AN: Realized I'd forgotten a disclaimer. The characters in this and the previous chapters are not mine. Neither infringement nor profit is among my objectives.
Resistance
Chapter Seventeen: Union
The resounding vibrato from hexes hitting the Protego shield brought Hermione out of her reverie, where she was standing motionless, eyes fixed on Harry's Mark. Her magic surged back toward her as Harry finished utilizing it, and the resulting sensations nearly overwhelmed her. She saw Harry's eyes flick anxiously from the Death Eaters - who seemed to have recovered from the sight much faster than they - to her, wobbling uncertainly in the mud. The Protego shield popped and sparked unevenly. One curse got in, whizzing just over their heads, narrowly missing them both.
She heard Harry swear under his breath.
"Come on, Hermione!" He was at her side then, an arm under her elbow catching her, even as she began to sink to her knees. Her head lolled; Harry sounded very far away, and a little breathless, as if he were having trouble keeping her upright. The baby, she thought vaguely, he's still got the baby. "Think about Ron! Concentrate on Ron, and we'll be out of here." His back was to the attackers; he was trying to shield her and the baby should the Protego fail.
That's right…I have the medallion…Harry wouldn't be able to make his work without my help. It was so hot, and she wondered why, vaguely remembering how cold and dreary it had been earlier. Pain was skewering her from so many places that she couldn't localize them all.
"Ron," she said slowly, more as a declarative statement than a question.
"Yes!" She felt Harry seize on her word with enthusiasm. "Yes, Ron! Where is he? Can you concentrate? Hermione, love, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have made you help me - just a silly gesture anyway." Hermione looked up at him, sooty and bleeding from a cut over one eye, and shook her head ponderously. It suddenly felt very heavy, like it could easily detach from her neck the way a flower blossom is snapped from a stem. She could still see with her peripheral vision the residual glow from the shining pureness that was Harry's Mark; it was untainted by the lurid orange of the burning town.
"Not silly. Beautiful." She squinted her eyes over Harry's head, frowning. The Protego shield was winking in and out now. Harry had half-dragged her behind some smoldering debris, which provided a poor semblance of cover. The flames roared higher behind them. Rock and a hard place… the frying pan and the fire…she thought deliriously, and nearly laughed. Harry's eyes were wide with panic that he was trying to conceal. The baby screamed without making a sound. She squeezed her eyes shut.
Ron…
They disappeared.
~~**~~
When she opened her eyes again, she was in a cool gray chamber. The pleasant temperature and smoke-free air was soothing, and somewhere, she thought she could hear the lapping of water. She inhaled a deep breath, and was vaguely surprised by the sudden stabbing pain in her side.
The burning building toppling toward her…
Harry's calm voice, invisible beneath his father's cloak, saying, "Wingardium Leviosa."
The baby, screaming in mute helplessness, unable to understand why her world had suddenly fallen apart so spectacularly.
"Reducto! We've got wizards here! We've got wizards here!"
The memories flooded back to her, and she shot upright, spurred to a sitting position by a surge of panicked energy. She became aware of a throbbing pain in both hands at about the same time her wild gaze met the reproving one of Madam Pomfrey.
"Madam - what - how - ?" she sputtered, as the older woman came to her side and gently forced her to lay back on the cot.
"I'll thank you not to undo everything I've just repaired, Miss Granger," she said sharply, but her eyes were twinkling. She looked across the chamber over the foot of Hermione's bed, and called out, "Yes, she's awake, so you can stop glowering at me like that. If you overwhelm her, I'll use a sticking charm to keep you in that chair next time."
A tired smile creased Hermione's face, when Ron's face popped into her field of vision, hovering anxiously. He reached for one of her hands almost automatically, but arrested the movement rather awkwardly. Hermione realized why when she looked down at her arms, swathed from knuckles to elbows in white bandages. Included in her field of vision was a similar wrapping affixed at the crook of her neck, covering her from collarbone to shoulder blade on the left side. Because of this, only her right arm was sheathed within the sleeve of the infirmary gown she was wearing. Her left arm merely extended from the neckline of the garment, leaving the corresponding sleeve empty and her shoulder bare. Ron's concerned gaze was fixed on her face, but she still felt oddly vulnerable and exposed. Where's Harry? she wondered, and her eyes tripped beyond Ron's shoulder, but if he noticed, he did not say.
"Thank Merlin, you're okay," Ron breathed, finally breaking the silence. She reached across her body for his hand, clasping as well as she could with her desensitized, bandaged fingers that wouldn't bend properly. He held them gingerly, as if afraid that they would disintegrate beneath his touch.
"You called the Order." Her voice was nearly accusing.
"Hermione, we had to," Ron defended. "We had this - this group of Muggles who were scared to death, and then when Harry came with the baby, and you - you - my field medicine is not that good."
"The baby!" she seized on that one phrase. "How is the baby? What did you do with her?" Where's Harry? The phrase was pounding in her head like a drumbeat, and yet she was hesitant to ask, afraid of what the answer might be. Surely he's all right, she thought, I got us out - we got out.
"The baby's grandmother got out - got out all right," he said hoarsely, clearing his throat. "And her - her dad worked the night shift in another town - the one we took them to… so she's okay." Hermione smiled.
"Good." There was an awkward silence. She could hear the hushed murmur of voices echoing gently around the cavernous space, and still beneath all that, seemed to be a whispery rush of water. She raised limpid eyes up to Ron, pleading silently.
"Harry - erm - " He cleared his throat abruptly. "Harry stayed with Remus and Tonks. They were - they were going to talk with the villagers. And Harry - well, he wanted to come back with you, but after - when we knew you were going to be okay, he - he decided to stay and make sure the baby was, you know, taken care of." She smiled a little through misty eyes, though part of her couldn't help but be disappointed that he had not been at her side when she awakened. Securing the baby was such a very Harry thing to do.
Did you mean the part about the cottage? About children?
I meant that most of all.
So you want to - someday?
Only if you'll marry me first.
"What did they - what happened to the villagers?" Hermione asked, remembering the clump of frightened people behind the trash bins that they had magically transported away.
"They've all asked to be Obliviated," Ron answered grimly. Hermione felt tears prick her eyes. Here was a perfect opportunity for a bridge to be constructed between the Magical and Muggle worlds, and they couldn't handle it. Faced with the reality of what had happened to them, their neighbors, and their homes, they would rather forget the menacing laughs and the unexplainable behaviors of the Death Eaters. With Voldemort determined to blast away all the barriers, and then kill the Muggles behind them, she could not doubt that the situation might repeat itself innumerable times.
"I don't - I guess I can't blame them," she sighed tiredly. Her hands were throbbing in time with her pulse. "Sometimes I - sometimes I wish I could forget." She thought of Harry, his skin tinted green under the gleam of the dampening field, splattered with blood. She thought of the Death Eater, carelessly nudging Bill's body with his boot. She thought of Percy diving in front of his sister-in-law. She thought of Ron, hunched over in the cellar, strangled sobs escaping his throat, despite his best attempts to squelch them.
"Do you really?" came a new voice, a welcome voice that sent an upswelling tide of emotion surging through her. Tears were still swimming in her eyes, making Harry's raven hair ripple, as if under its own power. She reached for him, smiling, and he gently took her bandaged fingers in his own.
"No… not if it means forgetting this…" she whispered, and she could feel his feather-light kiss on her forehead. There was a rustle, and she saw Ron swiftly retreating from the bedside. She sighed, guilt lancing through her swiftly and accurately, piercing her to the heart. "I wish…" she said, and Harry replied,
"I know," before she could even voice her desire. He threaded his fingers into her snarled hair, and stroked it softly back away from her face. "Hurting him is the last thing I want to do. But he's a Weasley, and they're made of pretty strong stuff. I think he'll be okay."
"I don't know." The words were out of her mouth before she could call them back, and she frowned, thinking of the raspy sobs that filled his parents' cellar. "You didn't hear -" She stopped, realizing that Harry was probably the last person to whom Ron would want that related. "I just want him to be happy…some day, when all this is over," she finished lamely.
"I want him to be happy just as much as you do," Harry said. "But I also want you to be happy. If I thought you'd be happy with him, I - you - you'd have my blessing." He breathed a deep, shuddering sigh, as if even the thought pained him. She shook her head mutely, reaching up to cup his cheek, unable to feel the smooth skin because of the bandages that swathed her hand, with a healing, anesthetic cream underneath, she was sure.
"I wouldn't be," she whispered. "I love Ron…so very much, but you - this - us… it - it consumes me, Harry, fills every part of me… I can't imagine ever giving that up. It makes every storybook romance I've ever read pale in comparison - like weak imitations of this real thing. And I can tell you with absolute certainty that I'll love you until the day that I die." He had closed his eyes toward the end of her speech, and she knew he was calling himself ten kinds of a fool, thinking himself unworthy of such a degree of emotion. "Don't do that," she intoned quietly, and by the way he started, unbending his head to look back in her eyes, she knew she'd been right.
"Don't do what?" he asked her guardedly, even though he knew the answer, and knew she knew.
"Pull away from me. Think you're not good enough. Are we going to go through this every time anything bad happens?"
"No," Harry answered shakily. "Just anytime something bad happens to you." The hand that she'd laid alongside his jawline, now slid around behind his neck, pulling with gentle strength, until he had bent over quite close to her.
"I love you, Harry Potter. Nothing - no one - can ever change that or take it away." His forehead was pressed to hers, and she was stunned by the amount of emotion swirling in his too-close green eyes.
"I know," he admitted in a barely audible voice.
"Good," she replied, infusing a saucy kind of smirk to her voice that made the corners of his eyes crinkle in an inward smile. He kissed her lightly on the mouth, as she smoothed down the sheets with the linen-shrouded palms of her hands. "So you got the baby taken care of?" she asked in a casual tone, so that he would understand the previous subject to have been dealt with and dropped.
"Yes, we went with her grandmother to find her father…he was working in a plant, and - and we took her to him." His eyes glinted, and Hermione felt sure that there were things he was not telling her. She gazed at him calmly, silently willing him to tell her what was burdening him. He sighed. "He - I - I had to tell him what - what had happened to his … wife." He almost got the word out without choking on it, but ended up nearly forcing it between clenched teeth. "He and his mum just - just held the baby and cried… cried like it was going to rip them apart." His eyes were shining with tears now, and he had shoved both hands deep into his pockets. He seemed to be nearly talking to himself, and Hermione let him talk. "They were - they were going to be celebrating their fifth anniversary in a couple of weeks. Charlotte was their first child - he said she'd wanted three." One hand escaped the confines of his pocket, and raked through his hair. "And then, he - he thanked me. God, Hermione, he stood there holding his - his motherless child, and he told me thank you." He looked almost nauseated, as if the gratitude of a heart-broken father was too much for him to comprehend. Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but he stopped her. "He said - he said it was what - what L - Lily would have wanted."
"What?" The word came almost soundlessly out of Hermione's mouth.
"Her name was Lillian - she - she - " He couldn't finish, and she pulled his head down again, cradling it on her shoulder. Another Lily had made the ultimate sacrifice for her baby, she thought. Harry wasn't really crying, but just trembling from fatigue and overwhelming emotion, and she shushed him like one would soothe an infant.
"Your mother would be very proud of you," she whispered, running her fingers gently through his hair.
"I'm sorry you got hurt," he said thickly. She did not even blink at the sudden subject change.
"I'm not," she replied evenly. "They would've all died if we hadn't been there. I can never regret that." He lifted his head then, and looked at her, looking pale and worn and somehow ethereally beautiful, like fragile bone china.
"I love you," he repeated again, leaning his cheek against hers.
"I love you too," she replied, feeling her eyelids flutter shut, even as her lips moved in their declaration.
~~**~~
Hermione awakened an indeterminate amount of time later to a pressure on her injured shoulder that was rapidly becoming painful. She shifted slightly, grunting at the sudden movement, and the pressure suddenly lifted with an oath.
"Merlin, Hermione, I'm sorry," Harry said, pushing his fingers under his glasses and scrubbing at his bleary eyes.
"Next time, you should fall asleep on the other side," she said, smiling tiredly.
"How are you feeling?" he asked, his brow wrinkling in concern.
"Yes, Hermione, you've an entire Order of people who've been waiting to speak to you. It has been awhile, you know." The electric blue head of a grinning Tonks appeared over the edge of the foot of her bed, as the Auror approached.
"I think I could get up?" Hermione phrased this as a delicate question, as she noted the watchful gaze of Madam Pomfrey nearby. The mediwitch gave a slow nod.
"Your ribs are probably fine, though they may still be tender. Take care not to open the wounds on your hands, please." At Madam Pomfrey's admonition, Hermione guiltily removed her hands from where she'd planted them on the mattress, intent on pushing herself into a sitting position. Instead, Harry and Remus flanked her bed, and lifted her up by her elbows, Harry propping her gently on pillows as proficiently as any nurse could have done.
"Hi, Professor Lupin," she said cheerfully, and nearly laughed when Remus rolled his eyes at her use of his erstwhile title. He was looking rather pale and haggard, half-healed scratches showing from the collar of his robes, and she remembered that the full moon had been only a couple of nights previously.
Fleur and Luna approached tentatively, as if they did not want to intrude, but Hermione greeted them with a beaming smile, wondering a little at her own expansive mood. Perhaps it was Harry's tenderness and obvious concern for her; perhaps it was the elated relief at surviving a harrowing experience; perhaps it was residual elation for a good deed well done; or perhaps it was exultation at Harry's courageous and utterly astounding display of defiance in the night skies over the ruined village. She noted Fleur's hand, absently placed over her abdomen, though she was still not yet truly showing, and thought of the baby they'd saved and her shattered, young family. Her eyes clouded briefly.
"It is good to have you - all of you - " Fleur's lilting accent fell easily on Hermione's ears, as the Frenchwoman's gaze swept to include Harry and a newly-arrived Ron, standing beyond Lupin " - back, Hermione."
"It's good to be back," Hermione said sincerely, meaning every word. "You're our family, you know." Her eyes flitted around the gray chamber that she could now see looked like a cavern, enhanced with magically placed dividers and all the conveniences. It looked like the dividers could be made transparent or opaque at will, or caused to vanish altogether. There was a black divider all by itself in a far corner of the cave. She still thought she could hear a distant lapping of water. "Where exactly are we?"
To her surprise, Harry and Remus exchanged an almost gleeful look, like Weasley twins or Marauders of yore, sharing in a particularly hilarious practical joke. Her gaze tripped back and forth between the two of them, obvious questions dancing in her eyes.
"It's really brilliant, Hermione," Harry said, reassuring her.
"Better than anyone could have hoped for, even if they'd planned it," Fred put in, poking his head over his dad's shoulder, and grinning at her.
"Planned it… planned what?" Hermione was shaking her head in bewilderment. "It looks like a cave," she said off-handedly, as if to say, and what's so important about that?
"It's not what it is, Hermione," Ron finally put in. "It's where it is."
"Where?" Hermione echoed, and then looked round at the lot of them, impatiently. "Will someone just tell me?"
"We're on Hogwarts' grounds, Hermione," Harry put in, and something almost indefinable glinted in his green eyes. It was not wistfulness or nostalgia, but rather something determined. It was as if he were saying, The second war began here, and so it will end here. She suddenly remembered the watery sound she'd heard, and looked at Harry with sudden comprehension.
"We're underneath the Lake, aren't we?" Most of the Order members nodded, and Remus spoke up again.
"Sirius and James spent a lot of time prowling around the grounds; they were always on the hunt for new and undiscovered ways to sneak around school. There was a passage that ran under the Lake from the dungeons, but it was caved in and filled with water. They tried for over a year to find the place where the tunnel came out, but never did. They found this place instead."
"Entirely too poetic, isn't it?" came a cheerful voice. "Voldemort would be mad as hops if he found out." Hermione turned to see a radiant Ginny Weasley, approaching the bed, flanked by, but not touching a watchful Penelope Clearwater.
"Which is why it would be ideal for him not to find out. Ruddy girl has been entirely too cheeky since she snapped out of it," Fred said irreverently, chucking a thumb at his sister, and speaking in a conspiratorial tone to Hermione. "Saying Voldemort's name, smiling all the time… as if there were anything at all to smile about," he snorted, but it was evident to everyone there that Ginny's healing and subsequent outlook was as healing balm to his wounded soul.
Hermione suddenly looked at Harry and Ron, who both nodded subtly and knowingly. Ginny…she'll have to be told about Malfoy. Ron's face seemed suddenly pinched and pale.
"How - how do you get in? Without being seen?" Hermione stammered only slightly as she began, trying to keep her troubled gaze off of the equally troubled gazes of her two best friends, all of them trying not to think of Draco's bloody body tumbling to the ground in the Potters' back garden. "After all, you can't - "
" - Apparate on Hogwarts' grounds," she finished, in chorus with both Harry and Ron. She speared them both with a glower, as Ginny and Fred in particular chortled.
"On the far end, the Lake butts up against a couple of sheer rock walls," Remus said. "Behind the walls, almost completely enclosed by trees and out of sight of the castle, is a small pond. Above the water, there's barely a hairsbreadth between the rocks, but below the surface, it widens out."
"We can Apparate into the lagoon, swim under the walls, and be in the main body of the Lake," Fred cut in. "The entrance to the cave is almost directly opposite Hogwarts, but accessible only through an underwater tunnel."
"And - and the Squid?" Hermione said, striving for nonchalance, trying not to think about the fact that she had been brought into the cave in that exact way, while unconscious.
"Apparently, it's on our side," Harry told her, squeezing her hand gently in response to her look of trepidation. He knew that she'd never felt completely comfortable around that much water after the Second Task. "So are the merpeople."
"What better guardians could you ask for?" Tonks said rhetorically. "Even if the Death Eaters found out we were here, it'd be terribly difficult for them to gain access."
"It'll be a good place for staging too. When the time comes," Mr. Weasley put in. Hermione looked up at him sharply, and her eyes drifted to Harry, as if by their own volition. When the time comes.
Somehow she knew it wouldn't be long now.
"What's that over there?" she asked, in the ensuing silence, pointing toward the blackened divider. Most of the others were either clear or a foggy gray, like frosted glass. The people encircling her bed exchanged uncomfortable looks. Remus finally replied,
"That's where we're keeping the clone of Neville Longbottom."
~~**~~
The cave was large, and Hermione squinted her eyes slightly to look at Harry, Remus, Fred, Ron, and Mr. Weasley hunched around a table, in what had unquestionably become the War Room. Tonks was at a bookshelf, clearly searching for one tome in particular. She saw Ron detach himself from the knot, and walk a few paces away to rummage in his knapsack. He cursed, flung a glance over his shoulder, and dove back into the depths of his pack with renewed frenzy.
Hermione's curiosity was piqued, and she swung her legs over the edge of the bed, carefully planting her feet on the floor. She eyed her surroundings cautiously, but Madam Pomfrey was nowhere in sight. A battered pair of jeans and a mended shirt lay across the chair that Harry had slept in. Hermione recognized the clothes as the ones that she'd worn in the village. She darkened the divider, and quickly dressed, pulling the clothing gingerly over the parts of her that were bandaged.
By the time she had dressed, and stepped through the divider, which was charmed to turn membranous when someone desired entrance or exit - except, she assumed, in cases like Neville's - Ron was cursing more fluently, and had garnered the attention of the rest of the group in the War Room. Tonks had abandoned her quest at the bookshelf, and was watching him curiously.
"What're you on about, Ron?" Fred asked, though he still looked more amused than concerned.
"The map! The Marauder's Map! I still had it, but now it's - "
"In that tree just outside the village," Hermione finished for him, making a little self-conscious wave with her hand, as all eyes turned to her.
"You shouldn't be up yet," Harry said, coming to her side.
"Harry, I'm fine," she said, guiltily removing one bandaged hand from where it had been placed to brace against her still-tender ribs.
"I'm convinced," he said, deadpan.
"Well, I guess I'd better go get our things," Ron said, slapping his hands on his knees, and unfolding his lanky form from where it had been hunched over his bag. He was muttering something that included the words can't believe we forgot and what happens when Hermione is out of commission. Hermione grinned.
"Let me go," Harry said quickly, almost urgently, causing his girlfriend to look at him oddly. "I need to - I need to see how effective my magic has gotten anyway." Ron slanted him a measured look. "Hermione can come with me."
Now it was her turn to stare at Harry in befuddlement. He seemed to be trying to tell Remus to do something without speaking.
"You just said she shouldn't be out of bed," Ron said, in a somewhat accusing tone. "And now you're going to let her swim in a lake?"
"I was going to swim out, and let her follow with the medallion," Harry said stiffly, and Hermione wondered at the sudden tension that had sprung up between the two of them; it was just what she hoped that the seriousness of their situation would have continued to forestall.
"To retrieve a couple of trunks?" Ron's tone was scathing. "She had a burning building bloody well fall on her."
"I know that, Ron," Harry bit out. "I was there!" The implication, of course, being that Ron wasn't. The redhead froze, as if Stunned by Harry's words, but he recovered quickly.
"And you couldn't do anything to stop it, could you?" he said softly. "What makes you think you could protect her now? Being around you is bloody well going to get her killed, and you -- you couldn't even take care of yourself when Vo - Voldemort - "
"Ron, that's enough!" Hermione's voice rapped out sharply in the tension, surprising herself, her two friends, and the rapt audience. "I'll go with Harry and we'll get the trunks. We'll be back in ten minutes." Harry's face was inscrutable, like an ancient ritual mask carven from stone.
"Ron," Remus intervened. "Why don't you have another look at this sketch? See if I've got the layout right? You've been at Hogwarts far more recently than I." Ron was still eying the pair of them a little sullenly, but he moved to Lupin's side, having little choice to do anything else.
"Give me five minutes," Harry whispered, his breath fanning against her ear. "You don't want to end up in the middle of the Lake as well." He made his way around a curve of the cavern wall, out of her sight, and she heard the ever-present lapping of the water gurgle and slap at the rock more loudly as he disturbed it.
She took a deep breath, trying to ignore the dull, irritating ache in her side, and began to count to herself, one-one thousand, two-one thousand…
~~**~~
"So," she said conversationally, as they clambered hand in hand up the small rise where the gnarled old tree squatted, having Apparated into the cover of a copse of trees to make sure the area was secure. "What was that all about?" Nonchalantly, she cast another Drying charm on Harry, as there were a few damp spots in his clothing and hair that he'd missed on his attempt.
"What was what all about?" he offered up lamely, in a sort of token protest. She gave him a withering look that said, Don't even try that with me.
"What is in your trunk that you want to get at so badly? And why did I have to come with you? And what does Remus know about it?" She said, and watched as surprise flitted across his face, followed by resignation.
"After what Ron said - " he began, and stopped abruptly, as they arrived at the tree. He used his wand to take the charms off of the hole, and reached in to remove their shrunken belongings. He shook his head tiredly. "He was probably right anyway. I can't keep you safe, and it was a stupid - " He enlarged his trunk, and knelt down to rifle through its contents. Hermione leaned against the tree, keeping an eye out for any movement that could possibly be unfriendly.
"If it was a stupid idea, why are you still looking for whatever it is?" she asked him, crooking one sardonic eyebrow at him.
"Because I'll regret it forever if I don't," he said simply, looking up at her briefly through his dark lashes, and then resuming his search. He stopped suddenly, as he evidently found the object for which he'd been looking, and triumphantly came up with a small, flat box. He popped it open with his thumbs, and proffered it to her, still kneeling. Inside, nestled in navy velvet were three rings. Hermione's eyes drifted to the rings, back to Harry, and then down to the rings again. "My … erm - proposal earlier wasn't very romantic or elegant at all, but I did mean it," he began haltingly.
Only if you marry me first.
Okay.
"I've - I've been thinking about it for quite awhile, actually. Got Tonks to get this out of my vault for me, before we left the Order. I've been carrying it around all this time, but we've - we've never been - I couldn't seem to find the right - " He faltered a little, and reached up the hand that was not holding the box to push his glasses back into place on the bridge of his nose. "Oh, sod it!" he said, and Hermione bit her lower lip to keep from giggling. She was as girly as the next female her age, though she often strove to hide it - or ignore it completely - and she had long envisioned a perfect, romantic, flowery proposal, on a moonlit beach, or somewhere sodden with candles and flowers, or whatever cliché happened to fit her mood at any given moment. This was not a romantic cliché in the least, but he was so darling kneeling there, holding the box, with what she assumed were his parents' rings inside, and he seemed so terribly awkward and nervous, as if she hadn't made it abundantly clear how she felt about him, and… He looked up at her beseechingly, and she hoped that her eyes looked suitably solemn, as he appeared to collect himself.
"I love you, Hermione. I meant what I said before, and - and - you said once that I gave you hope for the future, even now, and I was hoping that we could get started - on our future together… I know even being around me is dangerous, and I don't know how much - but whatever is left, I - " he looked at her and sighed, finally opting for the straightforward approach. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you." She understood what he'd been trying to get across, and what he had not said. However long or short that is.
His direct gaze befuddled her - this almost painfully earnest Harry made her lashes flutter down to her cheeks, which stained a becoming rosy shade. But even as she could hear her racing pulse pound in her ears, she knew that there was no doubt as to her answer. Slowly, she extended her left hand down to him, fingers splayed, wishing idiotically that her hands weren't drowning in bulky bandages.
"There's nothing I want more…" she began slowly, knowing that mere words could never express the elation that filled her like a rising tide. He started to ease it over her wrapped ring finger, but said apologetically,
"I don't know if it's going to fit."
"Bloody sodding hell," came a new voice that made Hermione jump and both of them reach for their wands. Ron had materialized, zeroing in on their medallions, no doubt, only a couple of meters away. Instantly, the completed tableau imprinted itself on Hermione's mind, as Ron must have seen it: Harry kneeling in the dirt next to his opened trunk, in the process of placing a ring on the finger of a blushing Hermione.
Harry looked up at her, and the sight of her stricken face seemed to inexplicably make him angry. He used a low, spindly limb protruding from the tree trunk to pull himself up to a standing position.
"Is this the way it's always going to be?" He directed the question at the two of them. "Are you always going to be looking at us like we've hit you with a bludger? Are you always going to feel guilty for loving me back?" His voice was low and angry, and it hit her like hammer blows.
"Harry, I'm not - " she hastened to say. It was like the conversation they'd had in the cellar at Godric's Hollow - only worse, since Harry was even more clearly fed up. He didn't let her finish, but addressed Ron.
"I love Hermione more than my own life," he said succinctly, his directness causing Ron to flinch. "I've asked her to marry me, and she's said yes. I'd like to do it as soon as possible - " Here, he darted a questioning glance at Hermione, who nodded, a little hesitantly. "I'd like your blessing, Ron - and I'd - I'd like you to stand up with me, if that's at all possible." His eyes flicked from Ron, standing in uncomfortable silence, to Hermione, who was absently twiddling her ring around the middle knuckle of her finger. The bandages prevented it from sliding any further down. "We are going to make a life together. We - we're trusting that we'll come through this, and - and when it's all over, and Voldemort is dead, we're going to live - really live." He paused and searched Ron's face for a long moment. "And we want you to be a part of it. But - but you're going to have to accept it - accept us. After the cabin - after you gave us the - the bedroom, I thought you had started to come to terms with it."
Ron put his hands in his pockets, hunching awkwardly, and scuffing the toe of one trainer in the dirt. The tension seemed to make the air around them too thick to properly breathe. Hermione watched Ron with bated breath and pleading eyes; the future of the Trio depended on his response.
"Merlin's Beard, Harry," he began slowly. "I - sometimes I think I've got it all sorted, and - and then it - it rears up and bites me in the arse again. When you - " he looked at Hermione, "When Harry brought you from the village, you were kind of slung over his shoulder, unconscious, and he could barely stand up. I - I've - I was so scared - afraid you were dead, and I didn't know if I'd be able to handle it." Hermione's eyes were filmed over with a sheen of tears. Not you too, she could practically hear him thinking. "But I knew - that whatever I was feeling, that Harry was feeling about a hundred times that, and - " He shook his head, obviously at a loss. "I'm not going to lie and say this is easy, but - but I'm working on it, and - and - well, seeing that," he gestured toward the ring, still awkwardly positioned on Hermione's hand, "was rather a nasty knock, but - but, at the end of the day, nothing's going to - I've tried to tell myself that I don't care what happens to you, but I can't - you're still both my best mates, and - and - " he took a deep breath, " - and if you can't be in love with me, then I guess I'd rather you love him, than anyone else."
"Ron - " Hermione choked out in a broken whisper, and flung herself into his arms. She hugged him as tightly as her ribs could stand, hoping to let him know by touch alone how important he was - and would always be - to both of them. She couldn't see what expression was on his face, but she heard Harry's voice say dryly,
"Try not to look like you're enjoying it so much right in front of me, Ron, thanks." She pulled away from Ron with a sort of uncertain horror, but there was a barely detectable twinkle in Harry's eye, and Ron's face was bright crimson.
"Harry!" she chided, half-laughing, and the tension draped over the three of them seemed to ease a little, no longer oppressively choking the atmosphere. Ron opened his mouth, hesitated infinitesimally, and extended his hand to Harry.
"I'd be honored to stand up with you," he said, sounding oddly formal. Harry pressed his lips together tightly, and nodded once, shaking his best mate's hand firmly. He shrunk his trunk again - his wand seemed to be obeying his commands with new alacrity - and they situated their recovered belongings for the return trip.
"Let's go get married," Harry said casually, causing Hermione to look at him with open-mouthed surprise.
"What? Now?" she gaped. He gripped her hand, and smiled - one of the rare, genuine, eye-sparkling ones, all the more adored because of their scarcity - lifting her injured hand to his lips and kissing the wrapped palm gently.
"Why not?" he asked cheekily, but then his face fell, and he added, "I mean, if you're up for it… but you've probably already done too much today, and Pomfrey's going to kill me for dragging you out here, and - " Hermione cut him off by pressing one fingertip to his lips.
"I'm perfectly fine, Harry, and I'll marry you whenever you like," she said demurely. He caught her up to him with a low growl, and said,
"If I had known that, we'd have been married months ago." His eyes were so tender that she felt her insides melt into a gelatinous mass, and she threaded her bandaged hands clumsily through his hair. The corners of her eyes crinkled as she gazed at him.
Why not, indeed?
~~**~~
Hermione wondered dizzily if war weddings had always been like this. Their announcement upon their arrival back at the cave had frozen the Order into surprised stillness and silence for about two seconds; then they had been galvanized into action by Fleur Weasley. Not a few glances had been worriedly cast at Ron, who had his game face on, and was trying vainly to look completely unconcerned by the ruckus. She had seen Remus give Harry an approving nod, a glint of something like fatherly pride gleaming in his eyes. Remus had known… how long had Harry been pondering this?
Fleur had immediately herded the younger female members of the Order - Professor McGonagall had the authority to conduct wedding, as the Headmistress of Hogwarts, and was going over the ceremony with Harry and Remus - into one of the sleeping quarters, darkening some of the outer walls and vanishing several of the intervening dividers so that one larger room was formed.
"Now," Fleur said, clapping her hands together briskly. "unfortunately, we have no magazines, but if you can tell me what you want your gown to look like, perhaps we can come close."
"Fleur, this is - I mean, it's just me and Harry, and neither of us want a big deal. I - I'm fine with my regular robes, and - anyway, it's the marriage that's important, not the wedding."
"Nonsense," Fleur said, as crisply and efficiently as any Englishwoman, despite her musical accent. "We are witches, are we not? We can do this. Let us make your wedding beautiful."
"Do let us," Penelope pleaded shyly, placing one hand on Hermione's arm, looking amazed at her own daring. "It - it's something to look forward to… something positive, a - a - "
"A symbol," Ginny spoke up quietly, from where she had taken a seat on one of the beds. Hermione turned to look at her for a moment, and saw the understanding in those unseeing eyes. Yes, Ginny, above all other people, would know the significance of that word. Marriage would be a life-affirming act of hope for anyone, but for Harry - and for her, by extension - it once again turned him into a symbol. She bit her lips together, considering, while the other women watched her hopefully. Harry's been a symbol all his life - I suppose one more time wouldn't make much difference…especially if it's good for morale.
"All right, if it's okay with Harry," she said, trying not to sound terribly reluctant. There was much squealing and clapping of hands then…even from Tonks. Hermione could only imagine what the other Order members thought of the din.
"Fleur already asked him! He said to make sure it was okay with you," Penelope said, laughing.
"Dress, hair, makeup, flowers…" Fleur was ticking things off on her fingers. "What kind of flowers do you want to carry? Roses are traditional, I think, or…"
"Lilies," Hermione blurted quickly. "Just…lilies, I think. Two to carry … and one in my hair?" She raised her eyebrows questioningly at Fleur, who looked at her for an emotionally charged moment, and nodded her approval.
"We ought to have a runner… or a canopy, or something," Tonks put in. "Something that will liven up this place, since it's mostly… gray."
"Candles too… or plants," Penelope added. "And I've got a lovely little charm that will do birds. We could have doves or - "
"No birds!" Hermione said emphatically, shaking her head rapidly. She thought she heard Ginny muffle a snort.
They set to work, Fleur and Penelope working on Hermione herself, while Tonks and Luna exited the bridal area to begin work on the decorations, under strict instructions from Fleur. Hermione couldn't even imagine what Tonks and Luna would have come up with on their own. They had gotten Ginny started on transfiguring bedsheets into swaths of a rich, yellow material for the runner and what Hermione assumed would be a sort of awning. Once Ginny had been assured of the correct width and color, the rest was easy for her to accomplish.
Fleur was muttering some French imprecations about her hair, while Ginny swept her wand back and forth, yellow billows piling on the floor about her feet. Hermione felt as if this were happening to someone else entirely.
She was getting married.
"If only I had some Sleakeasy's," Fleur sighed. "Of course, when I was snatched off the streets, no one had the decency to bring along any of my toiletries." She rolled her eyes in resignation. Hermione paused to consider that for a moment; she had never realized that she - and the others who had already been holed up at the Shop - had most of her things, while those like Penelope and Luna and Fleur came with scarcely more than the clothes on their backs.
"I have some… in my trunk," Hermione offered up hesitantly. "I haven't used it since graduation."
"What about makeup? Or jewelry - although we can transfigure you some if you need it," Fleur's eyes lit up, as she thought of other possibilities that were opened to her. Hermione shook her head.
"I don't wear makeup much - or jewelry. I might have a little…" she said in a hesitant voice.
"I've got a little makeup," Ginny offered, adding, "I'll bet Tonks does too. And as for jewelry, why not see what else Harry has in that family vault of his?"
"That's brilliant, Ginny, of course!" Hermione breathed, as Fleur herded Penelope out of the curtained area, with a parting admonition for Hermione to stay there.
There was silence, broken only by the soft whisper of the billowing fabric that Ginny was creating. It grew odd and heavy, and Hermione tried to dispel it by muttering the charm that would turn her old school robes from black to white.
"Albeo," she said, looking critically down at her robes. They were white, but still shapeless, carrying the heavy cowl and pointed sleeves that she had added to make them look more the apparel of choice for Death Eaters. "Damn," she muttered, clumsily knuckling one eye. "I really don't know what I'm doing."
After a moment of thought, she pointed her wand at one of the curtains, and said,
"Speculum," turning a portion of the frosted gray divider into a full-length mirrored surface. She could see herself reflected therein, as well as Ginny, where she was seated on the bed. The younger girl was no longer transfiguring cloth, but held her wand limply in her hand, and was gazing in Hermione's direction. Hermione found it rather disquieting.
"Ginny, are you okay?" she said, tentatively, waving her wand and making the sleeves of her robes disappear entirely.
"Absolutely. Why wouldn't I be?" Ginny said airily, resuming her wand movement. Swish went the fabric in graceful folds to the floor.
"I mean - we've all been worried about how Ron's going to take this, but - but nobody's checked with you. I just -- I just wondered if you were okay with it." Hermione watched Ginny carefully in the mirror, as she added sheer, cap sleeves and shrank her robes more closely around her body. She studied the effect in the mirror, and removed the sleeves again.
"Harry broke up with me a long time ago," Ginny said, after a momentary pause, phrasing her reply carefully.
"And you and I both know that time has bollocks to do with it," Hermione said coolly. Ginny seemed very far away, and Hermione wondered uncomfortably if she were thinking of that long ago day in the Gryffindor common room, where Harry had kissed Ginny, had chosen Ginny…
"Time may not have anything to do with how I do or do not feel, but how I do or do not feel has nothing to do with your wedding." Ginny had started out quietly, but her voice has risen rapidly with a quasi-hysterical note in it by the end. Hermione padded over to Ginny's side in her half-transfigured robes, and sat down next to her on the mattress.
"This is an uncomfortable and close environment that we're all forced to live in, for Merlin only knows how much longer. Neither Harry nor I want to make anyone uncomfortable." Ginny cocked her head quizzically at Hermione, her mannerisms still so much those of a seeing person, that Hermione sometimes had to remind herself that Ginny was blind.
"Harry is the savior of the wizarding world," Ginny said. "And you're the woman he loves more than anything else. I could tell - even before he realized it himself, by the way he searched for you as he entered a room, by the way he always wanted your opinions and your approval, by the way he clung to you, so much that - that even when he could dismiss me out of concern for my safety, he still had to have you by his side." She shrugged a little, but Hermione could see the pain reflecting in her eyes. "He thought he loved me once," she shook her head. "That doesn't even put me in the same class as you. And what kind of selfish prat does it make me, if I try to take away or ruin the thing that he wants the most, the few moments of happiness that he's snatching for himself in a world that's gone to hell?" She turned towards Hermione, her gaze only slightly askew, and smiled a little wistfully. "Of course, I love Harry. Everybody does. He's got this - this endearing, protective nobility - where you know he'd do anything for you - and - how could you not love him, really?" She raised her shoulders. "But the issue isn't who loves Harry… it's whom Harry loves… and he loves you. He deserves you…he deserves this." She plucked at Hermione's robes with two fingers.
"I'm not sure how to say this without sounding condescending, but thank you, Ginny," Hermione murmured, laying her hand over the one that had touched her robes, and patting it softly.
"Well, with - with Mum gone, and Charlie and Bill and … when you spent a month in a nightmare watching people you love die over and over again, then - then a little unrequited crush doesn't seem like a - like a huge thing to get angsty over, you know?" Ginny said. "Puts things in perspective a bit."
Hermione froze. The nightmare curse.
"Ginny, you might want to know - we - we found out who did that to you. We ran into them at Godric's Hollow. He - " Hermione blundered to a stop, as Ginny vehemently shook her head.
"I don't want to know. Not today," she spoke firmly, as Hermione tried to protest.
"Ginny, you deserve to know. This could help give you closure." She said this in her most cajoling voice, even though part of her was tremendously relieved that she would not have to be the one breaking the news to Ginny - at least not now. Ginny would not be dissuaded.
"Today is about you - you and Harry, not me. You can tell me later. It'll keep."
~~**~~
Luna's tiny Muggle radio was sitting up on one of the plant stands, obviously having had an Amplification charm cast on it. The magic seemed to be reacting badly to the electronics, and every now and then the soothing song of violins was interrupted by an untoward crackle or hiss. Professor McGonagall was trying to put a Clarity charm on it, but that seemed to be making the problem worse. Hermione didn't really mind; she thought it sounded lovely. She was peering out through a small window in the opaque divider, to see swaths and folds of yellow fabric draped around the cavern, periodically festooned with cheerful bunches of flowers, and set off with sconces of elegant candles. A soft yellow runner led from the central part of the display to the very curtain behind which she now stood.
Fleur had returned just in time to keep her from completely destroying her robes in her flustered state, and the Frenchwoman had made them completely unrecognizable. Hermione almost couldn't believe that the breathtaking woman in the conjured mirror was really an accurate representation of her. Her hair had been tamed, swept up in a coronet of ringlets, with a single white lily tucked in the midst of the shining brown curls. She really was a community project: she was wearing drop earrings loaned to her by Penelope, a bracelet of Ginny's, and a diamond pendant that had belonged to Harry's mother. Then, of course, there was her ring.
She had begged Madam Pomfrey for permission to remove the bandages, but had changed her mind when she saw her mottled, pinky-red, still-healing skin. Instead, they had enlarged the ring, so that it fit over the white wrapping. She was barefoot, having enjoyed the cool feel of the cavern floor on her feet so much that she stopped Penelope in mid-transfiguration from turning her trainers into white satin slippers.
She looked down at the marquis-cut diamond in the antique setting, and watched it shimmer through her disbelieving tears.
It was almost time. Mr. Weasley had come out of another area of dividers, in the nicest robes he owned, and was headed her way. He had struggled for composure, Ginny had said, when she'd asked him if he would escort Hermione.
She shrunk back away from the divider window, when Harry and Ron emerged a moment later, both in the dress robes they'd worn to graduation. Harry's appeared to be hanging on him loosely, and she watched as Remus dashed across the expanse and adjusted them magically.
"'Severyone ready in here?" the gentle voice of Mr. Weasley called as he reached their room, and Hermione replied in the affirmative. She and Harry had both wanted Ron to stand up with them, but the rest of the Order was so small that it seemed silly and possibly insulting to select any more of a wedding party. It seemed that everyone felt an integral part of this, having dressed in their best, whether they had something, borrowed something, or transfigured something. Maybe Ginny was right, Hermione thought, as Fleur gently pressed the lilies into her sweaty hands, maybe everyone needs this…something positive…a symbol.
Mr. Weasley extended his arm to her, as Fleur and Penelope, smiling brilliantly, magicked the dividers away.
~~**~~
Afterward, Hermione would recall that she couldn't remember much of the ceremony. Professor McGonagall had presided, speaking in her crisp and familiar brogue, with something decidedly un-professorial glinting in her eyes. Harry had been pale, his fingers trembling in hers, but with the force of the emotion that he felt for her blazing so brightly from his green eyes that she thought it would physically buckle her knees. Ron's face had been carefully composed, but, as his father handed her off to Harry, he had met her eyes and dropped one lid in a subtle wink.
She heard her voice, high and shaky, but clear, reciting the vows that McGonagall read for her, as if she were listening to someone else. The words were ringing in the acoustics of the cave, but she could not recall what she'd said. She felt the cold weight of the wedding band slide over her finger to join the engagement band that had only recently taken up residence there. She felt Harry's calloused skin under the very tips of her fingers that were unbandaged, as she slid his ring home as well.
McGonagall was saying something else. She had her wand in her hand for the final incantation. Harry had his as well, and she saw Ron gripping his covertly, ready to come to his aid, if his magic proved faulty or fickle. Remus's eyes were swimming with tears, as were Mr. Weasley's. Aberforth had a small, proud smile on his face, his blue eyes twinkling like a certain Headmaster they'd known and loved. Fleur had a vague smile on her face, but appeared to be somewhere else entirely. Her hand was rested on her abdomen, and Hermione guessed that she was at another wedding, one that had occurred in the back garden of a ramshackle home, not too much over one year previously. Luna had a whimsical look on her face, but her eyes, sharp and alert, instead of unfocused and dreamy as they usually were, fixed on Ron, rather than the couple getting married.
McGonagall was speaking again. She tapped her wand on their joined hands, and Hermione felt a pulse thrum through her like electric energy. Harry's gaze jerked up from their hands to meet hers in something like astonishment, and she felt the jolt again.
And then, he was tugging her toward him, gently clasping one bandaged hand, and then his other hand was around her waist. She thought she could feel the heat of his skin through the material of her robes.
There was a heartbeat of a moment, and his lips were on hers, yearning and passionate, and somewhere above the pounding drum riff of her pulse in her ears, she could hear the echoing sound of hearty applause.
~~**~~
They could not hear the murmur of voices from Order members that they knew were still awake, finishing off the rest of the butterbeer and Old Ogden's that Aberforth claimed to have found shrunken in his pocket after he awakened from his fever, evidently the last vintage to come out of the Hog's Head. A Silencio had been cast on the enlarged partition, just big enough to fit a magically enlarged bed.
Hermione lay in Harry's arms, staring at him, still having trouble believing that they were actually married at all, and feeling more than a little odd that everyone else in the cave knew exactly what they were doing now.
"I'm glad we did this," she murmured in a voice thick with sated repletion.
"Me too," Harry said lightly, deliberately misunderstanding to what `this' she'd been referring. While he chuckled, she hit him in the chest with her open hand, and her eyes fell on her bandages again. Harry's followed suit.
"How are your hands healing up?" he asked, bringing one hand up to his lips, and kissing the fingertips and then the palm, linen wrappings notwithstanding. Hermione's brow crinkled.
"They look horrible," she admitted. "Madam Pomfrey said I could take the bandages off, but I - I didn't want you to see them." His eyes were tender, so tender that she thought perhaps she could die of love for him, and he reached up to move his recalcitrant fringe off of his forehead, revealing a familiar lightning-bolt shape.
"Hermione." The way he said her name was a throaty vibration in his chest, and it did funny things to her stomach. "What makes you think I care anything at all about scars?" Tears sprang to her eyes, along with a sudden rush of understanding. Harry would probably bring more baggage to a marriage than anyone else she'd ever met. She lowered her eyes, and the white of the bandages against the flesh tone of his chest swam before her. He tilted her chin up, forcing her to look at him, and said, "I think you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, Mrs. Potter. Burns on your arms are not going to change my opinion."
A sob rattled out of her throat then, without her permission, at the use of her new name, and he looked at her with some alarm.
"This is about more than just your arms, Hermione. What's going on?"
"I just - I - " Her jaw trembled, and she felt herself headed for a meltdown. You thought Cho had a crying jag? You haven't seen anything yet. "I can't believe this - this has all happened. That I'm married. To you. I - I almost feel ashamed for being so happy, and - and, at the same time, I think of my mum and dad, or yours, or Sirius, or the Weasleys, and think how much they would've have wanted to be here for this day - how it should have been at Hogwarts, in the Great Hall - with Neville and Seamus and Dean and all our housemates, and - " She sniffed loudly, and tried desperately to find Practical Hermione, who seemed to have gone on holiday. "But then I think about how much I love you, and - and I - and I get greedy, and I'm glad I have you, no matter what else happened, and I want this for another hundred years - and I know - I know that - it's not guaranteed."
"It never is," Harry said thoughtfully, reaching for the tail of the bandage, and unwinding it from around her arm. "But I know that I'll never regret this - not for as long as I live." She pulled her arm away from him.
"Harry, stop," she said, but he ignored her, retrieving her arm, and divesting her of the protective covering. She flinched, wanting to shrink away from him, at the side of the marbly pink-white color, and the uneven texture to the skin. The cool air felt funny on her newly exposed skin. She averted her eyes, afraid to see his reaction.
He leaned down to kiss the fresh scars on the insides of her wrists, and she felt tingles run up her arms.
"I love you, Hermione. You're my wife," He rolled the unfamiliar word around in his mouth, seemingly in awe of it. "And you've never been lovelier. I've never wanted to live for something more in my entire life." She bracketed his face with her hands, and pressed her forehead to his.
"Then do it…live," she commanded softly, and he kissed her deeply and thoroughly. As she gave herself up to his kiss and his caress, she could not stop the tears - tears of joy, tears of loss, tears of fear, she wasn't sure which - from leaking from the corners of her eyes and disappearing into her hair.
TBC
Okay, a little bit of a fluff-fest for you, but I couldn't get rid of the angst entirely. More action should be in the next installment, and we'll be finding out what the Order - as well as Voldemort -- has been doing all this time.
Hope you enjoyed it. You may leave a review on your way out, if you like.
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