Disclaimer: Not mine, as if you lived under a rock and thought it was.
PART II: The Interim
Chapter Five: Holiday Revelations
When the sunlight finally began to stream through the window, splashing across Hermione's face, she stirred and awakened, squinting into the light. She scrunched down under the covers, as she stretched; the heating charms kept the rooms at a comfortable temperature, but the air always seemed chilly to her first thing in the morning.
Her squirming disturbed Harry, who blinked his green eyes sleepily at her. "Good morning," he said in a thick voice. She smiled at him, and kissed him chastely on the mouth, before sliding out of bed, shrieking a little when her bare feet touched the stone floor.
"Is that all I get?" he mumbled in protest, smothering a smile into his pillow, waiting for the refrain that had grown very familiar in the last couple of months. Hermione had spent very few nights in her own bed since that first night, and - even though that's not what they did all the time - Harry had gotten more adept at the contraceptive charm than he ever thought he would be.
"Harry, you really don't want me to kiss you until I've brushed my teeth, trust me," Hermione said authoritatively. Harry muttered something unintelligible that ended in "blasted daughter of dentists". Hermione swatted him. "Besides," she continued. "I need to start packing, if we're leaving today. I bet you haven't started packing."
Harry waved his arm around the room in a wide gesture, as if to say "do you see any evidence of packing in here?"
"You're going to the Burrow," Hermione said. Harry nodded, even though she hadn't really phrased it as a question. "Do you think that'll be awkward?"
"You mean, because of us?" Harry shrugged. "I don't think so. I mean, I'm sure the Weasleys know we're dating by now…and Ron and Ginny are - seem okay. Dean's coming by over the holidays too." He said, referring to Ginny and Dean's rekindled relationship. "Luna and her father will be there as well. And after Ron saw you…" he trailed off, with a smirk, and Hermione blushed.
"I got careless. He's never up that early; it didn't even enter my head that he would see me leaving your room. I had your shirt on too, and I think that made it worse!" Harry rolled over in the bed and laughed. He had been awakened that morning to hear Ron calling loudly in the hallway, "You're not really there. I don't see you at all!" before fleeing into his room. Hermione had said later that he had his fingers in both ears and his eyes closed. It had taken him three days to be able to meet their gazes again.
"Remus and Tonks are going to be there too," Harry said. "I got an owl from him yesterday."
"I imagine they have news to report," Hermione said in a bland tone, and she and Harry exchanged secretive glances. "It'll be a full house at the Burrow."
"Only right at Christmas. I wish you were going to be there the whole time," Harry said after a pause.
"I'll be there Christmas Eve night," she promised. "But I do need to spend some time with my parents too."
"I know," Harry replied, not wanting to make her feel guilty for leaving him, when she was already so much a part of his world, rather than her parents' world. He shifted around, swinging his legs carefully over the edge of the bed. "What have you told your parents? About me..us?"
"That I'm in love with a wonderful person who loves me as much as I love him," Hermione answered with a tender smile, gazing at him limpidly. "As for the other…well, I am eighteen. I think my parents have a strict `don't ask, don't tell' policy."
"Are they coming to the Burrow?" Harry asked casually, looking over his shoulder at her.
"They're coming for dinner on Christmas Eve."
"That'll be nice," Harry replied vaguely. Hermione eyed him for a moment, and appeared to be on the verge of saying something, but she let it go. Instead, she asked tenderly,
"How are you feeling?" as she pulled on her robe from where it had been thrown over a chair.
"Okay," he said, reaching for the silver-headed cane he had taken to using recently. His right knee, which had evidently taken the brunt of the curse, was still in a restraint, but he had fairly good use of his left knee. Hermione said the cane gave him a gentlemanly air; Ron said it made his look like Lucius Malfoy.
"Any dreams?" He watched her brow furrow in concern, and felt his love for her wash over any annoyance that bubbled up. She had gotten better with the whole nagging thing - Harry liked to think that it was because she enjoyed the shagging so much - but she wouldn't be Hermione if she didn't worry and fret over him.
"Not last night," Harry lied, limping toward the bathroom, leaning heavily on the cane. He couldn't remember the dream, but he had awakened feeling troubled, with a prickling sensation in his scar.
Hermione had her hand on the doorknob, but turned back to look curiously in his direction. He was keeping something from her, she was sure. And she thought that Ron knew about it. She had come into the room several times, when their conversations had stopped abruptly and they both looked incredibly guilty. They had also spent several evenings closeted up in Harry's room. She bit her lip, as Harry closed the door behind him, and wondered what was going on that he would tell Ron but not her.
Harry leaned up against the closed bathroom door and sighed. He wondered if he should tell Hermione about the recurring dreams. Why worry her? It's not like she can do anything about it. He had the dream where the snake burst from his skull on a regular basis, but most of the time he could only recall bits and snatches from other dreams.
There were mountains…he was flying over snow-capped mountains, but he had no broom.
He started suddenly as the flash of dream-memory came to him, as well as a sudden surge of wrath. He shook his head to dispel the feeling, and leaned the cane carefully in the corner, as he took tottery, but unaided, steps in the direction of the shower.
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Harry felt an expansive mood sweep over him as he observed the living room of the Burrow, several nights later. It was Christmas Eve, Hermione would be here soon, and had there ever been anything more beautiful than the large and lopsided evergreen tree in the corner, strewn and hung with strings of popcorn and tatty homemade ornaments? Fairy lights perched on the branches, blinking in various colors according to the fairy's mood. There were garlands of holly draped around the room, with the obligatory mistletoe over the door.
He wasn't even aware that he had stopped on the bottom step to take it all in, until he heard Ron clear his throat behind him.
"Sorry," he murmured in a befuddled voice.
"So," Ron ventured, as they settled on the sofa. Mrs. Weasley called out from the kitchen that the hot cocoa was nearly ready. "You still planning to go through with it?"
"Of course I am," Harry said, a little defensively. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"She's going to be right pissed at you, you know," Ron nodded sagely, thumping one of the fairies that had sidled off of the Christmas tree and settled on Ron's shoulder. She shrieked at him furiously, as she was propelled across the room, and huffed back to her branch, where she turned a decidedly ominous greenish-brown. Harry watched the interchange with a bemused expression, which changed to worry when he registered what Ron had said.
"Why would she be mad? Do you think she - ?"
"Don't get me wrong, mate, she'll love it. But she's going to be pissed when she finds out what you've been doing behind her back all this time."
"I think I'm going to throw up," Harry said, lowering his head to his hands.
The merrily crackling flames in the fireplace dwindled and turned green, signaling that the Floo connection had been activated. Harry and Ron watched with interest to see who was arriving first. They heard thumping feet on the stairs, as Ginny, Fred, and George hurtled downstairs as well, evidently figuring that the party was starting.
A moment later, Bill and Fleur Weasley had stepped out of the fireplace.
"How does she do that?" Ron murmured in an aside to Harry, as Fleur appeared perfectly unruffled by the Floo trip, without even one smudge of soot on her. Her shiny blond hair was twisted up on the back of her head.
"Ron, close your mouth," Harry whispered, nudging his friend discreetly in the side.
"Bill? Fleur?" Mrs. Weasley came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron, and engulfing them in hugs. "Why on earth didn't you Apparate?" Bill and Fleur exchanged glances, and Bill shrugged.
"Fleur didn't feel like Apparating today." Ginny came up and threw herself into her oldest brother's arms, while Harry and Ron tried not to stare at his wife.
There were pops heard out in the yard, and only a moment later, the front door swung open wide to admit Lupin and Tonks. Other people began to pile in - out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Ginny craning her neck, he thought, to look for Dean - Remus slapped him on the back, and asked him how he was doing - Charlie had arrived as well, and Mrs. Weasley was exclaiming over the barely-healed burns on his hands. Harry's eyes were searching for Hermione, even though he knew they were coming by Floo, and he would have ample warning of their arrival.
He had been distracted by the dancing flames, waiting for them to turn green, when the room was suddenly plunged into an awkward silence. Harry looked toward the front door with trepidation, not really sure what to expect, when he saw Percy standing stiffly and uncertainly on the threshold, Penelope Clearwater on his arm.
The room was incredibly still, and one could have cut the silence with a `Diffindo' spell. Harry's gaze drifted over to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, as had just about everyone else's, waiting for their reaction before reacting themselves. Mrs. Weasley looked totally at a loss; she was blinking her eyes furiously.
"H - Happy Christmas, Mum," Percy said, and it wasn't in the pompous tone that Harry had come to associate with him, but in a quiet, uncertain voice - a lost voice, a little boy's voice.
Mrs. Weasley's chin trembled, and she managed to choke out, "Percy!" before gathering him to her like he was only a child, pressing his head down on her shoulder. Penelope stood by, watching with shining eyes, her lips pressed shyly together and her cheeks pink with expectation. Finally, she was enfolded in Mrs. Weasley's arms as well. "It's lovely to have you here as well, Penelope," the matriarch murmured softly. Harry knew what it was like to feel like you belonged, especially somewhere that was not technically your home, and wondered if Penelope was feeling that sort of awe and thankfulness now.
Bill and Charlie both moved to speak to Percy, while Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny looked slightly less forgiving. Harry turned to look at his best friend.
"Ron, it's Christmas," he said. Ron looked over at Percy with a mixture of loathing and resignation. Harry tried again. "He's your brother." Ron's Adam's apple moved in his throat, as he swallowed. "Do it for your mum," Harry finally said, in a low voice.
Ron finally nodded. "All right." He and the other Weasley siblings, who had been listening to their quiet interchange, moved forward to shake Percy's hand and wish him Happy Christmas.
Harry's eyes drifted toward the flames again. He missed Hermione. It had been two weeks, and he had definitely missed her comforting warmth next to him in bed, although that wasn't a longing that he could exactly share with anyone else.
"There's Luna!" Ron said, excitement tingeing his voice, after he had worked his way back across the living room to Harry, having spoken politely to Percy and Penelope, and declared to his best mate that that was the best he could do.
Luna Lovegood was standing uncertainly just outside the front door, eying the sprig of mistletoe with a decidedly distrustful air. A flaxen-haired man who looked like he'd dressed while thoroughly distracted stood just behind her, watching the mistletoe as well.
"Luna!" Ron called, waving one arm, and instantly drawing jeers from Fred and George. "Come on in." Luna cautiously put one foot across the threshold, ducking her head like she expected the mistletoe to fly down and attack her without a moment's notice.
"Did you check the mistletoe for Nargles, Ron?"
"Luna, it's fine, really. Come on in," Ron said again, studiously ignoring Harry. Harry watched his friend's too-composed features, and felt his own face pulling into a grin. He struggled to keep the lines of his mouth taut.
"Sweet Merlin, you really did check…didn't you?" Harry asked, his voice quavering with suppressed laughter. A muscle jerked in Ron's jaw, and the tell-tale Weasley flush began to creep up his neck and into his ears.
He watched Ron take Luna's hand, placing his other hand on her back, and lead her gently into the room, assuring her, "I did the spell just like you told me." Harry's desire to laugh suddenly ebbed, and he was filled with a warmth that he couldn't explain. Was this Ron Weasley - the one that Hermione had declared had the emotional range of a teaspoon? The one who had taken four years to realize their other best friend was, in fact, a girl - although Harry didn't reckon he had much room to talk on that account.
"Brings a tear to your eye, doesn't it?" George whispered to him, having watched the scene as well. "Didn't think ickle Ronniekins had it in him."
Harry's response to George's needling was forgotten, as the dancing flames in the fireplace died with a green glow. He leaned forward expectantly, and felt his stomach do a nauseating dance.
A moment later, Hermione had stepped out of the Floo, ash in her hair and on the tip of her nose, and was giving him a careful hug, mindful of the support he required from his cane.
"I missed you," he murmured into her hair. She nodded in agreement, squeezing her eyes closed and hugging him more tightly. He then greeted her parents, who had come through the Floo with commendable aplomb, especially for Muggles. Harry looked more than a little nervous, and Hermione figured it was because he found himself on slightly different footing with them now, as a boyfriend, not just a friend.
Mrs. Weasley was closing the front door, after everyone had entered, and people tumbled into empty places, spilling into the living room, kitchen, and even up the stairs.
"Is that everyone?" she asked. "Ginny, dear, will you set the table?" But Ginny wasn't listening; an owl had flapped through the front door at some point in the chaos, and she was reading the missive it had brought with a set, disappointed face.
"Dean's not coming," she said quietly. Mrs. Weasley looked at her sympathetically, while Harry, Hermione, and Ron exchanged glances.
Ginny's face gave nothing away, as she followed her mum into the kitchen.
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A short while later, the entire throng was gathered in an expanded Weasley kitchen, at the enlarged table, and the house rang noisily with conversations and laughter. There were constant requests to pass one dish or another, and Mrs. Weasley was up and down, refilling drinks and bringing more food to the table that Harry didn't see how she found time to eat at all.
At length, when the gathering had settled down with pie and tea and coffee and old Ogden's - Ron and Harry had quailed under Mrs. Weasley's stern stare, and did not try any - Bill cleared his throat to speak, at the same time as Percy said,
"Well, I have some news." He and Bill looked at each other.
"Go on, Percy," Bill said, with a twinkle in his eyes.
"Last night, I asked Penelope to marry me…and she's accepted," Percy said, only just managing to lift his eyes from his plate. There were whoops and shouts from around the table, and Fred and George mimed being clapped in irons. Mrs. Weasley's eyes misted over.
"Another of my babies…" she said tearily. Ginny, Hermione, and Fleur were all angling to see Penelope's ring, and she was holding her hand out daintily for examination.
"Congratulations, Percy," Harry said sincerely, and Percy smiled and nodded, but didn't speak. They exchanged knowing glances. Harry had been as annoyed with Percy as anyone in the last couple of years, but not being family helped him stay a little more removed from it. Ron and Ginny were going to have more trouble just opening their arms and welcoming him back into the fold.
"What were you going to say, Bill?" Ron asked a moment later, with curiosity. Harry idly watched Ron sitting next to Luna; he reckoned they were holding hands under the table.
"Well, if - if Mum is going to be forced to keep marrying off her babies," he looked fondly at his mother with a smile, "then it's only right that she have a grandchild to show for it…perhaps late this summer?"
There was a moment of stunned silence. Fleur colored prettily, and leaned her head into Bill's shoulder. When Mrs. Weasley had recovered the powers of speech and motion, she made her way quickly around the table and wailed something untelligible at a very high pitch, as she hugged Bill and Fleur. Congratulations and well-wishes - as well as snide comments from the twins - were called out so heartily that even Bill began to flush.
"Isn't that lovely?" Hermione whispered to Harry, her hand creeping under the table and twining with his.
"It is lovely," Harry agreed, looking into her sparkling dark eyes. They gazed at each other for a long moment.
"I love you," Hermione said softly.
"I love you too." There was commotion at the table, as Mrs. Weasley said,
"Well, your father and I have news as well. This seems as good a time as any to tell everyone." Fred and George's eyes grew round with mock horror.
"Mum, don't tell us!"
"Aren't you a bit old?" Mrs. Weasley narrowed her eyes at them, and instructed two spatulas to whack them sharply upside the head, without missing a beat.
"Your father has been promoted at work!" she announced happily, and everyone cheered again. Mr. Weasley reddened, though still looking quite pleased with himself, and stood quickly, mumbled something inaudible, and sat back down.
"What are you going to be doing, Dad?" Charlie called from about two-thirds of the way down the table.
"I've been transferred to the Muggle Liaison Office," Mr. Weasley beamed, stammering slightly. "I'll be the Number Two man there… in charge of twenty-five people in the department. It's a wonderful opportunity to work more closely with Muggles…they really are fascinating," he rambled, and then appeared to remember that he had Muggles at his table that evening. He looked apologetically at the Grangers, who let it pass graciously. Someone at the table began to applaud, and everyone else followed suit.
Harry's eyes tripped over the faces and landed on Lupin, who was sitting next to Tonks, with his arm around her, but still had an increasingly uncomfortable look on his face. His gaze met Harry's, who made a wordless gesture that Lupin should speak next. Hermione and Harry exchanged glances, as Lupin cleared his throat, and pushed his chair a little way back from the table.
"It appears that this is a night for news," Lupin began in a heavy, formal sounding voice.
"Remus, are you and Nymphadora getting married?" Mrs. Weasley asked in delight. Tonks winced at the use of her given name.
"No, Molly, we are not," Lupin said politely, and Mrs. Weasley looked more than a little discomposed. Before she could utter the apology that appeared on the verge of being spoken, he continued, "Because we already did." He held up his hand, and Tonks did as well, showing off rings that had obviously been charmed to be invisible up to that point.
The table was once again shocked speechless. "When?" Mrs. Weasley managed to squeak.
"Last month," Tonks said, taking the reins of the conversation. "It was just a simple ceremony…Muggle minister…" Many at the table nodded in understanding - werewolves could not legally get married in the wizarding world. Harry saw Hermione lean over and whisper an explanation to her parents. "Nobody else was there, but Harry and Hermione."
All eyes were instantly on them, and they both flushed under the scrutiny, feeling somehow as if they had been caught doing something wrong.
"You knew they got married, and you didn't tell me!" Ron said, in a disbelieving tone.
"You get threatened with secrecy or else by a professor - " Harry began, trying to justify himself.
" - in a N.E.W.T. year - " Hermione interjected.
"What are you going to do?" Harry finished lightly, with a shrug. Everyone laughed.
"I originally wanted to tell only Harry," Lupin added. "But my… wife," he paused over the unfamiliar word, and smiled, "wanted another woman there. And since they are finishing each other's sentences…" here there were more snickers. "I believed that the chances of Harry keeping his mouth shut were rather small." Harry sent a mock glower to his professor, whose eyes were twinkling more merrily than any had seen in a long while.
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The gathering next adjourned to the living room, where they draped themselves over any available piece of furniture. Even so, many of the younger adults - Ginny being the only one there who was still technically a child - were forced to sit on the floor. Fleur got a place of honor on the sofa, next to Bill, who was still being met with slaps on the back and handshakes. Mrs. Weasley was watching them with dreamy, wet eyes.
Mr. Weasley and Charlie began to hand out the presents, and no one was left out. Weasley sweaters abounded, and Ron was the first to comment, when he received a blue one.
"It isn't maroon!" he said, looking very nearly overcome. Harry laughed, and held up his own green one to his chest to inspect the fit. Hermione sat nearby, her arms around her knees, watching him smile. He seemed to be doing so well, lately - if only it weren't for the nagging feeling that he was keeping something from her. Her gaze darted suspiciously to Ron, who was pulling his new sweater on over his clothes, declaring loudly that it would be at least five or six years before he was tired of blue sweaters.
She and her parents had gotten Mr. Weasley a battery-operated alarm clock, and he was examining it with a very pleased look on his face. She watched with a pleased grin, as her father leaned over to show him how to set it. There was another outcry of delight as Fred, George, and Ron opened real dragon-hide gloves from Charlie.
"Obtained painlessly, of course," Charlie grinned, holding up innocent hands, as Hermione speared him with a reproving look. "The hide is from dragons that had already molted."
Hermione suddenly grew very still, as she watched Professor Lupin open the present from her. He looked at the delicate crystal vial, filled with a glowing red liquid, very carefully, and then glanced up at her, a question in his eyes.
"It's - it's a - I've been - well, I've been tweaking the Wolfsbane potion…in - in my spare time, and I - I think it might work even better now, so I - " Hermione flushed, as the rustle of wrapping paper and the murmur of voice stilled, and she was the object of everyone's attention. "I thought you might want to try it." She twisted her hands in her lap and laughed a little at herself, as she struggled to maintain her composure. The corners of Remus Lupin's mouth turned up in a small smile, as moisture glistened in his eyes.
"Thank you, Hermione," he said, after a moment. "It's the most thoughtful gift I've ever received."
"You're welcome," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Thanks a lot, Hermione!" came a voice, along with a throw pillow, hurled across the room, hitting Hermione in the head. "Show the rest of us up, why don't you?" Tonks' smile belied her words, and Hermione knew that she was even more pleased about the potion than Remus, if that were possible.
Hermione was content to observe again, as people were warily opening the gifts tagged as being from George and Fred. As far as she could tell, nothing had yet exploded. Ron and Luna were sitting in a corner, almost hidden from her sight by the branches of the Christmas tree, whispering softly to each other, while Luna untied a ribbon on a clumsily wrapped gift. Ginny sat in the just to the left of the stairs, looking quite alone and not very happy. Hermione had just decided to go over and talk to her, when she noticed that Harry was missing.
"Harry?" she murmured, turning around, looking toward the front hall and where the bottom of the stairs passed on out of her view. She had not notice him leave. "Where's Harry?" she said, a little more loudly.
"I think he went upstairs," George said, gesturing toward the staircase.
She had stood up, and was heading for the stairs, when she saw something hurtle down them and clatter noisily on the floor near her feet.
It was Harry's silver-headed cane. She gazed upward, peering into the shadows at the top of the stairs.
"Harry?" she asked again, and there was a note of reprimand in her voice. She heard footfalls, slow and careful, on the steps. When he reached the bottom half of the flight, he came into the glowing light of the living room, and she could see him walking, completely unaided, his hand barely skimming along the rail.
She did not make a sound, but tears filled her eyes rapidly, and spilled quickly down her cheeks. She clasped her hands together over her heart, as a bemused smile wobbled on her face. She was laughing and crying at the same time, as he slowly crossed the room toward her, his eyes never leaving hers.
She glanced suddenly over at Ron, who was watching the scene raptly and grinning widely, along with Luna and everyone else in the room. "You knew about this!" She accused him, in a voice that would have sounded angry if it wasn't so tear-filled. She was wiping at her cheeks. "That's the secret you two have been sneaking around with. You were helping him practice walking, weren't you? Did you think I wouldn't notice?" She turned back to Harry, who was standing directly in front of her now, and drank in the sight of him, tall, straight, getting healthier and stronger by the day - and smiling, gazing at her with the most incredible light in his eyes. She couldn't think of anything that she would have wanted more.
"Is this my present?" she asked him in a soft voice, feeling suddenly shy with all the eyes on them. Harry smiled at her, and shook his head, mouthing the word "no". He took her hands in his; everyone was watching them. Hermione felt her mouth suddenly go dry; her palms were clammy and her heart was racing.
Slowly, he knelt down.
Hermione's eyes widened in realization, and her hands trembled in his. Her stomach leapt up, somersaulted into her throat, and then landed back in its correct location. Someone in the room - probably Fred - whistled shrilly.
"Hermione," Harry began in a low, tremulous voice. He was managing to keep it fairly level, but Hermione could see by the sheen of his face how nervous he was. "I love you. You've been one of the dearest friends I've ever known. And now that it's become something more than that, I feel like I've always loved you, since the moment I first saw you, even if it took me awhile to realize."
"Harry's always been a bit thick," someone - probably George - called out, and there was some laughter, under which Hermione could hear Mrs. Weasley's whispered command for the two of them to act their age.
"You've never abandoned me and never given up on me. You've protected me, stood up for me, lied for me, and supported me. You faced Voldemort with me, and you saved my life then and… afterwards as well." Harry's own eyes were wet now, as Hermione stood above him, tears trickling unchecked down her face. "I can't imagine my life without you, and I hope I don't have to. Hermione, will you marry me?"
Hermione swallowed, and had to nod several times before her tear-clogged throat could manage a raspy "yes". She watched a tremor of relief and gratitude shudder through Harry, and he began to try to stand. She quickly and discreetly slid her hands from his, moving them up to his elbows, and helped him to his feet.
"You didn't have to do that," she said softly, concern etched on her face. His eyes were glowing as he looked at her, sliding the ring onto the fourth finger of her left hand.
"Yes, I did," he whispered back. She looked down at her ring, a marquis-cut diamond in an antique setting. "It was my mother's." He answered her unspoken question.
"It's lovely," she said, running her fingers over the textured metal. "How are your knees?"
"They hurt like hell," Harry said, honestly, a rueful smile on his face, but warmth filling his eyes. "But it was worth it. You said yes."
"Did you really think I'd say no?"
"Well, we're awfully young - " Harry began, but Hermione interrupted him.
"We've been through more in our lives than most people three times our age. We may still be teenagers, but I think we're old souls, don't you? Besides, I'm old enough to know what I want."
"Me too," Harry breathed, and he finally kissed her, lightly but lingeringly, in front of all the people that they loved most in the world. "What do you think? After graduation?" A radiant smile lit up Hermione's face.
"Yeah…" she agreed, nodding elatedly, appearing to already be planning it out in her mind.
Slowly they became aware again of the room full of people watching the tableau with eager and misty eyes. Their smiles became self-conscious, as everyone began to clap. Hermione thought guiltily of Ron and Ginny, but both were smiling at their friends, Ginny looking only a little downcast in Dean's absence. Mrs. Weasley was beaming, and Harry thought that if she heard any more news about matchmaking or babies that she'd probably explode from joy.
"Oy!" Ron called out loudly. "It's about time you made an honest woman out of her, after all that - " He seemed to suddenly realize what he was saying and in front of whom.
"Ron! For the love of Merlin!" Harry exclaimed quickly, alarmed. He and his new fiancée flushed crimson. He was pleased to see, at least, that Ron had reddened as well. Mrs. Weasley stood and began to rapidly send wrapping paper scraps soaring to the bin, apparently pretending that her son's prior statement had not happened.
The Grangers approached their daughter - and future son-in-law. Hermione's mum engulfed her in a long hug.
"Mum? Dad? Are you okay with this?" Hermione asked, her brow creasing nervously. "I know we're kind of young, but -"
"Harry's already talked to us, sweetie," her mother cut in. "He asked your father for permission, and did quite an excellent job selling us on the reasons you could go ahead and be married." She smiled at Harry then. "He's really quite persuasive."
"And he's also able to support you," her dad said suddenly and rather gruffly, evidently not forgetting Ron's ill-thought comment.
"Dad!" Hermione said, half-mortified, half-amused. She turned to Harry. "You asked my parents?" she said in wonderment.
Harry shrugged, a little self-consciously. "It seemed like the thing to do. Is that hopelessly outdated?"
"No," Hermione said. "I think it's a very sweet gesture." He clasped her hand, now bearing his ring, and kissed her again.
"I love you," he whispered.
"I love you t - " she began, and then bent toward him anxiously, as he seemed to suddenly grow tense. "Harry?" she called out, worry lacing her tone. The concern in her voice caused all other movement and conversation in the room to cease suddenly. "Harry?"
He was not responding to her; instead, staring blankly ahead, as if seeing something that was not there. His hands were limp in hers and cold as ice.
"Harry, please answer me." Pleading cracked her voice.
He looked at her then, his eyes distant and appraising, as if he did not know her. She felt a shudder run over her frame, without really knowing why. He opened his mouth to speak.
A series of sibilant noises, comprised of syllables like isss and ssshhheh and heth, flowed fluently from his mouth. Mrs. Weasley gasped audibly, and Ginny dropped her mug on the floor, where it shattered unheeded.
Lupin, Ron, and Mr. Weasley had rushed to Harry's side. "Dad," Ron said in a trembling voice. "Look at his scar."
It was glowing whitely on his forehead, giving off a light that was very nearly dazzling to the eyes.
"Ginny," Tonks ventured in an uncertain tone. "Do you know what he said?" Ginny closed her eyes momentarily, almost in a gesture of pain, and reached backward into unwelcome memories - blank spaces in time, blood on her robes, a soothing voice speaking smooth lies in her head, feeding her fears and insecurities. She opened her eyes, and swallowed convulsively.
"He said `You cannot hold me here.'"
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
When Harry awakened, the lurid orange décor notified him that he was in Ron's bed. Mrs. Weasley sat on a chair nearby, and he could barely make out a shadowy form propped in front of the closed door in a chair. It appeared to be Bill. He shifted slightly in bed, drawing their attention.
"What happened?" he asked weakly.
"You passed out," Mrs. Weasley replied, carefully and rather inaccurately.
"I was talking to Hermione's parents," Harry remembered out loud. "Then - then it got cold. I passed out? Why?" A shred of memory presented itself to him, and he spoke without thinking. "Was there a snake?" He shook his head. Why did I say that?
"I don't know, Harry," Bill said, watching him with probing eyes. "Was there?"
"What are you talking about?" Harry asked, having caught on to the odd tone in Bill's voice.
"Harry, you went into kind of a trance," Mrs. Weasley said softly. Harry saw Bill make a kind of involuntary move forward, as if in protest, but he checked it. "You started speaking Parseltongue."
Harry's gaze was one of trepidation. "Does anyone know what I said?" he asked in a hoarse voice.
The snake burst from his skull with a searing pain, and the blood pouring from the wound flooded his eyes, burning and blinding them…
"Ginny said you said `You cannot hold me here'."
"`You cannot hold me here,'" Harry repeated. He shook his head without comprehension. "What does that mean?"
"We were hoping you'd tell us that, Harry," Bill answered him evenly. Harry cocked one eyebrow at him.
"Am I being accused of something here?"
"Of course not, Harry. Don't be ridiculous," Mrs. Weasley spoke quickly, throwing a quelling glance toward Bill.
"Where's Hermione?"
"Ron's only just come up and made her leave…get something to eat. You've been out for hours. It'll be nearly dawn now…Christmas Day." Mrs. Weasley smoothed his damp hair away from his face maternally. Harry swore under his breath, then winced, but relaxed, when Mrs. Weasley didn't bat an eyelash at his language.
"I've ruined everything, haven't I?" He asked in a voice of quiet despair.
"My dear silly boy, why ever would you say that?" There was an indulgent note in Molly Weasley's tone, and it made Harry want to writhe in embarrassment and annoyance.
"I want to see Hermione," he said, pushing himself upright in the bed, and swinging his legs over the side. "Where's my cane?"
"Harry - " Mrs. Weasley tried to stop him, but he gently removed her arm from his, and limped slowly and painstakingly toward the door, blocked by the chair in which Bill sat.
"Bill, please get out of my way," Harry said, almost politely.
"Harry," Bill began, in a "this is for your own good" way. "We're worried about you."
"Why should you be worried about me?" Harry asked, a little too quickly. "It's only after-effects…from my encounter with Voldemort. Hermione said so. I've always had bad dreams and flashes of memories that weren't mine. He gave me the ability to speak Parseltongue when I was a baby. I'm used to it by now…I'm only sorry it's messed up everyone's Christmas."
"Harry," Bill said again. "Voldemort's dead. He -"
"Of course he's dead," Harry said emphatically and rapidly, overriding whatever Bill had been intending to say. His eyes went sharply to Bill's face, where his own scars were palely visible in the graying dawn. "Do you think Voldemort's possessing me or something?" He did not wait for Bill to answer. "I watched him die. I impaled him on a sword!" His tone was one of exasperation, of "how many times do I have to tell you that?"
"Hermione said you heard his voice in your head. In the hospital," Bill remarked in a soft voice.
"It was a potion I had to take. It caused hallucinations," Harry said shortly.
"You were afraid he was still alive," Bill said, and Harry sucked his breath at the pain of Hermione's betrayal. Why had she told them that? Now they all think - they all think - his mind was racing in incoherent circles. All he could process was that Bill had voiced his deepest fear - that he had failed…that somewhere out there was a horcrux that they had missed, and Voldemort was still alive.
"No," Harry breathed, in a tone of pure denial, shaking his head vehemently. "No, he's dead. There were seven horcruxes…six objects and his own body….we got them all. He's dead." He was speaking distractedly, almost as if trying to convince himself. "Where's Hermione?"
"Bill, let him go," Mrs. Weasley said in a tired voice, and Bill reluctantly stood aside, sliding the chair out of the way with one foot, eliciting a loud scrape.
Harry did not look at either of them, as he retrieved his cane from where it leaned in the corner, and left the room.
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The Burrow was quiet in the pending arrival of morning, and Harry prowled quietly through the house looking for Hermione. All the evidence of revelry from the night before had been eradicated as thoroughly as if it never happened, and it gave Harry the uncomfortably impression that he had slept perhaps for years; the event of the previous night seemed far removed from the angry, bitter, fearful, worried emotions that were roiling through him now.
He opened the back door softly, and peered out into the dim garden. The grass and shrubbery were festooned with glittery sprinkles of frost, and Harry shivered as the cold air hit him. He was about to close the door again, when he stiffened, hearing the soft murmur of voices, but seeing no one. Closer examination revealed that the people speaking were sitting against the same wall that the back door opened into, on the other side of a large bush, taller than he was. They were quite invisible, although their voices drifted to him clearly.
"Hermione, I don't see how you can think that it's true - after just this one instance," Ron's voice was disbelieving. Someone - evidently Hermione - sniffled.
"It's not just this one instance. It's dozens of little things. The voices in his head. The nightmares. He told me one morning after a dream that there was a snake in his head. A snake…in his head! What else could that mean?" Her voice broke a little. "Don't you remember when we discussed the possibility…that first night at Hogwarts? You didn't want to believe it then either."
"If… if it is true, then what does that mean we do?" Ron asked slowly, after a moment of silence. "Do we tell the Order?"
"I don't know," she sighed. "What if they - what if - people might be scared of him, if they knew. And they would - they might…" Harry craned his neck, straining to hear, as Hermione's voice dropped so low that it was barely a whisper. "What if they took him away?"
"But they can't do that! It's not his fault!" Ron burst out suddenly, his voice loud and dissonant in the quiet gray garden.
"Some people might not see it like that - not the Order - but other people. They would see the sacrifice as well worth it if Voldemort were gone for good. Or the Ministry - who knows? They could lock him up in the Department of Mysteries and - and watch him and test him…like a - like an experiment or something."
"Hermione, no…" Ron's tone was one of pure horror.
"Don't you see, Ron? Why we can't tell anybody that Harry's a horcrux?" Harry felt as if he had sustained a stunning blow to the head. Spots danced before his vision, and his lungs suddenly seemed incapable of drawing in enough oxygen. His mind whirled….no, it's not possible. It's not possible, even as another more rational voice said it makes sense…that's why the destruction of the horcruxes made me sick…another piece of the soul that I - oh my God - have inside me was being annihilated. He stepped backwards, groping behind him for the door, needing something to lean against desperately.
"-don't know anything about horcruxes. How can we do anything?" Ron was saying. Harry had missed the first part of his statement.
"If I can modify the Wolfsbane potion, I can find out about horcruxes," Hermione said, in a determined voice. "There's got to be a way to remove one safely…we just have to find out how."
"Oh, is that all? Not even Dumbledore could find out about them. That's why Harry had to retrieve Slughorn's real memory. Are we just going to march up to the darkest Death Eater we can find, and ask them politely if we could do a little research?" Ron said sarcastically. "And you've forgotten another thing, Hermione. What is this piece of soul capable of? Can it make Harry do things? What if it notifies the Death Eaters and they find out Voldemort's not dead. They'll - "
"Come after Harry," Hermione finished for him in a dead-sounding voice.
"Hermione, Harry's always been in danger. But what if he's dangerous now - I mean, Voldemort through him. What if he hurts you?"
"Harry wouldn't ever hurt me," Hermione said, in a certain enough tone to bring a little balm to Harry's heart. "Besides, it's one piece of Voldemort's soul against all of Harry's…"
"Did you see the way he looked at you? Before he started speaking Parseltongue?" Ron asked insistently, and then his voice grew gentler. "I just want you to be careful."
"What are we going to do?" she said, in a muffled tone. Harry reckoned she had put her face in her hands.
"Did you ever think about telling me any of this?" He said icily, stepping out from around the tree, before he even realized he was going to reveal himself.
The look on Ron and Hermione's faces would have been comical if the situation hadn't been so dangerous and frightening.
"Harry, we were just theorizing - " Hermione began, and he saw the fear flash into her eyes. Somehow that made him even angrier.
"And now you're afraid of me? Afraid I'm suddenly going to turn into Lord Bloody Voldemort himself and crucio everyone in sight?" His ire was obvious, but what hurt Hermione the most was the lost little boy look in his eyes - the boy that had been locked in a cupboard and told he was a freak by the only family he'd ever known. She hadn't seen that face for quite some time.
"I'm - I'm not afraid of you, Harry. I know you," she said calmly, though her chin was trembling. "You would never hurt me."
Some of the fight went out of Harry. His limp seemed more pronounced - perhaps brought on by the stress of the last several hours - and he leaned against the wall near her.
"But you hurt me, Hermione," he spoke in a calm voice - the calm of despair and apathy, rather than the calm of peace and serenity. "If you knew back then - if you knew that I was a horcrux…why didn't you tell me?"
"I didn't know anything for sure," she protested. "And when we found the ruby missing from the sword, I thought I'd been wrong."
"Dumbledore was wrong," Harry said dully, staring at nothing. The sky was beginning to lighten, the horizon becoming pearlescent in the east, the stars beginning to fade out in the west. "There weren't seven horcruxes. There were seven splits. Eighth…I was the eighth." He seemed to be rambling, no longer aware that they were there.
"Harry, we're going to find a way to fix this." Hermione laid one hand on his arm, looking up into his face. He did not look back at her; his face was bleak and tired, and he seemed to have aged rapidly overnight. "I'm sorry I didn't say anything to you first. But I thought I was wrong."
"You're hardly ever wrong," Harry said, without amusement or tenderness in his voice. "And I can tell you right now how to fix this."
"Harry, that's not funny -" Ron had remained silent up to this point, but now stood in front of Harry, looking him in the eyes.
"I'm not laughing," Harry retorted, biting out the words through gritted teeth. "If - if I need to - need to - for the greater good - for the safety of the wizarding world…." He looked down at Hermione suddenly, his eye drawn by the glistening diamond on her hand, as the first rays of sunlight scattered across the sky. I was so close… he thought bitterly, so close to happiness, to normalcy, and now… The lines and planes of Hermione's face appeared harsh with worry and fatigue, even in the soft light of dawn. Harry sighed. I love her so much.
"Harry, please don't talk like that," she said, in as matter of fact a voice as she could muster. "We found the other horcruxes…with nobody's help but our own. We can do this. I love you. I'm not giving up - we're not giving up, not without a fight."
Harry looked into the resolute faces of his two best friends - of his best friend and his lover, his fiancée. Somehow their hopeful, determined countenances wearied him, annoyed him. He felt guilty and angry and betrayed … and tired. His shoulders slumped, and he longed for nothing more than to go into a room alone, shut the door, sit in the dark, and pretend that none of this was happening.
Rage boiled up through him. A high thin voice said, "Crucio". Someone was screaming.
"I can't do this right now…I can't talk about this now. It's - it's too much…"
Hermione and Ron seemed frozen where they stood, the heaviness of Harry's burdens feeling cumbersome upon their shoulders as well.
Harry limped to the door and slipped inside, slamming it shut behind him.
TBC
AN: You got some fluff, so naturally it had to be counter-balanced with a precise measurement of angst! Hope you enjoyed. You may leave a review on your way out, if you like.
But please not these kinds of reviews… I recently was flamed in my reviews - 5 times in a row - by people saying how much they hated this site, and how stupid H/Hr shippers were, and how if we'd read HBP, we'd know who was getting together, etc., etc. I found it extremely annoying, as it was not even about my story in particular. I don't think my story was even read. If you don't like these pairings, go read fanfiction somewhere else! I have read HBP and liked it fine, and feel pretty sure what is going to happen in canon. I actually don't have a problem with it either - my main concern is that Harry not end up alone. That doesn't mean I can't make stuff up on my own, just for fun. I still like the H/Hr ship. <sigh> Some people are so stupid.
That is all. [/end rant]
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