A/N: First, thanks again to everyone who is reviewing this story that wont die. I especially want to thank Schokki (I think I spelled that right!) and anyone else who withstood the long wait between chapters one and two, for sticking with the story. I also do not own the characters in this story. They are JKR's, I'm just entertaining myself and those who choose to read this story of mine. I'm not hoping to make even a cent from this story… Though reviews are welcome!
Chapter 3: Back Door Man
If I had the chance love
I would not hesitate
To tell you all the things I'd never said before,
Don't tell me its too late
Because I've relied on my illusions
To keep me warm at night
I delight in my capacity to loves
I am willing to give up this fight… Dirty Little Secret ~Sarah McLachlan
Day 14, Week 2, Year 1 AV
Hermione:
Pregnant. All I could think about was how much I wish Harry was here to tell. How much I wished I could have seen his face. I even think about how I should tell him. He comes to me, and I've tried to ignore him, tried to tell myself that he isn't here and I should ignore him. But, how can I ignore him any longer, knowing what I know?
Harry:
Sometimes its so hard being here. She ignores me, tells me I'm not in front of her. But I come back, every day, wanting to save her. Wanting to do whatever it is I can for her. She'll talk to me, sometimes, but she doesn't believe I'm here. How do I help her when she doesn't even believe me anymore?
It didn't take long for Hermione to become bored out of her mind on bed rest. Two weeks since Harry's death. But in those two weeks, her life changed so much that she really thought it may has well have been two years. She didn't really have much to do and Ron and Luna had taken a mini-vacation to parts unknown to take a break from life. She couldn't really fault them for it however, after all, they had been fighting evil since they were eleven. They should finally be allowed to have a vacation.
Dobby of course, was attentive, but he lacked the conversation that Hermione needed, and in the end, it really was no wonder that she began to talk to the apparitions of Harry that she saw. It had started one day, simply after writing in her journal. Something that she had begun after his death. It helped her clear her mind and made it a little bit easier for her to cope with what was happening in her life. She had been writing about her pregnancy. And how much she wished she could tell him, when suddenly he was there.
In that moment, she knew she couldn't ignore him any longer. She didn't tell him then and there, though she wanted to, a part of her still couldn't believe that it was healthy to be seeing her dead husband. Instead, she fell into his embrace and cried. He felt so real, Hermione swore she must be imaging him, but what did it matter?
She had seen him a few times since, he came and went, he changed his clothes and always looked put together, nothing like he had when he died. Hermione looked forward to his visits, but with every one, she feared that she was losing her sanity.
"Love, why are you so troubled?"
Hermione looked up recognizing his voice and smiling. He sat down next to her on their bed. "I'm fine." She said as she smiled. "No, you're not. How long have I known you? I know your looks each and every one of them. Besides, you haven't moved from this bed, at least not that I've seen." He asked.
"Well, it's not like you are actually here all the time! Is it?" Hermione countered, her guilt at having not told him yet, making her feel guilty.
"That's not fair!"
"No, what's not fair is that I-" She stopped, this wasn't how she wanted to tell him. This isn't what she wanted. She wanted him to be there for her. "I'm alone. That you aren't here when I need you to be."
"Hermione," he looked wounded. And though that was what she had been aiming for, it did not make her feel any better, in fact, it made her feel worse. "I would be here every second if I could."
She sighed, she knew she was being unfair, and she really didn't have it in her to keep up this fight with him. "I know. It's just, I'm so lonely here without you."
"Hermione, what's going on?"
"Harry," She paused. This was a figment of her imagination and she couldn't even tell him, some Gryffindor she made. "Harry, I'm pregnant."
Harry just stared at her.
"Harry, say something!" She pleaded.
"What can I say?" She looked at him, what did she want him to say? What could be said?
"I don't know. Tell me you're at least happy." She wished.
"How could I not be happy?" Harry said, brushing hair out of her eyes. "But what does this mean for us? How are we going to raise this child."
"Children." Hermione corrected.
"As in twins?" Harry asked, a goofy smile finding his face.
"Yes, though I don't want to know if they are boys or girls. I just want to pick a list of names and then we can use the names we want when they are born."
"Twins." He paused. "Wow."
"Yes, well, your twins are the reason I'm in bed right now. Apparently, the Mediwizard is afraid something may happen and has therefore banished me to bed."
"I'm so sorry, that I can't do anything for you, Hermione." He said, kissing her.
"You've done everything for me. You've given me the greatest gift you ever could have."
"But-"
"No buts-"
"So what do we name them?" Harry asked. But he could tell his wife was starting to relax under his touch. She would be asleep within a few minutes, his experience told him.
"Hmm-Later" She mumbled as she dosed off.
Harry soon felt himself falling into sleep, the soothing strokes on her arm, relaxing him as well.
"You know, one day, it will be like this forever. We'll actually take this peace and quiet for granted." Harry's statement made Hermione turn.
"Oh, I don't think I could ever take you or this for granted."
"You may say that now, but when I win this war, we'll get sick and tired of each other and start bickering until we become an old married couple who only talk about the weather and can't even agree on that!" Harry said with a smile.
"Is that what you think? Well, I'll have you know, that I think we are going to have a house full of kids, and peace and quiet is the last thing we will get for a long time."
"A house full of kids," Harry smiled, " I do like the sound of that."
"mmm- So do I."
"Hermione, you have to promise me. Promise me that you will stay away from the battle."
"Mr. Potter-" Someone shook his shoulder. He woke from the memory, one that chilled him to the bone. He
looked around the dark hospital room, knowing before he was told what time it was. "Mr. Potter, visiting hours are
over and you really should go home and get some rest." Harry looked up at the Nurse, smiling at her and nodding.
He had put up a fight at first, but they had eventually convinced him that he wouldn't do her any good if he was
sick from exhaustion.
"You'll call if anything changes?" Harry asked the nurse.
"As always, Mr. Potter." She said, picking up his cloak and handing it to him. Harry took it absentmindedly and turned back to Hermione's pale form, bending down to give her a kiss, while his hand lingered over her abdomen.
"I still can't believe she's pregnant. Are you sure the children will be fine with the condition she's in?"
"Mr. Potter, we can never be sure of much in cases such as your wife's. If we had experience with what she was cursed with, we would be able to guarantee something. But, we do know that aside from your wife's delusional and comatose states, she is healthy. The babies are currently up to all the health standards they should be at this age. Now, go, get something to eat."
Harry nodded again, and walked out of the door. He was familiar with this walk, having spent the better part of two weeks spending his free time at this place. They had put her in a special section of St. Mungo's, a private wing, that was free from the pity-filled glances he would receive from those who recognized him and knew his story. He, with Luna and Ron's help, had let the press know that, yes, his wife was sick. But that no one was giving up hope. But, after the interview, Harry had been careful to keep out of the public spotlight. He didn't want to have to worry about ceremonies and proclamations when he could be spending time with her.
So, Ron had been kind enough to take care of his official duties on his behalf. Ron had attended multiple ceremonies for him and frankly, he was grateful to have his best friend at his side.
"Well, at least one best friend." His brain reminded him. Not that he needed reminding that his best friend, wife, heart, was stuck in some unknown hell that could not be fixed.
By the time Harry had reached the apparition point, he knew that the nurse had been right and he could feel his hunger taking over. He usually tried to have a small breakfast before he came to the hospital, but he rarely took lunch, finding it impossible to tear himself away from Hermione. He never knew when she was going to be lucid, well, as lucid as she was these days. Whenever she was awake, she thought she was imagining his presence.
The thing that puzzled Harry the most, was that she just woke up one day, a month after the battle, insisting he was dead. She had been having nightmares since the final battle, and to be honest, he had been too. So when the she spent the day in bed after he went to a meeting with Ministry officials, he didn't think much of it. He still hated the fact that he hadn't woken her that morning to tell her that he loved her. But even more than the hate he felt for himself for having not woken her, he felt that if he had only been quicker, if only he had stopped Voldemort just a few seconds sooner…
It was over. An eerie silence had filled the battle field, although, the fact that a place as sacred to Harry as Hogwarts, was a battle field, filled him with regret. The Death Eaters still alive had mostly been captured, too weak without the influence of their master to continue. Whereas the last time they could still feel his presence in their mark, this time, there was no doubting that the Boy-Who-Lived had vanquished their master. Harry was exhausted, but he couldn't sleep yet. He had to make sure she was alright. He had to find her and Ron. The only thing that had kept him going was the hope and thoughts that his best friends were still alive. They were the only thing that truly made this battle worth his while.
He made his way over the destruction. Fog wising from the ground. It wasn't a cold night, but the rain that had fallen earlier put a chill in his bones. The tent where Hermione and Ron had been instructed to oversee battle plans had been destroyed and Harry felt his stomach drop in trepidation.
"Harry, mate!" Ron came running up to him, hugging his best friend. "Thank God!"
"Ron, I-" How did he ask this without sounding like he was only concerned about her?
"She's fine, Harry. She was hit with something, we're not sure what it was, and I killed Bellatrix before we were able to find out what it was. She was knocked out, but the Mediwitch woke her without a problem. She's a tough one, your Hermione" Ron said, as he led him to her. A temporary triage had been set up on the field, and Harry wondered how many people would be treated here. How many would be able to say they survived the battle against Voldemort?
"How about Luna? Is she okay?" Harry asked, hoping for his friend's sake that his wife wasn't harmed.
"For all that girl's head is in the sky, she somehow comes out of these situations without a scratch on her." Ron said, a note of pride in his voice. "She's with Tonks and Remus. They made it through their missions with a few minor injuries. She's already portkeyed them back to Grimmauld." Ron said as they finally reached the area where Hermione was being checked over.
Before she saw him, Harry took the moment to quietly observe his wife. She had something on her face, her hair falling out of the plait that she had it in. She was arguing with the Mediwitch, most likely refusing help until she knew if Harry was okay. He smiled as he realized just how beautiful she was. She shone from the inside out.
"Excuse me," Harry interrupted, "Would it be possible for me to take my wife home now?" Harry asked. Of course, no one would argue with him.
Hermione jumped up into his arms, peppering him with kisses. "You did it! Oh, Harry, thank god, you did it." He moaned as she caught one of his many bruises in her embrace. "Oh, you're hurt." She moved away from him. "We can't go home until the Mediwitch has checked you over!" And she maneuvered Harry onto the cot that she had been sitting on.
Harry had let the Mediwitch take care of him and then, without fuss, and taken his wife home. It had been a bittersweet evening, Tonks and Remus would be fine, but they had been given a sleeping draught to let them fully recover. Harry and Hermione had gone to bed early, both exhausted from their efforts that day and the efforts of the past years. Finally, they had their peace.
That month, before she got sick, had been the best of Harry's life. After the debriefing with the Ministry, Harry had been able to relax and finally get to spend time with his wife. They had lounged about the manor, gone on dates without the fear that they should disguise themselves. It was like they had been given a new life. But something in Harry's heart told him that Hermione was already slipping away from him. Looking back, as often was the case, he could see the signs more clearly. They were small moments, ones which, could not have been taken for anything more than what they were at the time. Nothing to incite suspicion, until it was too late…
They had just been to the theater, having seen one of Hermione's favorite symphonies. If Harry had to be asked, he would have said that it was torture, but secretly he loved watching his wife enjoy the show.
But having left the show, she had been quiet, almost subdued. Harry, who was busy giving the driver directions back to Grimmauld place, let her stare out the window, though he was curious. The rain was coming down in sheets. He would have to conjure an umbrella for them both.
As they arrived home, she seemed to still be in her contemplative mood. Harry knew her well enough to know that she sometimes needed her space. He watched as she trailed her hand along the mahogany stairwell as she made her way to their room.
"How was the symphony?" Ron asked.
"It was-" Harry paused, still puzzled by his wife's behavior. "Ron, it is Hermione's favorite, yet the entire ride home, she was quiet as a church mouse. I'm a bit worried about her."
"Quiet? Well that's a bit a strange, but-" Ron shrugged. He had noticed the way Hermione would sometimes enter the room, and seek him out before she even acknowledged Harry's presence. Almost as if he wasn't there.
"Ron, what if she's" Harry said, not trusting himself to finish the statement. There was no way she could be having an affair, but the little boy who had been told he wasn't good enough was still alive in Harry's soul.
"You know that's bollocks, Harry." Ron said. "She's probably got a lot on her mind and you said so yourself, she hasn't been sleeping any more than you or I have been able to."
It was true, Harry and Ron, and Hermione (Harry suspected) had been having nightmares. Of course, Harry felt blessed that they were regular old nightmares that were perfectly normal after everything that they had been through.
"Well, whatever the case is, I'm worried." He sighed. "I have to go into the ministry early tomorrow. Can you make sure she's okay tomorrow at breakfast?"
"Of course Harry." Ron was unsettled by what his friend had almost suggested. He knew Harry must be having extreme fears about whatever plagued his wife's thoughts.
Harry noticed that she was wearing a jumper of his, something that comforted him. However, he was discomforted by the way she sat in her chair by the window, a throw over her lap, as if she was freezing. She had a look of melancholy on her face, and she looked utterly lost.
Harry watched, as tears streamed down her face, and his heart positively ached for whatever it was that was tormenting her.
It was some time before she turned suddenly and looked at the chair to her side. Harry tried to call out her name. But she didn't respond, she just looked like she had seen a ghost. Harry would have done something more drastic, but was joined by Ron, who had see the escalating situation from the hallway.
"Hermione?" She turned her head, catching the chair out of the corner of her eye. He was there. His messy black hair clashing against the white, "Hermione?" That wasn't Harry's voice. But she couldn't stop staring. It was him, his green eyes looking at her, confusion in his eyes. Footsteps walked up behind her. "Hermione," a hand on her shoulder, she looked up, it was Ron. She looked back at Harry, but the chair was empty.
"Hermione, what are you staring at?" Ron asked, concern etched in his voice.
"Nothing, Ron. It was nothing."
At this, Ron looked at his best friend. Harry looked as if he was going to be sick. Ron looked at Hermione as she stood up, noting the jumper of Harry's that she wore. She started walking to the bed, and when she didn't acknowledge Harry a look of pity and confusion crossed Ron's face.
"This was the closest thing I had to him hugging me." She murmured, falling asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.
Ron looked at Harry, unsure what could be said. And Harry, just looked at him back, praying to God, that there was some reason for her strange behavior.
The next morning, Harry had left without waking her, in some state of denial that maybe she just needed to sleep off whatever it was that had her acting so strange the night before.
It was when he came home, the rain had lasted the entire day. When he asked Ron where Hermione was, he said he assumed she was in their room. He had made it to their bedroom, after having searched the house with no trace of Hermione. He was looking out the window, wondering where on earth his wife could be, when he hear Ron's voice from the downstairs hall.
"I found her!" She was mumbling in his arms.
"She's burning up with a fever Harry. We need to take her to St. Mungo's." Ron said, as Harry took her from his arms and apparated them to St. Mungo's where the long day became an even longer night.
Since that evening, Hermione had had conversations with Ron, Luna, even Molly and in each one, she insisted he was dead. Regardless of what they said to the contrary, if Hermione was having a conversation, it was one in which she claimed he was dead. When Harry went to see her, he found that she would ignore him, or try and tell him he was a ghost, as if trying to assist him in his crossover.
Ron was waiting for him in the kitchen of Grimmauld as he came home.
"Mum brought food over again. She's worried about you." Ron said, sitting in a chair heavily as Harry heated what Molly had brought over. "The ministry is getting anxious, they want help. They still haven't been able to catch Malfoy or Snape. They think, maybe, if you were to help with the investigation the pair would be spooked into doing something stupid."
Harry only took in half of what Ron said. Instead, he sat in his chair, poking at the food. Eating what he could, without tasting much of it.
"Ron, she's pregnant." Harry finally said. Harry looked up at his best friend. "Moreover, she's pregnant with twins and thinks I'm dead and won't be their to help her. She's so alone, even when I am with her, even when she decides that she going to talk to me." Harry's voice was breaking over the words that he was sharing with Ron. "IT'S NOT FAIR DAMNIT!" Harry roared as he pushed himself away from the table, swiping at the dishes. The china clattered to the floor, but didn't shatter, as Ron quickly cast a bounce charm on them. The bounced, softly to a stop on the floor. "THE MINISTRY WANTS ME TO DO WHAT? PRETEND MY WIFE'S OKAY? TO STEP IN AND SOLVE THEIR PROBLEMS?" Harry was pacing the floor, walking back and forth, like a tormented man.
"Harry, no one doubts what you are going through, but-"
"DON'T SAY IT RON!"
"Harry, she doesn't know when you are there. She doesn't know that you are there half the time."
"I PROMISED HER!" Harry yelled, flairs of magic popping off of him. It was at this he realized that he need to calm down. " I promised her to be by her side through sickness and-" Sobs started coming from Harry, great unmanly sobs, ones which could only be shared with one's best friend.
"Alright, Harry, alright. I'll get them to lay off for awhile."
"Why does she think I'm gone? She at least acknowledges your presence. She doesn't believe what you say, but she acknowledges your hugs, and you are with her, in her dreams. She lives a fucking fantasy hell where she sees you taking actions."
He sighed, it hurt so much to hear what his wife was going through, yet have no idea how his intelligent Hermione could believe such a farce.
"She tells me how supportive you've been. How you took care of all my arrangements. That Luna covered the press, that you were with me when I died. She tells me all these things, as if to comfort my un-rested spirit, but she doesn't know that it only torments me to here her say those things, believing in her heart that I'm dead." His head rested in his hands, and he realized that he hadn't meant to say those things to his friend. He hadn't meant to make his friend feel guilty.
"I'm sorry Ron. I didn't mean to-" Harry said sheepishly, looking up at Ron as if afraid he was going to loose his best friend.
"Don't worry mate, I know." Ron said, putting a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder.
"I need to get out of here. I can't stay here with-" He just motioned, his thoughts, not sure what it was he couldn't abide at the moment. Ron just nodded, he knew that Harry would most likely find himself aside his parent's gravesite. A place he often went when he was troubled. He would most likely have a bottle of Odgen's Firewhiskey with him and would most likely be gone until dawn. He would apperate home, take a shower, and apparate to St. Mungo's having gotten little sleep.
Ron wondered as his friend apperated, if their life had been easier before or after Voldemort's death. Life wasn't what they had hoped it would be. And if he was asked, he wasn't sure he what he would wish to have back. A life with the monster and constant threats, or this so-called life they had now…
A/N: Well, there you have it! Harry is not a ghost and not dead. For those of you asking about the time, I use that method for two reasons: 1. Hermione has no idea of time. 2. I'm really bad at just picking random dates, this allows me the freedom to choose a time, without committing to a specific month or day of the week. I know its weird, but it's just something I'm neurotic about.
As for the big reveal in this chapter, I hope it makes sense. So far, we've been playing in Hermione's happy little nightmare. We should be in Harry's world most of the next chapter… Though, who knows….
Finally, I wanted to thank everyone again, for reading this work of craziness. It's fun and I like writing it. I apologize that the chapters don't come out very quickly but when I finally get into the chapters, they flow. This chapter was only 1/3 of what it is now less than 36 hours ago! Suddenly, I found my pace and jumped on it. As for grammar and other mistakes, I apologize for them, but like to get the chapters to my wonderful readers ASAP!
Thanks again!
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