Author's note: Well, wasn't that tiring! Some even found it tedious. So sorry about that, but life is such! Time to tie up loose ends now!
Thanks again, Aurabolt. You know you kick ass, right? You know you do!
Standard disclaimers apply.
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Chapter Seventeen - Coalescing in Convalescence
In which I bet you can't say the title of the chapter quickly and several times without tripping your tongue.
Or
In which a parade of people pay Hermione a visit.
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Harry leaned over the bed, taking Hermione's hand as she slept peacefully on the hospital bed. She had not been allowed to wake since her ordeal the previous night and while Harry knew she was merely sedated, he couldn't help but feel a bit uncomfortable watching her this way. It was too reminiscent of her coma.
On a nearby chair, Ron gave a snort in his sleep. His chin was tucked into his chest, arms crossed over him. His long legs took up half the room outstretched from his chair. How he managed to find sleep in such an uncomfortable position, Harry didn't know.
That was one thing about Ron. No one could touch him for his resilience.
Harry had found sleep two hours at a time throughout the night. He was tired, but he was worried, too. He simply couldn't sleep all the way through, and every time he woke up, he had to remind himself that this time, Hermione was asleep; that she was resting; that they had induced sleep on her so that she would recover from her many broken bones and multiple lacerations.
He sighed. He wanted badly to talk to her.
When he was watching it all happen, he was half-stunned at what she was being made to endure and half-angry that she chose to endure it alone. He remembered thinking, Good Lord, he's hurting her! He's torturing her! I-I couldn't even stand to see her get a sunburn! Good GOD, how could he? How could he… I'M GOING TO KILL HIM! And then he was so angry that everything started to blow up around Lysander. It did no good at harming the smarmy elf, though. Whatever the git was using, it was impenetrable, so Harry wasn't exactly able to do him any harm.
He had never felt so helpless in his life.
The anger, the concern, the love; it was all a mix inside him right now. He thought maybe taking his anger out on someone would be very therapeutic.
He looked surreptitiously at the book on the bedside table and had a barrage of nasty thoughts. Burn it. Shred it. Throw it into a volcano! Or better yet… He had a strong impulse to reach into the damn thing, get his hands on Lysander and physically beat the man to death, but seeing as it had taken the very angry Defeater of Voldemort, the Defeater's sidekick, a very determined Elven familiar to-be and a cat-kneazle hybrid to contain him with lots of Elven magic, Harry had to admit that he can't take on Lysander alone right now.
In retrospect, Harry had had seven and a half years to practice defeating Voldemort completely. Lysander might be a tad trickier considering he wasn't even of the same species.
Harry sighed, pulling off his glasses as he closed his eyes. Lightly, he massaged the bridge of his nose.
Sure, he was angry, but he supposed his relief at having her alive off-set all that. Besides, it was because he loved her like a fool that he wanted to yell at her for putting herself in that much danger.
When some of the ache behind his eyes ebbed, he put his glasses back on and glanced at his watch. It was half past eight in the morning.
Ron gave off a mighty snore and Harry frowned.
Bloke's going to wake up the dead.
Harry was just about to cast a silencio on him when he felt a light pressure from Hermione's hand. He looked and saw her blinking languorously. She seemed somewhat annoyed, but he'd be too if he woke up and most of his body was immobilized by spells.
He gave her a plaintive smile, reaching up to tuck some of her hair behind her ear. "Hullo."
"Tell me you caught the driver of the lorry that ran me over," she muttered grumpily.
Harry thought maybe Ron's snarkiness was catching. She certainly didn't get it from him… much. "He got away from us. Oh, by the way, you caught a Dark Wizard. But that's neither here nor there. Thirsty, love?"
Hermione stared at him impassively, probably deciding if he had gone nutters or if he was just being drier than an Englishman in the Sahara Desert. "I can just about do with a stiff Ogden's right now…"
He didn't even blink. "We're fresh out. How about some water?"
"That'll do."
He stood to go to her bedside table where there was a pewter of water and a goblet. He poured her some, chilled it very slightly with a spell and conjured a straw from a plastic swizzle stick on the coffee tray. Carefully, he brought up the upper half of the hospital bed to get her to a sitting position before gently sticking the straw into her mouth. She couldn't move much of anything except her face and fingers; probably her toes.
"This is humiliating," she muttered through the straw as Harry cast a summoning spell for the healer. "A few hours ago I was putting away a Dark Wizard and now I can't even drink water without my boyfriend having to shove a straw in my mouth. I'm not even going to ask what I have to do to go pee! And oh, wonderful! I'm in these dreadful hospital robes. Cow-dung brown, too! Really, why didn't they just go in for the kill and shave all my hair off?"
He arched an eyebrow, more amused than he cared to admit. "My, my, my… haven't had your morphine fix today, have you?"
She scowled. "I can't move, I hurt and I feel disgusting!"
"The pain would be from the broken bones. You have a lot of them, which is why they've got you completely immobilized. That disgusting feeling would be because of the dried blood in your hair and body. It does tend to feel a bit ripe after a while."
The healer arrived and scanned Hermione over with his wand. He asked routine questions and summoned a few potions for her to take immediately. He did nothing to improve the state of her mobility and when he left, Hermione had no affection for him.
Ron slept through the entire thing, snorting every once in a while and giggling once. He seemed to be enjoying his sleep.
Harry saw to her medication, lining up the potions and making her drink every single one in all their awful tasting glory.
He gave her more water to wash down the taste. "That'll teach you to go fighting Dark Wizards all by yourself," he muttered, earning him a fierce scowl as he held the cup and straw to her mouth.
He did not let his gaze waver, just so she understood how seriously pissed he was.
She moved her gaze from him first. It was all she could do because she couldn't exactly turn her head away. "I know you're angry."
"Somehow, angry doesn't cover it right now, but be that as it may, I love you too much to yell at you in your fragile state. I'll yell later. For now, we talk."
She sighed, and she had the grace to go all red in the face. "Where's the book?"
Harry lifted his chin towards it. "On the table beside you. It's safe. D'you want to explain to me everything that happened? Luna can only tell me so much. She isn't exactly fluent in Elvish unlike some people I know."
She lifted an eyebrow. "Luna? Luna Lovegood?"
"Yes. She works in the ministry, you know. Unspeakable."
"Naturally," Hermione grumbled with a roll of her eyes.
Harry frowned. "If it wasn't for Luna, I wouldn't have known how to fight him and help you. She may be batty, but she came through when we most needed her." He had given Luna's early retreat a lot of thought, too. He realized that Luna hadn't been running away from danger, she had simply used her foresight. With him and Ron protected, Lysander couldn't use them to force Hermione to give in to the binding, but if Luna showed up with them, no protection spell around her, Lysander could have used Luna for the same purpose. Knowing Hermione, she wouldn't let anyone suffer for her; not even old Loony Lovegood.
Hermione sighed again, closing her eyes to collect herself before reopening them. "I'm not disparaging her, Harry… alright, maybe I am, but that's just a bad habit from school. I didn't mean to be rude. I'm sure she was helpful to you. Sorry."
He smiled wanly, mollified. "That's alright. I wasn't very polite to her either when she first showed up. And let's not even talk about Ron's charming good manners. I've been going to the Department of Mysteries in the past few weeks consulting with her about Lysander, but she cast a dedisco on me, so it was only last night I remembered she was the Unspeakable I've been-well, speaking to."
"Did I just hear you right, Potter? You've been checking up on Lysander?"
He shot her a superior smirk. "For weeks now. Since he came to the Ministry kissing your arse. I hate to tell you this but…" He grinned, basking in triumph.
She glared at him. "Say it then, and get it over with."
"Ha! Get it over with? My dear, lovely, beautiful Hermione… this is stellar moment that ought to be cherished and drawn out for everything it's worth. In fact, I think I'm going to wake up Ron. He has a right to share this moment with me."
"Harry," she said in a dangerously calm voice. "I swear to you, if you push me far enough, I'm warding you out of my room in Grimmauld Place until you grovel for a month for me to let you back in."
Harry suddenly didn't feel all that triumphant anymore. Nothing-and he meant nothing was worth the punishment of being barred from Hermione's bedroom… ever.
"Alright fine," he muttered. "I told you so."
It was not as satisfying, having been bulldozed into saying it. Officially, Hermione was still the title holder for the best I-told-you-sos in history.
In all fairness, she didn't look too glad about anything either.
"You were right about him, of course," she said rather grudgingly. Hermione Granger never liked getting beaten to the punch. "There was something seriously wrong with him. You weren't sure what but I hadn't a clue, either. If the binding process hadn't spelled me to understand Elvish I never would have found out. And if Lysander hadn't wanted me to find out… well, I don't think I would've realized anything until it was too late."
Harry began digging the toes of his trainers on the stone floor, his eyebrows knotting. "You mean you only began to ask questions because he wanted you to?"
That was rather hard on his ego. He thought maybe their being together had managed to sever any influence Lysander may have had on her. He truly believed that in spite of what Remus had told him that Saturday he came in for auror duties. Maybe he hadn't been strong enough.
"Oh, Harry," she said in a soft voice. "It wasn't because you fell short on anything. Lysander was using strong Elven binding magic which he had been preparing for me for months. He had his grip on me the moment I ran into him at the Ministry. He used a very subtle spell then. It made me resistant to any objections you or anyone may have about him from the very beginning. Later, the spell progressed into something more defensive. It actively made me evasive of answering your questions pertaining to Lysander…"
"I noticed," he grumbled.
"And then I fell into his trap," she continued rather miserably. "It was so stupid! But it was such a clever trap he laid… he got me to exchange gifts of value with him, Harry. It didn't seal my fate, but it initiated the binding ritual and put me in that awful situation on the roof..."
Harry felt just a bit like she had kicked him in the nuts. "What gifts did you exchange?"
She reddened. "He gave me that key to the library…"
That surprised him. "But you gave him back that key!"
"He sent it over again," she muttered. "And he made it so that it would be imperative that I use it. I'm still trying to figure out if Cecily Ackwater was a plant in his grand scheme of things. I'm thinking she was in on his plans. Without her, I wouldn't have thought about presenting a proposal to him and meeting with him about it. The key was convenient to summon him for that meeting, of course, but I… well, I couldn't resist those books…" She bit her lip, looking at him like she had committed a grave, unforgivable crime and that she was sorry for it.
Harry sighed. There was nothing to forgive. They were books, for goodness sake. It was probably the library of her dreams! And even he didn't think there could be harm in opening a book full of ancient wisdom. Lysander had lured her brilliantly.
"And what did you give him that was so valuable to him?" he asked, rather afraid of the answer.
She lowered her gaze. "My trust. I gave him my trust. I believed in him, if only for a while. I trusted that he could get my Elf Proposals passed, and I was even willing to believe he would do it out of the goodness of his heart. Cecily… Cecily Ackwater made me think he would do it for the proposal's own virtue. Now I feel like a complete fool. She probably works for him, now that I think about it. I've been a bloody idiot blinded by my ideals…"
It was a sad day when Hermione Granger thought herself an idiot. He couldn't stand it.
He sat on the bed, trying to catch her lowered gaze so she would lift it back to his. "No, you're not an idiot. You believe House Elves should be given their basic civil rights. You believe in a worthy cause. It's not a flaw to want to fight for those who can't fight for themselves, and I never want you to stop thinking the best of people. You look at someone and you almost always see the goodness in them. The day you become a cynic, Hermione Granger, is the day I lose faith in wizard-kind."
She managed a meek smile at that.
"And now that we got that out of the way," he said in a mildly stern tone. "What's this about you going this showdown alone?"
Her cheeks turned pink. "I told you… his binding spell wouldn't let me tell you…"
"Yes, but I distinctly remember you saying that you might not have asked our help anyway. Nice job on the protection spell, by the way. It only left you completely vulnerable and alone."
Hermione's eyes lit up with a stubborn gleam. "The only way you could have substantially helped me was to bind yourselves to me and lend me your magic, but if I bound you to me and Lysander won, he'd have all three of us for his familiars! I simply couldn't risk putting you and Ron in that position when I was the one who screwed up. The protection spell was the only alternative I had, and since I knew you would never agree to the protection if you knew it barred you from binding yourselves to me, I had to do it without your knowing. I'm sorry, but I can't ever bear the thought of anyone harming you, especially because of me."
He shook his head disapprovingly. "If you had let Ron and I help you in the first place, he wouldn't have been able to hurt you so badly."
"I still needed to get hurt, Harry. That was the only way I could have completed the binding spell to imprison him in the book. And if you were bound to me, you would have felt the pain, too. I just won't let you suffer like that."
Harry was beginning to get a bit teed off. "You think watching you suffer was any easier for me?"
"It wasn't my intention to let you watch," she said with utmost clarity.
"You said so yourself! You weren't expecting him to hurt you that badly!"
"Yes, well, that's beside the point!"
"Hermione, if I hadn't lent you some of my power… if I hadn't been there-I don't even want to think about what he would be doing to you right now!"
There was suddenly a look of absolute guilt on her face; like she had thought of something so horrible that it was going to make her sick. It wasn't loathing of Lysander. Harry had seen what her loathing of the man looked like. This was something completely different.
"What?" he asked sternly, rising to his feet so he could loom over her.
She seemed surprised. "What?"
"That look on your face. What were you thinking?" Suspicion began to sneak up on him. "What were you going to do if he bound you, Hermione?"
She paled for a moment before she regained her poise and became haughty. "Well, I couldn't let him go on living, can I? In two hundred years he'd just leave me to die and then move on to the next poor, defenseless woman. I had to have a way to get rid of him before he could inflict himself on anyone else!"
"You would destroy him?"
"Naturally!"
He glared at her. "And what would happen to you?"
She pulled her gaze from him.
"What do you think would happen to me?" she said softly, the force in her voice gone. "I'd be bound to him by soul and spirit… if I destroyed him…"
Oh, Merlin… "You would destroy yourself."
She looked down. "It would be my responsibility."
He felt a little weak-kneed and he slumped beside her on her bed, shocked at the revelation. "Hermione…"
He didn't even want to think about it.
"I'm not suicidal," she said hastily. "But if destroying him meant destroying me in the process… well, I'd still do it. He can't be allowed to keep stealing free will like that."
Harry swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. "I don't know what to say…"
"Say you'll forgive me for even thinking it?"
He looked at her, dazed. "How can I be angry at you? That's exactly how I thought it would be for me and Voldemort…"
There was relief in her eyes, but sadness, too, because the complexity of their convictions could only be understood through such frightful experiences.
Ron gave a snort and jerked in his seat. His head lifted and his eyes slowly opened. "Noise…"
Harry frowned. "Oh, sorry. Did we wake you?" he asked in a sardonic tone.
Ron stared at them before the scene registered in his drowsy mind. He jumped from his seat and rushed to Hermione's side, wide awake. He took her hand, holding it gently. "Alright, Hermione?"
"I've been better."
"Nice robe, gov'na."
Hermione dealt him a murderous glare.
Harry wondered if Ron would risk the consequences of such impudence if Hermione wasn't bogged down by immobilization spells.
Ron grinned. "Well, you know I'd be nicer to you since I was so impressed by all that wandless magic you were throwing around, but I gave it some thought-"
"You were thinking?" she interjected.
"It's an interesting experience. You should try it some time," said Ron without batting an eyelash.
Hermione's jaw dropped and Harry feared for Ron's life.
Ron was unperturbed; brave to the end. "I realized something important Granger. You really screwed this one up!"
"ARE YOU HOPING TO DIE, WEASLEY?" she yelled, digging her nails into his palms as her only means of expressing her ire. She couldn't very well lift her arms and start throwing things at him, and he probably knew it, too.
He smirked. "Am I wrong, then? Luna explained some of it to me. If I understood her right, Athanasius got you good and you had to wiggle yourself out of the mess! If you had just listened to Harry in the first place, then maybe none of this would've happened! How am I doing so far?"
Her eyes flashed. "Llie n'vanima ar' lle atara lanneina! Lle--!"
"Whoa, nelly! Easy, there!" cried Ron, grinning. "I can't even understand what you're saying!"
"You don't want to know, Ron!" she shrieked.
"Then I must have been right, ey?"
Hermione looked like she was about to have a stroke.
Harry shot him an irritated glare. "Ron, shut it! You're upsetting her!"
"As per usual," came a dreamy voice from the door. "Some things just never change." Luna Lovegood stepped in, a bundle of strange, growling blooms sitting in a hanging basket she carried. Her long blonde hair was decorated with blinking barrettes that were strangely hypnotic.
Hermione shot her gaze at Harry, too angry at Ron to pay Luna much attention. "Harry, get him away from me, now. Or I swear, when I get back my mobility-"
Harry sighed, dealing Ron a deadly glare.
Ron shrugged and let Hermione go, but he settled himself on the foot of her bed, grinning as he watched Luna approach.
"Nice to see you're alive and nagging, Hermione," said Luna, her gaze traveling between her, the bed, Harry then Ron. She shot Ron a particularly speculative glance before returning her attention to Hermione.
"And these boys have you to curse for it," muttered Hermione.
Ron laughed, slapping his knee.
Harry didn't think it was that funny. "We have you to thank for it, Luna. I think I'd rather have Hermione nag me my whole life than lose her altogether."
Ron laughed even harder.
"Oh, do you, Harry?" Hermione's voice a tad pitched.
Harry wondered if he could shove his foot in his mouth any deeper. "Well, of course I don't want to get nagged my whole life, sweetheart. Just that it's-"
"The lesser of two evils?" Ron supplemented.
"I take back every good thing I said about you, Ron," said Harry. "I wash my hands of you."
"Traitor."
Hermione stuck her tongue out at Ron. "Harry's not a traitor. He just knows I can do wonderful things to him that you can't."
Ron's lip curled in disgust.
Harry grinned. "It's nice to know you understand the depth of our relationship, Hermione."
"I can do things to you, Ron, that no one else could," Luna said.
Ron's lip uncurled and his eyes widened at her in surprise and wonder.
Harry exchanging disbelieving looks with Hermione.
Luna arched an eyebrow. "I can, for instance make the Three-Eyed Brop of the Weisterslands paint a tattoo of a Velrostracker on your coccyx."
Ron's jaw dropped. "On my WHAT?"
"Coccyx, Ronald," said Luna. "It's the smart term for your tailbone."
"She said tail," said Harry with a stupid giggle. This odd conversation was turning out to be immensely enjoyable.
Hermione followed it up with a stupid giggle of her own. "She said bone."
Harry loved it when Hermione applied her naughty self.
Ron blinked, flustered. "I don't have a tailbone!"
Luna looked at him dreamily. "You do. You just don't see it, and you know what? I can teach you how to use it."
Ron inched away from Luna slowly. "Umm… I-err… don't know what to say?"
Funny how he phrased that as question.
Luna seemed fairly satisfied by his response. "You won't have to worry about that until later. For now, I'm here for Hermione. I hope that in spite of the considerable aggravation Ronald has been causing you, you still have complete control of your faculties."
Harry caught Hermione's weirded-out look.
"My faculties are fine, Luna," she said.
"Good! Then you can answer my questions."
"I might be able to. Ask me."
Luna then asked her to tell her everything from the very beginning.
Hermione did, leaving out as much of the embarrassing details as possible (if Harry was reading the inopportune blushes right) but adding to what she had told Harry earlier. It took a while to get through the important points because Luna really knew how to ask good questions, but Hermione didn't seem to mind so much.
When she got to the part about trapping Lysander in the book, Luna was amazed.
"You used the book as a focus," Luna said.
Hermione nodded. "He said he's had it his entire life. His father's wife wrote the book. I don't know if she was Lysander's mother, though. Could be just one of the many besotted familiars…"
"It's in Elvish, correct?"
"Yes."
"Can you still read it? Speak it?"
Hermione reddened. "Yes."
"Excellent. And what's the book about?"
"It's a thesis," Hermione explained. "It sugarcoats the servitude and dedication a familiar should have for her master."
"I assume Lysander wanted you to read the book but didn't expect you to use your skill to research a way to defeat him."
"He's very arrogant," Hermione muttered. "He also spelled the key to the library so that he'd know whenever I went there to use it; maybe monitor the kinds of books I read there, but I broke the summoning charm on it. It probably never occurred to him that I could. For all his proclamations that he admired my intellect and all that shite, he still underestimated me because he's half Elven and I'm all human. I don't think he has a fair opinion of humans at all…"
"L'sandre's fatal flaw."
Hermione arched an eyebrow. "How did you know his Elven name?"
"You mentioned it somewhere during our conversation."
Hermione flushed, shooting Harry an apologetic look. Harry didn't mind… much.
"And what's your Elven name, Hermione?" Luna asked.
"Ermyad-na."
Ron scoffed. "Well, that ought to give Krum a run for his money."
"Hermione's a prettier name," said Harry stubbornly.
Luna smiled. "Of course it is."
Hermione flashed Harry a smile that made his insides turn to goo.
Luna turned her gaze to the enchanted windows of the room. "The spells you used against him; where did you find them?"
"From the Leabharlann Ársa Runa," said Hermione.
Luna's gaze turned glassier than ever. "The Leabharlann Ársa Runa… wow. That library is just… wow…"
Hermione's eyes widened, her expression conveying her surprise that she and Luna had something in common.
"Would you be willing to help me translate and decipher Elven text?" asked Luna. "It's not spell protected, I think. It can be spell-transferred, but it doesn't prevent anyone from teaching and learning it. It was, after all, the generally spoken language way back then, before the-"
"Elven Cleansing," Hermione finished for her. "And you're right. I think I can teach it to you. But… will the Unspeakables let me be there on a regular basis?"
"Be where, Hermione?"
"At the Department of Mysteries."
"I don't think so."
"Won't that be a problem, then?"
Luna thought about it, plucking her wand from inside her robe to scratch at her chin. "Not really. We will be meeting elsewhere."
Hermione's brows knotted. "I'd imagine your colleagues won't like that."
"It's none of their business, really. And they're not my colleagues anymore. I compromised my position as an Unspeakable when I met up with Harry Potter at the Leaky Cauldron. I cannot ever go back to the Department of Mysteries unless I dedisco everyone involved in the case, and that will be a problem for you, Hermione, considering I am the only expert witness you have on the matter of Elven society and culture."
"Witness?"
Luna smirked. "Do you think they will let you get away with magically imprisoning a billionaire without at least a hearing to establish you did it for self-defense?"
Harry sighed. He knew it had to be brought up sooner or later, and Hermione looked like she wasn't all that surprised either. Ron, however, was livid.
"Hold on!" cried Ron. "Hermione's going to trial? But that bastard was the one trying to enslave her!"
"I don't imagine that this entire affair would cause too many problems for Hermione," Luna said. "It's easy to put hers, Harry's and your memory in a pensieve for the Wizengamot crones to review, but it's always good to have witnesses, and an expert at that. I am prepared to do just that."
Harry tried not to be too worried that Luna was about as "expert" as they could get. After all, she was formerly an Unspeakable. Unspeakables, though enigmatic, were held in high esteem in Magical-science circles.
He was, however, grateful for her sacrifice. "I'm sorry you lost your job, Luna. But-well, thank you for coming through for us."
Luna gave a shrug, the spacey look on her face remaining. "That department was bloody boring, anyway. I've seen more fascinating things working in my father's paper. Hermione, I look forward to what you have to teach me about the Elven Language."
"And I look forward to teaching you," said Hermione. "I'll owl you when I get better. We'll… do lunch." It was strange to be doing anything normal with Luna.
Luna seemed to think so too if the smirk she had was any indication. "Yes. Lunch." She turned to look at Ron. "And you? Would you like to do lunch with me? Or would you like me to do something else?"
Ron's eyes bugged out again with the same surprise and wonder. "H-Holy… I'll-umm-floo you?"
She tilted her blonde and blue-eyed head, regarding him with great amusement. "No, Ronald Bilius Weasley. I'll floo you."
Luna turned, shot Harry a parting glance and drifted out of the room with three pairs of eyes watching her.
Ron broke the silence with an uneasy chuckle. "Completely barmy, that."
Hermione's eyebrow shot up. "Oh, is that what you think? 'Oh, Luna, I'll floo you!'" she said, making her tone fluttery.
Harry laughed at the comical expression on Hermione's face.
Ron scowled. "Well, what was I supposed to say? I didn't think it would be polite to tell her she's completely mental!"
Her eyes widened and she smirked. "Oh, dear! Ladies and gents, we have manners!"
"Take the mickey out of me, why don't you? Or better yet, just rip it out altogether!"
"I'd rather kick your coccyx, Ronald."
Ron's eyes widened.
Harry doubled over, laughing. "You should've seen the look on your face when she said that! I'll never forget it! She had you by the balls!"
"You should talk!" scowled Ron. He began to make an effeminate gesture as he pitched his voice. "Hermione's a prettier name!"
"Well, it is!"
"Oh, stop it, you two!" Hermione said, grinning. "Harry, let's leave Ron alone with his little crush on Looo-na."
Ron frowned. "Oy! She came on to me."
Harry effected gravity. "Oh yes, and you were real smooth about it, too: Err, umm, duhhh…"
Hermione giggled.
Ron crossed his arms over his chest. "You see, this is what happens when your best friends shag! They team up on you!"
"Oy!" Harry and Hermione cried in unison.
There was a knock on the door and they all looked up to find another blonde standing within it.
Ron, who'd probably had enough of such women for one day sauntered over to his chair to sulk.
Harry thought the woman looked familiar and he turned to Hermione to see if there was any recognition.
Hermione was frowning, her gaze filled with suspicion. "Cecily…"
Harry's smile wilted. His hand twitched at his arm holster, seriously wondering if he was going to need his wand.
Cecily fidgeted at the threshold, her eyes lowering to the floor. She held a box of chocolates. "I heard you got attacked at your home... I came here as fast as I could…"
"That's nice of you," said Hermione coldly, her eyes still firmly planted on the woman, as if waiting for her to do something dangerous.
"Here." Cecily began to advance as she held out the box, but she stopped in her tracks as she saw Harry slowly rounding the bed to get between her and Hermione.
Harry held out his hand for the box. "Thanks. I'll put them away."
Cecily breathed, nervous, as she gave the chocolates to him.
Ron, probably noticing the tension in the room, stood up beside Harry, eyeing Cecily warily.
"Cecily, this is Harry Potter and Ron Weasley," Hermione said, the warmth still absent from her tone. "Harry, Ron, this is Cecily Ackwater."
Harry looked the woman over quickly. She was fair in every way, like Lysander but less pale. She seemed a tad afraid, and as he extended his hand for a shake, she hesitated a bit before taking the offered courtesy. Her hand was cold. She was nervous.
Ron did the same.
With the niceties done, the room fell utterly silent.
Cecily swallowed, her gaze falling on both men. When she seemed to have gauged their distance from her, she risked her gaze on Hermione. "I didn't know he would do that to you."
Harry was stricken with anger. He knew exactly what Cecily was talking about.
Hermione scowled. "So you did set me up to see him at the library!"
He glared at Cecily and she cowered under his gaze.
"No! I didn't! P-Please, just listen to what I have to say!" she gasped, stepping back. "I didn't set you up! But he did speak to me at the L.C.O. He implied that he would be willing to help with the proposal but only if you asked him to. He didn't pay me or anything like that! And honest to Merlin, Hermione, I was just thinking about you and the proposals. You have to believe me!"
"D'you expect me to believe you were doing it all out of the goodness of your own heart?" spat Hermione.
"Yes!" said Cecily desperately. "Benevolence is a dying legacy of my race, Hermione, but I will do what I can to keep that legacy alive. I didn't know he was binding you as his familiar. If I had known I would have told you not to associate with him!"
Harry's jaw dropped at the implications of her words. "What do you know about binding?"
"I'm half Elven," said Cecily. "K'sher tanya L'sandre. Lye uuve ilya ho."
Harry blinked and he looked to Hermione who seemed speechless.
Then she regained her composure. "Well, I most certainly hope you're not all like him, Cecily."
"He's an exception to the rule, I assure you." Cecily looked at Harry and Ron again. "Please. I'd just like to talk to her, may I?"
Harry gave the question over to Hermione with a look. She nodded.
He stepped back, taking Ron's chair to put it by Hermione's bed. Ron shot him a glare for it but Harry shrugged it off.
Cecily thanked him quietly.
He stayed close, his gaze fixed on them. As far as he was concerned, Nordic Elves were still on his Shit List, and Cecily's motives were still under suspicion.
"I meant what I said in your office," said Cecily. "There are those of us who ask nothing in return for doing what's right, especially those who still live by the Old Values."
Hermione still looked distrustful, but the knot in her brow eased a bit. "Are there still many of your kind?"
Cecily smiled wanly. "If you're worried about how many out there are like Lysander, I'd say you mostly have nothing to worry about. I can tell you that within my Elven circle, what he did is considered abhorrent. We have not heard it done in the last five hundred years, and even then, that was just a rumor. The last thing us Elves want to do is propagate the same stories that led to our genocide."
Harry flinched at the term. "Genocide?"
Cecily nodded. "Two thousand years ago, wizards thought it best to systematically decimate our race because of the rumors that we ate children and enslaved human beings. It wasn't true, of course, but they killed the lot of us, anyway. We haven't really recovered since, and I think because of that, we prefer keeping a low profile, hence the illusion that we have become extinct. We necessarily have to keep tabs on each other magically, which is how I knew something happened to him. I asked around the Ministry and… well, here I am…"
Harry regarded her thoughtfully, his mind stuck on the concept of genocide. "Wizards are different these days, you know. There are the evil ones, of course, but generally, we don't tolerate that kind of atrocity."
"We have very long lives, Mr. Potter, even us half-breeds. When a generation of half-Elves can live up to three hundred, and pure-breeds up to five hundred years old, fears and perhaps even prejudices don't die out as quickly. That's the only down side to long-life. Societal ideologies stay the same for longer periods; development to better ideas comes slow; adaptation is a glamour, not instinct. So it has been for my people. Which brings me back to my point… I don't think we have to worry about someone like Lysander enslaving damsels, at least in the next three hundred years."
Ron's eyebrow arched. "Just because your circle of friends don't seem to think like Lysander, how do you know they don't? You certainly didn't think Lysander would do such a thing."
Cecily sighed. "Well, obviously, I was wrong about that, but on hindsight, the signs were there, right? I looked up his profile and saw the impressive roster of spouses and his relatively extensive family tree. We Elves don't procreate quite that eagerly, even with human blood mixed in. We're not big on making children, mainly because we have a gestation period of five years."
Hermione's jaw dropped. "Good lord! Five years?"
Cecily nodded. "A lot of Elven women die carrying or giving birth, too. The human mothers bring babies to term faster, but a lot of them don't survive the magic. Mothers who carry Elven children have an 85% mortality rate."
"Goodness," Hermione breathed. She looked truly distressed.
Harry held her hand. He knew how things like this affected Hermione. She was a being of compassion, after all. It was the reason she broke innocent men out of prison, saved hippogriffs from being executed, rescued cat-kneazles from abandonment and fought for the rights of House Elves.
"So Lysander's family tree is a lot of codswallop," said Harry.
Cecily smiled wanly. "It's not uncommon for Elven clans to come up with fictional children. After all, we can't let on that we could live up to five hundred years. We'll get found out if we don't fill in the generational blanks, but judging from Lysander's record and the spouses, who existed, by the way, I'd say that most of the Elves on Lysander's family tree were just actually one or two persons pretending to be several different ones. Their spouses-"
"Were familiars," said Hermione with a gasp. "Isidore…"
"He would have been at least five hundred years old before he died," said Cecily, nodding. "And he isn't even pureblood. He had to have used human familiars to prolong his life like that. Whether he forced them or not, we'll never know, but junior apparently got a bit too used to getting whatever he wants."
Ron looked disgusted. "I never thought anyone can be worse than Malfoy. But lo and behold…"
"So Lysander's admissions letter from Hogwarts wasn't a sham. He really was just eleven then and he really is just about turning sixty," said Hermione.
Cecily shrugged. "That'll explain why he needed a familiar. Most Elves don't need one until around that time. Did you know if he had other familiars before you?"
"He did say I was his first."
Harry made a face. Sometimes, his own instincts scared him. It sometimes had the uncanny ability to hit too close to fact. "I told you he was far too old for you. Didn't I?"
Hermione sighed, rolling her eyes as she grinned. "Yes, Harry. Right you are, again. But if you think it will convince me to take your word for it from now on, you're dead delusional."
Ron smirked and Harry scowled at him.
"What are you smirking about, Weasley?"
Ron grinned. "Welcome to my world, Potter."
Harry was not to be outdone. He got the girl. "Keep telling yourself that."
Ron scoffed.
Hermione shot them a glare before resuming her conversation with Cecily. "So this binding I broke…"
"I don't even know how you did it," admitted Cecily, reddening. "I never knew it could be broken. I only know you did because-well, you're still here and unbound. I'm assuming you have him detained somewhere…"
Hermione finger twitched as she looked to the book and she sighed. "Can someone please remove these bloody immobilization spells?"
"Not until the doctor says so," said Harry, picking the book up from the bedside table. He looked at Cecily as he held the book up. "Lysander's in here."
Cecily blinked, jaw dropping. "Good gracious! Is that what I think it-"
"What's wrong with it?" Hermione seemed alarmed.
"N-Nothing. Nothing, really. I thought you had him detained… well, like-in a holding cell… is that a Mirror Prison?"
Hermione looked to Harry and he frowned. How the hell was he supposed to know what it was? She was the one who made it.
Hermione looked nonplussed. "Well, I don't know. The books didn't call it that. I just took a focus object of his and turned it into a prison of his own making."
Cecily nodded. "Trapped by his own magic until he truly atones for the evil he has done… that is a Mirror Prison! Goodness, Hermione. Those things are extremely rare. I mean, I've heard it done, way before I was born, but I've never seen one. Only a trained Amandil can withstand the pain of casting it! Rumor has it that the agony equals that of a thousand hell hounds gnawing at your soul bit by bit!"
Harry shot Hermione a glare.
"How very poetic of you, Cecily," Hermione muttered. "But it really wasn't that bad."
"Oh," said Ron. "So when you were screaming your head off, you were just being melodramatic?"
Hermione dealt him a menacing look.
Cecily's eyes were wide with wonder. "It's a very old spell. It must have been incredible to watch!"
Harry's fists clench, and he remembered all too clearly just what happened on the rooftop of Grimmauld Place. "Incredible? There was nothing incredible about it! It was horrific and terrible and a fucking, bloody nightmare!"
Luna's basket of flowers exploded, sending clumps of soil and pieces of the poor defenseless flowers scattered all over the room.
There was a brief silence.
It was Hermione who broke it. "Cecily, you better go."
"Right." Cecily stood up, brushing some loosened soil off her suit. "Get well soon, Hermione. I'm sorry this happened."
Harry wasn't sure if she was talking about upsetting him or about the entire thing with Lysander. Whatever it was, he was beginning to feel bad he went off like that.
"I'm sorry about your suit," he muttered. "You can-umm-send me the cleaning bill. Didn't mean to snap at you, either."
Cecily looked at him in surprise then chuckled. "It's alright, Mr. Potter. I haven't exactly been the life of this party, have I? Besides, I owe you, just like everyone else in Britain."
Harry frowned. "Owe me?"
"Yes, for finally getting rid of that pesky Dark Lord."
Well, it wasn't everyday he heard Voldemort get called "pesky". Nordic Elves didn't seem to think much of him. Then again, Harry didn't have much respect for the old ghoul either.
Honestly, Harry didn't care one way or another. But Ron gasped, scandalized.
"Pesky!" Ron cried.
Cecily shrugged. "He was dreadfully annoying. Dangerous, yes. Terribly dangerous, but wasn't he just so full of himself?"
"You wouldn't believe how much," Harry said.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Right."
Ron scowled, sulking again.
Harry could only assume Ron was more teed-off by the fact that someone didn't think Voldemort horrible enough to seem properly impressed by the defeat of him, a defeat in which Ron played a part in and formed a story which usually impressed the women he told it to.
Cecily smiled, placing a hand on Hermione's arm. "Tenna' ento lye omenta."
Hermione smiled. "Tenna' san."
Cecily left.
"Alright, that's it!" said Ron. "That Elf Talk unnerves me! What did she say and what did you say to her?"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "She said 'Until next we meet' and I said 'Until then.' And it's Elvish. Not Elf Talk."
"I wish you wouldn't speak it!"
"She spoke it first!"
Harry sighed. "I'm going to get some coffee." He was just about to head for the door when Hermione's soft voice reached him.
"Harry, sweetheart… are you alright?"
He saw the worry in her face, and he thought maybe she was asking if he was walking out angry. He smiled to put her anxieties to rest. "I'll be back as quickly as I can, love."
She smiled back, the relief in her eyes evident.
So she had been worried he was angry.
He turned his gaze on Ron. "Don't you be aggravating her while I'm gone, Bilius."
Ron winced at the name but nodded, waving him away in disgust.
Satisfied, Harry left to get his coffee.
000000000000000000000000
Harry found brewed coffee in the lobby. It wasn't very good, but it was better than those awful charmed granules in the room.
He needed a bit of time to think by himself, without having Hermione's smile or witty sense of humor chasing away his deep-seated concerns.
The relief he felt at her relatively peppy recovery was somewhat overwhelming. Most of their hospital vigils for one another had the patient subdued and drugged up enough to be a bit dramatic when they awoke. To hear her so snarky was a good thing.
It was a nice change, but it didn't mean he wasn't feeling the old nausea of being in St. Mungo's in the first place. The last time he was here, he was praying she would make it through the day.
He sat in the waiting room hunched over his cup, elbows to knees.
This relationship he had with Hermione had been built on strong foundations; matured under the most extraordinary of circumstances. He wondered if that meant he shouldn't expect that they'd live ordinary lives.
In the last eight years, they had sprung through magical booby traps, conquered a basilisk, helped a convict escape from Azkaban, freed a hippogriff, won a tri-wizards tournament, joined the Order of the Phoenix and stood side by side against the most ruthless and evil of enemies. They had saved each other's lives countless number of times and it was never "I owe you one," or "I'm calling in your life debt." It was, "I'll always be here for you," and "I've got your back." They never kept tally; never kept count.
Perhaps he should have realized it sooner. Their relationship issues won't be about commitment or loyalty or selfishness. If anything, they'd likely gotten way past that already. Their issues would be about how far they'd go to protect each other; how much is too much before one or other admitted that they needed help; what were the boundaries of their trust?
Trust.
That had taken on a whole new meaning since the end of the war.
They trusted each other completely when it came to things like catching each other when one or the other fell, but they seemed to have a bit of a problem when it came to trusting each other to catch themselves.
Their issues were a bit more complicated than your average couple in love, but he supposed the beauty of it all was that he didn't find it the least bit daunting. How could he when the prospect of working them out with Hermione gave him a sense of adventure and nervousness and excitement, all at the same time?
For the first time in his life, he could honestly say that Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan had been right. He was whipped, and he loved it.
Everything was going to be alright.
He smiled and drank his coffee.
About eight hours ago, he had sat in this same seat with Ron beside him as the healer told them, in a matter-of-fact tone, that Hermione was going to make it, possibly even achieve a full-recovery. She would, however, have to spend the week following her hospital stay at home: No stress; no going out; no lifting of heavy objects; no fighting of Dark Wizards.
Yes, healer. We hear you, healer. Tell that to Hermione, healer.
He hadn't even told her yet of her upcoming non-activity. Hermione was going to have a conniption fit. A whole week of doing nothing? She'd be at their throats for lack of anything better to do.
Harry smiled slightly. He could have a bit of fun driving her insane by treating her like porcelain and slathering her with obsequiousness.
She'll be so teed off, he thought, delighted. In this respect, he could understand why Ron had been so eager to get her riled up before. The difference between him and Ron was that he could very well smoothen her ruffled feathers with a right good snog. And wasn't snogging so much better when it was preceded by witty banter?
He was looking forward to it all already.
It ought to keep her preoccupied at any rate, and when she was all better, he could take her shopping in the weekend. He'll even let her drive the car like a maniac. She loves that.
He mused a bit more before he saw a pair of feet in front of him. The shoes were well worn, like they had been repaired a hundred times. He looked up and saw Remus smiling his usual close lipped smile, gentle and understanding.
"Alright, Harry?"
Harry cocked a grin, gesturing to the seat beside him. "Perfect. Hermione's awake and she seems alright. Fighting with Ron already."
Remus sat. "That's good to hear. That chap Lysander did quite a number on her."
"Limey bastard cracked practically every bone in her body," he muttered. "But she should be good as new by tomorrow. They have her completely immobilized and she hates it. Should've heard her when she first woke up. Could've bitten the head off a Hungarian Horntail."
Remus nodded, his smile widening. "Sounds like she'll be making a full recovery, then."
"You better believe it."
Remus chuckled.
A comfortable silence fell on them while Harry drank more of his coffee.
It was Remus who broke the silence. "Listen, Harry. I didn't just come here to visit…"
Harry groaned. "And everything was going so well."
Remus shrugged apologetically. "We're having a bit of a conflict between the Auror and Hit Wizard division on this. Our department is treating this as a Dark Wizard assault on a civilian, but the Hit Wizards are crying misuse of magic pertaining to illegal binding."
"Illegal binding!" Harry cried, half his remaining coffee sloshing to the floor. "Are they mad? He was trapping her soul! What the bloody hell did they expect her to do? They're a department of idiots! I'll teach them illegal-"
"Calm down, Harry," said Remus. "Tonks submitted her application for jurisdiction last night and she's still working to make sure we get this case into our department, but she'll need some help if an Evaluation Hearing is called. Do you know of anyone-"
"Luna Lovegood and Cecily Ackwater," said Harry in the next second. "Tonks'll surely get jurisdiction over the case if she brings them in for the evaluation proceedings."
Remus smiled. He sent a messenger spell out.
"It was self-defense," said Harry. "Please tell me the Auror Department believes this and will push for a summary dismissal. I don't want Hermione to sit in front of the Wizengamot and have to justify herself."
"The Auror Department is on Hermione's side on this, but it can't be helped that this would have to be brought before the Wizengamot. Since the Ministry's embarrassment at being found out about Sirius's undue incarceration, the Ministry demands that no Summary Convictions be allowed under any circumstance, so they're going to have to evaluate whether Lysander's imprisonment is justified."
Harry was silent, seething.
Remus's brows knotted. "Harry, say something."
"I can't. I'm drowning in a pool of irony."
Remus sighed. "Well, at least you don't have to worry about Hermione. Her self-defense plea is solid."
Harry was just about to say that he'd really rather not have a bunch of old crones questioning her like a common criminal, if it was all the same to everyone, but their attention was drawn to the reception area where a couple of elderly looking men were arguing about who was going to get the last jellybean in the box.
"I say, Thane! I paid for the jellybeans in the first place! According to the law, no one shall be unjustly enriched at the expense of another."
"Winston, if that jellybean unjustly enriches me, I'll fork over a galleon."
"I shall refuse that galleon. It's the principle of the thing, you know."
"I solemnly swear not to hold your principles to this particular jellybean, especially if it's snot flavored…"
Their voices faded as they turned the corner.
Harry looked at Remus in alarm as he got up. Remus followed with a puzzled look on his face.
"Harry…?"
"They're the Wizengamot's senior interrogators."
"Hermione's bosses?"
"Want to bet they're not here to give her a raise?"
They hurried on after the two men and Harry was surprised they had gotten so far down the hall in so short a time.
When Harry and Remus caught sight of them again, they were tugging the box with the remaining jellybean back and forth between them.
"Give it over!" said Heartcomb.
"Absolutely not!" said Archibald.
They stepped into one of the fireplaces and disappeared after calling out "recovery ward."
Harry sighed, picking up his pace. "Spry, aren't they?"
"Quite," replied Remus.
They reached Hermione's floor in short time and as her room came into view, Harry could hear the voices of Heartcomb and Archibald telling Hermione that while they had originally gotten her jellybeans, they decided that she would appreciate a compilation of historical rulings instead.
Harry appeared at the door, Remus behind him. He took in the scene and it was just as he imagined it to be: Ron standing in the corner looking nonplussed by the two very odd visitors, Heartcomb and Archibald speaking matter-of-factly to Hermione and Hermione looking at them with equal parts dazzle and cognition.
Archibald arched an eyebrow at Harry. "Why, it's that batty Planter!"
Heartcomb frowned. "That's not Planter, that's Gardener!"
"It's Potter, actually," said Harry.
"Oh, yes!" said Heartcomb. "The one who-"
"Slew the chap who doesn't want to be named, yes." Harry ignored the scandalized look on Ron's face and the perplexed one on Remus.
"Actually, I was going to say 'The one who comes to the office every lunch time to snog Granger into a stupor,' but who's keeping track, eh?"
Hermione's eyes widened briefly before she dissolved into a blush.
Harry felt the heat in his own cheeks. "Right."
"Suffering smithies, Hermione!" cried Archibald. "Why do you associated with these hooligans? Look at this fellow, Whistle over here."
"Weasley, Mr. Archibald," she said. "And what's wrong with him?"
"He's too tall, he's got too much red hair and he never seems to close his mouth!"
Ron's senses finally kicked in and he complained in the best way he knew how. "Oy!"
"And then there's this chap," Archibald continued, jerking a thumb over his shoulder at Harry. "He fights dragons and nutty blokes who don't want to be called anything, then prances in here with a werewolf in tow, no less! Where do you get these people?"
Harry glanced uneasily at Remus. The man didn't look like he was offended. He simply looked confused.
"Look," said Hermione with a roll of her eyes. "If I were so bloody normal, d'you think I'd manage a day in the WizCOF with you two crackpots? You do realize that you've spoiled most of the books in the office. They're completely out of control! If I were you, I'd make them all stand in the corner until they've thought about the things they've done. And you call yourselves senior Interrogators!"
Harry had seen Hermione in this batty mode, and somehow, he had conditioned himself to expect the unexpected, but Ron and Remus were beginning to look horrified. He knew exactly what was going through their minds: These were the men tasked to put Dark Wizards in Azkaban? We're doomed!
Archibald and Heartcomb began to argue that they had tried to make the books stand in the corner but they kept spitting out pages as they did so. Hermione told her bosses that threatening the books with conflagration would do the trick, as she had tried it once already. They continued on this nonsensical thread until Heartcomb finally pointed to the book they had brought her.
"I say, Granger," he said. "Are you going to take this book or not? Thane and I don't have all day, you know! We've to process the trial they're setting up for you and honestly, how easy do you think it is to send notices to a dozen judges? It's no party, I'll tell you that!"
This upset Harry considerably.
Ron looked positively outraged. "What! That's it, you're both completely mad!"
"Ron, calm down," said Hermione loftily. "Mr. Archibald, Mr. Heartcomb, thank you for bringing the book. I appreciate your visit. I shall see you both in court?"
"Naturally," said Heartcomb in a haughty tone. "It's such a bother prosecuting you, Granger, but I entreat you not to let us down. I recommend that you get proper representation for your trial. I saw a list of able counselors on your desk this morning."
"List? I don't recall-"
"It's there," he said crisply. "As soon as the hearing is over, I expect you back in the office bright and early. Clear?"
She paused for a moment before a glint of realization flashed from her eyes. She smiled. "Crystal, Mr. Heartcomb. Mr. Archibald, please place the book on the bedside table, as I am currently immobilized from the neck down."
Archibald harrumphed as he did as she asked. "A likely excuse to order us around! Get well soon, Granger. And you owe me a dozen quills!"
"And Malfoy's briefs!" said Heartcomb.
Both men marched out of the room, noses in the air. Harry heard them beginning to argue again as they rounded the corner and disappeared.
Remus cleared his throat. "I sincerely hope he wasn't talking about Malfoy's underpants."
That seemed to break-well-something.
"What the hell was that all about?" Ron cried. "How can you work for these people, Hermione? They're out of their minds!"
Hermione gave him a sheepish look. "They're actually quite intelligent… you just have to know them, really. Harry, my love, do you mind looking over that book they left me? I want to know exactly what it is."
Still reeling from the whirlwind that was Heartcomb and Archibald, he did as Hermione asked without a word.
He took the book, flipped it open and cringed at the very fine print. He moved to the front to look at the title. He read the title out loud. "WART: Wizengamot Annotated Rulings and Trials. Year 12 B.C." He turned to the next page and there was a hand-drawn portrait of an old Wizengamot judge, distinguished and wrinkled. At the bottom of the picture was his name and title. He was Chief Warlock Laurence Torchkeeper.
The man in the picture coughed and hacked painfully. Harry thought he heard the elder saying something.
"Pardon me?" Harry asked the miniature portrait.
Laurence Torchkeeper went into another fit. Cough! "Page six two-" Hack! "-four!"
Remus and Ron looked over his shoulder.
"Hey! A WizCOFing wizard!" said Ron.
Laurence glared up at him.
Harry saw Hermione's finger tapping impatiently so he hastened to page sixty hundred twenty four.
The title page said Lockthorne vs. The Kingdom of Britain. Beneath it were the words: Binding under duress; summary detainment; defense of self; requisites for the application of Elven Codes; unwritten Elemental Forces and Laws; Jurisdiction of the Wizengamot; Mirror Prisons; usury rights on personal property.
There were far too many words for Harry to make a swift assessment, but Remus seemed to catch on much faster.
"It looks like a Case Summary," he said.
Having no illusions of making quick sense of it, Harry handed the book over to Remus.
Remus scanned the words before his eyebrows began to arch in surprise. "If I'm reading this correctly, this case is about one Ms. Juna Lockthorne. She was a witch drawn into being bound by an Elf named Caranthir Anwarünya. In an effort to escape the bonds, Juna summarily detains Anwarünya in his own brick furnace, hence the usury rights issue… Juna's counselor invokes Elven Codes pertaining to unwritten Elemental Forces and Laws..." He flipped several more pages to the end of the case. "The charges of illegal detainment and undue use of Brick Furnace against Lockthorne were dismissed on the basis of self-defense and Elven codes pertaining to binding a familiar under duress. The resolution also states that the Wizengamot have jurisdiction of the case so long as they apply the appropriate Elven laws. Elemental Forces and Law support this decision."
"There's a precedent to my case," said Hermione in an awed whisper. "They gave me my case arguments to ensure my dismissal! Goodness, how did they even know-"
"Tonks submitted an application for jurisdiction last night to the Wizengamot," said Remus. "Which means the WizCOF was furnished a copy already."
"But Tonks doesn't have my statement yet!"
"Applications for jurisdiction don't have to have that many details as of yet," explained Remus. "A general statement of facts is enough and Tonks gathered enough of that when we arrived at the crime scene and after her brief interview with Harry and Ron. We'll need more details if the deciding body calls an Evaluation Hearing, but for the written application, the general facts would suffice."
Hermione beamed. "You see, Ron? Heartcomb and Archibald are brilliant!"
Ron nodded grudgingly.
Harry grinned. "The quills are on me, Hermione. You're on your own with Malfoy's underpants, though."
She made a face, but she laughed a moment later. "He was talking about Case Bri-oh, never mind!" She looked at Remus warmly. "I hadn't had the chance to give you a proper hello, Remus."
Remus chuckled. "Hullo, then. How are you feeling?"
"Imprisoned."
"Taking it rather well, I heard."
She arched an eyebrow and looked at Harry with an amused grin. "Oh, Potter's been complaining, it seems!"
Harry mustered his best innocent mug. "Not a peep, love! You've been an angel since you woke up, right Ron?"
"Right," he replied dryly.
She spared them a glance before looking at Remus. "They're only treating me this way because I'm immobilized, you know. When I'm better I'll make them sorry."
"I'm sure you will, dear," replied Remus. He then launched into a discussion about Nordic Elves, a subject that he seemed to be immensely fascinated in.
The rest of the day went on in a similar fashion. Visitors arrived in a steady stream.
Molly and Arthur came to fuss over her laden with homemade pudding and a cure-all tonic. They raged at the Ministry's red tape on the matter of her case, of course, and Arthur was firmly expected by his wife to make sure Hermione won't even hear the word "Azkaban" muttered in her presence when the case was brought in for hearing. Then came Tonks and Gail bearing flowers and half a box of chocolate cauldrons (Tonks had spilled the other half of it). Tonks gave a favorable report on the matter of the case falling into the Auror Department's jurisdiction thanks to Luna and Cecily while Gail chastised Harry for, yet again, fighting a Dark Wizard without her.
The Weasley twins came some time after lunch bearing the most bizarre joke items such as the Doxie Defanger, the Cursing Kettle and the Spotting Soap.
"Thought you might like some profanity with your proper English Tea," said George, demonstrating how the Cursing Kettle, instead of whistling when the water inside it percolated, began a string of very rude words, including insults to various male body parts. He then gave her a not-so-well-hidden wink.
Fred grinned, winking with his brother. "Fit to scandalize your muggle queen!"
Hermione stared at the kettle with mixed revulsion and fascination. "Err… splendid!"
The kettle was fit to scandalize a fishmonger's wife, actually.
The Doxie Defanger demonstration had Harry and Ron completely freaked out when Fred and George released a doxie in the room without spraying it with their concoction first. A wild chase and dodge erupted in the room as the doxie was furious at being incarcerated.
Hermione watched in dread as the doxie went straight for her and she yelled that if someone didn't stop the damn bugger before it reached her, heads would roll.
Harry came to the rescue, of course. Properly motivated by his angry witch, his aim was true and he was able to immobilize the doxie in mid-air.
The defanger was sprayed and true to its promises, the doxie lost all manner of fangs, claws and poison. Also, the spray offered a potent dose of intoxication, making the doxie stagger around, fly into walls and making weird, rather entertaining sounds. It was actually quite funny, but the adventure preceding it had sapped Ron of patience. He threatened the twins with mum if they didn't take their jokes and shove it up their arses.
Fred and George then bid Hermione farewell in the most outlandish manner, declaring corny promises of their love for her and how their days would be dark while she remained incapacitated in the sterilized walls of St. Mungo's, etc., etc. (she had told them that Ron thought they were besotted of her.) They exploded a Helium Haze in the room, causing Harry, Ron and Hermione to speak in comically pinched voices in the next fifteen minutes. When the healer came in to check on the patient and started to speak in the same, diminutive voice, there was no recourse but to laugh it all off.
Get-well gifts were sent as well, from acquaintances and strangers alike, and of course, a parade of flowers were delivered, courtesy of the Bulgarian Quidditch Seeker.
Hermione sneezed on some of the daisy pollen.
"Goodness… Viktor doesn't do anything in halves, does he?" she said as the room filled up with blooms and bouquets.
Harry frowned, shoving aside a vine that was trying to climb up his arm. "How do you say, 'Stop sending flowers to my witch' in Bulgarian?"
"Oh, hush. He's just being nice."
"Out of his mind, is more like it," said Ron, stunning a flower that was trying to gnaw at him. "When he has you trapped in a well and yelling at you to use the lotion he sent or else he'll hose you, I'd hate to say I told you so."
Hermione had rented the digital videodisc about an American federal agent who was looking for one serial killer at large by consulting with another who was imprisoned. The serial killer on the loose apparently kept his victims in a well and demanded them to take good care of their skin with lotions and such vanities. The scene in the well had stayed imprinted in Ron's mind as something Viktor would do to her.
"He's not psycho, Ron. He just fancies me, is all. Honestly, does someone have to be nutters to fancy me?"
Harry came to her immediate rescue. "Of course not, love. Someone has to be nutters not to fancy you. In fact, I love you excessively and I'm totally sane."
"Thank you, my darling."
"Don't get me wrong, though. I still think Viktor's either completely yampy or dead from the neck up."
"Harry!"
"Well, you've told him we're together, right?"
"Of course I have!"
"Then where does he get off sending you flowers and writing you all the time?"
"I think he thinks that you'll eventually break my heart and I'll go running to him for comfort."
"I'll show him break when next I see him," Harry muttered.
Ron nodded. "That's the spirit, mate! Smash in his teeth!"
Harry shot him an annoyed glance. "Right. Is that before or after you ask for his autograph?"
"Bloke's a Quidditch star, mate. I can't help it!"
"Traitor."
"I promise I'll still hold 'im down for you, though."
It was while Hermione chastised them for their immaturity that Ginny arrived bearing freshly baked muffins.
Harry swore that if it hadn't been for Ron, it would have been dreadfully awkward at the beginning. It was therefore with great relief that Harry found himself watching Hermione and Ginny locked in animated conversation fifteen minutes later. The two women were catching up because they had been aloof with each other since Hermione's sixth year, but with the way things had gone and the way things were, it was about time they renewed their friendship.
By the time Ginny begged her leave, she and Hermione had made plans to do lunch and shop before Ginny left for Romania.
When Ginny was gone, Hermione grinned at him.
"You can breathe now."
Harry reddened. "Who, me? Far be it I'd be silly enough to believe that two beautiful, sensible women would have it out on account of me while I'm sitting right here."
"I don't know whether to be flattered or insulted by that comment."
"Better to shut up, mate," said Ron. "Damage control, you know."
"Right."
McGonagall came by later that evening, dragging Filius and Poppy with her. Alastor dropped in, too, and insisted on examining all the presents for hidden hexes.
By the time the last of them left, Harry could tell Hermione was exhausted.
Ron had already left, promising her he'd be back the next day to take the workday shift.
Harry stayed a bit longer, promising the nurse that he wasn't going to keep Hermione up longer than was good for her.
He sat facing her at her bedside, tucking some locks of hair behind her ear.
"Alright, Hermione?" he asked softly.
She smiled tiredly. "Fine, really."
It was at that moment he finally remembered the thoughts that filled him while he had coffee in the lobby, how they were both so protective of one another to unreasonable degrees. "We'll drive each other spare, you know, protecting each other and all that." He knew she would understand what he was talking about.
She did.
"It's what we live for," she said.
He nodded, chuckling softly. That was the ultimate truth of it.
Leaning over, he kissed her forehead. "I'll always take care of you."
"And I'll take care of you. No matter what happens. Even if you dump me for some insipid, Euro-trash bombshell, I'll still be there to take care of you… and put Green-Grow in her bottle of peroxide."
He smiled. "I'll never dump you, you know. Even if another Dark Lord comes around and threatens to kill me over some two-bit prophesy, I won't ever break up with you and use the Dark Lord as a reason. You can't get rid of me that easily anymore. I'll marry you if you ever think I'd get the notion."
"That's the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me, Harry."
"Poor baby. If you thought that was romantic then we foolish blokes have been sadly insensitive to your needs."
She giggled softly.
He placed soft kisses on her cheek. "But I mean it. I'm sticking around. I'll even get you to promise me forever, one of these days."
She returned his kisses. "Why, Mr. Potter… is that a proposal I hear?"
"It's a promise, for now. I reckon you won't fancy telling our children that I proposed to you in St. Mungo's with a plastic Bertie Bott's Every Flavored Beans giveaway ring while you were recovering in a dung-brown hospital gown from fighting a Dark Wizard."
Her eyes twinkled. "I suppose not. Children, eh?"
"Many of them."
"How many?"
"Many. We'll put Molly and Arthur to shame."
"I s'pose it'll be fun making them."
"It would be blooming hysterical. I promise you."
She grinned.
He cupped her face tenderly. "I don't ever want to let you go. I knew that so clearly when I saw him trying to take you away from me."
"I'm not going anywhere."
He smiled, elated to hear her say it. He tucked her into bed after that, and when he was sure she was comfortable, he gave her one last kiss before wordlessly and wandlessly administering a sleep-inducing charm.
At the sound of her soft, rhythmic breathing, he finally left her to sleep.
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A/N: Not over yet. I figured after I put you all through the gauntlet, you all deserve more H+Hr fluff than you can swallow. I shall deliver! Besides, it's cathartic for me, too. I want to read them all over each other and what not. ::dives into a pool of schmaltz::