Official Fine Print: Nope. Not mine. The brainchildren of the mighty pen of JK Rowling. Just playing with them. Honest.
Here With Me
Chapter 29
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"So he made us do a sort of treasure hunt, with hidden clues and everything, to find them," Harry heard Hermione explaining to Ron as they made their way up the stairs at the Burrow.
"Seriously?" Ron asked not even pausing in his procession up the steps to grin at them over his shoulder. "He must have really thought you were up to no good to sink that low to keep you busy."
The Burrow appeared to Harry to quite literally have been attacked by Christmas; every surface, horizontal or vertical, bore some reminder of the season. Mrs. Weasley was in her element, Mr. Weasley was hiding in his little closet of a study, the twins were home and at work stringing fairy lights and charming them into Christmas colors ("Nothing like a dash of purple to really say Christmas," Fred had reminded them merrily.) Bill was due in later that evening, "and he's bringing Fleur Delacour," Ron had told them, more than just a trace of wonder in his voice. Charlie was coming in with his new girlfriend as well the following morning. The only Weasley country not heard from was Percy. "Mum asked him of course," Ron said stiffly, "but he didn't even bother to owl her back, the lousy git."
Actually, Harry realized, he'd either subconsciously or willfully pushed Ginny from his mind in that assessment. When Ron toed open her bedroom door to deposit Hermione's stuff inside he could see that she was sitting in her window seat writing something, clearly enjoying a moment alone. He had a flash of sympathy; it couldn't be easy to find time for yourself in the middle of a Weasley Christmas. Hermione seemed to share his impression; she smiled and waved a greeting and told Ginny she'd catch up with her later, and proceeded to follow after the boys.
"She's not nearly as moody, actually," Ron told them as they went. "She's gone over all cheerful about something since the train ride home. I expect that's Father Christmas's gift to us all."
They reached Ron's room at the top of the house and deposited Harry's things at the foot of the camp bed by the window. Ron flopped wearily on his bed. "We didn't get home much before you; wish they'd just Portkey us all for holidays."
Harry reckoned Hermione was tired as well when she refrained from launching into a lengthy explanation as to why the idea was impractical; that or she was re-immersed in thoughts on the horcrux theory. They were going to have to explain it all to Ron but Harry was certain that now was not the moment; there'd be plenty of time after Christmas day. He lay back on his camp bed with a yawn then felt it sway precariously as Hermione crawled over him and settled down beside him. He felt her pull out her wand and heard a series of murmured incantations. The cot widened slightly, the mattress plumped and firmed beneath him and the legs stabilized. All the years he'd slept on the stupid thing, and it had never occurred to him to do that. Oh yeah, he was a powerful wizard in training. To be an idiot.
He turned to find her lying on her side facing him, her head propped on one arm and he leaned in to give her a kiss. "Thanks."
"None of that now, you two," Ron cautioned. "You're not going to get me grounded for Christmas or anything."
Hermione flared slightly then. "None of what, Ronald? You were expecting me to sit on the floor perhaps? I've sat on Harry's bed here hundreds of times."
"You've never felt the need to enlarge it before," he pointed out. "And I don't remember you lying down."
"Oh for goodness sake," she muttered and sat up again beside him. Resting her hands for balance on his chest she drew both her black stockinged legs in and crossed them before leaning back against the wall and smoothing her skirt. Harry wasn't normally a huge fan of Hogwarts uniforms, but they still had their moments.
"You didn't have to touch him all the time then, either," Ron pointed out. "Was that strictly necessary?"
Harry winced; Hermione blew.
"You know what's bothering you? It's not that you truly think either of us is going to do anything inappropriate in front of your family, because you know we won't. It's that you're finally starting to get it, what it means to care for someone else. You're missing Luna, you wish she was here because she makes you laugh and she makes everything seem new and different to you because you're seeing it through her eyes - and good lord what a view that must be. I highly doubt we even make you the slightest bit uncomfortable anymore, except for the fact that every time I touch Harry you're wishing it was Luna touching you."
Harry tried desperately not to grin, rolling in towards Hermione's knee. The sight of Ron gasping at her like an angry fish would surely do him in. She'd hit the nail on the head; Ron had said as much to Harry in the dorms the night before vacation, but he knew that particular fact wouldn't change Ron's discomfort with being pegged so accurately. Luna was coming over Christmas day and Ron was fairly torn up about it; both excited to see her reaction to his gift and apprehensive about his family's reaction to what was going on. He was certain the twins would be merciless and he was probably right. Harry thought it would probably be kinder if he and Hermione went ahead and snogged for Britain in front of his entire family; at least they might get Ron off the hook.
They were saved from further argument when Ginny burst through the door to announce dinner was ready. She did seem a bit more her old self, fair erupting with energy. "Bill's arrived!" she informed them with a grin, "and Fleur is vair 'ungry. She didn't say if it was for you, Ron, or dinner. You'd best go and find out." Her eyes had made their way from Ron to Harry and Hermione without dimming; Harry hoped that meant she was on to bigger and better things.
Ron followed her out, grumbling threats of retribution, to wash his hands. Harry spent several highly enjoyable minutes helping Hermione off the cot to her feet and regretting he wasn't going to be helping her back into it later. He left her to the bathroom upstairs and proceeded down to the pantry to wash his own hands, needing the moment of relative solitude to pull his ragged emotions into something resembling himself. He could hear Bill and Fleur laughing with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley in the kitchen. Fleur's "but it is Ronald!" was followed by two kissing sounds too solid to be air and when he stepped into the kitchen he saw twins spots of flame on Ron's cheeks.
"And 'arry!" she squealed happily. He got the full body hug instead of the cheek treatment and a gush of heartfelt, feverish French he understood about three words of. It shocked him to realize he was mentally comparing the feel of her to Hermione; irresistible as her Veela charms were meant to be she was very different against him and surprisingly not nearly as enticing as Hermione had seemed only moments before. He heard footsteps on the stairs and pulled back, but not before Hermione's level brown gaze had found them. To his enormous relief she seemed utterly unperturbed and move to join them without hesitation, greeting Fleur with a stream of what appeared to be hospitable French and hugging Bill. The twins came in from fairy light duty, shaking snow everywhere like dogs, and Molly began herding them to the table.
Harry spent most of his typically filling Weasley meal (Molly made sure he sat near her and kept up a running commentary on his need to eat more) talking to Bill on his other side and watching Hermione across the table between Ginny and Fred. It had been a productive year curse-breaking at Gringott's and Bill had got a bonus; he seemed buoyed and happy at once. During a particularly loud moment when Molly was chastising the twins for some rather off color substitute lyrics to a Christmas tune involving Percy, Mistletoe and the Minster for Magic's unclothed bum, Bill managed to ask Harry in an undertone if all was going well with Hermione and had he remembered his advice during their DADA sessions. Harry indicated that it was and he had with an abashedly feral grin and an eager nod, and found them both returned.
"Thought so," Bill said. "She looks a happy woman, and she's here. Knowing what chaos this place can be at Christmas, that's true love."
"And Fleur?" Harry asked softly, rather startled by his own boldness.
"Oh, she's a happy woman as well," Bill told him, ducking his head closer to Harry's. "And with any luck she'll be a happier one tomorrow. The Goblin's couldn't have done better with their timing for me, took it right up the street in Diagon Alley."
Harry realized after several moments (and was rather proud of himself when he did) that Bill had likely bought Fleur a ring for Christmas and meant to propose.
"Brilliant," he said. "Good luck, not that you'll need it. And just so you know, I think you'll be Ron's favorite brother this Christmas."
Ron and Luna getting together would be small potatoes in Mrs. Weasley's cooker after that.
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The Christmas tree had been erected in the front room but remained undecorated; the evening was spent hanging more boisterously uncooperative fairy lights and a multitude of ornaments hand made by various Weasley offspring over the years. There was a wide range: some were ancient nuts and pinecones once obviously liberally spread with glue and glitter but now mostly having lost their sparkle, others were intricate confections of folded gold and silver paper. Fred and George had the previous year used their newly achieved status as wizards to concoct two cotton ball-and-pipe cleaner snowmen charmed to hurl cotton ball snowballs at each other as they ranged round the tree; they added two more this year "just to make things more interesting." Harry found himself unable to look away, never sure where one would pop up next.
Hermione helped Ginny make paper chains while Fleur concentrated on a perfectly accessorized angel for the treetop that ended up looking very much -surprise! - like Fleur herself.
"She is perfect, non?" she asked, modeling her for all to approve. Harry found himself touched how quickly Bill agreed, and amused how the twin's gagging noises became real with only the most subtle flicks of his wand.
Ron and Harry had been enlisted to hump all the boxes of decorations down from the attic, most likely because Molly knew they'd have to do it by hand and didn't trust any of the other boys with it magically. It had taken a good deal of climbing, plus the effort required to actually find the stuff amidst the detritus of generations jam packed from floor to rafter up there, far more strenuous than carrying the boxes themselves. They'd moved what seemed half the contents just to get to them, and then negotiated a total of eight trips on those stairs, four up and four down. They were at present both collapsed in front of the fire, watching the others and hoping not to be drafted for anything else.
"So what did Dumbledore give you?" Ron asked.
"Other than the pep talk from hell, which we'll have to tell you about after Christmas in order not to spoil it for you, I know you'll be amazed to learn they actually weren't books."
Ron's eyebrows raised. "Month's worth of sherbet lemons? Meaning a two year supply for the two of you, of course?" he guessed.
Harry grinned. "Close, but wrong kind."
"Chocolate Frogs? Peppermint Toads? Licorice wands? Chocoballs? Ice Mice?" At each shake of Harry's head Ron became more intrigued. His list changed more to the types discouraged at school, then. "Fizzing Whizbees? Pepper Imps? Canary Creams? Surely not exploding bon bons? I give up then, what?"
In answer Harry pulled a wrapped piece from his pocket and handed it to Ron.
"Madam Puddifoots Marvelous Made-to-Share Mints - totally refreshing, tooth-flossing, tongue tingling and terribly romantic. 100% Irresistible and Guaranteed to Please." Ron read off the wrapper. He looked at Harry. Harry looked back.
"Good gracious, Ron… are you choking?" asked Mrs. Weasley, and hastily applied a back-thumping charm from across the room that sent him face first into the floor. It was several moments before Ron removed his nose from the carpet.
"I have to reckon," he managed to choke out, "that this is the first time he's given those to a student instead of taking them away. Only Dumbledore would keep you so busy finding something to make what he's trying to stop you from doing even more fun. What's he thinking? Never mind. I reckon McGonagall's head would explode if she knew."
"You have to wonder, anyway, unless that's how he got them in the first place, off a student. He's a barmy old coot, but alright with it. Of course we felt we ought to try them out once we found them, just to express our sincere gratitude, you know. They're really interesting. And seeing as you're our best friend, Hermione and I shared ours out and stuck a supply in with your present as well. It's the irresistible part that's so worth it, but just mind you don't have anything else going on at the time. You can't think of anything else. At all."
Ron's mind seemed to melt at the thought; Harry was sure he didn't need any help in that department about now, anyway.
"Well that's the tree done," said Mrs. Weasley in satisfaction. One of the twin's snowmen lobbed a tiny snowball at her, but she rounded it back at him with her wand with nary a flinch. "Off to bed then, you lot. The faster you go, the faster the day will be here."
They trouped up the stairs; Harry and Hermione trailing carefully last. The twins and Bill cooperatively headed on up to their own rooms with cheery good nights and wolf whistles after Bill gave Fleur a chaste and gentlemanly goodnight kiss. Well, chaste if you were blind, and Harry was sure it was only gentlemanly to make sure one's potential life-mate's tonsils were in working order before sending them off to sleep alone. In a room full of now-envious younger girls. Ron moved almost hastily on into the boy's room, but Ginny hovered at the girl's door as if somehow determined to thwart Harry.
"Night," he said regretfully, but Hermione resolutely ignored her room mate and gave him a swift but thorough goodnight kiss. If she was going to listen to Fleur go on about Bill for hours into the night, she wasn't going to do it without memorizing Harry first. 'Miss you,' she whispered, and disappeared into Ginny's room. Harry's eyes met Ginny's as he moved past and she shut the door, and he thought he recognized not animosity or loss but what almost appeared to be sympathy.
For a moment it warmed him, still stupid with the lingering feel of Hermione in his arms, and he smiled at her. It was while he was putting on his pajamas that he realized Ginny even remotely sympathizing with his situation wasn't necessarily anything to smile about. Who was she yearning for now?
As long as it wasn't Draco Malfoy, he supposed, more power to her and good luck.
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Christmas dawned with no apparent difference than the day before. It was still snowing heavily, the sky obscured by the relentless flurry of flakes. Breakfast was a cozy, rowdy affair; Harry realized how blessed Wizards were when it came to the weather. The roads were likely impassable in a car, but Lupin and Charlie and his new girlfriend still arrived to join them without a hitch. It seemed at least fifty conversations were taking place at once; teasing, greeting, catching up. He hadn't spent Christmas at the Dursley's since he was eleven, but he'd never been quite this glad before. He let it all swirl around him like the warp and weft of a blanket, sinking warmly against his skin. One more thing he might never be able to hold on to, but felt grateful none the less to have known. He watched Hermione out of the corner of his eye talking to Charlie and caught her own surreptitious glance at him.
Charlie's girl was the exact opposite of Fleur in looks, her hair as black as Snape's, her eyes an almost indigo blue. She had something of Fleur's allure, although Harry found that he had difficulty focusing directly on why; his attention seemed to want drift somehow. She clearly doted on Charlie and clung to his arm at every opportunity as if determined to out-charm Fleur with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. This turned out to be a golden opportunity for Harry and Hermione, as no one paid the slightest bit of attention to any of them throughout breakfast while Fleur and Annika vied for the role of perfect potential daughter-in-law. They sat side by side at the far end of the table across from Ginny and Ron and managed to enjoy themselves thoroughly by trying to guess which girl would be pranked by the twins first, and who would provide the most satisfactory response.
"Annika looks like she could be quite the squealer," Ron commented, chasing the last of his eggs with a toast crust. "Fleur's at least forewarned. She knows what they're like."
"They've had time to plan for her, though. Sort of personalize their strategy. Annika will have to be more of a shot in the dark. She might turn out to actually like exploding fruitcake or having her teeth turned green or being attacked by charmed gift paper. You never actually know," Harry offered. "Either way, there's less attention on you and…"
As if simply thinking her name had called her into being it was Luna who appeared behind the knocking at the kitchen door. Her cheeks glowed pink and there were several inches of snow atop the lumpy hand-knitted bobble hat atop her head. In honor of the day her earrings were actual Christmas balls of red and green (or port and starboard as Fred and George instantly dubbed them.) Ron and Ginny both hopped up at once then stared at each other awkwardly as if uncertain whose friend she was meant to be now. Luna solved the problem by handing her coat to a bemused Mr. Weasley and drifting to sit at the chair Mrs. Weasley popped between the two of them, eyes on Fleur and Annika.
"Daddy says to wish you all a Happy Christmas," she said, gazing round them and taking in the newcomers. "He's going to come by later himself, he went to take a fruitcake to the Diggorys."
Harry felt the usual wash of misery that came with the very mention of Cedric's name. The words 'kill the spare,' echoed through his head in Voldemort's awful, high voice. He remembered vividly the hideous thing he'd been, propped in Wormtail's arms, and what Harry's blood had helped him to become.
He felt Hermione's hand fall warm and reassuringly on his leg beneath the table.
Harry was fairly certain that Charlie must have been explaining Luna and the Diggorys to Annika, because she suddenly gave him a very assessing look. He twitched his head to let his fringe fall further into his eyes and slunk down a bit into his chair, unconsciously causing Hermione's hand to end up more or less in his lap. Holy hell but that felt good. He shot up straight again, trying to breath normally.
"Then Ron's friend Harry is that Harry?" she said, seemingly aghast. "Harry Potter? But aren't you all worried that…"
"No," said Charlie quickly.
"We're not," finished Bill stoutly. "Far safer with him around. Harry's been training hard all year."
"But he is just a boy, and we heard the Death Eaters were…" she began again, starting to look almost ill.
"Really nasty blokes?" George asked.
"With no sense of humor." Fred agreed.
"Nevair mind. We have ze Constant Vigilance," Fleur told her with a superior smile.
It seemed someone had absorbed Mad Eye's mantra. Harry bet she didn't carry her wand in her back pocket. Then again, if he had her bum, he probably wouldn't risk it either.
Hermione's hand began to slide gently up and down in what he was quite sure was intended to be a soothing motion, and any passing thoughts of Fleur's bum vanished entirely. Oh, but that was so… reassuring. For instance, he was now absolutely sure that bits of him that would be entirely useless fighting off Death Eaters were in perfect working order. Really quite positive, thanks.
"They won't strike until sometime in the New Year, at least according to Firenze. It's lovely having a Centaur for Divination, you learn the most fascinating stuff," Luna continued, her baubles bobbing beneath her large, pale eyes. Ron appeared utterly mesmerized by them. Or maybe, thought Harry, (quite caught up in his own inappropriate thoughts) it was her medieval milkmaid sort of dress, with its corset -ish thing and… uplifting effect. "Mars isn't in the right quadrant for violent uprising right now."
"Time for presents, then," Mrs. Weasley said decisively.
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It was endlessly surprising to Harry what a morning spent consuming an enormously satisfying meal and followed up by exchanging gifts could do to one family. Bill's ring and proposal to Fleur had been Mrs. Weasley's favorite Christmas gift by far, and the general mood of love in the air had allowed Ron to feel himself somewhat under the Weasley radar with Luna. She had been quite beside herself over the Snorkack horn, too, wordless for once in her delight. She'd even kissed him, demurely but evidently with enough promise for later to leave him with a wide goofy grin of happiness.
"She didn't see that coming, then," Hermione had said with some satisfaction.
From her reaction, Hermione hadn't seen his either. He'd explained in her card the function of the locket in slightly more… intriguing terms than the original. (Among its suggested uses he'd put tallying their snog points and keeping track of what they proposed to use them for.) But he'd also written -very quickly, before he could fuss too much about the wording or feel too sappy and foolish- a little note in the very beginning she'd see as soon as she enlarged the pages.
Hermione ~ I know how much
you've always loved books.
I hope this one has room enough
to remind you in years to come:
How smart you are.
How hard we fought.
How we won - because we will.
How much I'll always love you,
for everything you are and all you've done
no matter how, or when, our story together ends.
~ Harry
He hoped that tears in her eyes were a good thing. He was beginning to be able to tell the difference and he was fairly sure it was a positive sign, but then again girls could be awfully confusing and even thinking you understood them could well be inviting disaster.
"Harry, it's perfect," she whispered. "Help me put it on?"
She held the chain out to him and turned her back, scooping up her hair and presenting her bare neck. He'd never been so glad of Goblin generosity and vowed to listen at least a little bit more in History of Magic, because Mrs. Weasley was still 'oh'ing and 'ah'ing over Fleur's ring and paying not the slightest bit of attention to either Harry or Hermione. He pressed himself along her back and nuzzled under her delicate earlobe under the guise of positioning the necklace around her slender neck and pressed his lips gently against the back of it as he did up the catch.
One benefit of a locket a Snorkack horn didn't have, he supposed. Although he wouldn't put it past Luna to find some use for the thing the way she was eyeing Ron.
Hermione's fingers closed around it as she turned, and her eyes glowed with happiness. He tried to slow time and preserve her image in his brain with fierce incantations to remember it no matter what, always.
In turn she gave Harry two books.
"Don't look so surprised," she teased. "At least look at them."
The first was book of photographs of stained glass windows entitled "The Magic of Light." It seemed to cover the history of Muggle stained glass and the evolution of the rose window with picture after picture of various examples. "Very nice," he said admiringly. The colors really were beautiful, and the way the passage of light transfigured them was evocative even to Harry, who had no religious experience whatsoever.
"If you leave it at that you'll be missing a lot," Hermione said both softly and urgently. "There's more to them than meets the eye. That book was written by a squib; a wizard's mind without the magic to back it up, but a wizard's way of looking at things, still. I think the window at Hogwarts has more to tell us than just what's written around it, I think it makes the things just suggested by some of the muggle ones real. It's more than just to look at. I know you want to run off and start looking for the horcruxes right away, but you really need to read this, Harry."
"Okay," he agreed. "I will. I… thanks, Hermione."
"Look at the other," she told him, smiling.
It was called "Why You Fly: Quidditch and the Extraordinary Wizard." It drew parallels between the positions of Quidditch players and what those intrinsic skills might mark a wizard as potentially better at magically and professionally in life. She'd bookmarked the bit where Seekers were noted to make excellent Aurors due to the fact they were required to be patient, secretive, have quick reflexes and not be put off by risk.
"I know I said I wished you'd consider something other than being an Auror, but I think you should be whatever you really want. I just want you to want something because I think it will give you strength, something to look forward to while you sort out this horcrux business. You need to think about what happens after like there's going to be an after, or…"
"There won't be. I know. Hermione, you're my after. The only future I care about is with you. Truly."
Unfortunately, this last happened to come out rather passionately and in the midst of a sudden lull in the general conversation. Harry looked up in horror to find the entire Weasley clan staring at him avidly.
"Erm," he managed, and cleared his throat desperately. "I, I'm…"
"The word you're looking for there, Harry, my boy, is…" Fred started, but Mrs. Weasley's silencing charms were nothing if not stealthy and powerful. She found them infinitely preferable to the soap- in-the-mouth hexes for both simplicity of cleanup and generally keeping the peace. She beamed at Harry and Hermione beatifically.
"Dumbledore keeps so many secrets he just can't manage all of them. He told us about the two of you getting closer this term before you came, and while you're too young to be taking these things seriously just yet we're all delighted for you. You'll make the loveliest couple someday; I've always thought so."
Harry felt both relieved and betrayed at once; relieved that the secret, such that it was, was out; but betrayed that Dumbledore had felt it necessary to inform the Weasleys without telling them. Honestly, was it such a bloody crime? Did he not trust them at all? It only made Harry want to do exactly what he was meant not to whenever it happened. A glance at Hermione showed her jaw set, a quite similar expression in her eyes. She'd never liked being told she couldn't do something, no matter what it was.
The twins looked as if they'd eaten something delicious, even the silent Fred. Mr. Weasley was blushing furiously. Charlie was grinning, but swiftly pulled into a whispered conversation with Annika, explaining it all, probably. Ron appeared sympathetically horrified; Luna was happily oblivious, stroking her horn.
Lupin was smiling, really smiling, the likes of which Harry hadn't seen since Sirius died, and suddenly it all seemed ok because he was.
Bill winked and then said "So what's your advice for the wedding then, Mum, ponytail, or down loose? No, not Fleur, me. Fleur's had hers all planned for ages, haven't you, love."
Mrs. Weasley's attention was quickly diverted and conversation flowed on.
Harry felt himself start to breathe again.
"If you don't meet me in the broomshed after dinner," Hermione whispered lovingly, "I'll strangle you myself."
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A/N: Okay, I know this is probably a tough place to be doing this, but I have to say that this story is wrestling with me pretty hard right now. I am just very, very into both Fixing Harry and an original piece of my own, and while I know just where this needs to go all my creative energy is pretty tied up in those. I forced myself to work on this - I'd hoped it would be up Weds, sorry, WileyCoyote! I apologize profusely. I been having some computer issues, and when Microgack Word ate half this, without saving even to a recover file I had to recreate it. Yech - hate that. Never seems as good the second time around, and it's hard doing snow and Christmas when the lawn is mocking me to go mow it out the window.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that please expect updates on this to be slower until I get through the next big bit of Fixing Harry. I promise you the quality of both will be better if I do. It's hard to write two such different scenarios at the same time and not have things bleed over where they shouldn't. My OW is pretty absorbing right now too, but at least I can say that won't run into this! If I can just get through the next bit of Fixing Harry I think I can get back on track to move this quickly, and I'll try to post a couple of chapters at once. Sorry, and thanks for your patience! ~ Lynney