Wherein Harry and Hermione return; service of process fails; Hermione confronts her mother, McGonagall, and Rita Skeeter in succession; the secret of Hermione's living will is revealed; Hermione's mother meets goblins; Hermione's mother's lawyer gets his comeuppance; Harry and Hermione pass physicals and rejoin the student body; Hermione gets birthday presents; they take the Astronomy redo; have a confrontation with Malfoy; and Hermione makes a discovery.
Disclaimer: I neither own nor claim any other rights in the characters and other concepts created by J.K. Rowling. I make no money, nor do I seek any commercial advantage from this work. As such it constitutes "Fair Use" as defined in 17 U.S.C. §107.
Chapter 43 - Coming Together
Just as it seemed that all Hell would break loose in the Hospital Wing, all Hell broke loose in the Hospital Wing. Some Hells, however, are preferable to others.
Matters had been coming to a head ever since early morning, when post owls across Britain delivered copies of The Daily Prophet headlined, "Muggle-Born Granger Being Held At Hogwarts Against Parents' Will." The "exclusive" story beneath the headline contained details of how Hermione lay comatose in the Castle after some kind of serious magical accident.
According to the article, Headmaster Dumbledore, Deputy Headmistress McGonagall, and Harry Potter were all conniving to keep Hermione confined against the will of her "natural parents," who only wished to "ensure that she would receive the finest care that real medicine could provide" (the latter comment drew the wrath of an editorial unfavourable to "Muggle medicine"). The Hogwarts pretext for holding her was flimsy - a supposed power of attorney that Dr. Granger's wizard solicitor, Sylvanius Beasley, called "not worth the parchment it was written on" because Hermione had been under age when she executed it.
That was plainly just the opening salvo. Later that morning, Hermione's mother, Solicitor Beasley, and three process servers from the Civil Division of the Wizengamot - all trailed by quite a few members of the wizard press - appeared at the gates of the Castle. The process servers carried with them a just-issued writ of habeas corpus ordering that Hermione appear, or be brought, before a magistrate for a judicial inquiry into her mum's request for a recovery order. This hearing was to take place the next day, the day before the girl's seventeenth birthday.
Once inside Hogwarts, this motley crew of litigants, legal officers, and controversy-hungry reporters had their numbers considerably augmented by curious students attracted by the disturbance. By the time they all reached the closed and locked doors of the Hospital Wing, the crowd of onlookers had reached several dozen.
At the urging of Solicitor Beasley, one of the process servers hesitantly pounded on the door. To everyone's considerable surprise, a rather haggard and gaunt Dumbledore greeted them. After a brief, rather tense conversation, the core group of five was ushered inside.
The wizard press corps were not so lucky. They were left to cool their heels outside, where they fell to trading ever more outrageous rumours with members of the Hogwarts student body:
Hermione Granger was being reborn as a phoenix….
Harry Potter was missing and had not been seen in almost five days….
Harry had gone mad, killed Hermione, and then committed suicide….
Hermione had been kidnapped and was being held for ransom against Harry's newly found wealth….
Harry had nearly blown up the Castle and was being held in chains in the dungeons….
Hermione was pregnant with Harry's child….
Inside, Dr. Granger's party encountered a sombre, almost ethereal atmosphere. She had intruded on an unearthly quiet scene. Dumbledore retreated behind a spindly-legged desk, appearing exhausted and acting worried. An ancient, oriental wizard was sitting mostly cross-legged on a raised dais that was covered with rich red velvet. He stared morosely at a large hourglass, its diminishing sand glowing pure white. It took a second glance for Dr. Granger to grasp that this wizard was short most of an arm and a goodly part of a leg.
Almost as soon as she digested this scene, Dr. Granger's nostrils flared. There was a most unusual odour to this place - strong enough that the back windows of the Hospital Wing had been thrown open to provide extra ventilation. She followed the smell of more-than-slightly rancid buttermilk until she found that same witch charge-nurse who had been present during her previous visit to the Castle. That witch was holding what looked like a large saucepan almost full of some cloudy alabaster liquid, and was playing nursemaid to some hideous, half-human creature. That creature, clad in grey, was sponging the liquid onto the arms of….
"HARRY POTTER!" Dr. Granger shrieked. "WHAT IS HE DOING, STARKERS, IN BED WITH MY DAUGHTER!"
Furiously, she turned on the Headmaster. "I don't know what kind of establishment you think you're running here, Dumbledore, but whatever you claim this is - education, therapy, medical treatment - I don't care! This kind of thing is downright unethical under any definition! I'm going to put a stop to this…!"
Dr. Granger advanced on the bed, where a goblin Healer and Madam Pomfrey had the sheet turned partway down in order to bathe Harry's arm in the liquid. Harry, who was wearing only his Speedo bathing costume, did indeed appear nude to the casual observer. Both the Hogwarts Head Nurse and the goblin Healer moved to intercept Hermione's incensed mother, who was intent upon bodily wrenching her daughter and Harry apart.
Had she done so, the separation would have had the disastrous effect of sundering the link of Chinese Legilimency whilst Harry's consciousness was stranded outside of his body.
Dr. Granger's own lawyer prevented a physical confrontation by restraining his client. "There's no need for self-help, Eva. Let me handle this sort of outrageous conduct the proper way." He gestured to one of the Ministry wizards, "Deputy Merriweather, please serve the writ immediately." Facing Dumbledore and the rest, the solicitor began reciting in a loud voice, "This is to notify you all that you are legally required to produce Miss Hermione Granger, a minor, at an inquiry to be held tomorrow…."
Whilst this was going on, the overtly nervous deputy sheriff approached the bed where Harry lay inertly with his face buried in the hair flowing down Hermione's neck. Merriweather pulled out a piece of parchment wrapped in a shiny blue ribbon, which he started to place on Hermione's shoulder. The instant parchment touched skin, produced a blinding flash of blue-white magic. Its force propelled the poor deputy violently backwards. He was blown through the air towards the back of the Hospital Wing where he collided violently with Kingsley Shacklebolt, who had just appeared, as if from nowhere. Those two collapsed in a heap.
Dr. Granger let out a shriek at this unexpected turn of events. Solicitor Beasley likewise could not believe his eyes. "This cannot be happening!" he bellowed. "See here, Dumbledore, I don't know what kind of game you're playing…."
Several goblins, all visibly irritated and armed to the teeth, emerged from behind a screen that was near the open window. They moved menacingly towards the unwanted visitors.
At just that moment, klaxons began to blare, several crystals flanking the two teens' sickbed began flashing with yellow and green light, and a number of protective talismans hovering overhead commenced spinning and emitting high-pitched whines.
Dr. Granger reacted by once again rushing furiously towards her daughter. This time, an equally aggravated Madam Pomfrey tackled her. That was indeed fortunate, because behind the nurse, a protective line of goblins had formed. These goblins brandished razor sharp short swords, and plainly were in a state of mind to use them.
"What is going on?" the distraught Muggle wailed.
"Unless I am badly mistaken," Dumbledore replied happily, "I do believe we have a favourable resolution to our primary problem."
* * * *
To the extent Harry had ever allowed himself to think - nay, dream - about what it would be like if against all odds he succeeded, he had envisioned returning to the same low-key environment from which he had begun his quest. He would wake up slowly in Hermione's presence, as if from a long sleep. Then he would give Hermione the little memento that he held in his hand. After that, they would gradually renew their acquaintance, and maybe more.
Please let it be more….
Reality, however, has a nasty way of shattering dreams. The reality, in this time and place, could not have been more different from Harry's preconception. As he revived after leaving Hermione's rejuvenating mind, the first thing penetrating the shroud of his unconsciousness was the noise. Foremost were shrieks from all the various blaring medical alarms tripped by the abrupt changes in his (and her) physical condition. Next, was the babble of voices (some of them spouting Gobbledygook), none of which sounded very calm or pleasant. Then he heard the tromp of many footsteps.
The ding-dong was quite unnerving. Harry realised that, unfortunately, this moment would not be the best time or place to give Hermione any token of his true feelings - let alone one as profound as the message borne by the piece of silver now between their hands. The gift he had for her would require a lot of explaining. Whatever was going would preclude any opportunity for reflection. With regret, he unclasped their hands and fisted the little metallic lump that had nestled between them. It felt warm, as did she. Much warmer than before…. `Next time,' he thought.
Harry smiled a little private smile. At least there would be a next time.
Sighing, he decided to concentrate for a moment on how it felt just to be lying next to the girl he had risked everything to rescue. His position had not changed. He was spooning her, back to front along the lengths of their bodies. Her soft form, covered only by a hospital gown, hugged his all the way to his ankles, where their feet intertwined. His face remained pressed against the back of her head. Her long brown hair tickled his cheeks. His left hand still rested on her forehead, holding her head against his. His right arm still snaked under her body, his forearm rising to where it had been clutching her right hand.
The feel of her next to him - in his arms - made him never want to move again.
But move he must. This urgency was supplied by what Harry noticed next, an odour that quickly became overwhelming as his awareness of his surroundings increased. It was a sour, rotten sort of smell; reminding him strongly of a childhood incident that he would much rather forget and never think of again….
He could not have been more than seven years old, but the Dursleys already made Harry do kitchen detail. One day, whilst they were out, he accidentally left a large glass pinta, three-quarters full of milk, out on the table. It had gone off by the time the adults returned. Uncle Vernon went into a rage, and whipped off his belt.
"I'll teach you not to ruin perfectly good food ever again, you irresponsible little runt!" he screamed. Then he began beating Harry with the buckle end.
It was not the first time, and would not be the last, that Harry felt his uncle's lash. But for some reason, this time was different. After only a couple of blows, something - at the time he had not known what - happened. Instead of his stout leather belt, Uncle Vernon suddenly found himself holding a large, sodden piece of fettuccine.
Visibly frightened, as well as incensed, Uncle Vernon bellowed, "No! I'll not be having that in this house. Now you've gone too far, Boy!" His uncle tipped the remaining contents of the offending pinta all over Harry. Then he picked up the frightened, dripping youngster by the back of his shirt collar, and tossed him - thoroughly soaked in sour milk - into the cupboard under the stairs.
There, Harry had remained for the next day and a half, too afraid to do anything (especially any more spontaneous magic), locked inside his tiny dark prison in the stifling summer heat. He was not let out until Dudley complained about "Harry's stinky smell."
The odour now wafting up his nostrils reminded Harry strongly of that incident. He hated it, and he was a guy. Guys could tolerate stink. What would Hermione think? He could feel her just beginning to stir beside him.
In all the din, nobody actually seemed to be paying the two of them any mind.
Whatever caused the smell, Harry had to do something. With as much regret as difficulty, he disengaged Hermione from his embrace and sat up, slipping the object in his hand under the pillow in the same motion. Instantly, the voices stilled and every eye in the room rested on him.
After being away mentally for no idea how long, Harry's first words were, "Urgh … what's that awful stink?"
Madam Pomfrey, the closest human to Harry, gave a start and quickly moved in his direction. The goblins ringing the bed let her pass. "Potter - thank Merlin - here, let me help you…." As the Head Nurse reached for Harry's left arm, he determined that the arakkil on that arm was soaking wet and covered with slimy, suppurating, whitish-yellow goo. The source of the disgusting odour was something he was wearing.
Hermione was starting to mumble beside him, "Harry…?"
This was not how he wanted her to find him in the first moments they were face-to-face and conscious in the real world, after being apart for over a month; physically, mentally, or both.
"What in Hell have you been doing to me?" he spat at the rest of the world in general. He stripped off the sticky arakkil in one angry motion. Wandlessly, he banished the nauseating object through the open window.
"Don't be so quick to judge, Potter," Madam Pomfrey said softly, "that saved your life."
The dam burst, and it seemed like everyone was shouting questions at him at once. But at first, the only questions he cared about were those being murmured from beside him. "Harry … where are we? What's going on?"
"QUIET!!" Harry yelled at the onlookers, as he raised his arm, fingers extended, threateningly at the unruly crowd surrounding him. Visible magic sparked and crackled between his fingertips. He noticed the goblins ringing the bed and was thankful for their presence. At the sound of his shout, they had raised their swords menacingly to prevent him from being swarmed. Both for that reason, and because everyone had just seen him perform wandless magic, Harry's audience in the Hospital Wing took a step back and hushed.
He turned to Hermione just as she roused and turned to him. His green eyes looked into her brown ones for the first time since their mutual ordeal began, all those weeks ago. "We're home," he said softly, a smile breaking out across his face, "at Hogwarts - in the Hospital Wing. Welcome back."
She rewarded him with the ghost of a smile. Gently, he reached out his hand to her. She took it weakly, and held on. Harry pulled her into a sitting position and silently put his arms protectively about Hermione's shoulders. "You have no idea how happy I am," he whispered in her ear.
`I beg to differ,' she replied, using Legilimency so nobody else could hear. `I know how happy I am.' She slipped her arm around his waist.
Her fingers touched nothing but Harry's bare skin. Surprised, she drew back; startled by her sudden awareness of how little in the way of clothing he had on. "What's going on?" she asked again, as she became acutely conscious of the substantial number of onlookers.
"That's just what I'd like to know," came a familiar voice.
"Mum?" Hermione gasped. "Wha…, What…? What are you doing here?"
"I've come to rescue you from this insanity, that's what. To take you away from this looney bin," Dr. Granger replied tartly as she shouldered her way forward. "Now let me through," she demanded of the goblins. "Hermione, we are going to a real hospital to get you checked out and determine just what these … these … magical menaces have done to you."
"Well," Hermione huffed, "you're so very welcome. It's so good to be back."
The goblins, of course, were having none of it. They cocked their swords and were quite prepared to cut this bizarre, unknown woman down if she continued to threaten their prince and his consort.
"Arak" Harry commanded in a harsh voice.
Instantly, the goblins lowered their swords and stood down. They did not, however, move out of the way.
"You…? You control these … these things?" Dr. Granger inquired of Harry in an alarmed voice.
"Yes," he responded softly, declining her implicit challenge. "I'm afraid I'm quite capable of things you haven't expected, and of some things you might not even be able to imagine." It came out sounding vaguely threatening.
Harry still had one arm about Hermione's shoulder as she continued to gawk at the idea of seeing her mother at Hogwarts.
Dr. Granger quickly regathered her wits as she regarded the nearly starkers boy with his hands on her daughter. "Be that as it may," she grimly addressed the one whom she believed had nearly killed her only child. "I nevertheless intend to get some answers. How long have you been sleeping with my daughter?"
"Mother!" Hermione cried out, incensed.
Harry was quite put off by this question, and stumbled, "er … I … don't know, really…."
"Mother!" Hermione repeated heatedly. "How could you? If you must ask that kind of question, you will direct it to me!"
"Don't tell me what I can and can't do, young lady," her mother shot back angrily. "You're not of age yet!"
She turned back to Harry. "Potter! Answer me," she demanded. "How long have you been sleeping with Hermione?"
"Umm … how long have I been out?" Harry asked nobody in particular. "Less than three days, I'd reckon."
"Mother, stop it! You will address those sorts of inquiries to me, and only me!" Hermione cut in, her voice now white hot.
"OH NO, I WON'T!" Dr. Granger retorted with equal vehemence. "You're far too good a liar. You've been lying to me for years. He's not."
Turning back to Harry, Hermione's mum once again demanded, "How long have you been having sex with my daughter?"
Finally, Harry understood the question he was really being asked. Dr. Granger was spot on; Harry was not a good liar, especially when he had nothing to lie about. "Er … I've never done that, with Hermione, or anybody else," he softly confessed.
Hermione almost felt faint. Her face abruptly turned from her mother to Harry. At the same time her expression instantly went from narrow-eyed and furious to wide-eyed and tender. "Harry is … is that true?" she asked, hesitantly. As she posed the question, her hand rose until it just lightly brushed against Harry's cheek.
"Every word," he choked out. "No more lies, remember. I never got…."
"Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry!" Hermione wailed. With a great sorrowful moan, she threw both arms around his neck and buried her face in his bare chest.
She believed him.
And because she believed him, she understood that much of what she had thought had gone on between Harry and the late Eliza Brookings really had not happened. Whatever they might have done, it was not what she had led herself to believe. Once again, the indistinct nature of their erstwhile emotional affinity had betrayed her.
In her heart of hearts, she knew. She had falsely accused Harry - to herself, if not to him - of giving his virginity to someone other than her. Hermione's jealousy, (mostly) baseless jealousy, had almost destroyed the most meaningful relationship she had ever known.
For once silent, but still livid, Hermione's Mum did a slow burn whilst regarding the pair's interactions.
Harry sat there dumbly, his hands absent-mindedly tracing circular patterns on Hermione's back; his entire attention focussed on her. He was interrupted by a sharp tap on his cheek as a piece of parchment struck it and then fell into Hermione's hair.
"I hereby notify you both," Solicitor Beasley's stentorian voice boomed out, "that you are commanded to appear tomorrow, 18 September, 1996, at an inquiry before the Orphan's Division of the Wizengamot. Said inquiry to address the Petition of Dr. Eva Lafayette-Granger, to have her daughter, Hermione Jane Granger, adjudicated a dependent child and removed from contact with the wizard world until she has attained her majority in accordance with Muggle law."
"What?" Harry gasped. He was not the only one. As the import of this announcement sank in, the room began to buzz with conversation.
"We'll be doing nothing of the sort!" Hermione addressed her mother icily as she let go of Harry and stood on her own two feet for the first time in over a fortnight.
"Headmaster Dumbledore," Harry called out, "I need Mister Howe, right away."
"Already en route," Dumbledore replied, his normally reassuring voice sounding uncharacteristically worried.
Professor McGonagall stepped forward, "Doctor Granger, I'm afraid you don't understand…."
"I understand plenty well, professor," Dr. Granger returned firmly, almost hissing McGonagall's title. "If I let her stay another two days, I lose her. In my world, at least I have her until she's eighteen. I'm not about to give up my own flesh and blood without a fight!"
"Mother! What have you done?" Hermione demanded.
"Shall you tell her, or should I?" Professor McGonagall asked Hermione.
"Tell who what?" Harry cut across, quite confused.
BANG! BANG! Clack.
There was a pounding at the magically secured Hospital Wing door, and then the lock clicked open as somebody who obviously had permission to enter overrode the spells that kept the area off-limits to outsiders.
"ALBUS! ALBUS!" a panting and plainly out-of-breath voice called out. "I think something marvelous is happening! The dials, the screens…. They're returning to normal!"
"I know, Parry," the Headmaster answered. "Come here, we are bearing witness to precisely that."
Hlr. Huxley pushed his way forward as everyone's head turned. "Sorry, I took so long," he panted. "In my excitement, I'm afraid that I got lost on one of the staircases. Couldn't Apparate." As he broke through the onlookers, the Healer stopped short.
"Van, what are you doing here?" Hlr. Huxley asked in unbelieving surprise.
"I could ask you the same thing, Parry," the lawyer replied, his face mirroring Hlr. Huxley's disbelief.
"You quack," Dr. Granger spat. "I thought at the very least they'd gotten shot of you."
Hlr. Huxley recognised the voice instantly. He realised that the rather overdressed Muggle standing next to solicitor Beasley was his patient's mum.
The Healer replied in an even voice that did not reflect the anger dancing in his eyes. "Instead of insulting me, you should be thanking everyone here - especially Mister Potter - that your daughter is alive and, from the indications I just saw, I believe quite well."
Turning next to the lawyer, Hlr. Huxley added, "Van, I don't know what exactly you've gotten yourself into, but I assure you it's a bad job, a very bad job."
"I know what I saw, both before and when I walked in here today," Dr. Granger broke in angrily. "That's not therapy, and that's not ethical, not by my standards, and I doubt even by yours. Having my daughter in bed with a virtually naked young man. I don't know what you practice, but it's certainly not medicine."
Solicitor Beasley put a hand on his client's shoulder and gently but firmly turned her until she faced him. "Eva, I don't know exactly what was transpiring here, either - and it certainly looked dodgy enough…. But I do know this: Healer Huxley is not, as you put it, a `quack.' Far from it. He is probably the most well-respected wizard Healer in the British Isles at present. I know from personal experience. He's been my expert witness on a great many occasions. I think it behoves us to determine what has been happening here before we proceed any further with this litigation."
"What!?" Hlr. Huxley exclaimed. "Litigation!? Oh, Merlin! I know your methods, Van - that horde of reporters outside the door. That's your doing, isn't it?"
The mention of the press jolted both Harry and Hermione. For him, his last precious hopes for some quiet time with her evaporated. For her, cold fury at her mother's meddling in things she did not understand boiled over.
Bitterly outraged, Hermione addressed her mother in icy, precise language. "Mother, let me set a couple of things straight. First of all, I am not going to any inquiry tomorrow. There is not going to BE any inquiry tomorrow, because nobody has the power to declare me any kind of child. I am an adult now, and I have been for a while. I left a note with Professor McGonagall…." At this, she turned her incandescent glare on her own Head of House. "…but I gather she chose to keep it to herself. I learnt something about Time-Turner knock-on-effects during some recent research."
"Miss Granger, I can explain," Professor McGonagall broke in.
"I'm sure you can, and I'm sure you will," Hermione addressed the professor tautly, "But not until I sort all this out…."
"What's a Time-Turner?" Dr. Granger asked with incomprehension.
"Oh, Goddess!" Solicitor Beasley groaned, now comprehending what was happening. "That's why the service failed."
Turning back to her Mum, the girl - who was no longer a girl at all - continued, "A Time-Turner is a magical device that allows someone to go back in time. I used one to maintain a course overload throughout my Third Year, and again for a fortnight earlier this month to conduct research to help Harry."
At the mention of his name, Hermione turned to him and flashed him a warm smile, which he gratefully returned.
That smile had fled, however, when she again addressed her Mum. "I calculated it out, and the extra time comes to 42 days, give or take a few hours. It's additional time that I've lived. This extra Time-Turner time has to be added to the calendar when determining attainment of majority under wizard law. I've been of age for more than a month, although I didn't know it myself until after it happened."
"I don't know what you've done," Hermione finished, "and I don't know why you chose to publicise my situation, but I'm telling you this, and I mean it." Hermione's eyes were blazing now, with fury and determination. She spoke in deadly low tones. "You are going out there right now. You are going to deal with those reporters. And you are going to set this right. I don't care how. But if you don't - you can exit that door and just keep walking. I … I swear that if you don't fix this … NOW … I will never speak to you again, except to hex you into oblivion if you ever try to come near me! Now get out of here this instant, the both of you!"
"You heard her," Harry seconded. "You've meddled in things you don't understand. If you love her like you claim, go!"
For a moment, Dr. Granger just stood there, rooted to the spot, as she struggled to assimilate what she had just learnt. Her little girl was little no longer, thanks to, of all things, time travel. The legal action she thought would win her custody of her daughter was a nullity, and a fiasco. But all of that paled into insignificance compared with one incontrovertible fact.
Hermione was mentally and physically whole again.
Everything she knew about medicine screamed that this was a miracle - and Harry Potter, who had been the target of her enmity for weeks, was somehow responsible for that miracle.
That boy had just saved her daughter's life.
"Mister Potter," she said uncertainly. "I now understand that you saved my daughter's life … somehow. I-I-I have to respect you for that…."
Nobody said a word in response. Even Hermione could only gawk.
Just as the silence became oppressive, Dr. Granger turned to Solicitor Beasley. "This was your idea," she hissed. "You got me into this, and you're going to help me get out." She grabbed him by the wrist. With that, the two of them turned on their heels and left.
Watching the two of them depart, Harry was at last able to focus on something other than an ongoing brouhaha. "Er … could I get some clothes?" he requested. "Please?"
"Right away, Harry Potter, sir!" Dobby answered happily. "Welcome back!" With a snap of his fingers, the house-elf disappeared.
Exhausted, Hermione flopped back onto the bed, her eyes staring, unfocussed, at the ceiling. "I can't believe she did that - sued everyone - and aired all this dirty linen in the press. Why?"
"From her perspective, it was quite a wise precaution," an oddly familiar voice drawled from behind her.
Hermione rolled over. Harry turned around. Both of them gawked. It was Hermione's twin.
"You're … you're … me," Hermione forced out. "Do I really look like that? The hair? It's almost beautiful."
"It is beautiful," Harry murmured in as low a voice as he thought she could hear, "trust me."
Hermione was on the verge of snogging Harry in front of everyone when the Hermione look-alike answered. "I'm Luna," she said calmly. "You certainly do look like this. Professor Slughorn brews first-rate Polyjuice Potion."
"Polyjuice Potion?" Hermione echoed, "Why?"
"I'm sure your mum did what she did to make it as difficult as possible to use magic against her," Luna observed. "It was a clever move. Professor Shacklebolt was prepared to Obliviate her. Well, because of what she'd done they thought they needed someone to play you for a little while to distract the press. I volunteered. Fortunately, that won't be necessary."
Professor McGonagall could remain silent no longer. She explained, "Your mother's lawsuit left us no choice but to resort to subterfuge. We could not possibly permit the two of you to be separated with Harry's consciousness, his soul if you will, inside of you."
The professor added, waxing philosophically, "The poor woman. Acting like a harridan over sex. She has no idea. What's gone on between the two of you - first his rescue, and then yours - has involved far more intimacy than mere coupling."
Hermione was not prepared to go there, not yet. She had other unfinished business, another bone to pick with her favourite member of the Hogwarts staff. "Professor McGonagall? Why didn't you just tell her the truth?" she asked. "Didn't you tell anyone about the age of majority thing? I thought I spelled it all out for you in my note."
After a brief interruption as Luna made her way to the door, clutching an Invisibility Cloak, the professor replied. "Miss Granger, I owe you an apology. I am truly sorry. But I had my reasons. I had no idea your mum was capable of this. I was afraid that your situation would drag on, and it's been quite a close thing as it was. I kept your majority to myself because it created a sense of urgency, and I wanted that to remain. It set a deadline of sorts … to get you back before your birthday. You do, after all, have a very important examination two days hence."
Hermione was back, all right. Professor McGonagall's reminder of the imminent Astronomy O.W.L. redo hit her like a ton of bricks. Thoughts that she might be academically unprepared made her go spare.
Hermione's eyes shot wide open and she squealed, "Oh no! Two days! I haven't prepared in the slightest. Can I get it postponed? Where are my Astronomy books? My planisphere? Merlin, I'm going to fail!"
With a knowing grin, Harry put a calming arm around her, and reassured, "Hermione, calm down. You're not going to fail. You never do. To start with, Professor McGonagall is going to get you a Time-Turner. Aren't you professor?"
At that moment, Dobby reappeared with the requested clothes, and Harry's wand. Harry reluctantly let go of Hermione; it felt so warm where he had touched her. As the boy was covering himself (and slipping an object from under his pillow into his pocket), he dropped his lingering smile and mutely fixed both Professor McGonagall and Headmaster Dumbledore with his steeliest of gazes. He wanted an answer to his question.
"I believe extenuating circumstances would permit that," the Head of Gryffindor house answered. Dumbledore's silence signified his consent.
Harry turned to Hermione, who had flopped on her back again, and leaned down next to her. "When Mister Howe, that's my lawyer, gets here, I'm going to have him get your birthday present. You see, I anticipated this, but…."
Harry's voice trailed off as he realised that something else was not making sense. "Wait a minute," he wondered. "How could your birthday be in two days…? That would make this the seventeenth. I went in on the twelfth. How could I possibly have been gone for five days? Sefu Kung?!" he called out.
The old master had been watching everything from his dais in a rather detached fashion, not seeing fit to say anything, or even to move - something that was no longer easy for the elderly double amputee. When Harry asked for him, he responded simply, "Yes, Hahli?"
"Was I in … in Hermione's mind, for five days?" the boy asked incredulously. "You told me that I'd be dead of thirst after three."
"Indeed, five days," the Sefu responded. "And that had been my best understanding, based upon a lifetime of learning and experience."
"But…? How…?" Harry stammered. "I mean, I'm not dead."
"Even a lifetime of learning sometimes is not enough, Hahli," the aged Chinese wizard explained. "One is never too old to learn something new."
"Ow!" Harry involuntarily interrupted. Hermione had been lying on her back on the bed, when suddenly what had been her very loose grip on his hand tightened.
Lao Kung paused.
Harry heard Hermione's voice, this time through telepathic Legilimency, tell him urgently. `Please have him continue, Harry, but listen to me and do what I say.'
"Sorry," Harry said to the Sefu. "Please go on."
Lao Kung continued, "When you banished your lifeline on the third day, I was sorely afraid for you…."
`Harry, I'm going to ask for a hand mirror,' Hermione explained silently. `I'm going to ask you look into it over my shoulder….'
Meanwhile, Lao Kung recounted, "I explained my concern that your body's stores of food and water were almost exhausted, and could not be replenished without disrupting the fragile magic…."
`Think of a good restraining spell from your training, and be ready to use it exactly where I show you,' Hermione simultaneously transmitted.
"The goblins advised that your arakkil could sustain you," Lao Kung explained. Harry regarded the old wizard in a rather glassy-eyed fashion, trying to pay simultaneous attention to Hermione. "Goblin magic works on an altogether different plane. So they offered the services of four goblin wet nurses, whom I believe are still behind the screen. Goblin mother's milk sustained you…."
`I'm going to begin now,' Hermione finished.
"That's all so fascinating," Hermione broke in as she sat up. She ostentatiously ran her hands through her hair. "But could I trouble someone for a hand mirror? I must look a fright."
Lao Kung at once waved his hand, and a majestic mirror, framed by two golden, five-toed dragons, appeared on the bed next to the girl. She picked it up, made a face at her reflection and started clucking over her appearance like some vapid teenager. She asked Harry for his opinion, and he bent over her.
`Look in the mirror at the side wall, about halfway between the open window and the fireplace flue…. See it?' She communicated silently.
"I think you're still pretty…. Even dishier than before," Harry declared out loud. It was a ploy, but he thought it true nonetheless.
At the same time, he Legilimenced to her, `You mean that greenish black thing?'
`Yes,' she answered. `Concentrate…. You're unlikely to get a second shot.'
Harry mumbled out something else about Hermione's good looks. Then - suddenly and without warning - he twisted himself around. His wand shot into his hand from his holster as he threw himself onto the floor. The goblin guard raised their swords again in confusion as Harry roared.
"Arachneortia!"
A milky white jet shot from his wand. The spell splattered against the beadboard wainscoting that bordered the Hospital Wing's vaulted ceiling. It thoroughly coated a relatively small object that promptly fell off. Before it even hit the floor, one of the goblins was racing to retrieve it.
Grabbing the gooey object, the goblin motioned to Hermione, implicitly asking her if she wanted him to crush it. She shook her head, so the goblin brought the eight-centimetre-long, and extremely sticky, object to her.
"Oh, smashing, Harry!" she exclaimed. "Spider silk! How appropriate."
Peeling the glutinous object off her hand with some difficulty, Hermione laid it on the sheets and addressed it. "We can force you to transform, you know. But I hear it's quite painful. You might as well do it yourself. If you want to stay out of Azkaban, you had best see what kind of a deal we can strike…."
At the mention of a deal, the blob trembled and began to expand rapidly.
"Why Rita, such a pleasure to see you again. Your hair looks lovely indeed," Hermione waspishly addressed the quite goo-covered witch reporter. "I'd really thought you'd learnt your lesson."
"You've caught me again," the lantern-jawed witch addressed her. "You're very good - the most difficult I've ever encountered. Now about a deal?"
The trash journalist said no more. A gurgling sound briefly escaped her lips as her arms and legs snapped together and she toppled onto the bed, paralysed.
Harry and Hermione turned around. Headmaster Dumbledore, his blue eyes flashing with the same ineffable wrath Harry remembered from the Fourth-Year encounter with Barty Crouch, Jr., had his hand out towards the fallen woman.
"There shall be no deal, Rita," he declared magisterially, "unless and until I approve. I am the Headmaster of this school, and this is the second time you have trespassed upon its grounds whilst misusing your illegal status as an Unregistered Animagus."
Hermione gasped softly. Believing the issue settled by private blackmail, she had told none of the Hogwarts staff about Ms. Skeeter's prior transgression.
"Each episode is punishable by five years in Azkaban, and your unregistered status by itself warrants another ten, followed by a most disagreeable course of Disanimation." Dumbledore paused to let his words sink in. The room was so silent one could hear an owl's feather drop.
Still resembling a vengeful Old Testament prophet, he continued, "That is, if I choose to have you prosecuted as a witch. My second option is to consign you to Mister Potter's friends here," Dumbledore gestured to the goblins, "and allow their law to prevail. I need some time to decide. May I remind you that, unlike Doctor Granger, nobody outside of this room knows you are here."
Motioning to his newest staff member, Dumbledore directed, "Kingsley, please take her away."
Professor Shacklebolt stepped forward, levitated the immobilised witch, and floated her to the fireplace, through which the two of them immediately disappeared.
Dumbledore watched them leave, and then turned to the two teens. "I cannot tell you how relieved I am for both of you to be back at Hogwarts, apparently safe and sound. And that is the first thing that must be confirmed. I would like Miss Granger to stay here and undergo a thorough physical examination. Mister Potter, I would like Healer Huxley to conduct the same on you in the Room of Requirement. Assuming positive results, you will both be promptly cleared to rejoin the student body."
"Er … Headmaster," Harry tentatively replied, "before I go, could I have a word with the goblins … the wet nurses? I'd like to thank them."
"Why, I think that is a splendid idea," Dumbledore immediately concurred.
With that, the boy rose and, with his goblin escorts, passed behind the screen to say his gradnuks.
Hermione's transparently adoring eyes followed him. Dumbledore, who took due note of her expression, reluctantly interrupted her thoughts.
"Miss Granger, your situation is rather more complicated due to your mother's presence," he reminded her. "She has acted as you demanded concerning the press. I do not wish to be premature, but have you considered how you wish this situation handled? I shall be guided by your wishes."
"I … no, I … well," Hermione unsuccessfully replied. "It's such a shock. No, I haven't. I, I still love her with all my heart - despite everything. And Daddy too, even not knowing where he is. But I need some time to think … to settle in. Can it wait until after the O.W.L?"
Dumbledore smiled warmly at her. "Of course," he assured Hermione, "I shall arrange for suitable accommodations at a secure location of her choice. For what it is worth, my judgment is that she would profit from a cooling-off period as well."
The Headmaster quieted as Harry reappeared after thanking the goblins. Wordlessly, these magical allies began stowing their things and preparing to depart. Harry made a beeline to Hermione's side.
"Umm … I'll see you after we're both checked out by the Healers," he said, taking her hand and giving it a squeeze. Switching to Legilimency, he added with a wink, `We need to have a long talk, about us,' again cherishing the warm feeling that shot through his hand.
"You're right," she said, almost whispering in his ear. She switched as well. `I'm still pinching myself that this is all really happening; that there even can be … an us. I was so depressed.'
Her mental voice trailed off, and Harry could see her eyes tearing up. Instead of crying, though, Hermione leaned into him and kissed him tenderly on the cheek, her lips lingering. "See you real soon," she breathily told him out loud.
As Hlr. Huxley led Harry through a secret back passage and to the Room, the boy swore his cheek stayed flushed until they were all the way up to the Seventh Floor.
Harry and Hlr. Huxley were well into an enthusiastically conducted medical examination when the door to the Room of Requirement creaked open and Blackie Howe entered, being led by Dobby.
"Harry, you're such a sight for sore eyes! I can't begin to tell you how relieved I am!" the pinstriped wizard blurted upon seeing him. "I saw Dumbledore on the way in. I gather all the papers my office is frantically preparing will not be necessary."
"Er … papers … preparing?" Harry asked hesitantly.
"You know, to call a halt to the Granger inquiry madness," the solicitor reminded. "That's why I thought you'd summoned me."
So much had happened. Harry had completely forgotten the original reason Mr. Howe's presence had been requested. "Oh, that," he responded sheepishly. "Right. It's over. She backed down."
"All for the best, then," Mr. Howe intoned. "But I could have stopped it anyway, on a technicality. I checked, and Mister Beasley was not authorized to appear in Scotland under Rule 9 of the 1990 Solicitors' Overseas Practice Rules…."
Blackie saw Harry rolling his eyes, and knew he had strayed beyond his client's limited tolerance level for legal minutiae. He adroitly changed course.
"As I said, Harry," Mr. Howe went on. "I know. Dumbledore told me. I'd like to call off the dogs, but my mobile doesn't work here, and I can't Apparate. Dumbledore said you still wanted to see me."
"Right," Harry said, still a little abashed. "Did you get Hermione the gift I requested? I really hope so."
If Harry's request were unanticipated, Howe did not let on. "Of course," he confirmed. "It required customisation, and the Muggles charged a pretty penny for the rights, but it's done. It's at my office. When do you need it?"
"How fast can you get it?" Harry replied, adding, "I'm serious."
Howe began to protest, "As I said, I can't use my mobile and I can't Apparate."
"Dobby!" Harry called out.
With a squeak and the sound of skittering feet, the house-elf appeared. "Yes, Harry Potter, sir!" was Dobby's breathless reply.
"I need you to do something for me, fast," Harry instructed.
"Yes. Yes!" Dobby practically begged for what must be an important task.
"This is Mister Howe. I want you to take him to his office, get something he has for me, and bring it back to me as fast as you can," Harry asked the elf.
Dobby almost dragged Blackie Howe out the door.
The house-elf returned, excitedly announcing that he had what Harry wanted, less than fifteen minutes later. His timing was impeccable, as Harry was just receiving a clean bill of health from Hlr. Huxley. He thanked the Healer - sincerely, if hurriedly - and once again made his way to the Hospital Wing. He fervently hoped it would be the last time he had to use the secret passages between the two.
Once returned, Harry had to cool his heels a bit more. Given her condition and recent medical history, Hermione's examination took considerably longer. Late, bright noontime sunlight streamed through the open window when, at last, she emerged. She, too, had been pronounced in good health. However, nobody - not Dumbledore, not Madam Pomfrey, and not Hlr. Bosworth (who had been summoned to assist) - could say with any assurance that no long-term consequences would arise from the powerful and unusual magic to which she had been subjected.
The girl, however, was thinking about none of that. Her focus was entirely on the here and now - or more properly the here and next couple of days. Hermione had always been compulsive over her education. She nagged herself at least as badly as she nagged Harry and Ron about matters scholastic. This aspect of her personality was one reason for her extraordinary academic success.
Thus, when Harry found her, Hermione had worked herself into the frenzy of a worrywart in full "worry" mode.
"Oh, Harry, I'm so far behind, it's appalling," she fretted when first seeing him. "I'm weeks in arrears in every course, and we've got the Astronomy O.W.L. in less than two days. I haven't revised for it since … since before you went missing. Oh, Harry!" She grabbed his hand and would not let go. "Thank Merlin you're back, and safe!"
"I feel the same," Harry answered throatily. "And I've thanked Merlin, probably every ten minutes since you've come back. But wait! Like I mentioned, I have something for you. Whilst it's technically for your birthday, I think you'd want it straight away."
He restored the shrunken package to its original almost-as-big-as-a-breadbox size. "Here, for you. I hope it helps."
She opened it. "Why, it's an Aural Pensieve," Hermione acknowledged. "But, but, I already have yours. I'm afraid I stole it from your trunk whilst you were missing," she confessed, her eyes downcast. "I hope you're not furious with me."
At this moment, nothing in the world could have caused him to be furious with her. She could have his trunk and everything in it, he thought. "Of course not, Hermione," he replied. "You can go into my trunk anytime … take anything. What's mine is yours, if you'll have it. But this Pensieve is preloaded with…." He pulled out the piece of parchment on which he had written what Blackie Howe told him. "…Burnham's Celestial Handbook, all three volumes. It's never been on Pensieve before"
As he watched, she broke out into a brilliant smile. "Oh, that's wonderful, Harry. It's the best astronomical reference there is. Oh, I love you so much! Come here."
Harry smiled back. He could feel blood rushing to his face and to, well, elsewhere. He had dreamed of this moment. He was finally going to get to kiss her properly. He felt all warm and fuzzy, inside and out. He stepped towards her open arms and her inviting … everything….
"Potter! Granger!"
At the sound of Professor McGonagall's voice the two jumped apart before they had ever really gotten together.
"Don't make me take points from my own House for public displays of affection," the professor lectured. Whilst her voice was typically stern, her face betrayed a more mixed set of feelings. She placed noticeable emphasis on the word `public.' "Don't forget, Miss Granger, you are still a Prefect. And you, Mister Potter, you should have been. Come, it's time for me to deliver you both back to your common room."
Hermione found it difficult to conceal her disappointment. Clutching her gift, she turned and started trudging after Professor McGonagall. "Another time?" she sighed.
"Another time, you bet," Harry replied, equally unhappy with the unexpected turn of events.
* * * *
"Incendio," he shrieked in disgust, throwing down the copy of the Prophet he had just finished. "It is over then, and they're both back at Hogwarts, apparently unharmed. A pity, but not unexpected. I never count on anyone except my faithful servants to do my work for me - and often, not even then…. Lucius!!"
The blond-haired man who had been chatting quietly with Severus Snape quickly stepped forward, "Your Lordship," his mellifluous voice intoned as he kneeled to kiss the hem of his master's robe. "How can I serve you?"
"My first…," the Dark Lord paused; there were some here who did not know. "The diary. Tell me again how your foolishness brought about its destruction."
The elder Malfoy gulped, but complied. "It fed on the girl I secretly passed it to," he explained. "But it fell into Potter's hands. He had no idea what it was, and she was able to retrieve it. Then, I am told you brought the girl to you … as bait to lure Potter. That worked, but the result was exceedingly unfortunate. In the Chamber of Secrets beneath Hogwarts, Potter destroyed the diary, and according to Dumbledore, `your memories.' Potter and the girl returned safely from the Chamber, or so I was informed shortly after the event. Later, Potter returned the remnants of the diary to me." He sneered the boy's name. "It was returned to you in precisely the condition I received it."
"Did Dumbledore leave you with any impression that he thought the diary to be anything other than he described it?" Voldemort asked harshly.
"Umm … No, My Lord," Lucius replied hesitantly. "He simply described it as one of your `old school things.'"
"Then perhaps your stupidity has not produced a total loss," Voldemort hissed. "Have you had the conversation that I directed you to have with your son."
Lucius flinched slightly. Loyal Death Eater that he was, he still never intended to bring Draco into the ranks before he was of age. The Black inheritance had precluded that, and even the Dark Lord had agreed. Now, that had been lost. No really good reason existed any longer, except inertia - and his lingering doubt over whether it was what either of them actually wanted.
"No, my Lord," Lucius replied unctuously, "not yet. I am a fugitive, and was not in the best of health until recently. My son has been at Hogwarts since shortly after the beginning of the term. Our paths have not crossed."
"Not crossed? Not good enough," the Dark Lord pronounced. "Crucio!"
The blond man immediately fell to his knees, writhing in pain. Then he keeled over completely and flopped about on the floor. Voldemort watched impassively.
"Bella," he called out whilst keeping his wand trained on Malfoy. "Do you know the whereabouts of Dolores Umbridge?"
"In Azkaban, my Lord," the gaunt witch replied eagerly. "She recently began serving her sentence over the torturing incidents at Hogwarts."
"Good," the Dark Lord intoned as he cracked an evil smile. "I believe I know just how to send the right message."
Nonchalantly, he ended the curse on Lucius Malfoy. "You shall contact your son," he ordered. "Since you cannot meet directly, use the auspices of Borgin and Burkes as an intermediary. As you know, I have longstanding ties with that establishment, going back fifty years. The original proprietors, Rindelaub Borgin and Caractacus Burke, hired me out of school. Contact Burke, as Borgin is deceased and his son is … not entirely trustworthy." Voldemort snarled out the last few words. "Burke will facilitate matters."
"Yes, my Lord," gasped the rather shaken Malfoy.
"I have need of your son's services," Voldemort hissed. "There is business that needs doing at Hogwarts. He seems quite resourceful, and reasonably discreet, but he has been lacking in both judgment and loyalty. If he proves to me that he can be trusted, he will be richly rewarded."
Malfoy's eyebrows rose involuntarily. It was hard to be impassive when one needs a great deal of money, and rich rewards are promised. "It shall be done, My Lord."
"Indeed, it shall," Voldemort replied ominously. His face grew stern and threatening. "Make no mistake, Lucius, it shall. I mean what I say about a rich reward. Your current unfortunate involvement with the goblins is quite well known to me, and I am prepared to resolve it. But if you and your son fail me again, it will be the last time. Now go!"
"Yes, my Lord," Lucius repeated as he bowed and scraped until out of sight.
"Severus," Voldemort called out.
"How may I serve you, Master?" the dark haired man replied silkily as he stepped forward and prostrated himself.
"Get up," Voldemort demanded, sounding irritated. "I wish you to accompany Lucius and ensure he completes the task I have assigned. Given the latest turn of events, I almost regret your absence from Hogwarts. But I suppose I had no choice, and your potions have been excellent. Once I have won, and the Castle is purged of its long-accumulated filth, I shall give it to you to run. What I need to have done shall hasten that day immensely."
"Thank you, my Lord, I am most honoured. Shall I seek to overtake Lucius?" he asked.
"Yes, be off," Voldemort agreed.
"Bella, come with me," the Dark Lord demanded. "My recovery proceeds apace, and I wish to discuss with you further the matter I broached recently. I believe another card has been turned over."
* * * *
The period between Harry's and Hermione's return to Gryffindor and the O.W.L. retake was a great disappointment to the boy. He had hoped that their essence-to-essence talk had resolved the many misunderstandings between them, and her reaction to his birthday gift (before being so rudely interrupted by their Head of House) suggested that they were finally prepared to start moving forward together. That did not happen, at least not how he had hoped.
They were both just too damned busy. The school was in session, and they both had missed too many classes already. Their reception in Gryffindor Tower scarcely amounted to more than a few pats on the back from those housemates who happened to be on hand. Their workload meant that Ron's promise of a Trio party had to be postponed.
No sooner had they changed clothes and eaten a very quick lunch, they had to turn around and attend their afternoon lessons. Those featured back-to-back double periods of N.E.W.T.-level Transfiguration and Charms, for which neither was prepared in the slightest. Whilst their professors were sympathetic, and refrained from calling on either of them, they both endured being gawked at by shocked classmates.
For once, Hermione bore the brunt. Although nothing was articulated out loud, quite a few of those staring at her had never expected to see her conscious again. Between competition for Head Girl - and competition for Harry Potter - not all of her classmates were entirely happy once again to encounter a fully functional and whole Hermione.
Nor did the two have any time to talk (or more) once classes ended. Wednesday was the day Gryffindor had the Pitch reserved, so Harry had to spend most of his time before dinner at practice. Hermione, in full academic panic, retreated to the library to study. Before and after Quidditch practice, Harry was able to bring Ron and Ginny up to date on developments. They did not know anything about what had gone on save what was in the Prophet.
Ron and Ginny were tremendously relieved that Hermione was back and seemingly fully recovered. Harry's best mate offered hearty congratulations when he learnt that the two had also resolved their personal differences. Ginny seemed rather less enthused about the latter event.
"Well, bloke, you got her back," Ron said as they did their pre-flight stretching. "Are you going to do anything about it?"
"Ron," Ginny cut in. "Can't you lay off him even a little? He's only been back a day!"
"That's all right, Ginny," Harry said, dismissing her protest. "Actually, I wanted you lot to be first to know. Hermione and I, well, we had a long talk. Seems I was every bit as much a prat as Ron thought. We're … we're together now - as a couple, I mean. And I … I couldn't be happier." Finishing the sentence, Harry broke into the biggest grin that either Weasley could remember seeing, at least since before Sirius had died.
"Fantastic, mate!" Ron beamed. He put an arm around Harry and waggled his eyebrows at him suggestively. "That calls for a celebration! After practice, why don't we get Dobby to nick some stuff from the kitchens for us? We'll have a party, and you and Hermione can show off your snogging skills!"
"Umm…, I don't know Ron," Harry replied cautiously. "Hermione's pretty uptight about her studies right now, and we do have that Astronomy do-over tomorrow night. I doubt she'll be in the mood for a party before then. Let's see, okay?"
"All right, then," Ron agreed, "but after that, you both are going to prove to me that you can find each other's tonsils, perhaps blindfolded."
Harry was game, but he wondered what his new girlfriend would think. She had always been quite reserved about such things. "Whatever Hermione wants," Harry said noncommittally.
Ginny had not uttered a word in response to the news. When Harry looked to her, she finally offered rather lukewarm sentiments. "Yeah, Harry, that's great. It couldn't happen to a nicer pair. You really do deserve each other."
With that, she mounted her broom and flew off to join the other Chasers. Before Ron and Harry could say anything about Ginny, Captain Katie blew her whistle. "Come on, you two. Look sharp, and be on time. I won't have veterans setting a bad example for my erks!"
"Blimey," Ron growled as he mounted his broom. "What is it about that badge? Must be possessed, or something. Everybody that puts it on turns into a bloody-minded Oliver Wood!"
"How would you know?" Harry asked, as he also kicked off. "You weren't on the team then."
"Fred and George do some wicked imitations," Ron replied over his shoulder as he set out for the goal hoops.
Harry spent the bulk of the practice trying to train the new hellion - Jazzy Habby, as she now permitted Harry to call her - to be a Seeker. She had outstanding instincts for catching the Snitch, and she was a fearless (if quite unpolished) flyer. However, she had practically no grasp of Quidditch strategy, and she fouled way too much. To make matters worse, most of her new teammates hated her. Both Katie and Harry had to stop practice twice to upbraid the Beaters, who still wanted to take potshots at the backup Seeker.
Harry was impressed that Jazzy kept the stiffest of upper lips in the face of such treatment. But he was not fooled. He had been mistreated enough himself to know what to look for. In her cloudy eyes, he saw unmistakable flashes of pain - and rage.
Dinner was a hurried affair, and uncomfortable for both Harry and Hermione. They had not both been in the Great Hall at the same time since the last term, and they very much felt as if on display. Professor McGonagall did not help matters much when she formally announced the obvious, that the two missing students had returned, and advised everyone to leave them alone. For the most part, the student body obeyed, although a surprising number of D.A. members seemed to feel the need to confirm that there would be another session on the upcoming Friday.
Under such a public microscope, the pair were not about to engage in any extracurricular activities. With their friends gathered about them at the Gryffindor table, and assorted hangers-on occupying every other nearby seat, the audience was simply too large. Indeed, Harry and Hermione had to explain themselves so many times to others that they barely spoke to each another during the meal.
At one point, though, Harry was briefly rendered speechless by the progress of her foot venturing up the cuff of his pantleg. When he looked to her with an expression midway between shock and desire, she flashed him a shy smile. `Sooner or later, Harry,' she Legilimenced, `you will be mine.'
`Deal,' he communicated back to her.
Just when that would be, however, was a matter of considerable doubt. After dinner, Hermione went straight to bed. She pleaded with the rest of the House, who wanted to party, that she was still weak from her ordeal. Harry knew better - that she wanted to get started with both the Time-Turner and her new Aural Pensieve.
While for once not as academically under water as his more accomplished girlfriend, Harry was still several days behind. He edgily answered his housemates' questions for about a half an hour whilst munching on sweets that Dobby provided. The promised party never really got off the ground, given classes the next day and, for most of Harry's Sixth Year friends, tomorrow night's O.W.L. retake. After regretfully turning down a chess challenge from Ron, and not so regretfully declining the opportunity to play Exploding Snap with Romilda Vane and her friends, Harry likewise made his way to his bed. Once inside, he drew the curtains, cast a Silencing Spell and studied until past midnight.
* * * *
A crystal clear and unseasonably cold day faded into an equally clear and even colder night on Hermione's birthday - examination day. Other than in class, Harry hardly saw her to wish her Happy Birthday. She firmly rebuffed any suggestion that she have any sort of party, or even a break from her constant swotting. Just before Defence class, she confirmed his suspicion of what was going on:
"Hermione, what are you trying to do? You don't have to memorise the entire Burnhams, you know," Harry asked her.
"Of course not, Harry," she responded, her face looking rather pale and drawn. "I'm not trying to learn the whole thing. Just those parts of the sky that will be visible during the test…. That's only about 65% of it, and if I keep to the schedule I set, I can just about make it."
"But it's your birthday," Harry protested. "You deserve at least a little break, don't you think?"
"No, I don't so think," Hermione replied as they walked down the hall. She slipped her hand into his, and he felt a bit better. "You've already given me a wonderful present, and nobody else will remember."
Quite to Harry's surprise, Hermione was just about right. Other than a box of sweets from Ron, a glorious Golden Anthurium from Neville, a book about the history of Druidism from Luna, and a handbag embroidered with beads from Ravenclaw's Su Li, nobody else gave Hermione any presents at all, not even Ginny. But then before this year Ginny had never gotten Harry birthday presents, either.
Colin and Dennis did, however, send Hermione a hilarious electronic Happy Birthday card over the D.A. central system.
As Hermione was gathering her rather meagre gift collection to take to her dormitory, Jimmy Peakes, whom Harry knew only from Quidditch, approached Harry and his friends. He had a roll of parchment.
"Harry," the boy said urgently, "this is for you. Dumbledore himself asked me to give it to you." As soon as Harry took it, Peakes meekly said goodbye and left. He was plainly unused to acting as go-between for the Headmaster of Hogwarts and the Boy Who Lived.
"What's that all about?" Hermione and Ron asked in unison as Harry slid off the Headmaster's personalised violet and green ribbon.
"Umm … he wants to start my private lessons this Sunday night," Harry answered as he perused the short note. "And meet with the goblins. They had something that I wouldn't let Dumbledore bother me with before I went in for you. I'll bet it's that."
"What's that?" Hermione asked the obvious question.
"Dunno," Harry truthfully responded.
Harry was about to jam the parchment in his pocket and bin the ribbon, but Hermione stayed his hand. "A priori," she spelled. Then the ribbon retied itself neatly around the rerolled parchment.
"There," she pronounced. "Good as new."
"Sure is, but who bloody well cares," commented Ron. He thought Hermione was showing off.
"You never can tell when a note from Dumbledore might come in handy," she replied stiffly.
Harry shrugged his shoulders and slipped the scroll into his robes, as Ron muttered, "mental."
Shortly before midnight Harry, Hermione, and most of the other Sixth Year Gryffindors (Marona had done well enough the first time that she did not sign up to retake; Seamus had failed so badly that he decided not to bother) made the slog to the Astronomy Tower for the long awaited O.W.L. redo. Their cohorts from the other Houses soon joined them.
Security was tight. Hermione was not alone in understanding that she had a realistic chance of dethroning Tom Riddle with a good practical score. Dumbledore accepted an offer from the new Minister, Rufus Scrimgeour, of a squad of Aurors for the evening. That squad found themselves patrolling the grounds in uneasy proximity to a much larger number of goblin warriors.
Mad-Eye Moody had signed on as well. He used the occasion as an excuse to see Harry for the first time since his successful rescue of Hermione. However, the testers would not let the guardian for one of the students stand watch during the test. Thus Mad-Eye found himself banished to the roof of the Ravenclaw Tower. He missed seeing Harry altogether before the examination.
Harry was assigned a spot on the inner part of the Tower, near Professor Tofty. The professor emeritus, whose extra credit the previous spring had brought about Harry's almost unprecedented Defence O.W.L. score, greeted the boy warmly as Harry set up his telescope.
Ron got a spot adjacent to Harry. Hermione, probably by design, was relegated to the opposite side of the Tower, where Professor Sinistra invigilated. Harry was not happy about that, although the seeing conditions on his side were marginally better, since it faced away from the rest of the Castle.
As a retake, the test was structured differently from the original, interrupted O.W.L. exam. Instead of preparing a detailed star chart, each student was assigned a list of twenty-five objects to locate, plot, and describe. Some of these were the same for all, but over half of them were different.
Some of the objects on the lists were fairly obscure. "Bloody Hell," Harry heard Ron mutter, as he looked at his. "What in blazes is Comet Kopff?"
Harry set to work, without any interruptions. His very first object was the Andromeda Galaxy. Finding that one was easy, as it was almost directly overhead. He had no trouble with Saturn either; its rings were plainly visible through his telescope. Sketching the Saturnian system, he located, with considerably more difficulty, its main moon Titan. Steadily, he worked his way through the list, as behind him, the few remaining golden squares of light in the Castle walls winked out one by one. It seemed a very peaceful night.
He found Mars, just rising on the eastern horizon. It was close to a conjunction with Venus, which was just too easy to be on anyone's list. The Asteroid Juno escaped him, as did the Ring Nebula. Comet Hale-Bopp, however, was an easy bag, even visible to the naked eye. He was about three-quarters done with his list, writing up the variable star Algol and trying to remember what the Coal Sack was, when Harry heard a familiar voice - Hermione's.
She sounded on edge, or maybe just excited. "Professor Tofty," she asked, "would you please take a look at something I've found? Something's not right. Professor Sinistra's not sure what to make of it."
"Certainly, child," the aged professor agreed, and tottered off with her to the other side of the Tower.
A few minutes later, Harry was almost done in more ways than one. The last object on his list, and from what he could tell from Ron's mutterings, on everyone else's as well, was the Triangulum Galaxy. Harry vaguely remembered that there was a constellation by that name, but had no idea where in the sky it might be. He was muttering to himself, and getting ready just to put in any galaxy he could find in the Summer Triangle (at least he knew where that was), when he heard Professor Tofty return.
Something was definitely up. The Professor was actually jogging, not walking. That could not be easy for him, as he was older than Dumbledore. Soon he returned, going back to Hermione's station, leading the tiny and stooped Professor Marchbanks.
Shortly thereafter, Hermione herself came up to him, as Harry was touching up his sketch of the great nebula in Orion.
"Harry, how are you doing? Are you just about done?" she asked. She was unmistakably excited.
He had reached the end of his list. Whilst there were a number of holes in his examination - things he had not been able to find, he was essentially done. "I guess. What is it?"
She took his hand and started pulling him with her. "I want to show you something. If it's what I think it is, I want you with me to see it."
"What is it?" he insisted.
She stopped, and out of deference to other students who were still frantically observing or scratching with their quills, she whispered in his ear, "I'm not sure yet. The professors have to make the final determination, but I might have found something new…."
Then she affectionately gave his ear a little nip with her teeth.
Harry jumped. "Ow," he squawked, prompting annoyed shushing noises from his classmates. He walked off, following Hermione.
"What was that for?" he said in a stage whisper.
She stopped and waited for him to catch up to her. "No reason," she replied in a real whisper. "Except to say that I love you."
He grabbed her about the shoulders. "Then I guess I have to give you two nips, since that's how much I love you…." He started trying to nibble on her ear, prompting her to giggle and try to break away.
That led to more shushing noises, and a peeved Terry Boot advised them to, "Get a room, for crying out loud."
They moved further around the tower, Harry still in pursuit of Hermione's now exposed ears.
"Hey, stop blowing in my ear," she giggled in mock protest, as he cornered her once again.
"That's supposed to make you want to follow me anywhere," he replied, doing it again.
"You already know that I'll follow you anywhere," she said huskily. "Been there, done that. You don't need to…."
That caused Harry to say, in what he hoped was a suggestive voice, "Well why don't you follow me over here…?"
Hermione started tagging after Harry into the deep shadows when the two teens were interrupted by two beaming professors, Tofty and Sinistra.
"Miss Granger," Professor Tofty said, not even bothering to keep his voice down, "it's official. You've discovered a comet. We believe it's a new one. It's not on any of our charts. It's not particularly bright, but it's evidently quite close."
"We've put a call into the Muggle Central Bureau for Astronomical Telegrams, to register your discovery," Professor Sinistra added. "If it's indeed a first, then the comet will bear your name. This hasn't happened at Hogwarts as long as I've been teaching here."
Hermione was almost jumping up and down with excitement. Her classmates' whispers quickly spread the news to everyone on the Tower.
"Yeah, just what we need," sounded another familiar, and most unwelcome, voice. "Comet Mudblood."
Harry whirled around, eyes blazing and fists raised. "Malfoy, you'll keep your mouth shut around her, if you know what's good for you," he said in a deadly voice.
"And just who's going to make me, Mudblood lover," Draco Malfoy sneered. "What are you…?"
Malfoy's drawl ended with a gurgle. Harry had his arm up and, in his fury, was performing the same wandless magic that he used on his Uncle Vernon earlier in the summer. And for much the same reason.
Hermione yanked at his arms whilst telling him, "Harry! Please stop! He's not worth it!"
It was like Harry could not see her. Malfoy started turning purple.
Hermione tried something else. To break Harry's concentration, she kissed him full on the lips.
That worked. Malfoy slumped to the stone floor of the tower - forgotten.
Harry gave her his undivided attention. He raked his fingers through her hair as he started to deepen the kiss. She made an indistinct little moan and leaned into him.
"Ahem," Professor Tofty interrupted. "There's still five minutes to go on the O.W.L. I don't want to fail either of you, but you are disrupting your fellow students."
Hermione pulled away. So did Harry, but more reluctantly.
Malfoy groaned in the corner. Seeing him there, Harry boiled at all of the insults the Slytherin had hurled at him, and Hermione, over the years. Harry kneeled down beside the blond boy.
"You listen to me, Malfoy," he whispered so nobody but the two of them (and Hermione, who was right beside him) could hear. "Just to show you there's no hard feelings, I want you to know that when I end up owning Malfoy Manor - because your daddy was a thief as well as a Death Eater…."
"Scarhead, you wouldn't dare," Malfoy grunted.
"Watch me," Harry sneered. "Remember this: It's winner take all. I won. You lost. Got it? I'm going to free all the house-elves. That means I'll need someone to clean out all the Malfoy rubbish that's in there. I figure who better qualified to do that than a Malfoy? The wheel's turned, and look who's in the shit now."
With that, Harry rose, making sure that he trod on Malfoy's knuckles as he did so.
"Harry, what good did that do?" Hermione asked him uneasily.
"It made me feel good, after all he's done to you," Harry replied with a relaxed smile. He took her hand.
"Still, it was gratuitous," she reminded him.
"He's gratuitous," Harry answered as they walked in the direction of her telescope. "Now how about showing me your comet before we all have to go?" Harry also gave a mutinous glance at Professor Tofty, who shrugged.
In hushed tones, she started chattering, "It's right there between M31 and M33. I saw it first at the beginning, but only after it had moved at least fifteen arcseconds in little more than an hour did I think anything of it…."
Harry smiled and shook his head at his new girlfriend's boundless enthusiasm. He turned to Professor Tofty, who was also more-or-less listening.
"Does that mean she's passed?" he asked.
"I'd say with flying colours," the professor replied. "I've given her the same amount of extra credit that you received for your Patronus."
* * * *
Author's notes: Sylvanius was made up; Beasley was the name of a very good Philadelphia plaintiffs' lawyer
Writ of habeas corpus is real, and means literally "produce the body"
"Recovery order" is the correct British terminology for the order Dr. Granger seeks
Some of the outrageous rumors weren't that outrageous
The odor was introduced as a reason for the open windows, but took on a life of its own
Writs are served by sheriff's deputies
Kingsley's appearance was not accidental
My wife and I verified Harry's and Hermione's relative body positions
Uncle Vernon with a wet noodle
Once again Harry misinterprets a euphemistic question about matters romantic
Until the moment of Harry's revelation, Hermione assumed he had had sex with Eliza
Orphan's division is on name for a family court
Huxley is the type of doctor a lawyer would hire as an expert witness in a big case
The use of Time-Turner time to augment Hermione's age, and much of the calculations, were suggested by an excellent piece on the HP Inkpot called "Hermione's Actual Age" by who girl
With her realizations, Hermione's mother becomes less obnoxious
With a potionsmaster on premises, Polyjuice is once again available
The "more intimate than sex" line comes from, I think, the second of Horst Polmann's trilogy
A planisphere is a day/time adjustable star chart
Most Chinese dragon depictions have five toes per foot
Rita Skeeter thus knows a lot that could cause Harry problems
Owl's feathers are specially designed to be silent
Old Testament prophets tend to have long white beards like Dumbledore
The description of Scottish legal practice is accurate, if rather Muggle
Worrywort in full worry is a line I use for my wife
Burnham's Celestial Handbook is a standard, 3-volume astronomical reference for deep sky observers
"Another time" - in the US, the phrase would be "rain check"
Lots of clues to subsequent events in the Death Eater scene
"Erk" is British for "rookie"
Golden Anthurium is the same plant that was in Blackie Howe's office
Hermione immediately grasps what the Dumbledore letter could accomplish
Mad-Eye will still find a way to involve himself
All of the astronomical objects are: (a) real, (b) visible from Central Scotland in autumn, 1996, and (c) would actually have been located where in the sky they are described
Comet Kopff is a short-period comet easily visible by telescope in 9/96
The Andromeda Galaxy (M31) is naked eye visible, and the nearest neighboring full-sized galaxy
The Ring Nebula (M57) is a deep sky object in Lyra
Algol, in Perseus, is a famous variable star known since antiquity
The Coal Sack is a dust cloud in the Milky Way
The Triangulum Galaxy (M33) is an almost naked eye (quite bright) galaxy in a nondescript constellation. It's proximity to Andromeda is accurate
The Orion Nebula (M42) is a bright cloud of interstellar gas. It would be in the east on 9/19
The "blow in my ear" line is from "Laugh In," an old TV show
The description of how comet discoveries are handled is accurate
As usual, Harry would have done well to listen to Hermione's advice about Malfoy
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