A/N: Sorry it took me so long to update this, but I doubt many of you were holding your breath. I have finals next week and then spring break, so I hope to write out a few more chapters during that time. Yay! I'm wondering why this story isn't attracting as many readers as my others…is it the title? Summary? Genre? No se.
Disclaimer: I think I've forgotten this on all of my other chapters, so here's an all-inclusive one-I don't own Harry Potter or anything of that shizzle.
Chapter 4: A Woman's Intuition
When the uncomfortable squeezing subsided and Hermione felt her ribcage expand and her organs slide back into their proper positions, she smoothed down the imaginary wrinkles in her robes and paused to let her eyes readjust to the sudden brightness. She allowed for a moment an unguarded grin to spread across her face as she gazed upon the masses of Sunday shoppers, paying her no mind as they bustled along past her in pursuit of Hogsmeade bargains.
She raised her face to bask in the unseasonably strong rays of sun as she set off toward the castle, throwing her cloak on over her shoulder in an effort to escape the heat. She retraced the path that she and her boys had taken time and time again, marveling at how little seemed to have changed. Even after the war, a voice in her head seemed to add, effectively wiping the smile from her face.
Inwardly she cursed herself for destroying a perfectly good moment with negative thinking, so she tried to focus on something besides that niggling voice in her head. Unfortunately, this brought up another uncomfortable fact: the more things she continued to add to her "must-avoid-thinking-about-this" list, the more they seemed to swoop down on her unannounced.
Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew that running from problems wasn't a solution. She could probably even admit it consciously if she gave herself the chance. Next came the inevitable questioning of her profession-who was she to counsel people through their grief when hers was always pushed just out of sight? She hated feeling weak for allowing things that happened years ago to influence her present actions, and she hated even more the knowledge that emotions were not the root of weakness.
As she rounded the final corner on the path to her destination, she realized that even this moment was the product of her attempts to distract herself from those mingled feelings of guilt and confusion over Charlotte Fairclough's death. Her steps faltered, but she recovered-just as she told herself she would recover from her sorrow. Especially with good friends like Harry and Ron by her side.
It was this positive self-efficacy that seemed to tip her chin higher, as the many turrets and gleaming windows of Hogwarts castle came into view. Making the journey to Hogwarts on her own reminded her of the first time she beheld the glorious structure and what would become her home in the many years to come, and she couldn't help but fall in love with it all over again.
The castle represented much more than its cold stone exterior. Within its fortified walls she made the friendships that she knew would last a lifetime, enriched her mind with lessons and texts by some of the most talented wizards of their age, and finally answered the call her magic had made to her years before. It was a modification of the second constituent that brought her there today.
She paused for a moment near the beech tree by the lake, where she, Harry, and Ron had spent many a pleasant afternoon. Using her left hand to shield her eyes from the sun, she gazed up at Gryffindor tower, probably filled with milling students making use of a break between classes. She wondered absently if there was a girl up there with bushy hair huffing through the noise as she tried to focus on the page in front of her. Would that girl appreciate the friends and relationships she forged here? This, Hermione thought, was the most important lesson of all that Hogwarts imparted on its students.
A faint buzzing like insects brought her out of her reverie. With her hand still shading her eyes, she scanned the grassy area not too far from the tree and noticed a few packs of whispering students with their eyes cast in her direction. The cause of their staring eluded her for a split second and she fought the instinctive urge to check behind her before the matter of her fame crashed over her and she felt a faint blushing on her cheeks.
With her head held high she continued her journey to the library, not failing to notice that while some of the whispering students she passed regarded her somewhat coolly, no doubt unwisely taking the Prophet's article word for word, others had expressions of awe and admiration clearly evident on their faces. She offered a shy smile before she entered through the massive doors and veered off in the direction of the only room she had visited more often than the Great Hall and perhaps her own dormitory.
When she arrived at the doors of the library, some Ravenclaw students were kind enough to hold the door for her on their way out. Hermione smiled at them graciously as they retreated amid a rush of excited whispers and entered what she had once considered her inner sanctum. All at once the smell of dust and fresh parchment assaulted her senses and she paused a little to revel in the memories tied to those scents. She grinned a bit to herself, recalling only one other fragrance as disarming as books. Harry.
"Miss Granger, is that you?" came a shrill voice Hermione had only ever heard raised in scandalized tone or growled in suspicion. Adopting a mask of politeness, she turned and replied as sincerely as she could, "Oh, Madame Pince, how nice to see you again."
The librarian shook her head as if gently scolding the former student. "Oh no, dearie, it's Filch now," she said, waggling the fingers of her left hand. On the third was a somewhat tarnished though still beautiful wedding band.
Hermione swallowed her initial disgust with the idea of a Mr. and Mrs. Argus Filch, and managed a composed, "How lovely," silently reminding herself in aggravation that she now owed Harry five galleons.
Madam Filch beamed with pleasure at the vague compliment, though it was still eerily vulture-like. Marriage seemed to have made her a more tolerable person, Hermione thought, unless this was the side she normally reserved for non-students. That abruptly changed, though, when Hermione mentioned her reason for visiting. The woman seemed to struggle with herself for a moment, but eventually relented when Hermione pointed out that Headmistress McGonagall had given her an open invitation to make use of the castle's many literary sources at her leisure.
So, some minutes later, Hermione was walled up being several piles of hopefully relevant texts deep in the Restricted Section. The area she occupied was dusty, as students rarely passed Madame Pinch-Filch's scrutiny of their proffered notes, but this did not bother her because she was already off in a world of her own, one she had frequented many times.
Hermione knew that the charm required to mutate memories within the minds of witnesses would not be found within the covers of The Standard Book of Spells. In fact, she had never heard of a memory charm behaving as though being constantly updated at all, unless it wasn't a charm. The thought struck her as odd, as though she might have thought of it before, but she scribbled a note to check potions texts as well anyway.
A low rumbling in her stomach alerted her to what she considered to be Ron's expertise: lunch. A small smile crossed her face as she noted the time on her wristwatch-it was just the hour to drop in on the person who was arguably her second favorite redhead-Ginny Weasley.
It was probably too much to hope for that Hogwarts' formidable librarian would allow Hermione to remove the books from the safe haven of the library, so she utilized a handy transcribing spell she had concocted during her search through the many Dark texts of Grimmauld Place and tucked away the resulting scrolls of parchment. It was true that she had little to go on, but the information she had accumulated was definitely intriguing. She waved a hearty goodbye to Madame Filch, who was somewhat relieved to see the back of her, and made her way to Ginny's office.
Several winding corridors and trick staircases later, Hermione vowed to resume her exercise regimen posthaste. She was still breathing in puffs when her confident knocks were answered with an absent "Come in." She opened the heavy oak door to the sight of Ginny scribbling away on a piece of parchment in the center of her less-than-immaculate desk, occasionally blowing a stray strand of her long and silky straight ginger hair from her face. The petite witch eventually looked up and greeted, "Hermione!" while rounding her desk to give her visitor a kiss on the cheek.
Hermione felt a pang of guilt over such a warm welcome; the two hadn't kept in contact as well as they should have over the past few years. In fact, most of their correspondence took place through Ron, who was a convenient though ineffective messenger. Looking back, though, Hermione traced the beginning of their slight estrangement to her sixth year and subconsciously attributed it to the accompanying sense of inadequacy with regards to Harry. Try as she might, Hermione couldn't really help but connect Ginny with these negative feelings, which no doubt held a bearing on how diligently she attempted to maintain their friendship.
Pushing these thoughts aside, she plastered a smile on her face, which wasn't too difficult considering the infectious enthusiasm radiating off the younger witch. "Ginny, how have you been? Or should I say, `Professor Weasley?'"
"Oh, quiet, you," she scolded jokingly, swatting her on the arm. "I can barely stand the students addressing me as `Professor,' let alone…" she trailed off, a little uncertainly, "my best friend," she finally said.
There was an awkward moment of shuffling robes and shy glances to the floor before Ginny spoke up in a quiet but determined voice. "Hermione," she asked, "what has happened to us?"
There was no doubt as to the meaning of her words, for Hermione had been thinking the exact same thought. However this did not assist her in composing an acceptable answer. Instead she settled for the truth. "I don't know, Gin. It has certainly been a while," she offered by way of a conversation starter.
The young Charms professor wore a somewhat pained smile. It seemed that Hermione's unhappiness over the past few years was not entirely one-sided. She looked at the woman with whom she had formed her first meaningful female friendship and sighed internally, knowing that the one seemingly undefined wedge between them then was the reason she was having a tough time voicing her feelings now. There was no way Hermione could deny that the cause of the strain on her and Ginny's friendship was the same that had been the death toll for girls' friendships regardless of time or space-a boy. More specifically, Harry.
Suddenly it all seemed so petty, so juvenile. So what if Harry and Ginny dated for a while? They were broken up now, right? What good did it do to dwell on the memory of the pair of them when it ended so long ago? What good was it to recreate just how badly her stomach churned and her heart bled at the sight of them, even as she beamed pleasantly to the world? The truth was, Hermione had outgrown all that long ago. More pressing matters had vied for space in her consciousness and she'd had little choice but to oblige and accommodate them. Like making sure Harry survived his little encounter with Voldemort.
It might have been the way Ginny's glistening red locks were styled in a neat upsweep reminiscent of a French twist but Hermione began to think back to the beginning of the end-Bill and Fleur's wedding day.
It had been sunny but mild for three consecutive days before the wedding, something Mrs. Weasley considered a good omen and Fleur somewhat begrudgingly admitted was up to her sophisticated taste. Hermione hadn't seen Harry or Ron all morning but she hoped they were having a better time than she was, helping the bridesmaids get ready. This of course wasn't her job, as technically she was merely a guest at the wedding, but she preferred even the torture of primping Ginny and Gabrielle to inactivity.
The bridesmaids' dresses alone were a testament to patience. Initially Fleur decided she wanted to dress the girls in pink satin, but the idea was stamped on because of its horrible clash with Ginny's red hair. Next came pale gold until Fleur discovered the wonder of emerald green, which Ginny (and Hermione, albeit secretly) loved. However, Mrs. Weasley pointed out that such a rich color green was inappropriate for a summer wedding. Then Fleur opted for a softer green, but Gabrielle claimed that it washed out her complexion and the choice was discarded. Fleur's indecision persisted until about a week before the wedding, so that Ginny, Gabrielle and Hermione spent every waking minute dyeing fabrics until the evening before.
The dawn of Bill and Fleur's wedding day promised to be fair indeed. All morning Hermione watched as Ginny, Fleur, and Gabrielle-by no means unattractive on an ordinary day-transform themselves miraculously into complete knockouts. Hermione would never have guessed that Ginny Weasley did not have a drop of vela blood in her veins. Standing beside the three of them-Fleur in her flowing Duchess satin gown beset with tiny white pearls, her head topped with the Weasley's goblin-made tiara; and Ginny and Gabrielle in the most flattering cuts of the color that Fleur had ultimately decided on, pale gold-Hermione felt the effects of her plainness more acutely.
She stood in front of the mirror beside Ginny as her subconscious ruthlessly compared their reflections and noticed that Ginny's bright blue eyes were studying her with a calculating air.
"What?" she asked, self-consciously running her hand through her rather voluminous brown hair.
"Let me do your hair," Ginny commanded more than requested.
Hermione backed away from the mirror so that her image appeared diminished in its pale yellow dress robes next to the beauty of Ginny. The floaty material billowed around her before settling down innocently at her sides. "I don't know, Ginny," Hermione said uncertainly. "I mean, it's such a bother."
Ginny clicked her tongue impatiently, turning to face Hermione with a determined expression on her face. "Don't be silly, it won't take long." She walked to the vanity table where dozens of magical cosmetics and hair potions were scattered and began rummaging through them. "Now where did I put that Sleekeasy's?" she muttered distractedly.
Pulling her wand from a conveniently sewn loop in her robes, Hermione wordlessly summoned the bottle and placed it in the younger witch's hand.
"Go ahead," Hermione said, pressing the bottle firmly, "I know you won't leave me alone until you get your way."
She smiled a bit to take the sting out of her words, but the truth was that things had not been the same between the two girls once Ginny had started dating Harry. It was much different than when Harry dated Cho, Hermione had realized, especially since she had never had to witness any evidence of their courtship firsthand. At first Hermione had told herself that she was simply thrown off by the new friendship dynamic between her, Harry, and Ron, what with Harry off with Ginny so often and her and Ron's complicated history. Gradually she started to realize that the nauseated feeling in the pit of her stomach was not due to substandard food (how dare she ever fault the Hogwarts house elves, bless them) or upcoming exams, but seemed to linger on days that Harry's Quidditch practices ran late or when his and Ginny's trips around the lake stretched for hours. Maybe it wasn't really concern that her good friend was not getting enough study time for her O.W.L.s. Maybe it was something deeper, something she almost let slip the night he left with Dumbledore.
Maybe she was in love Harry.
Her immediate instinct was to laugh it off-she had been doing that for years, right? Denying any romantic attachment to her raven-haired best friend came almost as naturally as breathing. And she had gotten quite good at it. So when the thought came that perhaps she had a little more emotionally invested in her friendship with Harry than was prudent, it made sense to simply cast it aside.
Though even a nearly eighteen-year-old Hermione could not evade the idea forever. The night before Dumbledore's funeral, when her hopes seemed to be fading, she finally allowed herself to think of it. All of it. Those that were lost, how quickly life had forced her friends into adults, how, despite this, her best friends were still good and kind-hearted, how silly jealousies might have ruined it all. Emotions were dangerously powerful, she admitted truly for the first time. And lastly, her thoughts lingered on Harry and began to wade through the uncharted waters of her feelings for him. She winced at the cliché, but felt that it was appropriate.
When she finally did acknowledge that she had passed that point of no return, there were no alarm bells ringing, no sudden wave of understanding of the world. Instead it felt as though with a click every one of her thoughts and deeds from her entire life seemed to have readied her for that moment. It was powerful, sure, but it was also terrifying.
So what was stopping her bursting into the boy's dormitory right then and confessing from behind the curtains of his four-poster? The same person who was stubbornly smoothing dollops of Sleekeasy's through her even more stubborn hair at the moment, the only female she had ever allowed herself to open up to.
"All finished!" she announced triumphantly. Fleur and Gabrielle ceased their conversation held in rapid French and turned to where Hermione stood facing away from the mirror, staring at her in disbelief.
"What?" she asked, repeating her action from earlier, except instead of becoming tangled in curly masses, her fingers ran easily through silky tresses. Reluctantly she turned at gazed at her reflection.
Her jaw dropped. Granted it wasn't the same sort of transformation that she had undergone years before for the Yule Ball, but never before had she ever looked like, felt like, a woman.
"Ginny, what did you do to `er?" gasped Fleur in flattering incredulity, her accent almost untraceable.
"Nothing, I just…" she pretended to study the bottle with screwed up eyes, "What's in this?" she joked and the four witches laughed.
A knock abruptly silenced them as they slipped back into wedding mode.
"Who is it?" demanded the bride, rising to her full height.
"It's, er, Harry," came a deep muffled voice from the other side of Ginny's bedroom door. "It's important."
The four witches all looked at each in uncertainty, trying to deduce whether or not it would be breaking some cardinal wedding rule is they let him in. Almost as a unit, they shrugged at one another and Fleur beckoned Harry to enter.
He shut the door behind him and cleared his throat awkwardly. "I just wanted to talk to…" his voice faded away as he locked eyes with a certain redhead. "Ginny," he squeaked before clearing his throat again. "Ginny, you look…amazing."
She beamed at the compliment and Hermione noted with some considerable envy that her eyes never left Harry's. "Thank you," she breathed.
Fleur and Gabrielle shared a smile and moved away to resume their previous conversation. Hermione shifted her weight between her feet, her heart plummeting into somewhere in the vicinity of her left shin. Tearing herself from the lover's burning gaze, she moved to follow the other two on the pretext of fluffing Fleur's train.
Of course a hair potion was not enough to change everything. It was just like fourth year all over again-Harry didn't say a word about how she looked. How the pale yellow of her robes brought out the blond highlights in her now sleeky straight hair. How even the idea of love and happiness in the time of war brought a radiance to her face? How even a new dress and hairstyle would not change the fact that she would never willingly leave his side?
Suddenly Harry's voice cut through her thoughts. "Actually, I'm here to talk to Hermione," he explained. Fleur and Gabrielle raised their eyebrows at each other and glanced at Ginny, whose eyes had narrowed slightly at Harry's statement, and then at Hermione, whose mouth was flapping soundlessly like a fish out of water.
Hermione felt Ginny's eyes follow her as Harry steered her by the arm to a far corner in the room. Now that she was so close, Hermione noticed that his hands were somewhat clammy. Without thinking how it might look, she gripped one of his hands in both of hers and asked concernedly, "Harry, are you all right?"
He brought his eyes up to hers and for a moment she glimpsed just how he must be feeling-glad that there were still such joyous things in the world and scared to death that if he screwed up there would be nothing like it to come back to. He closed his eyes, effectively shutting down her analysis, and when he opened them again all she sensed was a renewed determination.
"I'm fine," he said firmly, glancing to where the other three women made a show of busying themselves. He brought his head closer to hers and she shivered at how his breath stirred the little hairs near her ear. She ignored the sharp look that Ginny threw in her direction. "This is about the-" he checked himself again, bringing his head still closer, "horcruxes."
A breath of, relief was it? escaped her, causing Harry to pull back and peer at her anxiously. She didn't know what she had expected him to say-certainly not anything personal in front of so many people, his girlfriend included.
He continued undeterred, "I need to talk to you-and Ron. After the wedding. I've had an idea." He said all this very fast and before she could do more than nod he was heading for the door. His steps faltered at five feet away and he walked quickly back to her side. He was silent for a moment and Hermione, thinking that he had needed some affirmation on their meeting later, opened her mouth to speak when he beat her to it.
"You look nice in yellow," he said simply, as though it meant nothing more to her than a platonic observation. And with that, he was gone and part of her was gone with him.
"Hermione?" came Ginny's voice as though from far away.
She shook her head and refocused on the redhead in front of her. "Yeah, sorry, Gin," said replied, unconsciously calling her old friend by her nickname, "I was off somewhere else I think."
The younger witch cracked a smile. "Luna would say that you were off visiting the snocackle fairies or something." They were silent for a moment, playfully abusing the quirks of their mutual friend and Ron for marrying her. "So what brings you to Hogwarts?" she asked, offering a winged armchair for Hermione to sit in by her desk. She took the other, folding her legs under her in a childlike way that contradicted her professorial robes and stature.
Hermione seated herself, crossing her legs primly before replying, "Oh you know, usual reason. I needed the Restricted Section in the library."
Ginny smirked and leaned forward conspiratorially. "Seems we might have missed out on the latest nuptials, huh?" she said with a wink.
Hermione let out a laugh that rang throughout Ginny's tiny office. "Tell me about it, I can't believe! Well, I've definitely lost the bet to Harry then!"
Ginny's smile twitched slightly at the mention of Harry's name.
"I'm sorry," Hermione found herself saying before she could stop herself.
She held up a hand to stop. "No, Hermione, let's get this thing straight, whatever it is that we've been pretending to ignore all this time."
Hermione matched the blue gaze steadily before her expression softened. "I'd like to act like I don't now what you meant by that, but I can't. I just don't know how to put it into words."
Ginny grinned with an affected smugness. "Imagine, Hermione Granger made speechless." She quirked an eyebrow at Hermione's reluctant smile. "But as for the words, I believe one will be sufficient," she prompted.
"Harry."
There it was, out in the open. Neither witch was quite brave enough to venture further just yet. Ginny spoke first in a small, brittle voice. "After the war, I think a lot of people thought things would just sort of pick up where they left off," she began slowly. "But so many were lost, there was no way that those who remained would be the same. I thought that maybe everything would be neat and simple and wrapped in a nice little bow."
"But it wasn't," Hermione said sympathetically. She had thought the same thing when it was over. Harry would have Ginny and she would have Ron, and the world would go on spinning with one big happy Weasley family on it.
"No, it wasn't. Everything was different. It just…didn't work. Harry was different. Hell, I was different. But I knew there was one thing that would never change." Ginny sounded exhausted, but maybe it was just the weight of carrying the burden of truth of three years.
"What?" Hermione asked, her interest piqued.
Ginny looked incredulously at her, as though seeing her for the first time. "You, Hermione," she said patiently. Hermione gaped at her as she continued, "Well, your love for Harry anyway. I knew that even if black became white and up became down, you would always be there for each other. It made it easier for me to walk away."
Hermione gasped at the revelation that she had inadvertently played a part in Harry and Ginny's break-up. "So that's why-Harry never said-we all thought-Oh, Ginny…" she spluttered helplessly, holding her hand to her mouth.
The redhead leaned back in her chair and laughed at Hermione's expression of mingled surprise and guilt. "Don't feel bad, Hermione, I honestly feel a lot better about letting all of this out." She paused a moment. "Say, this wasn't a big scam to make spill my guts to you just because you're a shrink is it?" she joked.
"Counselor," corrected Hermione automatically and they both dissolved into giggles as the years stripped away. "I am sorry though, Gin. I never meant to come between you two. I just wanted him to be happy, even if it wasn't with me," she said, suddenly serious.
Ginny reached over and grabbed Hermione's hand. "It's all right," she reassured her. "I think that maybe it was supposed to turn out this way. Besides," she grinned, "I might not be dating superhunk and current Herbology professor, Neville Longbottom otherwise." She chuckled at the reemergence of Hermione's utterly shocked face.
Her smile faded slightly. "Just tell me one thing, Hermione. Tell me that all of this wasn't in vain," she said pleadingly.
"I love him," was all that assurance Ginny needed. "So much that it physically aches and I want to shriek it at the most mundane times-like when he writes me stupid messages on the fogged bathroom mirror after he's taken a shower, or when he tries to work vocabulary from your brother's toilet paper in his everyday dialogue, or-" she cut off abruptly, remembering who she was talking to.
They might have just cleared the air, but it was only the first step to recovering their weakened friendship. Ginny seemed to be thinking along the same lines. She looked at the girl that she had once shards whispered conversations about boys and school at the Burrow with tears in her blue eyes and declared, "We should have had this conversation years ago." Hermione nodded fervently, her own tears running down her cheeks.
Ginny sniffled and wiped her face with the back of her hand, letting out something between a chuckle and a sob. "We're so stupid, Hermione!" she laughed.
The brunette jumped up from her chair and hugged Ginny tightly, silently glad that she had obeyed the urge to visit the Charms professor's office.
Some time and many refreshing charms later (luckily Hermione was accompanied by one of Britain's best charmers-with a wand of course, Harry was by far the most naturally charming in Hermione's opinion) the pair decided to take a later lunch in Hogsmeade.
Ginny bit heartily into a ham and cheese sandwich. "Does Harry know?" she asked as though continuing an uninterrupted conversation.
Hermione's wrinkled nose (was talking with your mouth full a Weasley trait are was she just the most unfortunate diner in the pub?) was replaced by one of polite curiosity.
"Does Harry know that you're in love with him?" she clarified innocently enough, hiding her smirk as Hermione sprayed butterbeer all over the tabletop.
"Ginny! Why did you have to wait until I'd taken a sip before you asked?" she cried indignantly.
Her smirk grew wider. "Sorry," she said, looking nothing of the sort. "What's stopping you?" she asked curiously, using her wand to help clear up evidence of Hermione's outburst.
Hermione paused with her napkin in mid-wipe, pondering the best answer to give. "It was never the right time," she started, but, seeing Ginny's skeptical arched eyebrow, changed her mind and decided not beat around the bush. "Look, we both know he doesn't feel the same. Not saying anything just seems…easier than throwing away a perfectly good-no, the best friendship of my life."
Ginny's eyes filled with sympathy. "But it's not the right thing to do, Hermione," she said. "Haven't you seen the way Harry looks at you?"
"He looks at me like a friend, Gin," she replied, becoming slightly incensed at laying bare all of her insecurities at once.
"Maybe so," Ginny allowed, though she didn't look convinced. Hermione thought that maybe she was tackling a few of her own insecurities. "But the most important friend."
Hermione smiled, touched. "Thanks."
"You're welcome," Ginny said matter-of-factly. "But seriously Hermione, you have to tell him. You guys are so close and have gone through so many things together that nothing could ruin your friendship now."
The counselor shrugged, considering it only half-heartedly. Ginny watched her concernedly.
"Either that or you can always just spill the beans when you're drunk and it if doesn't work out at least you have something to blame it on," Ginny suggested.
Hermione choked yet again on her butterbeer and repeated an upset, "Ginny!"
The younger witch once again assisted her friend in sopping up the liquid.
"Besides, I already thought of that," Hermione said quietly, causing Ginny to positively howl with laughter.
When Hermione waved goodbye to Ginny, the sun was just dipping behind the mountains. She promised to visit more often and Ginny joked that perhaps by next time she and Harry would be double dating with her and Neville. Hermione was a little ruffled under the pressure, but was glad for the vote of confidence. Perhaps a drunken confession had its merits.
Exhausted from the brief spurt of exercise, Hermione collapsed on the couch immediately after arriving in her and Harry's flat. A few minutes later, she jumped in her seat as Harry Apparated less than ten felt away and fell onto the cushion beside her.
"Rough day?" Hermione asked, stifling a yawn.
"The worst. Doyle's breathing on my back about this continued investigation thing. Apparently he doesn't think it's necessary," Harry replied, rolling his eyes.
Hermione chuckled as she pinched the bridge of her nose. The day had really taken a lot out of her, emotionally and physically. "Tell me how you really feel. Doyle? Which one is he again?"
"The weird one," Harry answered.
Now it was Hermione's turn to roll her eyes. "Gee, thanks Harry, you really cleared things up," she said sarcastically, swatting the only part of him that she could reach-his forearm.
Harry shrugged. "What? I don't really know that much about him. Suspicious bloke though, sometimes his ability to think like a Dark wizard is a bit frightening."
She tilted her head toward him on the back of the couch sharply. "And he doesn't think there's anything odd about Charlotte's death?" she asked with interest.
He seemed to consider this for a moment. "Well, not really, but he did go with Persephone all those times to question the witnesses."
"Hmmm…" she let her head fall back to study the cracks in the ceiling.
Harry sat up and regarded her inquisitively. "What are you thinking?"
She bit her bottom lip, a habit she's begun years before, indicating that she was deep in thought. Shrugging, she replied, "I think that I'm tired."
He chuckled lightly and got up to stretch his arms above his head. Hermione contented herself to appreciating his lithe form inconspicuously out of the corner of her eye, though she accepted his proffered hand to help her from the couch. She suppressed the thought of pulling him back down with her and snogging the daylights out of him, though she doubted that even Harry would require that direct of an approach. Daft git.
A few minutes later, Hermione and Harry stood side by side in the bathroom brushing their teeth. It often amused Hermione to see the marveling expression on Harry's face as he observed her dental regimen.
"Stop staring, Harry," she jokingly admonished as she retrieved a new piece of floss.
"Sorry," he mumbled, color rising in his cheeks. Hermione studied his reflection as he went about squeezing toothpaste onto the bristles. Suddenly he looked up and his eyes went to hers. "Caught you," he whispered.
Her hands froze in the ministrations and her heart suddenly began to beat faster. "I reckon that you should have noticed that long ago," she said, having finished flossing.
Harry's brow furrowed but he didn't reply and Hermione cursed herself for probably having said the wrong thing. It was too much if not too soon.
As if to reinforce her worry, Harry began a series of throat clearing, something he only did when he felt awkward. Now you've done it, Hermione, she scolded herself.
"Did you find anything out when you went to Hogwarts?" he asked to cover the silence.
Yes, I found out that I've been underestimating Ginny's intuitive skills, she thought. Outwardly she nodded and replied, "Yeah, some interesting stuff about memory charms in general, as well as some potions that affect memory recollection, but nothing with the sort of effects we're searching for. But I'll probably have to look over my notes again tomorrow."
They finished up and headed out of the bathroom. Hermione lingered to stick her tongue out at her reflection before turning off the light. Tomorrow, she would be going back to work and back to the lions' den.
Author's Note: I actually wrote this chapter out by hand during spare moments I had while studying. I find that if I don't turn on my computer, I get a lot more done. Go figure. Also, there is more H/Hr to come. I hadn't originally planned on most of the stuff in this chapter-you'll notice it's quite light on actual plot-but this what came out. So there! By the way, I didn't proofread this at all, so if you spot what appear to be inconsistencies, PLEASE point them out to me! And of course, all of the spelling and grammatical errors are mine. I'll see you in a week or so, hopefully! And feel free to leave a review!
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