Again, special thanks to my beta-reader, Aurabolt. Really, I feel that I should mention him in all my chapters because I cannot have made this story without him. And thank you, reviewers! I'm so overwhelmed. It's just so shocking (but pleasantly so) to wake up and find all these review alerts lined up in my inbox. Truly, I've never gotten so much in one go! You readers are the best.
Standard disclaimers apply.
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Chapter Ten - Examine the Truth
In which the truth struggles to set them free.
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The following day at the Ministry had Hermione staring at the pigeonhole again.
It was disconcerting, really. Up until she reached her office, she had been daydreaming about Harry in the fireplace, confessing his love for her. Now, faced with the reality that the key-that key!-was within reach, she realized she had to get her bushy brown head out of the clouds and into the reality that was her obsessive life.
The key to the Leabharlann Ársa Runa.
The library of all libraries.
To her at least.
Children dreamed of Disneyland; she dreamed of Runic Libraries.
What's a nerd like her to do?
She would be writing a proposal that morning asking Lysander to support her Elf Laws, and when she had it prepared, she would have to give it to him. For the proposal to make any impression at all, she had to speak to him, face to face, primarily to tell him that whatever happened the last time they met has nothing to do with this worthy cause. She would go to the library, use the key to summon him and there she would serve the proposal up. Of course, it was perfectly natural if she perused the shelves of the library before she summoned him…
Shite. I don't even believe that dribble.
She rubbed delicately at her temples, easing the ache creeping into her skull.
When the ache eased, she stubbornly sat on her desk and furtively wrote her proposal. She alternated between work and her proposal, which was rather naughty of her, but considering the emotional investment she had made for S.P.E.W. and everything that went with it, she wasn't about to put things off another second.
She was so completely engrossed in her task that she hadn't noticed the time, yet again, until Harry peeked over her books and startled her.
Given the stealthy nature of her proposal writing, she gave a sharp yelp, almost overturning her ink bottle in her guilt.
"Harry! G-Goodness!"
He chuckled. "Well, don't you look like you got caught with your hand in the cookie jar?"
She reddened, briskly reorganizing the papers on her desk. "Whatever do you mean, Harry?"
"You look very cute when you're breaking some kind of rule."
She reddened even more. "Is that why you always asked me to bail you out of trouble?"
"Oh, most definitely!" he replied, charming smile at its best.
Hermione tried not to drool all over herself seeing it.
Reorganizing her thoughts, she put her papers away, wordlessly charming her proposal pages to seem insignificant and not worth anyone's perusal. Transeo! she thought, casually waving her wand.
As she rose from her desk, Harry shot her a funny look.
She blinked. "What?"
He looked pointedly at the papers on her desk, then at her, before saying, "Nothing. So, where are we going to have lunch today?"
He knows I've charmed something! she thought with a slight chill. These were the kinds of things one couldn't get past Harry. There was a reason he was predictably on the rise in his department; he was just such a natural at his job.
"There's a nice little Korean place just off the Leaky Cauldron…"
They headed out of the WizCOF and out of the Ministry, discussing mundane things and laughing lightly over her visit to Hogwarts the night before.
It was when they were seated, picking at their kimchi when Harry popped the question.
No, not that question; a different one.
"So, what's so important with those papers on your desk that you don't want anyone to think they were interesting enough to read?" He moved his chopsticks to open and close in his grasp.
Blast it all! He even knew I used a Transeo! Surprise me, will he? Well, two can play at that game!
"Well, what was so important about Mundungus that you had to pull Hit Wizard duties when an Auror has no business doing so?"
He grinned. She grinned back.
"I asked first," he said.
"Woman's prerogative not to answer a question she deems inappropriate."
His eyebrow arched looking vastly amused. "Oh? Inappropriate she says! Now I'm really interested."
She laughed, raising her own chopsticks to fend off his that were suddenly attempting to clip her nose. "You answer my question and I'll answer yours."
He smiled. "Shacklebolt's such a traitor. I asked him nicely not to tell you. I knew you'd be displeased."
"Yes, because Hit Wizard duties can be every bit as dangerous as Auror duties and you, taking on danger someone else is supposed to deal with is like you jumping into a burning house to save someone when there are firemen all over the place."
"It wasn't that bad," he said, picking at some flavored seaweed. "Old Dung is generally harmless."
"Old Dung is a dirty crook who once tried to hex Arthur Weasley when Arthur's back was turned."
Harry scoffed. "Like Dung could ever get away with something like that with me. At any rate, I just didn't want anyone there forgetting that he was pivotal to the destruction of Voldemort. He gave us that horcrux, Hermione, because he had decided, just that once, that it was the right thing to do, and because of that, we had one less of Voldemort's soul to deal with. If Voldemort had gotten hold of that locket, he may have been too powerful that day we fought him and you might be-I might not have been able to save you."
She smiled gently, noticing the break in his sentence. She knew Harry pulling Hit Wizard to deal with Dung himself had something to do with the horcrux, she hadn't realized that he had appreciated Mundungus's gesture so much because it just might have saved her life. "I think you would have been able to save me still, Harry."
"I don't want to think about what might have happened if Voldemort had just been the slightest bit stronger."
"You would've come through for me. You always do." And she did believe in what she said, wholeheartedly.
He shrugged.
What a marvelous man he was, more so because he didn't know it.
"And now it's your turn to tell," he said. "What were you writing when I caught you at it?"
She blushed. "Proposal," she said, hoping he would take it at face value.
Harry wasn't fooled. "For what?"
"Elves."
"Oh, doing personal stuff while at work. Granger, I'm surprised at you!"
He looked anything but disapproving and Hermione almost breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn't going to ask details. He wasn't.
"So what new proposal have you come up with now?" he asked. "I believe you haven't gone into maternity benefits yet."
Oh, Merlin, he's going into details. Why, of all times, did he have to be interested now?
Because he knows you're guilty of something. The auror in him can practically smell it.
Well, wait a minute… what do I have to be guilty for? This proposal is for a worthy cause! I have an obligation to set aside my personal issues with Lysander to get the help I need. It's just business!
Harry doesn't like Lysander, you know it, and by associating with Lysander, you feel like you're betraying Harry. Kind of like associating with Draco Malfoy…
It is NOT the same as associating with Malfoy! Malfoy is an evil little bugger whose twisted ideals represent everything I, Harry and the side of good stands against.
And Lysander is…?
A flirt; a rich man who's just too used to getting whatever he wants with money and irresistible charm. A man who's after me and someone Harry simply doesn't approve of for some reason.
He tried to buy you with a bag.
He came over to the Ministry to apologize for it. He now knows it was a mistake.
Harry hates him anyway.
And why should Harry dictate the men I go out with?
Because his opinion matters to you.
Well then, that's just dandy. Lysander's perfect, if a little misguided… Harry's just going to have to give the man a second chance, because by God, Lysander can really help the cause! I just know he can!
Hermione snapped momentarily out of her thoughts. She caught Harry gazing at her curiously. She reddened.
"I… " she swallowed. "I'm writing a proposal to Lysander. I'm asking his support to lobby for Elf Laws in Higher Legislation. Cecily Ackwater told me she'd get the majority votes necessary in the Legislative Committee to elevate my proposals if I can get Lysander to help me push for a two-thirds plus one vote in the Enactment Committee."
Harry stared at her, frozen by her words.
Desperately, she went on. "Cecily said I can get the two-thirds plus one vote with Lysander behind me. And if it gets passed in EnCom, it will be up for Final Formulation. Harry, this is the farthest I've ever aspired since I set up S.P.E.W. Don't you see? When before I could hardly get someone in the LegCom to accept my proposals in their dockets, now I'm looking at a possible Final Formulation! Harry…"
He breathed, and she couldn't tell exactly what he was thinking, but she had seen that look on his eyes before; when long ago, he was raging to go to the Department of Mysteries to save Sirius and she was pleading him to reconsider. His eyes on her were cold.
"I thought you didn't want to have anything to do with him, anymore," he said in an even tone.
"On a personal level," she said. "This is business."
"And what's in it for him? What would compel him to give his support?"
"Well, there are a number of incentives, of course, mostly financial and the like. It's not a lot, but he's a decent man-"
"Decent man? You don't know anything about him."
"I know that in the past five hundred years, they have a flawless record of business dealings-"
"That doesn't tell you anything about him. That just means he's good at making money while he's sleeping with the right government people. I'm talking about what kind of person he is."
Disgruntled by Harry's terminologies, she frowned. "That's all beside the point. I will give him this proposal and we will see how it works out. Ultimately, if he asks for too much, I cannot work with him. Are we understanding each other here?"
Harry's gaze didn't waver and they stared at one another, waiting for one or the other to blink first.
She did.
Dammit!
Harry finally pulled his gaze away, but he looked as displeased as ever. "You're going to meet with him when you give him this proposal, I assume."
"Yes, of course I will."
"I can accompany you."
She frowned. "I can do this by myself, thank you."
"You can, but I'd like to offer my support. I am a member of S.P.E.W., aren't I?"
"Could've fooled me!" she shot back. "Knitted any hats, lately?"
He wasn't the least bit moved. "Hermione, I don't trust that man. I can't exactly explain why, yet, but I have a bad feeling about him. If anything, you're always one of the first to weigh out my hunches. You don't have to listen to me now, but you're most welcome to disprove me. I want you to disprove me, just so I don't have to worry about you getting in way over your head with Athanasius."
"Harry, this is ridicul-"
"Remember Malfoy? Sixth year. I was right about him!"
Hermione gaped at him, mildly shocked at Harry's forthright manner. Of course, one of the things she loved about her relationship with Harry was trust and honesty, but until now, she was the one who was being brutally honest with him. She hadn't realized how difficult it was to be on the other end.
She remembered Malfoy, and sixth year and every sordid detail about it. It was the year she thought she was losing Harry, and Ron and everyone. And in her effort to grasp at straws, she had failed Harry in the worse way.
Sixth year and Lysander were completely unrelated, of course, but Harry was pushing all the wrong buttons.
I can't deal with this right now.
Regaining her poise, she clamped her mouth shut and narrowed her gaze. She put down her chopsticks and started to gather her things.
He sighed. "Hermione, where are you going?"
"Away. I am going away. I can't-it's a little too-I will go back to the ministry, grab a sandwich and work. I can't understand why I'm obsessing about you and Lysander getting along, anyway. It's not like its necessary for the Elf proposals-"
Harry scowled. "I don't want to get along with that bastard!"
"Yes, well…"
He sighed, frustrated and perhaps a little sorry. "Hermione, please don't go. Look, I'll shut up about it, alright? I'll do anything, just don't leave. I missed having you at the house, you know, and I just want to have lunch with my best friend. Please?"
He wasn't smiling, but he was pulling out all the big guns. That pleading look on his face that she was yet to resist, the entreaties, declarations that he'd missed her… it was all designed for her to give in. She wished Harry weren't so good at this.
What in the world am I doing, huh? I'm walking out on Harry because we're fighting about Lysander?
Ridiculous.
She relaxed on her seat, sighing. Everything about the conversation that had pulled her taut eased away as she looked into his beautiful green gaze. "I don't like fighting with you, Harry."
He seemed terribly relieved. "My feelings, exactly. The last time we did, I didn't sleep very well."
"Neither did I," she muttered.
"That fight was about Lysander too, you know."
She frowned. "Harry…" she said in a warning tone.
He put his hands up in surrender. "Fine, fine…"
The food came, and Harry tossed some cubes of butter on the hot surface of the cooking pan before laying out the strips of beef on it.
Hermione watched him, amused at the easy way he worked the meat and vegetables, as if he had been doing it all his life. In retrospect, he had. Living with the Dursleys had taught him how to cook, if nothing else.
Harry did his share of the cooking in the house, and he seemed to like it, but he didn't do it all the time, so she suspected it had more to do with pleasing her and Ron than pleasing himself, which is why she tried to do the cooking as much as she could.
As the beef cooked and the wonderful aroma wafted between them, he smiled at her from across the hot pot. "I'm going to see Ginny today."
Why? Why do I keep doing this to myself?
Hermione shoveled some rice into her rice bowl, waving away some of the smoke from the cooking meat and muttering a charm on her hair to keep the smell of Korean hot pot from sticking to it. "Date?"
He seemed surprised at her assumption. "Oh, nothing like that. She owled me this morning; told me she was dropping by the Ministry to see her father; asked me if we could talk. I owled her back and told her it was a good idea."
Yes, a good idea. A good idea if you want to take a knife and stab it through my heart.
She smiled. "Good time as any to start catching up, I suppose." She gestured for him to give her his rice bowl so she could fill it.
He gave her the bowl. "Hermione, if I wanted to 'catch up' with Ginny, I'd ask her out to dinner. There isn't going to be any real catching up today between us."
Hermione could almost hear the fast paced ba-da-bump of her heart. He's not going back to her. Oh, but Merlin, is it so very evil of me to be-well-relieved about that?
"S-So-" She cleared her throat, cursing herself inwardly for her crumbling poise. "So you… and-err-Ginny…?"
He shook his head. "I've talked to Ron about it, remember? I promised him I'd talk to Ginny about it soon; how she and I… well, it's not going to work anymore."
She nodded. Suddenly, she wasn't sure what to say. "I'm sorry. For you both, I mean. If it hadn't been for the war, you and she… well, it might have been different."
His lowered gaze met hers. "Perhaps a bit too different than I would've liked."
What in God's name does that mean? she wondered, giving his rice bowl over with a questioning look.
He merely smiled. "Anyway, after lunch, d'you think you can spare a few minutes shopping with me? I-well, after I talk to Ginny, I'd like to give her a parting gift. You know… she and I had something special after all, however brief."
As much as jumping off a bridge would've been easier for her, Hermione couldn't help but be impressed. "Well, that's right classy of you, Harry."
"Are you being snarky or do you really mean that?"
She rolled her eyes. "I mean it, silly. Now I'll just have to go with you to make sure you don't botch it up by buying her something stupid like a salad bowl."
He reached out to give her hand a grateful squeeze. "Thank you, but I've got the gift figured out, see."
"Oh? Let's hear it, then. Lord knows I can do with a few laughs."
He shot her a warning glance, though his eyes were alight. "You'll see. I'm sure it'll be ready when we get there. And I don't think you'll be laughing, either."
That's for sure, she thought somewhat bitterly. Parting gift or not, it was still a gift to a woman who wasn't her.
Isn't there some kind of award for when you help the love of your life buy a gift for his ex-girlfriend?
Yes, there is. It's called: Canonization.
Saint Hermione stifled a sigh and began to eat her lunch.
Sad thing was she wasn't even Catholic.
00000000000000000000
Harry Potter noticed Gail looking past him and over his shoulder as they sat face to face on their joined desks. He turned to follow her gaze and saw that it was Ginny at the door of the Auror Department.
Ginny certainly was quite the distraction. Standing at a tall five feet and nine inches, flaming red hair luscious against her milky, slightly freckled skin, she was much more beautiful now than she was during his sixth year.
Everyone was looking at her; admiring her, and Harry had to admit that he couldn't blame anyone for it at all.
But what had him sighing and dreaming before now felt strangely…
Unfulfilling, he thought somewhat regretfully.
Ginny Weasley, gorgeous, fiery and oh, so attractive, was now just a sweet memory in his mind.
It wasn't the least bit fair to compare Ginny to Hermione. They were, after all, two completely different people with qualities contradicting in almost everything.
Where Ginny was athletic, Hermione was cerebral; where Ginny was the epitome of femininity, Hermione was the picture of sophistication; where Ginny had been learning her spells…
Hermione was fighting beside me in the war… died for me… came back to life.
It was not fair. No woman should ever have to compete with something like that, but Ginny had been a part of his life, and Hermione was… right now, she was his everything.
"Merlin, what a lovely woman," said Gail softly. "And oh, Potter, I think she's headed this way! Oh, dear… she's smiling at you!"
"Relax," said Harry, pulling his drawer open to take out a wrapped package. "I know her. Hullo, Ginny!"
Ginny's brilliant smile could have lit up the room. "Hullo, Harry. It's been a while, hasn't it?" She gave him a hug.
He smiled, pulling away from her in a deliberate attempt to mark the distance between them. He gestured to Gail. "Ginny, this is Gail Coppercane. She's my partner."
Ginny nodded, extending a hand. "Nice to meet you. I'm Ginny Weasley."
Gail shook the offered hand. "Arthur Weasley's…?"
"My dad."
"Why, of course he is! I should've known by the hair. I met your brothers the other day."
"Which ones?"
"The twin ones."
"We're not all like them, you know," said Ginny with a chuckle.
"Really? I was rather hoping you were!"
Ginny's eyes rolled, as they always did when someone got her started on the discussion of her family, but it never meant she was disgusted of them. In fact, it meant the exact opposite of that, just that Ginny didn't want anyone realizing how soft she was on her brothers. Harry recognized the tell-tale signs of Gail's uncanny talent to get everyone (well, most of everyone. Some of the effect has worn off with Harry) in a good mood.
"We'd love to stay and chat, Gail," said Harry, leading Ginny away. "But Ginny and I have to talk."
"Fine," harrumphed Gail. "But don't be too long, Potter! I can't cover your arse all afternoon, you know."
"Yes, yes."
Ginny waved to Gail over her shoulder as she followed Harry out of the offices and down the hallways. The entire time, he had his hands shoved into the pockets of his trousers, growing nervous at each passing moment.
Wordlessly, Harry let them to the in-house coffee shop. Ginny sat across from him on the small round table and made herself comfortable.
People were staring at her again. She really was quite beautiful, and the red hair made her extremely noticeable.
She leaned over the table, coffee mugs between them, and smiled, the eager anticipation in her eyes doubling Harry's anxiety. It never occurred to him that this talk wouldn't end well, and perhaps he should expect the worse. This was Ginny, for goodness sake, and if anyone in the remote vicinity saw him get bat-bogeyed, he'd have to work on regaining his credibility as an auror for the next six months.
"You look good, Harry," she said.
Steady, captain. Just remember how to counter a bat-bogey and you can save yourself the humiliation, he thought with an inward wince.
"Thanks," he said, muddling over whether he should return the compliment, as doing so might give her the wrong idea. "I'm well taken cared of."
The tragedy of it was he hadn't even planned on making remote insinuations, but there it was, tumbling out of his lips.
Predictably, a slight frown puckered Ginny's lips. Whether it was because of the insinuation that someone was there to take care of him or whether it was because he didn't reciprocate with a, "You look gorgeous as always, Ginny," he couldn't tell. He'd leave it to her to tell him.
"You've been busy these past few months?" she asked.
It made Harry realize that she just might have grown past casting bat-bogey hexes. Still, there was no harm in staying alert.
So they exchanged quite a bit of small talk, trying to get past the awkwardness that had festered between them in the past two and a half years. She told him how she had been and asked him how he was doing.
She never asked about Hermione, which was strange, and, Harry thought, a bit annoying, but he kept telling himself that this was not something to dwell on.
He concentrated on the present thread of conversation.
Ginny had just left Hogwarts, and she was in the midst of pursuing a career. Her smile was tinged with something when she brought it up.
"I was thinking I'd round up dragons with Charlie in Romania," she said.
Harry thought this quite fascinating and he grinned. "Well, that's exciting, isn't it? I'd take the opportunity, if I were you."
She paused for a bit. "Then… then again, there's Gringotts, right here in London. Bill would help me get a position if I asked him for it… in case I decided to stay…"
Warning bells rang in Harry's brain. Uh-oh. Here it comes.
"Do I have reason to stay, Harry?"
And there they were; at the talk.
Harry looked down at his coffee with a soft sigh. "I'm not a reason, Ginny. Not anymore."
Just like that, he had said it.
He tensed for a moment, ready to spring a shield against her bat-bogey hex. But the hex didn't come.
"I'm guessing," she said softly, "that you're not actually afraid Voldemort's ghost will come and harm me because I'm your girlfriend."
He looked up at her, meeting her eyes. He shook his head. "No. Nothing like that."
She took a deep breath, turning a swizzle stick between her fingers. "I was afraid you'd outgrow me, Harry, but I suppose I was prepared for it. Still hurts, though."
He was mildly surprised that she had partially understood, but while out-growing her was one of the reasons he couldn't go back to Ginny, the other reasons were far more compelling.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't plan it this way. When I broke up with you back then, I really thought-I thought we'd have a chance to try again in the future."
She nodded with noticeable effort. "Me, too. A girl doesn't just fall in love with the savior of the world and be expected to move on like he was just some notch on her belt…"
"I'm sorry," he said again, truly meaning it this time. He honestly never thought about it as being "in love". What he had with Ginny was so special, but he thought he was too young then to be "in love". He was sixteen; what did he know about it? And what did she know about it, come to that? Now he was nineteen, and he still didn't know a blessed thing, except that he was in love; had been in love; to the one woman who wouldn't love him anymore than a best friend would. He therefore understood exactly where Ginny was coming from, and he wished she didn't have to feel that way.
"I-" she began, hesitated, then went on. "I think I knew the exact time I lost you, Harry."
"Ginny, don't-"
"It's fine, Harry. I need to get this out of my system. Will you give me that, at least?"
He sighed, nodding.
"It was at the start of the school year, your seventh," she said, watching him for any sign that he understood.
He didn't. He waited and she went on.
"First Quidditch match of the year. Gryffindor against the Slytherins."
He knew in a second and understood it to its full context. She didn't need to explain any further, but he let her.
"Hermione received the news about her parents," she said softly. "Right there, on the Quidditch Pitch. McGonagall pulled her to the side of the stands and told her. You didn't know what news McGonagall brought then; nobody did, but I suppose you saw it on her face. You were supposed to be looking for the snitch-in the storm-but you saw nothing but her face, and you saw-"
"Her pain. I saw her pain."
Ginny nodded. "She rushed out of there so quickly and you… you just followed, Harry. One of the few things you enjoyed during your life with-with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named in the background was Quidditch and beating the Slytherins. When you saw Hermione run away, suddenly nothing else mattered. You left the pitch; left us without a Seeker and we lost that game. But you didn't care."
"I didn't," he admitted softly.
That day he followed Hermione off the Quidditch Pitch, everything else surrounding his life had melted away, except for how much she meant to him, and how her pain was for him to help her bear. He found out later that McGonagall had wanted to deliver the news to Hermione in the castle, but Hermione had seen the look on the Headmistress's face and had demanded to be told.
He remembered passing McGonagall on the stands as he rushed after her and heard the good Headmistress's voice pleading, "Help her, please!" through the howling of the wind.
Hermione had been running through the rain, hysterical as she fought wind and water to get back to the castle across the fields. He had used his Firebolt to catch up with her, and when he did, he had to hold her tight to keep her from getting away.
He had taken her into his arms, held her even when she tried to bat him away, but he was firm, and he wouldn't let her go off alone, not in her state.
Harry had never heard such wounded sobs from anyone before, and to hear it from Hermione had been beyond intense.
She cried in his arms then, giving up the struggle to get away from him. Huddled in his Quidditch cloaks, she told him her parents had been killed; their clinic attacked by Death Eaters; that they were gone.
Harry remembered how, right then, with Hermione sobbing in his arms, he promised that every single Death Eater was going to pay for taking so much from her. Perhaps back then, he already knew he would be there for her, because the both of them only had each other left, but the threat of Voldemort always put his future planning on the back burner.
But that moment had been different; that moment he was thinking that he would be there for her for as long as he was alive. Amidst the despair, there was a brief instance where he swore to take care of her beyond Voldemort; a whisper of something better. Maybe it was a good omen, and suddenly, he had something-someone-to live for after the war.
Ron arrived a bit later, lending his own comfort to her. The boy with the emotional range of a teaspoon had shown surprising sensitivity when he let her cry on his shoulder, and maybe in that instance, Ron realized something as well.
"Hermione, let Harry take you to the castle. I'll go on ahead and fix your common room for you. Do you want anything from Madam Pomfrey?" Ron had said. He had been referring to the Head Tower's common room and Harry had marveled at Ron's self-possession in the face of this crisis.
"No… please. I just want you and Harry to be with me…" she had whispered.
"Alright. We'll take care of you, then," he said. It was the first and last time Ron placed a kiss on Hermione's forehead. Such loving care that Harry hadn't failed to notice.
Ron then gave Hermione over to Harry and Harry tucked her securely in his cloak. He held her tight as he took her on the Firebolt. He kept the speed easy so as not to scare her and Ron went on ahead as promised.
They kept her company in her common room that weekend and for some reason, they didn't see a peep of Ernie McMillan, Head Boy, in the next seven days.
Ron confessed to Harry later that he had threatened Ernie with a good old fashioned beating if Ernie upset Hermione with so much as a careless look. The Head Boy had apparently opted to disappear completely, lest he unwittingly disrupt Hermione's mourning.
Harry pulled himself back to the present, feeling a suspicious liquidity in his eyes as he remembered just how badly Hermione had taken her parents' death, and how she recovered because he and Ron loved her well enough to carry her through, and because she had been strong enough to want to get better.
"That's when I knew I lost you, Harry," Ginny said, breaking through his reminiscence. "Whether I lost you to her… I wasn't sure, but I understood just how different our paths would be, right then, and how she would be on your path with you. If you want me to put it bluntly Harry… how could I compete? She-Merlin, she was going to bloody save the world with you, Harry. None of us girls stood a chance in hell."
He felt the heat rise in his cheeks. She had hit the nail right on the head a second time. "It's not just that, Ginny. There are other… simpler things about her; hundreds of them…"
She said nothing, and Harry felt like hitting himself for being so insensitive. But he supposed it had to be said. He didn't want anyone thinking that Hermione's heroism was all there was to his love for her, although it was no small thing, either. But it was her other special qualities that made him cherish her so much. It wasn't just that Hermione was the Girl Who Helped Him Fight Voldemort, it was also because she was The Girl whose smile made him feel everything was going to be alright, or The Girl who worried for Ron when he was out late, or The Girl whose unwavering loyalty made her stand by him in the face of opposition, though it would be that same loyalty which would compel her to tell him that he was in the wrong, and so on, and so forth.
"It's the simple things that make it last, after all," said Ginny after a while.
He nodded.
They fell silent, and everything that needed to be said had been said. There hadn't been any hexing, which said a lot about Ginny. She'd grown more than he had given her credit for, he supposed, but it was like she said: they had gone on different paths, and he was on a path she'd never understand quite as well as Hermione, or Ron, does.
"I have something for you," he said, reaching into his robe for the present he had bought her. He set it gently on the table and Ginny's surprise was evident.
"R-Really, Harry," she said. "You didn't have to…"
"What we had was important to me," he said. "I'd want you to have this; to make you understand."
She took the small parcel, unwrapping it daintily. She opened the box and a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips. She brought out its contents and she let out a breath, touched by the gentle friendship spell that went with it.
It was a charm bracelet in white, yellow and red gold, and it was spelled to express the friendship the giver had for her. She looked over the charms attached to the chain, chuckling as she understood the meaning of each one.
There was a quaffle, a flower, the Roman numeral six, and a bat. She giggled at the bat.
"It's lovely, Harry. Thank you," she said, slipping the bracelet on. "And it's a Truth Teller, too, isn't it?"
He nodded. "Tells you exactly how I feel about you. Just this one time, though. It wouldn't do to have you know how I feel all the time."
"No, it wouldn't." She smiled, leaning back on her seat.
For the first time in almost two and a half years, the silence between them was finally comfortable.
Ginny looked up at the ministry clock. "I think I've kept you long enough. Gail would disapprove."
Harry recognized his cue. "Have my neck on a block if I abandon her."
They stood.
Ginny gave him a warm embrace goodbye. "Good luck, Harry. Give my love to Ron and Hermione. I haven't seen either of them in ages, and the git calls himself my brother."
He embraced her back. "I will."
She kissed him on the cheek and stepped away.
He watched her walk off for a brief moment before he headed back to his department.
That day, Ginny accepted two things: One, that Harry Potter would find happiness with someone else; and two, the job in Romania.
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Fitfully harassed with all the work she was putting in that day, Hermione thought she could take a moment to enjoy nonsensical conversation with her two zany bosses. She sat down with them at tea, pushing aside the clutter of evidence so they could talk on the long table.
She never thought talking about nothing could be so enjoyable. No wonder Archibald and Heartcomb did it all the time.
When the tea had gone cold, Hermione went back to her desk, put in the finishing touches to her WizCOF work and submitted them to Heartcomb for checking.
Heartcomb was pleased. "Good work, Granger. I think that's about all for today. You may go home."
It was about five in the afternoon and Hermione marveled at how early she thought that was. She thought about what she would do with all her spare time that day and decided she would finish her proposal in the Ministry Library.
When she packed up her work things, her gaze once more fell on the pigeonhole.
She was surprised to feel little to no guilt about it.
She wasn't hiding anything from Harry anymore. She had told him her plans to speak to Lysander and while that conversation hadn't gone very well, she was glad she didn't have to feel wretched about meeting with the billionaire.
Hermione took the key to the Leabharlann Ársa Runa with her as she left the office.
The proposal was almost done when she sat in the Ministry Library. It didn't take more than two hours to put in the last of the details, and after she had refined her work with document spells, she gathered her things and headed to the Auror Department.
She was going to bid Harry goodbye, as she decided she wasn't going to blindside him and go meet Lysander without telling him about it. She wasn't looking forward to the impending argument they would be having, but she didn't like the feeling of sneaking around behind Harry's back. If he insisted on coming with her, then she would just have to employ every means necessary to keep him from following.
As it turned out, Harry wasn't in. Remus told her he had been sent out to King's Cross where a Death Eater sighting had been reported.
Hermione sighed. "Well then, can you give him a message for me?"
"Certainly, Hermione," said Remus in his kind, accommodating way.
"Please tell him I'll be meeting with Lysander tonight and that he is not to worry. Tell him not to look for me or go into a conniption fit. I will be home before ten and I would appreciate it if he doesn't chew my head off when I get there."
Remus chuckled. "Let's hope he doesn't kill the messenger."
She grinned. "That's why I told you. Harry'll have no choice but to treat you with respect, and he'd even listen to you if you tell him I'm a big girl and can take care of myself." She arched her eyebrow as she said this, hoping Remus would get the hint.
Remus did. "He might listen. I make no promises."
"No promises asked. Thank you, Remus."
He nodded and saw her off to the fireplaces.
With her conscience cleared, she happily made her way to the Leabharlann Ársa Runa.
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The library was supposed to be open when Hermione got there, seeing as she was within hours, but the gates were slid shut, and she wondered if the library was on some kind of special holiday. She thought about turning back, but she remembered Lysander telling her that she could have access to the library at her own convenience, whatever the hour. She used the key.
Turning the lock, the gates magically slid open and the door glowed invitingly. Apparently, library admittance was more exclusive than she realized.
When she stepped through the doors, she felt the wards allowing her to pass through before closing her in again. Crossing the threshold from the dimly lit reception hall, the candles flickered to life on their own, lighting the place up entirely for her.
The library was made of dark stone and bright torches. It reminded her a bit of Hogwarts, except there were floors and floors of shelves and books, spinning round like a corkscrew with a complement of tables, chairs and couches set in the middle.
Stone monuments of sleeping kings in full armor were set against the mighty columns. On the windows were tapestries depicting battles, pilgrimages, clansmen dancing with their clanswomen between Beltan fires and burning pines amidst the snow during Winter Solstice.
A ghost floated in from above the crisscrossing rafters; his red tartan and kilt the only color to his phantasmal form. He had a mane of dark hair spilling down his shoulders and his eyes were sunken in, but he didn't look scary at all. In fact, he looked very kind.
"Welcome to the Leabharlann Ársa Runa," he said in a dignified tone. His English had a slight Scottish accent, but his Irish Gaelic was perfect. "I am Lord Feargan Gilleasbaig Eircheard Mac a'Bhaird*, Clan Laird of the clan Mac a'Bhaird and present Keeper of the Tomes in this fine collection. Is this your first time here?"
She smiled, liking this ghost instantly. "Yes, m'lord. I'm Hermione Granger and it's a pleasure to meet you."
He inclined his head. "Then you will come this way so we can begin our brief tour."
When he turned, Hermione had to stifle a horrified cry when she saw the gaping cavern of a wound on the back of his head. It looked like someone had hit him with a jackhammer; probably a disgruntled clansman.
Trying to keep her eyes away from his brains, she followed her tour guide. He very proficiently explained the main sections in the library. He then asked her if she was familiar with runes, a polite way to ask her if she could read them. She answered that yes, she was fluent in runes, and that seemed to please him immensely. He ushered her to the other half of the library that extended farther than the building appeared to accommodate. They were the runic books, and there were thousands and thousands of them.
Hermione gazed upon the rows and rows in wondrous delight.
"The books in these three rows," said Lord Mac a'Bhaird, gesturing to the three nearest, "may be taken out of the library. We expect you to return them, of course."
Her jaw dropped and she looked at him. "You're shit-er-you're kidding me, right?"
"Noo, Ms. Granger. I'm no' shittin' y'." He smiled, dropping his dignified diction for his more natural Highland drawl.
She giggled, walking into the first row to look the books over. She let her fingers run on the spines, the embossed runes forming words in her mind.
"Brilliant," she whispered.
Lord Mac a'Bhaird nodded. "Indeed. If you decide to venture further, Ms. Granger, know that those books cannot be checked out without proper clearance."
Hermione nodded, sliding a book out of the shelf reverently.
"Way up there," said the lord, pointing to the higher floors, "are the ancient runic spells. Mostly indecipherable, you understand, but if you're up to the challenge…"
"One challenge at a time, m'lord," she said softly, as if increasing the volume of her voice would blow the dream away. She opened the book, barely paying attention to Lord Mac a'Bhaird, and began to read.
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"She said what?" asked Harry, the rush of blood to his face spreading warmth over his eyes. It wasn't anger, exactly, but a great deal of annoyance. He told her he would go with her. But no, she had to go do it by herself in her own stubborn fashion!
Remus didn't even look up from the documents he was perusing. "She said she'll be meeting Mr. Lysander and that you are not to go looking for her or to go into a conniption fit. She'll be home before ten so you shouldn't worry."
Harry pursed his lips. She planned this, the sneak! She let Remus deliver the message so the man can talk me out of going right after her! And she knows I can't ever be angry at Remus. Sneaky… but brilliant.
He was, however, unable to hold back making an explosively frustrated gesture with his arms. "Argh! I can't believe she went and met with him behind my back!"
Remus cleared his throat. "Technically, she's not doing it behind your back. The fact that she told you means she doesn't want to do it on the sly. Just that it seems she'd much rather do this by herself."
Harry growled. "Do you-do you see what this man is doing to her? He's drawing her away from me! He's-"
"Harry," Remus interrupted in a kind voice. "If you're so concerned about anyone taking her away from you, might I suggest you talk to her about it?"
Harry stared at him incredulously, hustling Remus to a more private corner of the office. "You know I can't do that."
Remus shot him a disapproving look. "You love her, don't you?"
"Well, I-"
"Don't you?"
Harry saw the serious expression on Remus's face. "Yes. More than anyone or anything."
"Then listen to me. If what you feel for her is true, then you have to tell her, and when you do, you'd have to… you'd have to be willing to let her go, Harry. You can't keep doing this to her, and you can't keep doing this to yourself."
Harry's felt a spasm in his chest. He blinked hard, hoping to erase Remus's words from his mind, but it was useless. "Remus… I-I don't think I can do that. I don't think I'm strong enough…"
Remus cocked him an understanding smile. He clapped Harry's shoulder supportively. "I think you are. You've dealt with worse, haven't you?"
Harry shook his head stubbornly. "I think I'd rather be done in by Voldemort."
"Too late for that, I'm afraid. Chap's a bit too under the weather to do anyone any harm anymore."
Harry should've found that funny but he was feeling a bit too beside himself right now. Remus was absolutely right, and the mere thought that he just might lose Hermione that night made him sick, because he did have to talk to her after what Remus said.
He couldn't go on this way; loving her when she didn't know it; keeping her away from men who might make her happy. It was either he spent the rest of his life hurting himself for loving her from a distance or telling her and letting the fates take over. If he was lucky, they could find their friendship again, after the awkwardness wore off. They could even be best friends, again.
Fancy a miracle, Potter? She may even love you back.
He dared not think more on it.
Oh, but that look in her eyes last night, when she was hundreds of miles away from you…
Could've been the fire. Lights play tricks.
He closed his eyes and took a deep, calming breath. He didn't want to think about it anymore.
Looking at his watch, he saw the time. "Home before ten," he muttered. It was a while yet. It was only eight.
What the hell am I going to do until then?
His eyes fell on the pile at his desk and he realized exactly what he needed to do.
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Hermione forgot the time.
She quite simply forgot the time as she piled unrestricted runic books around her on one of the library tables and read. It was almost like a time-warp, the way she never noticed how two hours had passed her by. One minute she was opening a book about the duality of Arithmantic charts and then the next minute she had gotten through sixty pages of Gaelic runes.
Her watch said it was nearing nine. If she wanted to get home before ten, she had to speak to Lysander soon.
Her headache made its presence known again.
Another reason to get all this over with.
She was just going over this thought when she saw none other than Lysander Athanasius walking to her from the entrance of the library. He was carrying an old, worn-out book. Maybe he was returning something. Or maybe it was another cover-story, like the scarf. She certainly didn't summon him.
Sir Mac a'Bhaird was just then bowing away from him.
She arched an eyebrow at Lysander's approaching form and he dealt her an amused grin.
While she didn't exactly feel like smiling back, she couldn't help but look a bit amused herself.
"Buying a scarf for your mother?" she said as he reached her.
He chuckled, pulling up a chair beside her and taking a seat. He looked relaxed in his expensive white linen shirt and beige chinos. This was a new look for him, but it wasn't unpleasant.
The way he looked at her made her blush and she tried to keep her composure.
"Interesting look you've got going there," she said as casually as she could. "Missed work today, did you?"
"I thought I'd kick back a bit. Try out this thing they call… relaxing."
"And how's that going?"
"Boring. I don't see what the fuss is all about."
She laughed softly and realized she was getting too comfortable. She touched her fingers to her proposal, as if to draw discipline from it. "Mr. Athanasius-"
"Damn," he whispered. "And I thought you weren't upset with me anymore."
Hermione arched an eyebrow. "Oh, I still am. You should've known better than to give me that bag and I shudder at the possible thoughts you had of me when you decided to give it."
He cocked a smile. "Makes me shudder too, honestly."
His tone definitely suggested that his shuddering hadn't been the least bit unpleasant. It made her feel heady and it irked her that she couldn't control herself completely whenever he was near.
Damn him! she thought bitterly. It's almost as if he's casting some sort of spell! She frowned. "Mr. Athanasius, let me make my intentions for meeting you here perfectly clear. I have a proposal."
"Oh, you know I like those."
She glared at him but failed miserably at coming across as annoyed.
He raised his hands, letting her speak.
She handed him the scroll and he took it, unrolling it to give it a quick read.
He began to smile. "You're asking for my support. You're… trusting me…"
She nodded in as businesslike a way as possible. "Yes. I do trust you, Mr. Athanasius. For the cause, you understand. I wouldn't have asked for your help otherwise. Some people are more blessed than others, so it is for us graced with the capacity to help to actually do something with what we have. You are a kind and decent man, Mr. Athanasius, in spite of your little foibles and frolics with unassuming women."
He chuckled at this and she could have sworn there was a hint of mockery in his eyes, like he thought she made too much of him.
She went on. "But I meant what I said the other day, and I was upset. I wasn't just playing coy. What you did-"
Lysander shrugged, not looking the least bit bothered. "Was a mistake. It won't happen again."
"I won't let it happen again." She knew he wasn't stupid. She couldn't have more than a business relationship with him, but if she had to spell it out, she would, just so there wasn't any confusion between them.
He smiled faintly. He rolled the proposal and took out his wand. Tossing the scroll in the air, he cast a charm and the roll disappeared. Putting his wand aside, he took the book he was carrying earlier and opened it to the first page.
"Do you know what this is?" he asked.
Arching her eyebrow, she shook her head. She saw the cover. It had some markings on it that made no sense to her.
"It's one of the first-ever written thesis; about… well, it has a little about oppression and racism and… slavery, you might call it."
Intrigued, Hermione leaned over, listening.
"There's a foreword," he said. "I've always found it moving."
She remained silent. The melodic quality of his voice was hypnotic, and she felt her heart pounding in response.
"Do you want me to read it to you?"
"Y-Yes, please."
He read from the book. "'I am ashamed that the color of your skin fills me with fear. I am mortified that my fear of change keeps my eyes closed. I am terrified that my blindness has kept me from learning. I have learned that all that stands between me and you is my ignorance.' Eileithyia Athanasius, wife of Isidore Athanasius. They were my ancestors, and they spoke the Language better than I ever did."
"What language…?"
He gave her the book. "The book is about five hundred years old. Preservation charms around it abound, and I've kept it by me since I was a child. I am lending it to you."
She looked at it. It was in a language she didn't recognize in the least.
Her brows knotted. "What is it?"
He smiled. "You will be able to read it soon enough."
"But-"
"Trust me. You already do, anyway."
She fell silent, drowning in his gaze.
He stared at her for Hermione didn't know how long, and when she felt the touch of his hand on hers, she didn't flinch away.
"I can give you what you want, Hermione," he said softly. "You just have to let me."
She frowned ever so slightly. "And how do you know what I want, Lysander? You don't know a thing about me."
"I do know something about you. Not a lot, but enough. You are lonely, not because you're alone, but because the man you love doesn't love you in return."
The truth hit her like a sledgehammer to the gut. It was almost like she felt physical pain at his words. "You don't know that he doesn't!"
"I can read it in your eyes."
She trembled at what seemed like an imaginary draft running down her spine.
"You just want him to love you, don't you?" he asked.
She glared at him with grim determination, but before she could stop herself, words tumbled out of her mouth. "It's too much to ask of him."
"Love isn't asked for. It's given. I can give you that."
Hermione shook her head, as if to block out his voice. "It only works if it's given both ways, Lysander. You don't give it and expect something in return."
He smiled. "Oh, but we do expect, don't we? Which is why it hurts so much when we get nothing."
She gritted her teeth, half-incensed that he had her caught in this conversation. "What do you mean-"
"I'm laying it out in the open, Hermione. I can love you in any way you want; give you anything you ask; provide for you in every way you require, but I will expect something; the promise that you'll be there when I need you."
"There is absolutely nothing that you can give me to agree to-"
He smiled. "I am not talking about material things, Hermione. Since that day we met at the Ministry, tell me how I've made you feel."
She reddened. "I absolutely will not-"
"Tell me."
His voice was terribly persuasive in its soft insistence.
She swallowed. "Like I was wanted."
"You were."
"Like I was beautiful."
"You are."
"Like I was-"
"The only thing that mattered to me." The hushed quality of his tone filled her senses. It was almost like a perfume. Sweet; insistent; intoxicating.
The warmth she derived from his words gave her pleasure for the briefest moment, but then it began to horrify her, and she wasn't sure why. She tried to resist him; tried to say no, but she couldn't. A headache pounded through her head and she pulled away physically, but the distance couldn't be marked.
He cocked a smile. "You fascinate me, Hermione Jane Granger, and that's the absolute truth. I can make you feel that way every blessed day of your life, for as long as you want me to. I can't promise that you'll learn to love me, you know, but as far as substitutes go, I'd say I'm not all that bad."
She opened her mouth to protest and his fingers gently stilled her lips.
"You do not like that I use the word substitute, but that's what I, and every man you think to replace him with, will be. Face it, Hermione, every man after Harry Potter will be nothing more than a replacement to you. A dummy you can direct your affections to."
"That's-that's almost obscene," she whispered in a tremulous voice.
"Almost, but not quite."
She shook, not certain about the feelings he stirred in her at all.
Temptation.
I want what he has to offer.
No. No, you don't. You're drugged.
I'm lonely. Is it so bad to let him give you company?
Perhaps not…
Gathering her materials, she pushed herself away from him, not even bothering to organize everything in her bag as she scooped her things in it.
"I have to go," she said hurriedly. "I can't stay here. It's late."
Lysander watched her wordlessly, making no move to get in her way.
Frantically, she snatched her bag and muttered a quick goodbye to him.
Sir Mac a'Bhaird met her at the door.
"I must go, Sir Mac a'Bhaird."
He nodded. "Very good, madam. Shall we see you again?"
For a second, she nonsensically wondered who else was there to expect her. "I-I don't know."
"Then it would be a welcome surprise," he said. "Good evening to you."
She nodded, hurrying out the library, through the doors and back out into Muggle London.
She wasted no time to find a secluded spot, and waving her wand, she apparated herself to Grimmauld Place while echoes of Lysander's voice whispered in her head.
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Pronunciation guide:
Feargun Gilleasbaig Eircheard Mac a'Bhaird - FERgun giLESpik ERchart MakBEE