?"
"I said I joined them. I wanted revenge for what he had done, I joined the Death Eaters, and helped them."
"You…. Have you killed anyone?"
"No… not directly at least, though by opening the door that night I killed your mother… and I told them things…. I helped them kill others…" He said pitifully
"And this Felix? She enquired, what about him, did you get your revenge?" She asked, hating him almost as much as her father did.
"No, I never got revenge on him… I never heard anything more of him, till this morning. Have you read the paper?" He enquired, as he drew a soggy torn remnant of the paper from his pocket. She shook her head as he threw it down in front of her. She stared at it for several seconds before looking at him.
"I can't read what it says?" she said as the ink had run, and she had tears in her eyes.
"It turns out that this Felix, who had killed your mother; he never worked for the Ministry He was a death Eater all along!"
"M-mum was killed by Death Eaters." She said slowly, madly trying to readjust everything she believed in. "Death Eaters killed her." She repeated. "And you are one of them. "No, I'm not any more. I was, though I suppose to you it makes little difference." He talked for several minutes more, explaining everything in more detail, expanding where he could.
Eventually he gave a sigh, as his eyes had run dry.
"I… I don't know what to say." Hermione said, as her anger, and sadness had been replaced by numbness. "I can forgive you. You thought what you were doing was right at the time. Hermione said, as Lucas looked up to her a smile spreading across his face for the first time that day.
"I thought I had lost you…" He said as his voice cracked under the emotion.
"But." She interrupted. "I'm afraid, at least for now, I no longer love you."
His heart broke again, and with nothing more to loose he took a deep breath.
"Well there is one more thing I need to tell you. About Harry and I…"
"What?" Hermione asked in disbelief. What more could her father possibly have to add to the bombshell?
"Harry knew that I worked for the Death Eaters. My job was to spy on him, give information to them, and to manipulate my position as someone both you and he trusted. I thought I was doing it to help you for your safety, but I don't know if its true…. That night when he left… it was because of me." Lucas asked, as he looked up from the floor, letting her briefly see the wild look in his eyes, like a scared and cornered animal.
"That's not true." Hermione bit back. She wasn't going to accept that.
"It is, im afraid. The day he left. I spoke to him. I told him if he got to close to you then I couldn't guarantee your safety. He refused to believe me. He said he could protect you. I know it was a mistake but I told him that if he didn't end his relationship with you then I would kill you. That's why he left Hermione, it was never because he stopped loving you…"
"But he…we had an argument…" Hermione murmured, before falling to a silence… All these years she had thought Harry was a coward, but what if her father was telling the truth? What if he had never wanted to leave, and it was as hard on him as it was on her? Harder even, as he watched her resent what he did, move on with her life, and get engaged to another man. Always knowing the only thing he could do to help and protect her, was to be as far away as possible?
"Well I don't know much about that…It may have been an excuse, or even a contributing factor, but I don't think he would have left afterwards…
"What will you do?" She asked, after both of them sat for a few minutes in silence, neither one knowing what to add, that could make the situation more comfortable, more bearable.
"Well I have betrayed the Death Eaters, I know their names, and they will be coming for me, all I can do is turn myself in, and hope for a mercy bargain…"
"No." She said firmly. "It was a mistake, though they won't see it like that. Run away. Get out of the country, where they can't find you, the Death Eaters. Maybe in time you will be safe again. Maybe in time I will be able to look at you…" She said, as at that moment the phone rang. She stood, wondering whether to answer it or not, but decided she had nothing more to say to her father. He had told her everything she needed to know.
"Guess who just got on a plane." Adam said excitedly.
"Oh…Adam." Hermione said, suddenly being snapped back to her present day situation.
"You don't sound to pleased to hear from me. Is everything allright?"
"Yeah sorry… I'm just a bit tired is all… It's been a long day."
"Isn't it only breakfast time over there?" He enquired. "Anyway I'm going to be there this afternoon." He said with a smile
"I' won't be here." Hermione said softly.
"Oh have you made plans then?"
"No, I mean, I won't be here." She repeated, before she hung up. A moment later the phone rang again, but she wouldn't answer it. She would sort things out with him later, but for now, she had somewhere else se needed to be."
She walked out of the kitchen, to see that her father was no longer in the living room. The front door swung gently in the wind, a marker or his exit. Despite it all, she found herself smiling slightly, as she packed a bag, and set off for the airport. She flagged a taxi down, and slid into one of the back seats.
"Where to miss?" Asked the taxi driver.
"You don't know which airport has the next flight to Sydney do you?" Hermione asked rhetorically
"No… I don't." The taxi driver replied, slightly taken back.
"You want to go to the furthest away airport?" He enquired.
"No, the nearest one will do." She said, as she closed her eyes, and convinced herself that she was doing the right thing.
"You know a few hours ago I had a young man…" The taxi driver began, before he was interrupted.
"Could you just drive please?" She asked, as he nodded, and set off once again.
Several hours later Harry stood in his apartment. Rain was pounding against the large windows which looked out over the city…
"Wherever I go, it rains…" He said to himself. He flicked the lights on and looked around. Everything was exactly as he had left it, and yet strangely, there was no sign that it was his, it looked like the apartment, and its entire contents had been lifted from the pages of a magazine.
He took off his top, which was soaked through and flopped down onto the leather armchair, not caring about his wet trousers and socks. He turned the tv on, and reached out one arm to his right, not looking, but feeling the different bottles of alcohol available, choosing which one he wanted… He found some rum, and poured himself a glass, before downing it in one… It burned the back of his throat…
"I need to stop drinking so much…" He said, yet poured himself another.
A film was playing, yet he really wasn't paying attention to it. Instead he thought about what would be his next move, if he even had one. The lightning and thunder continued outside. With every clap the glass windows shook a little. After a few hours the tv signal went out, but he remained sitting in the chair, sipping on his drink thoughtfully, and watching the static.
The heating in the room was turned up high, and at one point his trousers began to steam, so they were all but dry now. He got up briefly and made himself a sandwich. He liked sandwiches… nice and straight forward. Despite being talented at cooking, he seldom made anything for himself. He sat back down in his chair as a clap of thunder rolled outside.
Harry turned his head, as after several seconds there was no strike of lightning. The thunder clapped again, and he realised that it was a knock at the door…
"My door…" he said to himself. "Who the hell could that be?" No one had ever knocked at his door. He didn't know anyone who would… Ron had visited before, but never unexpectedly, he never knocked…
And in this weather no less?
He looked down and realised he still had no top on. He quickly walked to his room where he opened the wardrobe door. He grabbed the first item of clothing available, which happened to be a tux, and shoved the sandwich in his mouth as he slid his arms into the sleeves, and then walked to the door looking slightly more presentable.
There, standing in his door way, was Hermione. Her clothes were soaked through, and clung to her slender body, revealing her curves.
"Hello Harry." she said as she gave him a quick appraisal. He was wearing a tux, yet not even a t shirt underneath it. Despite the fact he had often dreamed of opening the door to see her standing there, all he could say was.
"Hi…Come out of the rain." He turned and walked back into the living room leaving her to follow him in, and close the door.
"There is a gas fire over there." He said as he pointed at the wall, where there was a very slim line fireplace.
"That's ok." I have my wand, she said as she fumbled in her pocket.
"Suit yourself." He replied, before heading off to the bathroom, and returning a moment later with a fresh towel for her to dry her hair with. "I know you don't like to dry your hair with magic at least." He said with a small smile as she nodded and accepted it from him…
"Would you like something to eat?" I haven't really had the chance to do much shopping but I can make you a sandwich. The breads a bit stale, so you might want to pass. Or you can just have some marmite or something" He said as he rubbed his chin, thinking about what he still had in the cupboards.
"I will settle for a drink." She responded. "A hot drink that is." She added, ad he started walking to the table besides his chair.
The pair of them made small talk for a moment whilst they kettle boiled, and he prepared them a drink each. Hermione didn't know where to begin, and Harry didn't want it to end. As soon as he asked why she was here, she would dash his dreams, and leave all too soon, so he supposed the less he said, the longer she would stay. Maybe if he became a professional mime she would live with him?
"So, fancy this weather huh." He said with a small smile as they both sat down. "It's normally better than this. And my apartment isn't normally so messy." He added, as he glanced round, regretting that he hadn't been warned she would be arriving. There was a tv remote just lying on the table, and a magazine, still open on the arm of the chair.
"Um Harry. We need to talk." Hermione began, as she gave a sigh.
"I know. It wasn't my place to say what I did, and if you need to know about table arrangements to be honest I don't think I will be attending the wedding, so don't worry about trying to find me a place or anything."
"I'm pleased to hear you're not going." Hermione responded, gathering her courage. Harry was a little taken back by this. He appreciated that it might make things uncomfortable, but for her to say it as such was a little hurtful.
"Well to be honest I couldn't think of a gift to get." He retorted.
"That's not what I meant Harry. I meant I'm glad you're not going. If you were you would turn up and no one would be there. It would be a waste of your day."
"You mean… your not getting married?" Harry asked in disbelief. "What happened, was it something Adam said? A misunderstanding? If he thinks it's because I still love you that's ok…. I'm so over that now." He lied as he looked everywhere but at her.
"I'm not…" She said softly.
"Pardon." He asked, as his heart skipped a beat. "Come again."
"I know the truth Harry. My father told me everything, about what he had done, about why you left. It was because of him wasn't it."
Harry couldn't respond to this. He never wanted her to know the truth about her father. She cared so much for him, especially since she lost her moth, but now to loose her father as well. She deserved more than that.
"Tell me Harry, is that why you left? I need to know." She stared at him for several moments, waiting for an answer, before he gave a small nod.
As he did this, her eyes began to water. And she raised from her seat, and moved over to where he was sitting, she knelt down in front of him and reached out to take his face in her hands. His chin was warm, yet rough in her hands. He felt her cool, smooth hands, as she raised his gaze, so he was looking at her. She moved closer, until they were only a few inches apart.
"I forgive you Harry." She said, as tears rolled down her cheeks. She gave him a tender yet passionate kiss, which he returned. His eyes closed as he tried to savour the moment, not knowing if he would ever get a chance to kiss her again, as he was now.
"Will you forgive me Harry?" She asked worriedly, causing him to frown.
"Forgive you for what?"
"For doubting your love for me. For saying the mean things I did. It was so hard on me when you left, but it must have been worse for you. I'm so sorry Harry."
"You have nothing to be sorry for." He said, as he drew her closer to him, wrapping his arms around her, drawing her near, so he could steal away another kiss, her breasts pressing against his chest through her clothes.
The kiss drew out, becoming more passionate, and deeper. More than anything the power of their emotions, building up for years, was overwhelming, and Harry found his arms running up her back, wanting to increase the feeling of intimacy, to disperse with whatever it was that separated them, and just simply be Harry and Hermione, with nothing else. No complications, no worries. Just the two of them
Hermione broke the kiss, and stood to her feet. Harry worried she turn and leave, but instead she said with a reminiscent tone.
"Show me your bedroom Harry." As she said this he couldn't but help as a large grin spread across his face, and he knew that now, if not forever things were going to be perfect.
He took her hand, small in his and led her towards the bedroom.
"Just to clarify…" Harry said, as she pushed him onto his back, straddling him upon the bed. "You said there wasn't going to be a wedding. Does that mean your choosing me over Adam?" She smiled as she reached down and took hold of the sides of her top, before pulling it up and over her head, revealing a black bra with lacy trim. She reached round and unclipped the back
"Does that answer your question?" She asked, as he pulled her down on top of him."
One month later things were going well between them. Hermione had explained things on the phone to Adam, and although it had been upsetting for her, she reassured Harry that it was the choice she had wanted. Harry sold his apartment in Sydney, and moved in with Hermione. Her work load was much more manageable, and he also managed to secure a job at the ministry, which meant they could see each other on lunch breaks, which was an added bonus.
Harry smiled, as he looked at his desk. There was a pile of papers on one side, and a few folders on the other, but right in the middle was a card which read "Happy one month anniversary." It had made him smile several times that day, and knowing that Hermione had finished work early that day, to prepare a "special" meal, he couldn't wish for more. All in all he would say things were better than they had ever been.
He rocked back in his chair, the front two legs lifting off the floor. He glanced at the clock, which read it was coming up to six o'clock, which is when he was due to finish. He thought for a moment more, chewing on the end of his pen, before reaching over to the phone, and tapping in the number. It rung twice before Hermione picked up.
"Hello?" She enquired.
"Oh hi Mione, It's Harry." He said despite the fact she instantly recognised his voice. "I'm afraid I have a bit of bad news. Something urgent has come up at work, and I'm afraid it looks like I'm going to be a bit late home. I'm really sorry, I know how much effort you put into it." He said.
"Oh." Hermione said, a little disappointed. "Well I suppose it can't be helped. Try not to be to late though, or we might need to skip straight to desert." She added with a suggestive tone
"No I won't be too late, ok talk to you later love." He responded, before putting the phone down, sitting back in his chair, and doing absouletly nothing.