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 Four
Hermione went back to her own bedroom, trying to ignore the way her heart was pounding like a drum. Her limbs felt weak and wobbly, and she was amazed that just a few kisses could do that to a person.
And it was Harry….of all people, after all this time…she thought, shaking her head in amazement. She had loved him for a long time, but had never even received the slightest inkling that he felt the same way. But after that…on the train…surely he must…she remembered thinking in bewilderment as they ate their first meal back at Hogwart's. Well, there certainly wasn't any doubt in her mind now.
She crawled into her bed, pulling the downy covers up to her chin, and snuggled down into her pillows, floating back to sleep with a smile playing across her face.
The healer flicked her eyes toward the door, when she entered, and Hermione immediately understood. She reluctantly unwound her hand from Harry's, and began to edge toward the door, over Harry's weak protest.
"I'll just be outside," she promised him, as one of his arms lolled over the edge of the bed in a feeble attempt to reach her. She felt tears sting the backs of her eyelids. He was so tired; it broke her heart to see him so drained, so empty…and he had done it for them all.
"He's going to be fine, Miss Granger," the healer said warmly. Hermione started vaguely at the friendliness in her voice, and then belatedly remembered that she was famous too. "His magical strength has been completely sapped, though, I'm afraid. I don't think he could even do a Lumos spell right now. After I finish the examination, he'll need to rest again."
Hermione nodded, biting her lip, before she exited into the corridor. Ron was wandering aimlessly up and down the corridor, looking miles and miles away. His left arm was cradled up next to his body, his shoulder obviously immobilized with a Sticking charm that only his Healer could remove. He straightened immediately when he saw her, his eyes becoming quickly alert.
"How is he?" he asked, as if he feared the worst. Hermione's face crumpled, even as she tried to smile. Tears that she had bitten back rushed down her cheeks.
"He's going to be fine!" she burst out, after scaring Ron to death, and fell into his embrace.
"Hey, hey, easy!" Ron warned, leery of further injury. He patted her on the back gently, as her sobs subsided. "So, he's okay, then?" Hermione sniffed and nodded, dashing one hand across her eyes. "Thank Merlin," Ron muttered under his breath, with fervent emotion.
Sunlight was streaming in her window, when next Hermione opened her eyes. She was startled to see a pair of green eyes quite close to her own, and jumped violently.
Harry misinterpreted her surprise, and said, somewhat defensively, "You didn't ward your door." Hermione smiled, and stretched her arms out to him for an embrace and a kiss, feeling suddenly bold.
"No, I'm quite sure it's warded," she said matter-of-factly, as he brushed her mouth with a kiss.
"I just came right through there - " he argued, gesturing back toward her open doorway.
"It's not warded against you," she said quickly, her words tumbling over his. He stopped and looked at her in wonder, until Hermione blushed and looked down, thinking that perhaps she'd assumed too much.
After a moment, though, a grin spread across Harry's features.
"Really?" he asked. She pulled his forehead down to hers, and kissed him lightly on the lips again.
"Really," she affirmed, and smiled at the pleasure he had at the trust she placed in him. He had sat down on the edge of the bed, and was softly caressing her fingers with his own.
"So how come you were stalking me?" she asked playfully. Harry blushed.
"It's time for breakfast," he said, shyly. "I was about to wake you up, but… but you looked so…happy…" he shrugged, a little apologetically. "I was just enjoying it."
"I was dreaming," Hermione admitted.
"About what?" She fluttered a look at him up through her lashes.
"You," she said, softly, and the simple reply went through Harry like a bolt of lightning.
They stared at each other, quite contentedly, for another moment or so, when Harry suddenly remembered their task for that day.
"So," he said, clearing his throat, and garnering a more serious look on his features, "when are we going to tell Ron?"
"I dunno," Hermione answered, looking a little anxious. "On the one hand, I suppose there's no time like the present. But…but maybe we should wait until we're alone with him, and not do it in the Great Hall at breakfast."
"You're starting to make me nervous," Harry said, running one hand jaggedly through his already messy hair. "Is he going to really get upset?" He paused, and looked at her, a note of jealousy in his voice, "Does he still fancy you?"
"No, of course not," Hermione began, speaking rapidly.
"Then why are you so worried?" Harry countered. Hermione faltered, looking uncertain.
"Well, it hasn't been that long since he asked, after all," Hermione said, trying to sound offhand. "And you know how Ron gets…he'll think we won't want him around anymore, and he'll get all weird and self-conscious around us…and he'll - "
Harry put two fingers over her lips, stemming the rising tide of words.
"He's our friend, Hermione," he said. "Of course he'll want us to be happy. And of course, we'll still want him around." Perhaps saying the words will make it true, he thought.
Hermione looked skeptical in the face of Harry's optimism.
"If you say so," she sounded thoroughly unconvinced.
"We'll talk to him after breakfast, before we go to classes," he said, with the finality of a decision made in his voice. He kissed her again, then moved across the room, turning at her door to smile at her, and say, "See you down in the Common room."
She gazed at him for a moment, wondering at the happiness on his face, before she saw it…that lurking shadow of grief that darkened his green eyes. Still there, she mused, and wondered if it would be permanent in all of them.
Harry must have read some of what she was thinking on her face, because he winked at her, in a don't worry about me sort of way, and disappeared down the stairs.
"The prisoner is sentenced to life in Azkaban," the austere witch intoned solemnly, reading from the slip of paper through a pince-nez. A shocked murmur rippled around the room, causing the judge to call for order several times.
Harry felt himself instinctively stiffen in a burst of outrage. How had Lucius Malfoy managed to escape being given the Kiss? He had broken out of Azkaban once already, fought openly on the side of Voldemort, killed at least 18 people, including Percy Weasley…and somehow…somehow…
Ron was sitting next to him, silent, but ears red with rage, his lips pressed into a thin, tight line. Mrs. Weasley sat on the other side of Ron, still, wooden, dabbing a handkerchief to the tears streaming down her cheeks. She made no sound, but clutched tightly onto Mr. Weasley's hand.
Harry could see the white-blond, elegantly coiffed hair of Narcissa Malfoy down on the front row, as she shuddered and began to sob delicately into a lacy hanky. Draco, seated next to her, patted her on the back and was gently hushing her. Harry felt his gorge rise. After Bellatrix Lestrange had been given the Kiss, Harry felt sure that Lucius would…but no, somehow the oily patrician had eluded justice once again.
Lucius Malfoy's handsome, but malevolent, face was turned toward him, but Harry soon realized that the older man was not looking at him, but to his right. He glanced quickly beside him, and was disturbed to find that Malfoy senior was looking at…
Hermione.
Somehow this bothered Harry very badly. He stretched one arm along the back of Hermione's chair, and leaned to whisper something in her ear, making sure to maneuver into Lucius' field of vision.
Harm Hermione, and you will deal with me, was his unspoken message.
Lucius lifted his chin and one corner of his mouth twitched, as if in acknowledgment of a challenge.
Harry was mostly silent on the way down to the Great Hall, mulling over the uncomfortable memory. He wasn't sure why he had thought of that now, but it had not yet failed to put him in a foul mood. He had mentioned it to Ron, but not to Hermione, and his best mate had seemed mildly concerned, but confident that the possibility of Lucius Malfoy hurting Hermione from Azkaban was slim.
"They'll lock him down the cellar of Azkaban," Ron had said assertively. "He'll not see the light of day again."
"Harry, what's wrong?" Hermione asked in concern, slipping one hand into his.
"Just thinking…'bout Lucius Malfoy," Harry mumbled. Hermione arched her eyebrows in surprise.
"Harry, the war is over," Hermione said gently, trying not to sound patronizing. "You can relax now. Nobody's plotting against you."
"What about you?" he blurted, before he could catch himself.
"Or me either," Hermione replied, puzzled.
Harry ran one hand through his hair, and heaved a shuddering sigh. He suddenly seemed very far away.
"It seems like that is the only way of life I've ever known. I don't know if I can let down my guard… I don't think I know how." He looked at her then, and his green eyes were shining with guilt. "I keep thinking, maybe…maybe if I had done something differently, other people might have survived."
He saw anger flare up in Hermione's brown eyes, much like it had in the hospital wing, when he said that it was all his fault. She squeezed his hand tightly.
"You didn't start this war," she said, beginning a litany that was familiar to Harry, yet still comforting, "Voldemort did. Let the blame fall on his head, not yours. If you hadn't been there, nobody would have stopped him, and he… the killing …" she trailed off, as they both saw, without actually seeing, visions from their nightmares.
"I know," Harry finally said, the words pulled from him with difficulty. He managed a half-smile at her, and mouthed the words "Thank you," as they dropped hands, and entered the Great Hall.
Ron was already there, shoveling food in his mouth at tremendous speeds.
"Morning," he said, thickly. "Didn't think I'd beat you lot down here." Harry and Hermione's glances ricocheted off of each other, and they both flushed, remembering the night before.
Ron paused in his ravenous quest, and glanced at them, his eyes narrowing in thought.
"You two look like you've just been -" Harry's eyes widened in a kind of panic, but he was saved from response by the entry of dozens of owls, carrying the morning mail. Harry had a small envelope, which he was delighted to find, was a letter from Remus.
Ron, Ginny, and Neville all had packages, containing personal items that they had forgotten to pack and bring to school.
Three scrolls bounced down in front of Hermione, each sealed officiously with the Ministry's crest. Harry noticed absently that scrolls were delivered to a handful of other students as well.
He was in the process of opening his letter from Professor Lupin, shredding the envelope disgracefully, when Hermione broke the first seal, and opened the scroll. She paled visibly, and Harry watched with growing concern. Her hands were quite obviously trembling, as she picked up the second scroll.
Instinctively, Harry looked up to the staff table. The headmaster was looking at the Gryffindor table gravely, as the Head Girl reached for the third scroll, visibly distraught.
"Hermione?" Harry said softly, a growing knot of dread in his stomach, "What's going on?"
TBC
Ahhh…the fluffiness before the storm!
Come on and review. Make this pathetic author's day!
Hope to have chapter 5 up this weekend, when I get back!
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