Chasing the Blues Away
Harry unfolded the note Hedwig dropped in his lap and ducked as she executed a sharp U-turn and flew out the window to spend some time up on the roof of his home scoping for mice. He was sitting by the open window as he finished grading his DADA exams when the note fluttered on top of Dennis Creevey's exam.
"Harry,
I am finally finished my Advanced Herbology degree and plan on coming home on June 17th! Would it be an imposition if I could stay with you for a week or so? Luna's flat mate doesn't like male visitors. We plan on looking for a flat together, but she doesn't want to start the process wit out me. I would love to see you and catch up.
Thanks,
Neville"
Harry hadn't seen Neville since he came home to visit his Grandmother last Christmas and had stayed with him at Grimmauld for five days. Harry took up a piece of parchment and scribbled a note back to Neville telling him it wasn't a problem if he and stayed with him until they found their own flat. A bit excited to see his old friend he actually shot off a note to Hermione about it as well and sent Hedwig back to the local owlry to get the overseas message delivered. He figured Hermione would be apparating over as soon as she heard the news and would help him figure out what room would be best for their two friends.
Harry had six bedrooms in Grimmauld, more than enough for guests. He himself would have just let Neville and Luna pick
one, but he realized reluctantly that having one ready for them would be the sign of a good host. Hermione had tried to
teach him that lesson last Christmas when she'd made him follow her around cleaning and straightening up all six
bedrooms so Neville could pick the one he wanted. The concept had baffled Harry, but he'd tried, anyway.
He finished grading Dennis' exam, scrawled an "O" on the top and shoved the exams back into his leather bag. Leaving the window open for Hedwig's return, he made his way upstairs to scout out which bedroom would work best for Neville, with or without Luna.
He opened the door at the top of the stairs and then quickly shut it. Too small. There was just a twin bed, a small dresser and Harry's old Quidditch equipment. The second bedroom was empty except for a few boxes of old schoolwork that Hermione insisted on Harry keeping. The third one, two down from his own bedroom, seemed to be the most appropriate. There was a nice sized bed for the two of them, two dressers and a desk that he had found at a yard sale years ago. As he stared at the bedroom he realized that a six bedroom, five and a half bathroom, three level house was just way too big for him alone. He briefly entertained the thought of renting it to another witch or wizard, or offering it to a Weasley; Bill or Fred since they were married. They could fill it up with kids and he could get a nice flat closer to the school. Hedwig's distant hoot jerked him out of his reverie. Drawing out his wand he began the process of cleaning the floors and dusting. He was getting ready to work on the small attached bathroom when heard Hermione downstairs.
"Harry?" her voice echoed up the stairs.
"Up here, Hermione," he called back, trying to keep his mind set on cleaning the small bathroom. The thought of what happened earlier that morning had reared up again and he wondered if she was going to say something. He wouldn't put it past her to try and rationalize what happened. He wished her luck, really. Harry certainly couldn't find any explanation for why he felt compelled to touch her stomach of all places, a part he'd never seen with out a shirt or robe covering it.
"I just got your note. It seems ages since we've seen both of them," Hermione greeted him as she walked in and turned a slow circle in the middle of the room. Harry came out of the bathroom with a set of sheets in his arms. Without a word, Hermione took them from him and began setting them properly on the bed.
"You actually started cleaning already?"
"Yeah. I'm giving two quizzes this week and figured I wouldn't have time. Besides, I knew you would be coming over and wanting to do this, so I thought I'd get a head start," Harry answered as he bent down to retrieve the quilt that fell on the floor. Giving it a few good shakes he draped it over the bed catching Hermione's eyes as he did.
For a moment they started at each other as the quilt floated down onto the bed, perfectly aligned.
Shoving his wand into his back pocket, Harry thought maybe she was going to bring up what transpired that morning. Her eyes shifted over his face then flicked to his hands which were now in his pockets.
"You shouldn't keep your wand back there," Hermione said absently as she slowly turned and flicked her wand at the window, opening it. "I believe you actually thought ahead, Harry. About cleaning this room. Maybe there is hope for you after all," she joked giving him a smile.
"Was that a compliment?" Harry asked flippantly as their wands flew in separate directions, bringing in towels, soap, an extra lamp, a photo of Hogwarts and a potted plant Harry had actually managed not to kill. Hermione just shrugged but a small smile tugged the corners of her mouth. Harry got the distinct feeling that she was just a tiny bit impressed that he had known what she was going to do and actually did it without being asked.
"How's the grading going?" Hermione asked as they finished up and appraised the now welcoming room.
"All done. I'm free; until tomorrow morning anyway." Satisfied with how their efforts he headed out the door and back downstairs with Hermione following him.
"Did you eat dinner yet?"
"No. You?" Harry saw Hedwig sail in through the window, leaving her spot on the roof, and make her way to her perch. Moving to his desk, he reached over and shut the window feeling the temperature drop as the sun set behind the trees.
"Not yet. I was writing out lesson plans when I got your note. I was only contemplating dinner. Do you…want to go out and get something?"
Was it Harry's imagination or did he actually hear something that sounded like nervousness in her voice? It wasn't his imagination how his stomach flipped, not unpleasantly, at the thought of spending the rest of the evening with Hermione. Nodding he leaned over and grabbed his sweater from the back of his chair.
"Do you need something warmer?" Harry asked pulling his red sweater over his head.
"Actually I think I do. I can just apparate back and grab something."
"Do you want my jacket?" Harry asked, pulling a gray sweat jacket out of the closet. "You can charm it to whatever color and size you want."
"Thanks. Sure, I'll take that," Hermione reached for it, and waving her wand over it changed the color to
a soft yellow and shrinking it a few sizes. As she shrugged it on she caught the scent of what she knew to be Harry.
Nothing she could readily identify, but she would recognize that spicy scent anywhere. Startled that she would notice
such an intimate feature of Harry she found her silence was causing him to stare at her oddly.
"Muggle or magical?" Hermione asked quickly. Harry's eyes wandered to the ceiling actually giving it some thought.
Magical would surely mean they'd overhear talk and stories about Draco Malfoy's suicide and how Narcissa was
probably beside herself with grief. Something he didn't really want to expose himself to. Muggle it was.
Taking Muggle transportation wasn't difficult for either of them. They blended right into the crowd on the bus and the short line of people at the hostess stand in the restaurant they had decided on the bus ride. Once they were seated across from each other, Harry asked how her parents were doing knowing she usually went to visit for a few hours on Sundays.
"They're fine. Nothing new or exciting to report." Hermione kept her nose buried in the menu, probably trying to decide between two different types of entrée's. Harry was getting steak, something he normally didn't cook at home and it sounded perfect to him at the moment.
Silently he sat back and watched Hermione as she kept her head bowed over the menu. Her brown, curly hair was pulled back off her neck in a tortoiseshell clip, one he recognized as a gift from Ron for her birthday two years ago. Her hand was resting on the side of her neck and one finger was idly tapping as she read down through the menu for what must have been the third time. In his head he picked that she would chose: shrimp. Shrimp was something her father was allergic to, so she almost always ordered it when they would go out to eat. One of her favorite dishes was shrimp scampi.
"Okay!" she exclaimed snapping her menu shut. She looked up at Harry and found him smiling.
"What?"
"Nothing…nothing. I'm getting the steak, you?" He waited, knowing what was coming.
"Shrimp scampi," she answered looking at him strangely, wondering what he was smiling about. She didn't get a chance to ask him again as the waiter came, took their order and walked it back to the kitchen.
"So," Hermione started moving her eyes back to their table. Harry immediately recognized the tone in her voice: the firm, we have something-to-talk-about tone was quite evident and from the way she clasped her hands on the table he knew she was serious. Quickly he searched his mind to see if a good reason would happened that morning might have popped into his head about what happened that morning…of course, nothing.
"About this morning," she started softly raising her eyes to his face. She saw him watching her, the light from the ceiling reflected off his glasses so she couldn't see his eyes. However he remained still and seemed to be listening. Taking a deep breath she leaned towards him, discovering by happy accident this brought his eyes into view. She was always able to decipher and gauge his feelings better if she could see his eyes. Right now, they were watching her intently.
"I'm sorry if I did anything to make you uncomfortable."
`Well, that wasn't what I thought she was going to say. Why is she apologizing?' Harry thought,
totally surprised she would start the conversation that way. He noticed that her words seemed slightly rehearsed making
him realize how much she must've been thinking about that morning. He was mulling over whether that was a good
thing or a bad thing when two words popped into his mind and seemed to be the appropriate response.
"Me too." His voice came out as quietly as hers had. He expected her to thank him or smile and nod but she didn't. She continued to stare at him as if she was trying to read his mind and gauge the exact meaning of the words they'd just exchanged. She seemed to want him to say more. Or maybe she wanted to say more, but for the first time ever she wasn't sure what to say. He took a deep breath, trying to buy some time to get past the awkward moment as he slowly slid his hand across the table to her clasped ones. Resting his hand lightly on hers he couldn't think of anything else to say.
Luckily he was saved by the waiter returning with the water they had ordered. Harry pulled his hand away and took a sip of his drink. Hermione seemed to sense there wasn't anything else he could think to say and he was thankful when she changed the subject.
"I heard Peeves planning another practical joke today. I truly think, last month you telling him you liked his practical joke on Professor Flitwick, wasn't very appropriate. You totally egged him on you know."
"I know. You told me that back when it happened. I still think it was funny, though--putting an exploding slinky inside that book. The students said he pretty much shot clear across the room," Harry told her, trying not to laugh.
"He could've been hurt you know!" Hermione scolded him. He quickly cut a piece of meat and put it in his mouth, not quite sure he had anything else to say about Professor Flitwick's flying adventure.
From that point on it was if nothing had changed between them. They talked, laughed and even wondered a bit about what Ron would be thinking of the undefeated Chudley Canons and Ginny's thoughts on the new robe shot that had opened up to lure younger customers from Madam Milkin's in Diagon Alley.
It was only later that night when Harry got home and was in bed that he realized what she hadn't outright told him what he had done was wrong.. So, therefore it seemed what had happened on her bed seemed to be okay with her. Of course, that made him more confused than ever and that night his dreams were a mix of Ginny, Ron, Hermione and the way a pair of brown eyes seemed to be smiling at him.
-----
"Your mother was understandably upset," Ginny told Draco as they sat around a table in the corner most dungeon of Hogwarts. Ron was playing with a charmed deck of cards (that Nick had obtained decades ago) with Peeves (who was cheating), Nearly Headless Nick and a few other ghosts who floated in and out of the room, checking up on the progress of the game.
Ginny could hear Ron questioning how he could get another deck of cards that he'd be able to use at his leisure, but Peeves refused to answer his questions.
It was a long moment until Draco answered.
"I know. But," Draco shrugged as he drew a pattern with his finger on the scarred tabletop, "she was so depressed the whole time I was there. At least now she can get on with her life, go out and do something she enjoys."
"I guess," Ginny answered trying to figure out what Draco Malfoy needed to move on. He seemed to have almost everything he could've wanted back when they all went to Hogwarts together. Money, smarts in most classes, a group of followers (she wouldn't necessarily call them friends), parents who were interested in what he was doing and notoriety, for a short amount of time, as someone who was going to do the Dark Lord's bidding.
"Maybe you're missing love," Ginny said suddenly. His head snapped up and she stared at her, his gray eyes narrowing.
"Love? What in the bloody hell are you talking about?"
She saw she had his full attention and she thought through her answer before saying it aloud. As she pondered the best route to take with this obviously touchy issue, and as his stare never wavered from her, she heard Ron yell at Peeves, who just cackled as he won yet another hand at Poker. A few ghosts sat in the corner, talking in a low murmur about that day's events throughout the castle.
"Well…do you feel your parents loved you like they should've? Or have you ever loved anyone that wasn't a family member? Pansy perhaps?"
Draco stared at her, visibly startled that she would bring up his personal love life.
"I…what the hell does that have to do with anything?" he demanded trying to smack his palm down on the table, making a noise of frustration when it went right through. She could see she had struck a nerve and he continued before she could answer. "You're saying I need to love someone to go on? And let me guess how you are thinking I should love someone-completely, wholly, without any reservation-and then I can move on? How in the hell am I supposed to do that if I am dead? Answer me that, Weasley."
Ginny kept her gaze on his and smiled, which was the last thing he expected her to do.
"You can love someone like that from here. You can try to help your mother understand what you did and why you did it. That's a form of love."
"I explained all that in the note I left. You're telling me you loved Potter like that? You were never concerned that a new Dark Lord was going to rise or those few Death Eaters were going to rise up…until they did?"
Ginny thought for a moment, looking at the back of her brother's head behind Draco. "That was on
everyone's mind, Draco. Not just mine-."
"You were snogging and probably shagging the boy who defeated Voldemort. You can't tell me you loved the part of him that seemed to always be connected to the Dark Lord…defeated or not. The Death Eaters came back for him as you know." Draco insisted impatiently.
"No, I didn't love that part, honestly. I knew that I would stand up and fight for him, whether he wanted me to or not...and I did. Ron and I got ourselves killed doing that but Harry lived! I would do it again too." Ginny leaned forward. "You need to think about what you wanted out of your old life. Was there anything missing that you wanted or needed? Once you acknowledge that, maybe even find it, then I bet you'll move on."
Draco snorted and stood up. "Sure…whatever…I'm going to go haunt the castle." He floated through the wall and left Ginny at the table by herself. Ron turned and glanced at her, eyebrows raised questioningly. She smiled at him and told him she was going to go see Harry, but not stay long.
"I'll go with you tomorrow. I might actually beat Peeves here."
"Good luck," Ginny said and followed Draco's path out of the basement.
`Ron has truly moved on', Ginny thought as her Light form apparated across the countryside. She remembered how
upset he was when he saw Hermione crying out her sadness at missing Ron the month or two after the attack. She thought
that with Hermione's very nature, her strength and determination to learn her way through things helped to convince
Ron she was going to move on with her life.
In moments, she found herself suspended in Harry's bedroom a few inches above the wood floor. She glanced down at his sleeping form. He was sprawled out on his back, his face turned towards the window.
She remembered the nightmares he had after her and Ron's death when all she could do was watch helplessly as he thrashed the bed, until he woke up calling her name and drenched in sweat. She remembered trying to soothe him; telling him he was okay and trying to touch him but she was never sure if she had helped him at all. Now, he was still and quiet; his breathing even. For the first time this month he seemed totally peaceful. The approaching one year anniversary was hard on him. Dreams, thoughts, little things seemed to bother him and set him on edge.
Now, he was almost like she remembered him from when they dated. The first time she spent the night she noticed how quiet and still he was while sleeping. Nothing like Ron had told her, back in school when Voldemort invaded his thoughts. That last night she had spent with him she had lain on her side, for an hour, watching him sleep, replaying how she had surprised him in the shower that evening and the pleasant events that occurred because her spontaneous visit.
Turning around, she floated downstairs and stopped near his desk, touching the leather bag he used for school. Next to it was a piece of parchment which she had to lean in closer to read.
Neville and Luna were coming…or at least Neville was. That meant Luna wouldn't be far away.
Loony Luna Lovegood. Ginny smiled…an idea popped into her head and she raced away to talk to Ron.
----
Harry waited until the end of the class to return the exams he had graded. He learned that his students were very competitive and they always compared grades which interrupted class. As they walked out the door he handed them their exams and the last one he handed out to Christy Bell was taken softly from his hand. Instead of moving on she stopped next to him in the doorway.
"Something wrong Christy?" Harry asked knowing she got an "E" on her exam so she wouldn't be upset about that.
"No. Ummm…a bunch of us were talking in the common room last night about forming a Quidditch Club, for the kids that didn't make it onto their houses team and we need a teacher to sponsor us." Christy said it in a rush as if she was nervous asking him to help her.
"Ah, I see," Harry answered fairly sure where this was heading. The thought was a good one actually. There were a lot of talented students who could play; some who chose not to compete at that level and some who didn't make it by the skin of their teeth. There were many who enjoyed the fun of it but weren't champions. He could actually feel the thought taking hold and smiled at her.
"I'll have to talk to the Headmistress about it, but I like the idea."
"Great!" Christie's face lit up. "I'm sure I'll see you at Fred and Katie's over the summer, you can just let me know then."
"Sounds good. See you Wednesday," Harry bade her goodbye and returned to his desk, sorting through the homework he collected.
"Harry."
He looked up and saw Hermione appearing in the doorway, teaching robes immaculate like always, swishing about her legs as she walked towards his desk.
"What's up?" Harry smiled at her and continued to arrange his desk. Seeing her walk into his classroom had resolved a nagging feeling of loss he had experienced all day long. He hadn't seen her in the morning as she had decided to come early and breakfast with the students, and he'd missed that short visit.
Now, he felt satisfied, complete, that he was at last seeing and talking to her. His day-long unsettled feeling had seemed to dissipate into thin air but he sensed that if she walked out that door, it would come spiraling back. Right then, he made the decision to ask if she wanted to have dinner with him. Anything. Just to get a conversation and a few extra hours with her. He was also ravenously hungry having skipped lunch to help a student with an assignment.
"My mum sent me home with some homemade lasagna yesterday. Would you like to come over and have some for dinner?" Harry's head snapped up, surprised that she mentioned the very idea he had been thinking about.
"I would love some. I'm starving," Harry replied, snapping his bag shut. "Let me go home, change and I'll be over. Do you need me to bring anything?"
"I don't have any butterbeer if you wanted any of that. I do have one small bottle of firewhiskey, but other than that, no."
"Firewhiskey? YOU?" Harry set his bag on his shoulder and gazed at her in astonishment. He had only seen her drink it once, and that was at Fred and Katie's wedding earlier that year. And even then one glass made her slightly tipsy and she swore she wasn't a regular drinker. He believed her, especially after she tripped over her own feet, landing in his lap at the reception table.
"I partake on occasion. Only a small amount. I have bad days where one of those makes it bearable."
"I hear you there. I'll bring over a bottle or two of butterbeer. You must've had some Monday."
Hermione smiled, pleased he recognized that her day hadn't been as good as she'd hoped. "Great. See you
soon." She turned and walked out and down the hall. The sound of her low heeled shoes against the stone floor
getting softer the further she was from his room. He realized that he knew the rhythm of her steps by heart. He always
knew when she was walking through the corridors; he had always been able to distinguish her light but sure step from
Ron's heavy ones.
His stomach clued him into the fact that he was thinking way too much, Harry took one more glance at his desk and headed towards the floo in the teachers lounge.
As he threw down his bag and cloak on his sofa and hurried upstairs to change he wondered if he should talk to Hermione about what to do with Grimmauld. The more he thought about it, the more it seemed more economic for him to get a place that was a bit smaller, and let someone use Grimmauld who needed the extra space. Hermione would be able to help him talk it through since he was still on the fence about it.
As he changed out of his teaching robes, he played with the idea of asking Hermione if she wanted to get a place with him. He knew that she didn't have a lot of extra money and lately she had complained about the lack of space for her books and the fact she would like to have separate office. He could buy a place, big enough for the both of them and she could pay him rent. Not that he needed the money, but he knew she would insist on paying her share. It seemed like a logical idea. She wouldn't want to move to Grimmauld; being closer to Hogwarts was a huge plus for her. Once in awhile she actually walked to school when she needed time to think through her lesson, or to enjoy the nice day. Hogsmeade seemed to be the best choice.
He made the decision he would broach the subject at dinner. The conversation would probably naturally steer towards books, or he could easily nudge it there if it didn't. That would be a good way to introduce his thought. The notion that she might say yes sent a jolt of happiness through him, causing him to pause his procession down the stairs.
Happiness was something that was rare for him and it wasn't the chief feeling he would describe as something Hermione brought to him. Friendship, loyalty, a sisterly kind of love was what he remembered throughout their seven years of Hogwarts. But happiness to the point where it almost ached in his chest? This was something new to him, coming from thoughts of her. He wondered if she knew that just seeing her thirty minutes earlier had brightened his whole day.
`Maybe that isn't something she wants to hear', Harry thought to himself continuing his path down the stairs. Was a friend, that was a girl, supposed to invoke feelings like that in him?
His thoughts went back to his first year of teaching. Having Ginny in his class for DADA forced them to interact and slowly he could see her warming up to him again. She hadn't been happy when he told her that he had to complete his quest for the Horcruxes by himself.
She began talking to him before and after class; volunteering regularly and asking questions when appropriate. Christmas of 1998 he stayed at the Burrow for a few nights and they sat up late, talking; him telling her all about the hunt for Horcruxes and it was at that moment he realized how comfortable he was with her. They had kissed under the Mistletoe and that soft kiss brought out the happy rush of feelings he experienced in the Spring of his sixth year. By February they had talked about keeping the relationship as platonic as possible until her Graduation. The moment she was officially graduated she had run up to him and snogged him in front of the entire student body.
Harry realized he was so engrossed in his thoughts of Ginny and Hermione that he was about to disapparate without the Butterbeer. Pulling open the cabinet door he saw four bottles of Butterbeer left. Grabbing all of them and putting them into a bag, he made his way to Hermione's flat.
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