Disclaimer: Not mine, as if you lived under a rock and thought it was.
PART III: The Beginning of the End
Chapter Two: New Awakenings
Hermione pushed away from her desk and rubbed her eyes tiredly. She let out a long, gusty sigh, and looked over at the two boys.
"I suppose we should go to bed. The Express leaves early in the morning."
"You mean it leaves early today," Ron said blearily, looking like he wanted to drop where he sat. Hermione turned back to the small package with renewed frustration. It looked merely like a lumpy nondescript object; its true nature indiscernible under its last masking charm.
"There has got to be something I'm missing. This is going to have what we need; I'm sure of it. Otherwise, why would it have so many charms on it?"
"Because Lucius Malfoy wants to make our lives miserable?" Ron suggested, while Hermione's glower showed what she thought of his attempt at levity.
Harry was sitting at his desk, his bad leg propped up in another chair, flipping intently through the pile of notes that Hermione had left at his door earlier. His hair was falling forward in his eyes, and he kept brushing it back distractedly.
Hermione laid her quill down on her desk, and watched him for a moment, but said nothing. Ron watched her watch him, and wondered silently to himself when his best friends would get it together.
"Well, I'm going to bed," Ron said, standing with a rather exaggerated stretch and yawn. "I've got to make sure I get up in time to pack before the train arrives."
"You haven't packed?" Hermione said, her voice rising in pitch with disbelief. She turned to look at Ron, only to see him grinning at her.
"Yeah, I'm going to miss winding you up like that," he said, as her eyes narrowed. He walked to the bottom of the stairs, but turned before he mounted them.
"What are you going to do, Hermione?" Ron asked suddenly. They had talked about this before, but, with a sudden glance at Harry, Hermione realized that Ron was asking for their other friend's benefit. Harry was still holding his quill to parchment, but it wasn't moving.
"Going back home," Hermione said, speaking softly and lifting one shoulder in a shrug. "The Ravenclaw Foundation hired me as a potions and charms researcher. The money is horrid, but it's a prestigious position. Not many people get hired straight out of school."
"We've got a third bedroom at our flat," Ron blurted, hoping Harry wouldn't kill him later. "You could always stay with us."
Hermione smiled, but shook her head. She had been watching Harry, as Ron spoke, and had seen the way his spine stiffened when Ron made his offer.
"I haven't really lived at home for a long time, it feels like," she replied. "I miss my parents, but thank you, Ron."
"You can crash there, anytime," Ron said, drifting slowly up a couple of stairs.
"I'll hold you to it," Hermione murmured, as her eyes floated over to Harry again. He had resumed writing.
"'Night," Ron said, with a jaunty little wave. Hermione waved back.
"See you in the morning, Ron," Harry called, without looking up. For a long time, the only sound in the room was the shuffling of paper and the scratch of Harry's quill. After awhile, Harry could hear Hermione occasionally muttering Latin words, as she tried in vain to break the last charm on the package Draco Malfoy had delivered via Ginny earlier that evening.
Suddenly there was a blue flash of light and a soft pop, like an arc of electric current. "Ow!" Hermione cried, as her wand dropped from her grasp. Harry looked up; Hermione was wringing her hand like she had just been the victim of a stinging hex.
"Are you okay?" he asked with mild concern.
"This thing bit me," she answered, with a note of reproach in her voice. "But I'm fine." There was a moment of silence, as they stared around each other awkwardly. "It's going to be weird tomorrow, isn't it? Leaving Hogwarts for good?"
"Yeah, it is," Harry managed in a strained voice, clearing his throat halfway through. "Congratulations on that research job though, Hermione. That's brilliant." He caught a hint of sparkle in her eyes, as she looked up at him quickly, and then dropped her gaze again.
"And look at you!" Hermione mustered up a jovial tone, after another pause. "Not playing Quidditch, but coaching it! That's really impressive. I always - " she stopped abruptly, and looked toward the fire.
"You always what?"
"When I - when I watched you practice and run Gryffindor through their formations and everything…I - " she colored a little. "I always thought - you seemed to have such a patient way about you, always explaining things or showing people what to do, and they just all ate it up really… even Ron." She hunched her shoulders a little. "It seems like a great job for you, that's all."
Harry slanted a sideways look at her. "Thanks," he said simply. "That's a nice thing to say."
"You're welcome," she said, with an odd note in her voice. "I meant it." There was another strained silence. Harry toyed with the quill that now sat idle in his hands. "So, you and Ron are going to be roommates?"
"Reckon we're used to each other by now," Harry answered laconically.
"That flat's going to look like a disaster, isn't it?" She asked, a hint of teasing in her eyes. Harry finally smiled.
"Probably," he admitted. "But I can cook, as you know…so we aren't going to be totally helpless. It'll be nice, finally being completely out on my own, being responsible for myself." His words hit too close to home for both of them, considering the reasons their relationship had fallen apart, and they once again were reduced to heavy silence. Harry wondered if everything had worked out, if they would have been the ones searching for a flat, with the wedding pending.
"I - I think you'll do well," Hermione finally said, in a quiet, tentative voice. Harry turned to look at her.
"Do you really?" he asked, seeming honestly surprised.
Hermione managed to wear an expression that was a combination of affront and sadness. "Harry, of course I do. I've always thought that you could do whatever you set your mind to."
"Then why - ?" he started, but she raised a weary hand.
"Harry, it's three o'clock in the morning." She looked like she was trying not to cry. Resolutely, she turned back to the package and murmured another incantation at it. Light flashed again, and caused her to drop her wand. "Dammit," she swore softly, clenching and unclenching her fingers, her voice wobbly with tears.
"What's that on your hand?" Harry asked suddenly, looking acutely interested. He thought he had seen a glimpse of something, very briefly, when the failed charm had shocked Hermione.
"What are you talking about?" Hermione said hastily, looking very self-conscious.
"You're still wearing the ring. You've made it invisible, haven't you?" Harry had an almost accusatory tone in his voice.
"I tried to give it back," Hermione felt defensive. "You shouldn't be able to see it anyway."
"I told you I didn't want it back. And I saw it when the charm shocked you. Why are you still wearing it?"
"I'm wearing it on my right hand. So you don't have anything to worry about," Hermione said, a trifle snappishly.
"That's not why I asked. If you don't - if we - I - I just wondered why you'd still want to…wear it, I mean," he finally got out.
"Because I still love you," Hermione said softly. Harry didn't know exactly what to say to that.
"I love you too," he finally answered, and something lit up in her face. "But every time I think about - about us, then I think about what you did, what you said, and I - I just can't get past it, Hermione. I have to wonder if you really love me at all, or if I'm just - just - something broken that you feel the need to repair."
"Tonight, when - when we were all down here together, working together to solve something, I - I thought - I thought maybe everything was going to be okay," she admitted, biting her lip.
"You just said it. Working together, solving something," Harry's voice was pure exasperation. "Do you even know how to be in a relationship with me, out of the context of helping me solve something, fight something, win something, finish something? If you're not helping me battle evil wizards, you're proofreading my essays… " He stammered a bit, and then sighed. "There should be more to it than that…shouldn't there?"
"Well, there was - before, I mean, wasn't there?" She ventured, blushing at the thought of their sojourns together in his bed. Suddenly that seemed like a very long time ago.
"Yes, but that still wasn't enough to - enough to - " keep us together, he thought wistfully.
"Harry, I want to help you past this. I want to help you defeat him once and for all," Hermione spoke, with an entreating look on her face. "And not just because I think you're a really nifty experiment or something. Because I love you, because I want you to be around for a long time - with me. I made a mistake. I know that, and I'm profoundly sorry. If you can't let me back into your heart, will you at least let me help save your life? Please?"
"Hermione, you're still my best friend. I don't want that to disappear. And I do love you - I never stopped loving you. I just - I just need time." His mouth twisted into a bitter smile as he spoke the last word. "Time? The one thing I don't have an abundance of."
Hermione left her seat, and knelt down beside him, leaning on the arm of his chair. "I'm not giving up on this. We'll make time. We'll figure this out. I promise." She tried to smile. "Otherwise, how will I make it up to you? Couldn't we try again - take it slowly? I don't want to lose you."
He looked down at her, and softly brushed a strand of hair back away from her cheek, as she closed her eyes, and seemed to lean into the caress. "Hermione - " he began hoarsely.
"Bloody hell, I've got it!!" came an exuberant Ron, as he bounded noisily down the stairs. Hermione backpedaled away from Harry, landing unceremoniously in her chair, as Ron stopped short at the bottom of the staircase, realizing he had interrupted…something. "Er…sorry," he said, looking a little nonplussed.
"What is it that you've got, Ron?" Harry said, trying to use a normal-sounding voice.
"How to undo that charm. I was laying in bed thinking about it, and I reckon Hermione's tried nearly every unlocking or revealing charm known to wizardkind, except…"
"Except what?" Hermione said, managing to sound curious and skeptical at the same time.
"Except that you weren't raised as a wizard, and neither were you, Harry. So why would you think to try this?" He padded over to the package lying on Hermione's desk, and held his wand over it.
"I guard at gates and keep chests shut tight
I protect people's homes at night.
I keep safe that which you prize,
But tell me where power o'er me lies"
"It's obviously talking about a … a lock." Hermione said, thinking aloud. "So we want what has power over a lock." Hermione said, not really understanding what Ron was getting at.
"What can defeat a lock? A key?" Harry said, sounding like he was guessing
"Exactly," Ron said. "A key. It's a wizarding children's rhyme. It's how little girls lock up their diaries, or whatever. Fred and George used to use it to hide my stuff. There's no reason either of you would have known it. And Malfoy probably figures himself to be above that sort of thing. It probably never even entered his head."
"A key. So we…what?" Hermione said, and then her eyes lit up. She leaned across Ron and tapped the package with her wand, saying "Clavis," in a clear voice. The package shimmered, and the illusion fell away, revealing an untidy stack of very old papers, tucked into some sort of battered leather portfolio, tied off with an elastic band.
"Sweet Merlin, Ron! You did it," Harry said, admiration evident in his voice. Ron looked extremely pleased with himself. Hermione was paging through the loose leaves, scanning for any words that might stand out. She stopped short, clutching a sheaf of paper in one hand, and sighed in frustration.
"What's wrong?" Harry asked, with a note of worry in his voice.
"It's written all in runes," Hermione said with chagrin. "It'll have to be translated first."
"But - but you can do that, can't you?" Ron asked, not seeing what the problem was.
"Of course I can. It'll just - it'll just take - "
"Time," Harry finished for her, looking grim.
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"Hey!" Harry said, his eyes lighting up, almost in spite of himself, as he opened the door to see Hermione, soaking wet, dripping on their mat. "You're drenched! What happened?"
She entered his and Ron's flat, her jaw quivering from the chill of being wet through, and gave him a withering look. "It rained," she deadpanned.
"Ha-ha," Harry responded, lighting a fire in the fireplace and casting a drying charm on her, with empty hands. "I've got tea on. You want some?" Hermione nodded, and stood closer to the fire gratefully, until she stopped shivering. "I meant, why didn't you - you know, do the water repellant spell?"
"My wand was in my purse," Hermione said. "I figured it'd be faster to just run. Have you been working on your wandless magic?" Harry looked back at her, and then looked at his hands.
"Oh. Yeah, Remus has been running me through my paces with it. I still seem to do better when I'm not really thinking about it though. Doesn't say much for my ability to perform under pressure."
"I think you perform very well under pressure," Hermione said absently, thinking of the wandless magic he'd cast during the battle with Voldemort, and realizing too late the unintentional double entendre in what she'd said.
Harry cast a quick look at her, and disappeared into the kitchen. Hermione could hear him clattering around, and turned toward the fire, so the heat could explain away her red face. "Where's Ron?" she called.
"He's in his room," Harry said, coming back into the kitchen with two cups of steaming tea. "Sulking!!" he shouted the last word toward the hallway where the bedrooms were.
"I am not!" came a heated reply.
"What's going on?" Hermione asked, looking a little amused.
"He came to practice today," Harry said, apologetically.
"I'll tell you what happened," Ron suddenly came harrumphing down the hall into the small living room. "He made me leave."
"They made me make you leave," Harry countered.
"Excuse me, but aren't you supposed to tell them what to do?" Ron looked injured.
"Look, I told them that I would just go home and tell you everything we did anyway, but they wouldn't listen. They kept saying you were spying for the Cannons, and it was distracting them from practice. They know we're flatmates, but it was still bothering them." Harry said, with the air of one who has said it before.
Ron muttered something that sounded like "you still could have stuck up for your best mate."
"I don't see why they were so worried. It's not like the Cannons would play Puddlemere until the play-offs anyway, and - "
"And the Cannons aren't going to make it that far? Is that what you were going to say?" Ron demanded.
"No, that is not what I was going to say, as a matter of fact," Harry threw up his hands in exasperation. Hermione saw his lips twitch, and figured that that had been exactly what he was going to say.
"How is Harry at practice?" Hermione asked Ron quickly, to defuse the situation.
"Well, for the short time I was there," Ron said, still looking annoyed, "he looked - well, really in charge. It was bloody hilarious!" Harry gave him a dirty look over the rim of his cup. "I mean, he has a whistle and everything!"
"Is it fun?" Hermione asked, drawing her knees up, and tucking her feet under her in the chair. Harry couldn't help but notice how the firelight turned the wild strands of her newly dried hair golden and reflected in her eyes. "I mean, do they listen to you at all? You're younger than most of them, aren't you?"
"There are a couple of reserves that they signed straight out of school," Harry said, "but most of `em are older than I am. The first couple of weeks they gave me a hard time, but this is one time where being - well, me - has helped out. Coach Bitewater was beside himself when I went on the recruiting trips with him before practice started back."
"Everyone wants to play for the Boy Who Lived?" Hermione said lightly, her eyes twinkling.
"It's giving Puddlemere an unfair advantage, if you ask me," Ron said, with mock loftiness.
"Ron, I'm not sure even I could help Chudley out," Harry teased, and got a throw pillow upside his head for his efforts.
"I can go anywhere and get insulted," Ron muttered, stalking into the kitchen to examine the contents of the refrigerator. There was a thump and a muffled exclamation. "Your cooling charm's worn off again, Harry!" he called.
"That would have been yours, Ron!" Harry said, with a long-suffering air. "Is the milk sour yet?" Hermione looked into her teacup with trepidation.
"Well, if you wouldn't keep it so bloody hot in here…it is bloody August, you know!"
"Hermione got wet, and she was cold!" Harry said defensively. Hermione laughed suddenly, and Harry glanced her way. "What?"
"You two - you sound like an old married couple," she blurted before she thought. Harry suddenly looked uncomfortable, and the smile vanished from her face. There was a tense silence.
"Do you - do you ever think about it? I mean, that we might have been married by now?" Hermione asked him tentatively, looking into the fire, instead of at him.
"I think about it all the time," he said softly, and his answer caused her to look up at him suddenly. Their gazes caught and held.
"Harry - " Hermione began, but was interrupted by Ron, who stalked back through the living room, with his mouth full of something. He headed back down the hall to his bedroom, muttering something completely unintelligible. Hermione let a nervous laugh escape; it sounded high and false in the silence that followed.
"How's the translation going?" Harry asked quickly, before Hermione could fill in the gap with any other awkward questions.
"Pretty good. Some of it's really obscure though, and whoever wrote it anagrammed some of the words too, so once they're translated, the letters are still out of order. It's a mess. Somebody really didn't want anyone else reading it." Hermione shook her head, as if unable to fathom that someone would want to willfully withhold knowledge.
"Anything useful yet?" Harry asked, staring into his mostly empty teacup, as if it held the secrets of the universe.
"There have been several references to a silver knife, but nothing more specific than that," Hermione said with regret. "And the `Readunatio Animae' has been referred to, but I still can't even figure out what spell that is." She paused for a moment. "What about you? How have you been?"
"Okay, I guess," Harry shrugged. "No more Parseltongue or anything, but…" he trailed off.
"But what?" Hermione prodded.
"Sometimes I feel - I feel a feeling that doesn't feel like mine," he said hesitantly, rolling his eyes at his awkward word choice. "Like it's there, and I'm experiencing it, but I'm not the one making it happen."
"What kinds of feelings?" she asked softly.
"Mostly unbelievable rage…sometimes just frustration or impatience," Harry sighed. "Do you think that means he's getting stronger?"
"I don't know, Harry," Hermione said helplessly. "I still think it's your entire soul versus only a fraction of his. I don't think he's any match for you."
"Yet," Harry finished darkly. "Until someone casts that spell, or until `they' come - the Death Eaters," he recalled what he had said the night of graduation.
"Harry, we don't even know who you were talking about," Hermione corrected gently. "We don't even know who `they' are or what that spell is - where are you going?" she said, as Ron came back down the hall, in a fresh shirt, with his hair newly combed.
"I've got a date," he said shortly.
"With Luna?" Hermione asked.
"Who else?" Ron answered with a happy-go-lucky shrug.
"This is from the bloke who couldn't wait to play professional Quidditch because of all the `besotted' girls," Harry said, chucking his thumb at Ron, with a conspiratorial smile at Hermione. "Guess he couldn't get any after all!"
"Hey, just because it's fun to have girls besotted with you, doesn't mean you have to be besotted back. What's wrong with wanting to be appreciated?" Ron managed a smile that seemed more smirk than anything else. "You two kids behave." There was unmistakable insinuation in his voice. "I'll see you later." Hermione waved as Ron went out the door, and then turned back to a furiously flushing Harry.
"What's the matter?" she asked Harry, in a bewildered voice.
"I wish he wouldn't say things like that - when he - when he knows -" he blundered to a stop.
"When he knows that you don't feel that way about me anymore," Hermione supplied.
"When he knows how I still feel about you," Harry corrected.
"And how is that, Harry?" She asked, in a near whisper. Harry looked at her blankly, and ran one hand through his untidy hair.
"It's complicated, Hermione. You know that."
"Explain it to me," she said, her voice suddenly sounding deep and throaty and full of promises. Harry took his wand from where it sat on the mantle, and lowered the fire, cursing to himself that it suddenly felt too warm in here.
He stood in a sudden jerky motion, automatically reaching for his cane, and still very awkwardly favoring his right leg. He held out his hand to her, and said, in a clipped voice, "Come flying with me."
A thousand initial responses flew through Hermione's head in an instant. In the rain? Whatever for? Right now? It's getting late. I have work tomorrow. Do you really think you should fly in these conditions with that leg? Don't you have to get up early in the morning? My parents will wonder where I am.
She looked up at him uncertainly, and saw the blazing look that radiated from his green eyes. His arm remained extended, his hand out, palm up. This is a test, she thought suddenly, sure that she was right. And she was startled to realize that she was not angry at being tested, but merely grateful for the chance.
She laid her small hand softly in the palm of his. "Okay," she whispered. A flicker of surprise flared up suddenly in his eyes, but he tamped it down quickly and tightened his hand around hers.
They walked slowly and carefully to the roof, where Ron's and Harry's brooms were safely housed in a storage locker. Harry leaned his cane against the hinge of the door, cast the water repellant spell around them both, and boarded his broom, holding out a hand to lift Hermione up behind him.
The kickoff was a little wobbly, since Harry could only use one leg, but he was obviously accustomed to that because he corrected for it almost immediately. Hermione felt as if her stomach had been left behind on the rooftop, as they launched into the air, and she bit back a shriek as her arms tightened around his chest. She felt his chest vibrate beneath her clenched hands.
"You're laughing at me, aren't you?" she accused.
"Never," he said in a voice quavering with suppressed mirth. She hit him on the shoulder with an open hand, and he purposely sent the broom into a dive.
"Okay, okay, I apologize!" she said hastily.
"I can't believe you're afraid of this," Harry remarked, though not in an unkind way. "You're not afraid of anything."
"Harry, I'm afraid of loads of things," she answered. I'm afraid of losing you. There was a moment of silence. Hermione leaned her cheek against his back, and felt the steady, reassuring thump of his heart underneath her hands. She admired the shimmery halo around the lights of London, creating by the falling rain.
Harry felt her warmth close to him, and knew that she had sighed, when he felt her press against him momentarily. He hoped rather irrationally that it had been a sigh of contentment.
"I've missed you," she said suddenly, in a quiet wistful voice. Instead of answering, he lifted one hand from the broomstick, and took one of her hands in his, pulling it up to his lips and kissing it softly. She felt as if her bones had turned to water, and scolded herself inwardly. He kissed your hand, Hermione. What are you going to do if he does anything else? Combust? She abruptly realized that she was hoping against hope that he would do something else.
Suddenly she sputtered, as a spray of water hit her in the face. "Harry, I think your spell has a hole in it." More water wet her, and she became aware of the rain that was now streaming down her face, pouring in rivulets from the ends of her hair.
"No, I took it down," Harry said, as if it were a completely understandable thing to do. She heard him mutter something, and knew that he had cast Impervius on his glasses. "The repellant charm keeps out too much of the wind too. What's the fun of flying if you can't feel the wind in your hair?"
Oh yes, what's the fun in that? She thought sarcastically. Hermione could now feel the effects of the air rushing past her at frightening velocities, and held even more tightly onto Harry. Every now and then, she could feel warmth on her fingers, and realized that he was laying light kisses on each fingertip. She felt a shudder convulse her body.
"You're cold," Harry said, with a note of self-reproach.
She shook her head, even though he couldn't see her. "I'm not cold, Harry," she replied. Not anymore, Harry. Not when you're here, she thought of her words from that night on the front steps of Hogwarts, and it seemed so long ago, when they had taken pleasure from each other and assuaged one another's pain.
He leaned to one side, and brought the broom around in a wide, lazy turn. "Guess we should head back."
Hermione thought crazily that she didn't want it to end. She was wet and shivering again, and she was on a broom in the dark…but she was with Harry, sitting close to Harry, and it was making her feel things that she didn't want to feel again. No, she corrected herself, it was making her feel things that she did want to feel again, but that she had gotten used to not feeling - or just ignoring.
He descended toward the roof of his building with dizzying speed, suddenly throwing them into a loop that made a shriek rip from Hermione's throat, rising and falling on the breeze. She heard him laugh, and hit him again.
Then…just like that, they were down. He was still laughing, as she scrambled gratefully down for solid ground, and he stowed the broom back in the locker. They were both soaking wet, and Hermione thought suddenly how beautiful he looked, his dark hair shining in the city lights, reflective with crystalline raindrops.
"You prat! You scared me to death!" she said, stamping her foot childishly at him, as he struggled to quell his laughter.
"You know I wouldn't let anything happen to you, don't you, Hermione?" he said, as he slowly grew serious, though there remained a mischievous sparkle in his eyes.
Her eyes suddenly grew solemn as well, and she nodded, wide-eyed, unconsciously licking the rainwater from her wet lips. Hermione saw his gaze drop suddenly to her mouth, and she felt her insides liquefy.
With one dripping hand, he slowly brushed her sodden locks away from her face, and his touch left trails of fire in its wake, in delightful contrast to the pelting rain.
"Harry - " she said, in an uncertain tone. He shook his head wordlessly, his eyes boring into hers. No more excuses, no more secrets, no more lies, no more separation. Hermione was breathless with anticipation, feeling as if they'd exchanged sacred vows in that moment of shared gazes.
Slowly, reverently, with no more pressure than the raindrops that caressed her skin, his lips touched hers, as sincerely as a benediction. He drew back and looked at her, his wet bangs dripping down the sides of his face, and seemed to be asking her a question.
She wound her arms around his neck, and answered him. Never again, Harry. And then their lips collided again.
So they stood there, on the rain-slick rooftop, wrapped in each other's arms, mouths gently dancing, as the soft fall of the rain hushed the noise of Diagon Alley, giving even that bustling place all the solemnity of a sanctuary.
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Ron staggered into the kitchen the next morning, fists scrubbing at bleary eyes, as his mouth opened in a jaw-popping yawn.
"What are you doing up so early -" he said in a fuzzy voice, and then opened his eyes. "Bloody hell, Hermione!" He shouted when he saw who was sitting at the little table. She was wearing one of Harry's pajama tops, and he could see the edge of boxer shorts under the long tail of the shirt. Her feet were bare, and her hair was disheveled; she still somehow managed to look breathtaking.
"Good morning to you too, Ron," Hermione said casually, even though high color rose in her cheeks. "You call this early? This is having a lie-in."
"Aren't you supposed to be at work?" Ron said, trying to recover from his shock.
"I'm thinking about skiving off today," she said, in what she hoped sounded like an airy voice. Ron looked at her suspiciously.
"Who are you, and what have you done with Hermione?" he asked, delving into the refrigerator, which had been once again been cooled. "Or should I say," he added impishly, drinking straight from the carton of orange juice. "What has Harry done with Hermione?"
"You're an arse, you know," Hermione said. "And it's none of your business. Do both of you do that?" she asked, wrinkling her nose, distracted by his treatment of the carton of juice.
"No, Harry is a perfect gentleman and always gets a glass," Ron said sarcastically. He looked at her again, but she was leaning intently over their copy of the Prophet, trying to act like she was unaware of his gaze.
"How was your date last night?" Hermione asked, still perusing the paper, obviously hoping to distract him.
"Not as good as yours, apparently," Ron snorted. Hermione slammed down the paper on the table in frustration.
"Ron!" she half-yelled. Her face was brilliant. "What happened to the bloke who stuck his fingers in his ears, and pretended I wasn't actually in the hallway at all? I think I liked him better."
"Oh, so that is what happened last ni - Hey, what's that?" Ron said, leaning over to look at the front page with interest.
"Some artifact was stolen from the Wizarding Museum in Athens," Hermione said, her eyes sparking with interest. "It was some kind of amphora supposedly used in ancient rituals, and it was very old. It's really a shame." Ron was waving one hand dismissively.
"I wasn't talking about that," he said, pointing past the front page article, to a blurb in a side column. "They've got Southampton favored to win over the Cannons!" His voice had an air of betrayal. "Southampton hasn't won a match in five years! That's just insulting!"
"Southampton has some brilliant new Seeker from Corsica," Harry said in a sleepy voice, as he stumbled into the kitchen and collapsed into the remaining chair. He leaned over and kissed Hermione on the cheek, his eyes barely half-open.
"Is that all you two ever talk about?" Hermione said in a growly tone.
"Yes," they both said in unison.
"Reckon he wasn't talking about Quidditch last night," Ron needled. Harry forced his eyes open farther in order to properly give Ron a disgruntled look.
"He's been saying things like that since he first saw me," Hermione said, in an aside to Harry.
"Ron, leave her alone, or I'll tell her what you and Luna got caught doing in Flourish and Blotts!" Harry grinned, Ron reddened, and Hermione looked horrified.
"In a bookshop?!" Hermione's voice was a breathy wheeze of indignation.
"All right, I yield," Ron said good-naturedly, lifting both hands in a gesture of surrender. "I definitely do not want a lecture on what is and is not considered proper behavior in bookshops." He grabbed a package of biscuits, and headed back to his room to get dressed. "I've got practice."
"That's what you're eating for breakfast?" Hermione said, in a disbelieving tone. Ron turned at the end of the short hallway, and waved the package at her.
"I've missed you, Hermione!" he called out cheekily, before disappearing into his room.
"You want some breakfast?" Harry asked, rising slowly from the table, and stretching.
"Only if you're fixing yourself some," Hermione said, watching him maneuver carefully around the tiny kitchen, hobbling, but without his cane. She wanted to say something about how well he seemed to be doing with his therapy, but did not want to upset the delicate balance they had achieved. "What does Ron do at practice? Isn't he the back-up?"
"The Reserve," Harry corrected her, and she stuck out her tongue at him. "He plays for the scout team."
"What is that?" She asked curiously. Harry pulled out eggs, cheese, and an onion, and began whipping up an omelet.
"He plays against the starting team, so they can practice actual games." Harry answered as he placed a skillet on the stove, and turned on the heat. "When do you have to be at work?"
"I actually thought I'd skive off today," she said, in much the same tone as she had disclosed to Ron. Harry blinked at her, startled.
"I've got practice in a couple of hours," he said apologetically.
"Maybe I could come with you," she said, looking hopeful.
"Hermione - " he sighed, and her face fell.
"Okay, if - if you - if - that's okay," she assured him quickly.
"No, that's not what I - I would love for you to come with me. I just meant - I - you don't have to do this."
"Do what?" she blinked at him, genuinely confused. He poured the liquid mixture into the pan, and soon the hiss of sizzling eggs filled the kitchen.
"Act a certain way…skip work…come to a Quidditch practice…because you think I want you to." He smiled at her a little, and she blanched at being read so easily.
"So the flying thing last night - what was that?" she asked, feeling foolish.
"I wanted you to come flying with me," he said in a matter of fact tone, shrugging as if to say that it was just that and nothing more. He sprinkled shredded cheese and chopped onion over the top of the cooking eggs, and pulled up the edge of the omelet with a spatula to check its progress. He flipped half the mixture over onto itself. "I didn't think you would."
"Harry, I love you," she said softly, padding over next to him. "I thought I - I thought my chances with you were over. You asked me to go flying with you. How could I say no?" She looked into his eyes, and said as sincerely as she knew how, "I may not like flying, but I knew that you would keep me safe."
"I love you too," he answered back, leaning down to touch his forehead to hers. "I'm glad you were here last night," he whispered, and she wondered to what exactly he was referring.
"So'm I," she said softly.
"The eggs are burning," Ron's voice blared out of nowhere, and they heard the front door slam shut behind him, as Harry removed the omelet from heat, cursing softly to himself. Hermione laughed a little, as she watched him struggle to save the omelet. Her mind drifted slowly to the events of last night, and a dreamy smile covered her face.
"What are you thinking about?" Harry asked, watching her beatific expression.
"What do you think?" she said, slanting a look at him.
"I think it's the same thing I've been thinking about all morning," he admitted, halving the omelet, and putting it onto two plates. They began to eat in a companionable silence.
"Has Professor Lupin made any headway with the Unspeakables?" Hermione asked, after a moment. She had given Remus a few sheets from that last binder retrieved from the Malfoy library, the one that she was still working on translating.
"Not yet," Harry said, grinning at the way she still called him Professor Lupin. "The Unspeakables are so careful about how they operate, it took seven owls back and forth, before Lupin even got to give them the pages, much less tell them what he wanted from them."
"I hated to give those to anybody else," Hermione said, "but I suppose every set of eyes helps. I just hope that they know something about the `Readunatio Animae'. I can find no reference of that spell anywhere."
"I told Lupin," Harry blurted suddenly. Hermione looked at him blankly.
"Told him what?"
"About the horcrux in my head," Harry answered. Hermione looked askance at him, as if she wanted to question why he had done so, but she said nothing. "I - I just - I didn't want to lie to him about where we got those pages, and if we told him Malfoy gave them to us, then he'd want to know why, and then we'd - I - I just didn't want to do it." There was a moment of stillness where Hermione regarded him compassionately.
"Then I guess Tonks knows that - that I lied to her about the monitoring charms," she ventured after a moment, looking shamefaced.
"Yeah, she knows," Harry said with difficulty. "She wasn't mad though. Said she understood why you did it." He added the last part in an "I'll never understand women" tone.
"Harry, I am sor - " Hermione began once again, but Harry held up one hand to stop her.
"I forgive you, Hermione." He took in a deep, shuddering breath, and let it out. "And I'm sorry for taking so long to do it. Please, you don't have to mention it anymore." She pressed her lips together tightly and nodded.
They continued eating their breakfast, and Hermione's heart soared at this rare and much longed for time with Harry, but she couldn't help thinking that he had the demeanor of a man putting his affairs in order. The clock is ticking, she thought, Somehow he knows it, he feels it. And she wondered bleakly if anything they did would be of any use at all.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Harry! Harry! Harry!" came the screeching voice of a very excited Ron Weasley. Harry turned from where he'd been hovering on his broom near both Puddlemere Seekers; he and the first-team Seeker had been showing the Reserve how to drill with the Snitch, letting it get further and further away gradually, and trying to grab it with relatively little additional time elapsed.
"What is he doing here?" One of the Chasers muttered under his breath, but Harry heard him and shot him a dirty look.
"Watch it, Clarke," Harry warned him. "Tell everyone to take a break," he called over his shoulder, as he flew to meet Ron, who was practically dancing in place on the far end of the pitch.
"What the hell's going on, Ron?" Harry said, eying his friend with some amusement. It obviously wasn't anything bad, but Ron was so worked up that he could barely speak.
"It's Fleur. She's in labor! Can you believe it? Mum's in a right state. Anyway, the whole family's meeting at St. Mungo's, and I thought you'd want to know."
Harry's face lit up, all thoughts of Bill's behavior at Christmas dismissed and forgotten. It was at moments like these, when he got to experience the intimate nuances of being in a family, when he was the most grateful to the Weasleys for wholeheartedly embracing him. He amplified his voice, and said, without further hesitation,
"We're done for today, guys. I've got a family situation. See you tomorrow!"
Once Harry had taken a lightening-quick shower and changed clothes, he and Ron Apparated directly to St. Mungo's, inquiring of the haughty witch at the front desk where Maternity was.
It was easy to see that they had found the place, for when they arrived on the floor, there were Weasleys piled all about the waiting area, looking dangerously close to spilling out into the corridor. They were nearly to the glass doors when Harry stopped suddenly.
"I should've contacted Hermione. She ended up going on in to work," he said with chagrin.
"Already done, mate. I owled her and told her; she said she'd try to leave early. I can't believe it took you this long to mention it."
"I - I guess I'm just not used to her being back around again," Harry admitted.
"So is she? Back around again, I mean?" Ron asked him, obviously enjoying his friend's discomfiture. "Am I going to be treated to more surprise guest appearances at breakfast?"
"Ron, be quiet!" Harry hissed, as Ron opened the door.
"What?" Ron grinned. "You think nobody knows that you and Hermione shag?" He had really only been teasing Harry, and had had no intention of anyone overhearing him, but the last four words of his sentence fell into an unfortunate lull in the conversation. Fred and George went into paroxysms of laughter, while the others merely stared at them, frozen. Harry and Ron both turned bright red.
"How's Fleur?" Harry asked, in a voice that squeaked just a little. He wondered if that was what it felt like to get called out about sex in front of one's mum. Mrs. Weasley was sitting tensely in the chair in the corner, with Mr. Weasley patting her hand soothingly. Harry hoped that the impending arrival of the first grandchild would be enough of a distraction.
"She's doing fine, boys," Mr. Weasley finally answered, taking pity on them. "She came in about four hours ago, and they expect the baby to be born by tonight."
"Wasn't she early?" Harry asked with some concern.
"Not to hear Fleur tell it!" Charlie said, and Ginny smiled, shaking her head.
"She's been pretty miserable - hot, mostly - over the last four weeks. She only had a week to go, though," Ginny added. Ron and Harry settled into the only empty chairs to wait, with the rest of their family.
Hermione came in at around four o'clock in the afternoon, and drew everyone's attention again when she came in and kissed Harry lightly on the lips by way of greeting.
"Oh, you are back together!" Ginny said loudly, clasping her hands in front of her, and causing Harry and Hermione both to look abashed. Fred and George began to make cooing noises, fluttering their eyelashes, to mock their baby sister - Harry was just an added bonus.
"Yeah," Harry said, concentrating on the toes of his shoes. He felt Hermione's hand reach out and twine through his.
"Is the wedding back on?" Ginny asked eagerly. Harry and Hermione exchanged uneasy looks, and both their gazes went to Hermione's deceptively empty-looking right hand.
"We're - er - we're taking it slow," Harry stuttered, and Ginny looked apologetic.
"Well, how are your wedding plans coming?" Hermione said brightly, turning toward Percy and Penelope. Harry's hand tightened around Hermione's, and she knew that she wasn't fooling him at all.
"They're coming along. Only two months to go!" Percy said, actually looking almost relaxed where he sat, with one arm draped behind his fiancée.
"My mother is driving me crazy," Penelope said, with a commiserating look at Hermione. "I just want to tell her to make all the decisions and let me know later." The girls shared a laugh at this, but were distracted by Fred's sudden exclamation.
"Here comes Bill!" At once, all attention was riveted on the eldest Weasley son, who was holding a small bundle in his arms. Mrs. Weasley was in tears, before Bill had even entered the room.
"Here she is," Bill announced, looking at the baby like he couldn't believe it was actually in his arms.
"She!" Mrs. Weasley pounced on the crucial word. Bill lowered the blanket, and angled his arms so that everyone could see her. "How's Fleur?"
"She's doing as well as can be expected," Bill said. "She's tired, but excited, and was suitably impressed at how beautiful the baby was."
"Of course she's beautiful," Mrs. Weasley said, holding out her arms to take her first grandbaby into her arms. "And look!" her voice rose to an almost inaudible pitch. "She's got red hair!" She pushed the blanket back to display the barest hint of red fuzz on the baby's head.
"Should we be surprised?" Fred and George remarked in unison.
"She's beautiful, Bill!" Hermione called out, and Bill appeared to notice them for the first time.
"Harry, Hermione!" He greeted. "Good to see you here!"
"So, how many names did Fleur call you?" George asked with a grin. Bill shook his head, an answering smile spreading across his face.
"I don't really know. Most of what she said was in French, so I'm just going to pretend she was telling me how much she loved me!"
"What's her name?" Ron asked, pushing the blanket further down with two big fingers, to get a clearer view of her face.
"Molly Ariane Weasley," Bill said, looking at his mother. "We're going to call her Ariane so it won't be confusing."
"That's a beautiful name," Ginny said, leaning in for a closer look. Mrs. Weasley looked overcome.
Harry and Hermione drifted away from the cluster of Weasleys to give them a little time with their newest member. "Bill looks like he isn't touching the ground when he walks," Hermione observed, and Harry agreed with a grin, watching the scene with a somewhat wistful look in his eyes.
"It must be the greatest feeling in the world," he replied.
"Do you want any kids? I mean, someday," Hermione asked, looking a little hesitant to speak, lest he misunderstand her.
"Of course!" he said, without a moment's pause. "I mean, I did. I think - I - it would be - I never really had a family, you know…but now…" he trailed off.
Hermione looked at him, and felt her heart crack a little more. He seemed resigned to his fate, speaking of his future in the past tense, as if it were already decided. Without even realizing it, she put one hand around the back of his neck, threading her fingers into his hair.
"You are going to have children someday, Harry Potter!" she said fiercely. "And you're going to have them with me!" She clutched the front of his shirt with her other hand, and pulled him toward her for a kiss.
"Hermione - " he protested into her mouth, trying to back away from her. "I don't want you to get your heart set on anything…I don't know if you can count on - "
"I'm counting on your beating him again…just like you did last time," she said, meeting his eyes with a look that was iron-hard with determination.
The glass doors clattered open simultaneously, and the roomful of people turned to see who was so unceremoniously interrupted the new family bonding time.
It was Remus Lupin, his tie askew, his shirt sleeves pushed over his elbows. He was breathing heavily, and looked as if he had run up the stairs all the way from the lobby. "Harry - " he said, and then paused, unable to get anything else out, due to his need for oxygen.
"Remus, what's wrong?" Harry asked, in a low, urgent voice. Dread began welling up in his gut.
"I've been looking….for you for thirty minutes….I finally - if I'd known you were here, I - I could have … saved myself a trip…your flat… and the practice field…" he wheezed.
"What? Is Tonks here? Is she okay?" Harry interrupted, impatient for the information that Remus was trying to impart.
"No…no, she's fine. It's - it's Neville…"
"Neville?" Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny exchanged alarmed glances. "What's wrong with Neville?"
"He's - " Remus shook his head, inhaling deeply. "Sorry…he's okay, but his - his parents… they've come around…they're - it looks like they're going to be all right."
"Well, Remus, that's brilliant!" Harry said, his eyes coming alight. He thought of how grateful and excited he would be if he suddenly got his parents back, knowing that Neville had grown up with nearly the same kind of parental deprivation. "What's that got to do with me though?"
"They're - they're awake, really awake…and the next person they asked to speak to - after Neville - was you."
TBC
Thanks to everyone who's reviewed. I check my computer breathlessly for them several times a day, and I'm so glad I've got people here ready and willing to validate me!
You're going to see events begin to accelerate here soon. We're on the home stretch now. I rather liked this chapter, and hope you enjoyed it too.
You may leave a review on your way out, if you like!
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