Author's Note: Liked the idea of a Marriage Law, so tried to give it my own take.
Oh and none of these people are mine….
What Might Have Been
Chapter Seventeen
By the time Harry made it to the large double doors that comprised the main entrance to Hogwart's, he was out of breath, his chest heaving, and his arm nearly numb. He stood momentarily in the vestibule, watching the staircases realign themselves, and wondering where she would have gone.
He began a slow, painful climb up to their common room, thinking that, if she was not there, he could at least retrieve the Marauder's Map and locate her that way.
The portrait hole posed him some problem, as he struggled to clamber through it, using only his left arm. He was seeing stars, with black haze around the edges of his vision, when he had finally made it through and closed the portrait hole behind him.
She was sitting on the sofa, staring into the unlit fireplace, absolutely still.
"Oh, honestly, Harry," she said, as he fought to stay upright and conscious. "Could you not at least go to the hospital wing first?" Her voice was distant.
"The reporters said - I didn't know what that meant - I thought it was just because - why didn't you tell me?" Harry said bleakly, struggling to find words.
"Harry, I didn't know!" she turned to face him then, and he could see the shiny paths of tears on her cheeks.
"But you knew after…didn't you?... when the ribbon didn't do anything," Harry persisted, not really meaning to sound accusatory. But Hermione would have researched every aspect of the wedding ceremony, he was sure.
"Yes…" she admitted faintly. Harry thrust his hands into his pockets, and appeared absorbed in his shoes. He remembered the look of complete shock on her face, when the ribbon had remained stationary around her wrist. He tried to imagine what it must be like to discover news like that in front of a crowd of people…to realize that they would all know what it meant too…to know that they would think terrible things about her.
"I'm sorry," Harry blurted idiotically. She shot him a sidelong glance, faint amusement flickering across her face.
"For what?" she said, smiling slightly.
"For …you know…that," he stammered. She looked at him then, and the full force of the emotion emanating from her brown eyes made him weak in the knees.
"I don't regret it, Harry. I just - I wish you - we hadn't found out that way - I wish - I wish everybody in the wizarding world wasn't going to find out about it by tomorrow."
"I'm sorry," he repeated, his brow creasing in sympathy. If he weren't the Boy Who Lived, she would not be the focus of all this attention.
"You shouldn't be sorry," she said, and turned back toward the fireplace.
"Hermione? Are you okay?" Harry asked, sidling a little more closely to her.
"It's just…a lot to process, that's all," she replied. "I wasn't planning on this quite so soon."
"I - "
"Please don't apologize again, Harry," Hermione said tremulously, a sad little laugh escaping her lips. Harry felt terrible. He was sure there was something that he should say, but he wasn't sure what.
Any brilliant inspiration he might have had was stopped by a scuffle at the portrait hole, as Ginny blundered through.
"There you two are," she said heartily. "Harry, haven't you got your arm fixed yet?"
"Er…right," he said, looking longingly at Hermione, "I was just going."
"You probably ought to see Madame Pomfrey too," Ginny said to Hermione, her face completely bland. Hermione looked at her almost angrily, but sighed.
"I suppose so," she said, and stood slowly from the sofa. "Did you see my parents?" she asked Ginny, who looked back at Hermione warily.
"They're…fine," she drew out slowly. "I did hear some yelling…from your dad…but I don't know how much Dumbledore told them." Harry watched as Hermione's face slowly burned a dull red.
"He's going to kill me," she said, in a quietly resigned voice.
"Hey," Harry said softly, stepping over to her side. "I know this wasn't on anybody's schedule, but… I'm - I'm not going anywhere. Maybe he'll kill me instead," Harry tried to joke, actually privately thinking that this was quite likely. His fingers stroked her back with the barest of touches.
"I don't want you to feel you have to stay…because of the - of the - the baby," Hermione said, her eyes filmed over with a sheen of tears.
"Hermione, I love you," he said, sincerity cracking his voice. "I took on the government because of you - because I love you. Do you really think that's changed now - just because you're going to have a baby?"
"I thought you took on the government because the law was wrong?" Hermione said, with a small half-smile, peering up at him through her lashes.
"Well, that's what I'm telling everybody else," Harry muttered. "Makes me look better."
Hermione laughed in spite of herself. Ginny pushed the portrait hole open, and ushered them out.
When they arrived at the hospital wing, they were separated by the tumult of people inside. Hermione was swept up in her mother's arms, and Harry was escorted over to a bed by Ginny, who skedaddled back out the door, while Madame Pomfrey forced him to swallow a number of digusting concoctions. He winced at the familiar discomfort that occurred as his bones began to knit themselves back together.
He watched Hermione talking to her mother, watched her mother brush tears off of her daughter's cheeks. He saw her father standing over both of them watchfully, and felt a knot of fear grow in his stomach. How much had Hermione told her parents? How much of the wedding ceremony had they understood?
He slid off of the bed, flexing and extending his arm experimentally, feeling only a slight twinge of soreness, and made his way over to the bed where Hermione was sitting. Madame Pomfrey was just starting to pull the curtains around the bed for privacy.
"Mr. Potter, if you'll excuse us…" the mediwitch said politely.
"I want to be here," Harry returned, feeling his insides quiver, "seeing as how I'm the baby's father." He heard the slight intake of breath, as Hermione's mother gasped at the outright admission of these unfamiliar words. Hermione smiled tentatively at him, and reached her hand out to thread her fingers through his.
"That's why Ron hit you?" her father asked. Harry swallowed.
"Yes, sir," he replied, wondering if Hermione's father was going to repeat the action.
"Can't say I blame him," Mr. Granger said gruffly.
"Neither do I … sir," Harry admitted truthfully. "I made a fool out of him at his own wedding," his eyes shifted downward, and he wondered if Ron would ever be able to feel friendship toward him again.
"Well, we appreciate what you've done…getting that marriage law revoked," Mrs. Granger put in, her eyes flashing anxiously up at her husband. Mr. Granger made a noncommittal noise, and glowered briefly at Harry, as if to say I am not finished with you yet.
Madame Pomfrey muttered an incantation under her breath, and her wand glowed a soft gold. She began to run it over Hermione, scanning her body. Hermione's fingers clenched tightly around Harry's.
Harry felt his heart somewhere around the region of his throat. Hermione's abdomen glowed briefly, and a small roll of parchment began to stream from the tip of Madame Pomfrey's wand. The mediwitch pulled it straight, and began to read it, occasionally nodding or making "mm-hm" noises.
"Madame Pomfrey?" Hermione said, finally, unable to stand it any longer.
"Everything looks just lovely, Miss Granger," Madame Pomfrey said. "You look to be about six weeks along…does that sound about right?"
Hermione nodded, but Harry blurted, "Six weeks and five days." Everyone looked at him in astonishment, and he added, somewhat defensively, "Well, it was the only - " But then he realized to whom he was speaking and what he was saying, and stopped. Hermione's eyes slid shut with embarrassment, and Harry turned brick red.
"I want to see you once a month for a checkup," Madame Pomfrey continued, her expression bland, but her eyes danced with suppressed laughter. "I'll give you a potion for nausea, just in case you need it, and you need to eat nutritiously and get plenty of sleep. I'll give you a note to give Professor Snape. There are certain potion ingredients that you should not be exposed to, while you're in this condition." Hermione looked slightly pained at something else to further antagonize Snape against one of the Golden Trio.
Madame Pomfrey consulted the parchment again, and eyed the young parents-to-be speculatively. "Do you want to know the gender?"
"Yes."
"No." Harry and Hermione said simultaneously. They exchanged glances.
"No."
"Yes." They reversed their answers, and spoke in unison again. Mrs. Granger made a snorting noise, and tried to make it sound as if she'd been clearing her throat.
"Do you want to find out?" Harry asked. Hermione shrugged one shoulder, and looked down at her hands, feeling oddly shy at discussing something like this.
"If you do," she murmured.
"But you said no first," he pointed out.
"Harry…" she protested, but Harry had already answered for them.
"We don't want to know," he said. Hermione felt tears pool in her eyes again at his casual use of the word "we".
Madame Pomfrey nodded, and concluded her examination of Hermione. "It looks like your due date will be around the eleventh of June." Harry and Hermione looked at each other.
"Five days after graduation," Harry observed, needlessly. They looked at each other again.
"I'll be able to finish school," Hermione said, slanting an odd, hopeful look up at her parents. "I'm sure I could take N.E.W.T.s a little early." There was still danger in Mr. Granger's eyes.
"Can I speak with you for a moment, Harry?" Mr. Granger said. "Outside?" Fear flared up in Harry's face, as he was steered toward the corridor. He knew he would get no quarter from Hermione's Muggle father, who didn't care who he was, only knowing that Harry had done unmentionable things to his daughter and gotten her pregnant.
"You are going to take responsibility for this child - your child?" Mr. Granger said.
Harry cleared his throat. "I should think that that was obvious…sir," he said, trying to gather some of the composure he'd had earlier that afternoon. I just overthrew the Minister of Magic, for Merlin's sake!
"How are you going to support this baby? Is Hermione going to be included in your plants?" The questions were rapid-fire. Harry thought of the towering piles of galleons in his vault at Gringotts, and had an urge to laugh, which he repressed.
"My parents….erm…left me - left me quite a lot of money, actually. I've inherited from my godfather as well - some money…and a house - two houses, really," he rambled, before noticing the look of surprise on Mr. Granger's face. He looked up at the older man earnestly. "Hermione won't have to work a day in her life, sir, unless she wants to…which she probably will."
"You love my daughter?" Mr. Granger asked, although it wasn't really in the tone of a question. Harry spoke without hesitation.
"More than anything in the world," he said, swinging his gaze up to meet Mr. Granger's. His face blazed suddenly with the conviction of his emotions, and Mr. Granger had to admit to himself that he was impressed. "I'd like to ask her to marry me…with your permission, of course," he added quickly. Harry wasn't going to take anything for granted, the fact that Hermione was pregnant notwithstanding. Mr. Granger regarded him solemnly for another moment, before nodding.
"I'm not saying that I like what happened, but you are both adults… and I believe you when you say you love her. That means a lot to me, Harry."
"She means a lot to me, sir," Harry said honestly, then amended, "She means everything to me." Mr. Granger laid a hand on his shoulder, and squeezed briefly, before going back into the hospital wing. Harry loitered around outside, finally deciding to climb up in the broad sill of a low window, overlooking the Hogwart's green. The canopy had been pulled down, and was lying in a sloppy, black-splotched heap on the grass. Chairs were flying into the air, and stacking themselves neatly, and Harry could see Mrs. Weasley directing the entire effort with her wand. He wondered guiltily how Mrs. Weasley felt about this latest turn of events, remembering the cold treatment Hermione had received from her their fourth year.
"I faced Voldemort down with you, and I still nearly pissed myself, when I had to `talk' with Hermione's dad," came Ron's voice from behind him. Harry started and looked warily at his best friend. Ron's hair was disheveled, and he was still in his wedding robes. His tie was undone, and hung askew around his neck, and his hands were shoved deeply into his pockets.
"He is a little scary," Harry admitted, smiling slightly. There was a long, awkward pause, while both boys struggled mightily to ignore the elephant in the room.
"Your arm fixed?" Ron finally said, evidently groping for something to say. Harry stretched out the indicated limb, as if for inspection.
"Good as new," he responded. More silence. Harry's rear end grew tired of sitting up on the stone of the window sill, so he hopped down, immediately regretting it, as this put him back to being several inches shorter than Ron. The silence seemed to stretch out ad infinitum, and Harry wondered if they were still going to be standing in this corridor silently when everyone went to breakfast tomorrow. "Hey!" he said suddenly, seizing on what Ron had said earlier. "You talked to Hermione's dad? When was that?"
Ron shrugged. "One of those nights you were in the library with Ginny, I reckon," he said, without malice. "She wanted me to meet them…you know, before the wedding. They weren't very keen on the idea of Hermione getting married at all, at her age." He gave Harry a sideways look. "Bet you're real high on their list now."
"Actually, I think they're okay with it," Harry mused. He looked at Ron hesitantly. "I asked her father for permission to - to marry her." Ron sighed.
"Figured you would," was all he said.
"Ron - " Harry began, but Ron interrupted him.
"What is it you want me to say, Harry?" Harry drew back, stung.
"You're the one who came up here and started talking," he retorted defensively.
"I was looking for Hermione," Ron shot back.
"She's in there!" Harry said furiously, flinging his arm in the direction of the door to the hospital wing. "Be my guest!"
"I just might!" Ron said, with biting inflection, purposely taking Harry's last statement the wrong way. Both of them froze, staring at each other, and Ron thought that he might have gone too far. In the next instant, Harry swung, and Ron found himself on the floor, with blood pouring from both nostrils.
Harry slowly lowered his clenched fist, breathing heavily. "Now we're even," he said levelly.
"I didn't break your nose!" Ron retorted, trying to stem the flow of blood with the sleeve of his dress robes.
"Yeah, but you knocked me down in front of hundreds of people. This makes us even," Harry said, without smiling, but a hint of laughter glinted in his eyes. He squatted down in front of Ron, putting them on the same eye level. "I love her. She's going to have my baby. I'm going to be a father," he looked as if he had a little trouble believing that. Ron winced at the truths coming so baldly out of Harry's mouth. "You are my best mate, and I'll never forget how you befriended me on the Express first year. But if you can't deal with this… then I'm really going to miss you." He stood, and offered Ron a hand up. "Don't make me choose."
Ron took Harry's hand, and pulled himself up. "The ribbon was supposed to tie itself into a bow, and vanish in a flash of light," he said. "When it didn't…I've never been so embarrassed in my life. I knew that Hermione didn't love me…but suddenly everyone there knew it too. And the Slytherins," Ron made a disgusted face, "are going around saying something about me being `cuckolded'. I didn't even know what that meant. I had to go look it up!" Ron threw his hands up in the air in frustration. "And you know what? They were right! I was!"
"Ron, it was an accident! I didn't know. Hermione says she didn't know. And if she suspected anything, she certainly wasn't telling." Harry sighed, and turned back toward the window. "She was so upset when Malfoy bought off the other contracts. But after you proposed, we didn't anymore - I swear."
Ron wrinkled up his nose. "That's what you were doing when you missed all those classes that day?" He found another dry spot on his sleeve and applied it to his nose, muttering, "Lucky bastard."
Harry took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose, grinning in spite of himself.
"You look knackered," Ron observed, laconically.
"It's been a long day," Harry admitted, his eyes alighting as he saw Hermione and her parents step out of the hospital wing. Ron saw the look on his face, and turned. When he saw Hermione, understanding washed across his countenance. "Ron, are you going to be okay?" he asked, with concern.
"Yeah," Ron replied, deliberately misunderstanding him. "I'm sure Madame Pomfrey can fix this right up." He looked at his dress robes and winced. "I hope this can be scourgified, or you can just bury me in these, because Mum'll have kittens."
Harry slanted a look at Ron that said I know what you're trying to do. Ron shrugged, as if to say, Yeah, well, what'd you expect? "Thanks," Harry finally said, with more emotion than was masculinely acceptable in his voice.
Ron looked at him gravely for a moment, and then waved away his gratitude with one hand, and disappeared inside the infirmary doors.
Hermione came immediately to Harry's side, taking his hand in hers, concern radiating from her chocolate eyes.
"Is he okay?" she asked, biting her lower lip. Harry was staring at the doors where Ron had vanished.
"I think he will be," he replied truthfully. "How are you?"
"Fine," she said, with some chagrin in her tone. "I'm going to be on all the front pages tomorrow. And I'm going to be the size of a house at graduation. But other than that, I'm fine." Harry opened his mouth, but Hermione pressed one hand against his lips. "Do not apologize, Harry Potter," she warned.
They walked her parents to the front doors of Hogwart's, where Dumbledore met them with a portkey for the Grangers. Mrs. Granger kissed Hermione good-bye, with an admonishment to let her know how everything was going. Mr. Granger kissed Hermione good-bye, and shook Harry's hand, giving him an appraising look. Harry felt like he'd been told that he got the job, but would be on probation for awhile.
"Headmaster," Harry ventured. "What happened after I - I left?" he asked.
"Cornelius Fudge has been taken into custody," Dumbledore replied. "There will be a vote tomorrow, and I believe that Amelia Bones will probably get the job."
Harry grinned, feeling gratified. He liked Madame Bones very much, and thought that she would be an honest and fair leader.
"What about the Death Eaters?" Dumbledore's face grew grave.
"The ones who were injured in the attack here have been apprehended, because they were left behind. There were several that escaped. Lucius Malfoy was unable to leave Azkaban Island. He has been apprehended as well. With these new charges against him, he may well receive the Kiss this time."
"They haven't found Draco?" Harry said, in more of a statement than a question.
Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "He was one of the attackers then?" Harry and Hermione nodded. "I suspected as much. Aurors have surveillance on his house. They're hoping he'll return when he hears that his mother has been arrested as well." Harry glanced protectively at Hermione. Malfoy's snarled words, This is not over, rang in his mind. He would feel much better when Draco had been located and jailed.
"I assume congratulations are in order?" Dumbledore said, changing the subject. Harry cleared his throat, and Hermione flushed a delicate pink.
"Yes sir," they both murmured.
"I trust that this will not negatively affect your studies," his voice was stern, and Hermione looked alarmed. But Harry did not miss the subtle twinkle present in the headmaster's blue eyes. He grinned, while Hermione hastened to outline her plan for completing her exams before the baby arrived.
At length, Professor Dumbledore bid them both good evening. "Perhaps you would rather take your evening meal in your common room, before…facing everyone tomorrow?" he asked knowingly. Harry sighed, remembering all the reporters at the wedding. His classmates would be just as bad, if not worse.
"Yes, thank you, Professor," Hermione accepted politely.
"Students will be coming down for dinner soon," the headmaster observed. He turned to go, and had nearly made it to the entrance to the Great Hall, when he looked back at them as if he'd forgotten something. "There is a reporter in the library that the Daily Prophet has commissioned to write a story about you, Harry." Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Dumbledore overrode him. "They are a newspaper, and you are newsworthy, Harry," he said, smiling. "I'm sure that the piece will meet with your approval before it is printed. However, she did have one question that needed to be asked and answered first."
Harry and Hermione exchanged baffled glances, as Dumbledore's eyes sparkled enigmatically.
"Have a good evening," was all the old wizard had to offer in parting.
Harry took Hermione's hand as they walked to the library.
"Harry?" Hermione said, tentatively. "Are you sure you're okay with this? I mean, I don't - I don't want to - to trap you or anything," her voice wavered uncertainly on the incriminating word. Harry laughed, and steered Hermione over to the side of the corridor, backing her into the wall, and standing very close.
"I have no memory of my parents," he said, looking steadily into her eyes. "I lived for ten years with people who loathed my existence. My godfather was killed because of me," Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but Harry shushed her. "I just found out today that I'm going to be a father." There was wonder in his voice. "You - you - are giving me what I always wanted - a family of my own. And I can hardly believe my good fortune," his voice had lowered to nearly a whisper, and he shyly laid his hand against her still-flat stomach.
Hermione swallowed hard against the knot in her throat, and laid her hand on top of his. "I love you, Harry Potter," she said hoarsely.
"I love you back," he said softly, kissing her gently on the lips. "Let's get married," he said, so casually that she thought she'd misheard him.
"What?" He grinned, and kissed her again. She felt her knees wobble.
"You heard me," he said impishly, but then turned serious. "Your father already gave his permission, Hermione. So, will you?" Hermione appeared stuck on his previous statement.
"You asked my father?" she said wonderingly. Harry leaned his forehead against hers.
"Answer the question," he said, growling in mock frustration.
"Of course I will," she said, barely audibly. The smile that spread across the face of the Boy Who Lived was brilliant, and he kissed her thoroughly, until the noise of students going to dinner drove them hastily into the library, which was almost empty.
Both of them scanned the quiet tables for someone who looked like a reporter, but they found only…
"Ginny?" Harry asked incredulously. Ginny grinned at them both, and put down her quill.
"I told the Prophet I could get them a front-page exclusive on you," she said, smiling cheekily, "and it wouldn't be sordid garbage like the other papers would print. I'm almost finished." She picked up her quill again, and poised it to write. "So," she asked, her eyes sparkling with anticipation, "did you ask her yet?"
TBC
Some much deserved fluff for our beleaguered couple! One chapter to go, and probably a shorter epilogue!
Hope you enjoyed it!
Oh, and I haven't forgotten about "Isle of Mists", but after I discovered a quite embarrassing mistake, wherein I'd mixed up my two stories (it's fixed now), I decided to wait and finish this one, since it's almost done, and then concentrate fully on "Isle". Thanks for your patience!
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