Disclaimer: Not mine; more's the pity.
Shadow Walks
My shadow's the only one that walks beside me
--Green Day, "Boulevard of Broken Dreams"
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Chapter Twenty-One:
Because I came here with a load, and it seems so much lighter since I met you
--Coldplay, "Green Eyes"
Harry shifted twitchily, as he sat, stiff and uncomfortable, in a molded, hard plastic chair in a sub-waiting room at St. Mungo's. Someone obviously hasn't renewed these Cushioning Charms in quite awhile, he thought grouchily. He heard Ron sigh slightly across from him, but his eyes remained on the place where the corridor bent at ninety degrees and passed out of sight. Distantly, he could hear the noise and bustle of the larger waiting room and mediwitches' station, and was grateful to have been removed from it. Sometimes, rank did have its privileges.
He wiggled again, trying to restore sensation to his numb posterior.
"She's going to be fine, mate," Ron said, and Harry looked over at his ginger-haired best friend for the first time since they'd arrived. "It's all precautionary anyway."
"What if something is wrong?" Harry fretted. "They don't even have anything to go by, nothing to compare with. This kind of thing has never happened before."
"That's why Luna and Calpurnia were brought in," Ron reiterated almost patiently, clearly unused to being the voice of reason. "Their department head said there were no two more qualified to consult about Multiverse problems. And you got her the best Healers in St. Mungo's. They'll check her out, release her, and we'll all be on our way."
Harry sprawled both legs out in front of him, then drew his feet back in one at a time. The worried creases had not been smoothed from his brow, but presently, he spoke in a off-hand tone of voice that did not fool Ron a particle.
"So… you and Hermione have everything worked out?"
Now it was Ron's turn to wriggle uncomfortably in the unyielding chair.
"I - I think so. We've not had much chance to talk, but she - she didn't seem very interested in holding a grudge." He shook his head, as if he could not fathom it. "You know the way she hugs. And after the things I said to her…" The bitterness of self-recrimination was evident in his eyes. Harry wondered if he was wishing for firewhiskey.
"I reckon being stranded away from everything you know and find familiar has a way of resorting your priorities," Harry said slowly. "All she wanted to do is see us - see everyone again. It wouldn't have mattered what you'd done before she left."
Ron rested his elbows on his knees, and his head drooped down between his shoulders.
"She tell you that?" he wondered aloud. Harry shook his head, and lifted one shoulder in a shrug.
"She didn't have to," he said laconically. He stared off into middle distance for a moment, and then dragged his gaze back to meet Ron's. "You need to let it go, Ron. For good. She has. And you know when she finds out what you've been doing to yourself for the last five years…"
A hint of fear spread itself over Ron's freckled visage.
"Maybe she won't find out."
Harry glanced at him witheringly. It's Hermione, the look seemed to say, of course she'll bloody well find out.
They subsided back into silence, but Harry seemed no less restless than he had previously.
"Why is it taking so long?" he leaned forward, hoping to catch the eye of a convenient Healer or mediwitch, but the corridor was devoid of people. "What if her - what if her runic signature was compromised by her absence from her own universe? Her constant could have been changed… she could be snatched away again, without warning."
Ron's eyes had begun to glaze over slightly at the word, `runic', but he gave Harry a rather sympathetic look that still managed to say, you're quite ridiculous, you know.
"I don't think - " he started hesitantly, but was interrupted.
"If your `constant' could be so easily altered, don't you think they would have called it something else?" observed a bland voice that caused both men to jerk their gazes upward. Luna seemed to be able to count materializing out of thin air as one of her many talents.
Harry had already sprung to his feet.
"Is everything okay? Is she all right?" He all but shouted the questions in a staccato, rapid-fire fashion. Luna raked him with a fond, humoring glance.
"She's fine, Harry, completely healthy. Her magical signature is perfect, with no sign of fluctuation - not that we expected any. Her chronological age has been altered a bit…"
"Altered?" Harry queried abruptly.
"Again, it's not really that significant. She's even said that she'll keep her own birthday. It would have been more, but it had to be counted against the aging she did while using the Time Turner during her third year."
"What are you talking about?" The question wasn't exactly rude, but Harry looked completely at sea.
"While she was out of phase, she did not age. During your third year, she aged faster because she was living some hours twice at once. The healer's examination revealed her to be not quite twenty-two… chronologically speaking, that is."
"You mean she got younger?" Ron looked baffled.
"Of course she hasn't. She just didn't age at the same rate that the rest of us did."
Ron raked her with a glance that seemed to say, isn't that what I just said? But Harry didn't feel like splitting hairs.
"Can we see her?"
"Of course you can," Luna replied. "She should be nearly ready to go."
They had only turned in the direction of the corridor, when Harry heard someone calling his name from back toward the noisy bustle of the main waiting room. He pivoted on one foot, and saw Hermione's parents, moving toward him quickly, having evidently abandoned the mediwitch guiding them, once he had come into their view. They appeared somewhat out of breath, as they drew nearer.
"We got here as quickly as we could," Mrs. Granger said.
"Damn taxi passed this place four times," Mr. Granger grumbled. "They could ease off the Muggle repellent just a bit."
"Can you please tell us what's going on?" Hermione's mother pleaded.
"I'm sorry," Harry apologized. "I just - I didn't - it didn't seem like the kind of thing that you just blurt out over the telephone line."
"Of course it concerns Hermione," Mrs. Granger stated with certainty. She cleared her throat and clasped and unclasped her hands. "Have - have you found her then?"
Harry dropped his gaze to his shoes, and stuck his hands in his pockets nervously.
"Actually, we have… but - but it's not what you think," he added hastily, as Mrs. Granger's eyes began to well up with unshed tears. "Please," he held out one arm in a gesture for Luna to lead the way, and for the Grangers to precede him after her.
"It's a miracle really," Luna remarked in a dreamy voice. "And there haven't even been any Harbinglow sightings."
Mrs. Granger exchanged a terrified, but hopeful glance with her husband.
"You mean she's - "
And then, Luna was pushing a nondescript door open.
The Grangers froze just inside the doorway, trapping Harry out of sight behind them. The only sound was a squeak that followed a rapid intake of air by Mrs. Granger. The silence seemed to stretch out interminably, until Harry heard a voice - a small, timid voice that didn't sound at all like Hermione's.
It said, "Mum? Daddy?" And that broke the Stupefy that seemed to have been dispersed over the room.
Mrs. Granger sobbed out something unintelligible that might have been, "Oh my God." And then they were moving into the room, surging forward, engulfing Hermione with tears and incoherent babbling.
Harry hovered uncomfortably at the threshold, not begrudging the Grangers their moment, but felt awkward at being present, and uncertain of what to do with himself.
Mrs. Granger's hands fluttered over Hermione, touching her shoulders, her damp cheeks, smoothing her hair.
"We thought you were - how did you - where have you - oh my sweet baby girl." Her arms clamped around her daughter, as if she wanted to merge her daughter into herself, as if otherwise, Hermione would disappear from her sight permanently.
"It's a long story, Mum," Hermione said in a muffled voice, as she returned her mother's embrace. Her eyes sought Harry's, and she mouthed the words, thank you. "But it - it was all because of Harry. He - he never stopped believing I was alive, and he - he came for me - he saved me."
A shadow of something like guilt flickered over Mrs. Granger's face as she turned toward the doorway, even though there had been no hint of recrimination in her daughter's tone. A self-conscious flush burned Harry's cheeks, as he came under the scrutiny of both of Hermione's parents.
"How can we ever express our gratitude for what you've done?" Mr. Granger observed rather stoically, though his voice was suspiciously rough and his eyes bright. His hands were balled up in his pockets, and change jingled musically therein.
"You don't owe me anything," Harry said, and his eyes slipped over to meet Hermione's. "I'm the lucky one. I - I'd do it all again in a minute - it was worth everything."
Hermione dropped her gaze suddenly, and Mrs. Granger's eyes flickered in between her daughter and Harry, and he suddenly wondered how blatantly his feelings were blazing from his eyes. He suddenly felt awkward again, and had to repress the urge to flee from the room. Even as he thought this, he felt an elbow in his ribs.
"Bloody hell, mate," Ron said sotto voce, "Why don't you just get down on one knee right now?"
Harry glowered at him.
"Sod off, Ron," he hissed in reply.
Just then, the Healer stepped back into the room, looking official with chart in hand, and wand and quill protruding from the breast pocket of his robes. He nodded politely at the visitors in the room, and addressed Hermione.
"Miss Granger, your examination was as good as can be expected, given this rather unprecedented situation. There has been a notation in your chart regarding the age differential, but it shouldn't really be considered medically significant. You are free to go."
"Thank you, sir," Hermione said politely, as she hopped lightly off of the examining table.
"Age differential?" Mr. Granger queried, and Hermione quickly explained. Her parents flanked her, still unable to refrain from contact with her, as if they could not believe that she was there, with them.
Harry could understand how they felt. He was leaning with forced nonchalance against the door frame, though every fiber of his being was screaming at him to move towards her, reach out for her, touch her.
Everyone began to move toward the door, Ron, Luna, and Harry spilling out into the corridor ahead of the Grangers.
"Where - where are you staying, dear?" Mrs. Granger asked, still in that tentative tone of disbelief, the way one would speak to someone dear with whom one hasn't been in contact for an extended period of time.
Hermione opened her mouth, obviously unprepared for the question, and unsure what the proper thing would be to say. She glanced at Harry again, almost involuntarily.
"I just - that is, the boys have - I've a room there, you see. The three of us were going to let the flat together, but then - but then - " The rest of her sentence remained unspoken, but the pall of it hung in the air anyway. "Is - is that okay, Mum, Dad?"
"Of course it is, love," Mrs. Granger said soothingly, her gaze again briefly going to Harry, but with no accusation in the look. "You are an adult, after all. Just - just remember how much we've missed you."
"No question, Mum - especially if it's half as much as I've missed you," Hermione replied, as if the whole thing went without saying. But before they could cross the threshold into the corridor, her mother caught hold of the crook of her arm, pulling her back from the others and withdrawing back into the exam room.
"Was it - was it those Death Eaters?" Mrs. Granger asked, worry flashing in her dark eyes. Hermione pressed her lips together sympathetically, scarcely able to imagine what her parents had been through over the last five years. She nodded, two short, uneven downward jerks of her chin. "Are you…still in danger?" The question was hesitant, drawn out slowly, as if her mother needed to know the answer, even as she was simultaneously afraid of what it might be.
"I don't think so, Mum. Most of them were killed or apprehended during the Final Battle, from what Harry and Ron say. The ones that - the ones that took me are on trial now. There's not much chance that they'll be set free. In fact, we're going to be going to the Ministry ourselves soon. Harry thinks I might need to make a statement." Mrs. Granger allowed herself to exhale a small sigh in relief, as she digested this information.
"Have you and - and Harry talked about…anything?" she asked, in the same guarded way, though her meaning was unmistakable. "Has he told you how he feels about you?" She spoke as if it were a foregone conclusion.
A flush spread over Hermione's cheeks, along with a rather serene smile.
"Yes, we've talked about it…at least a bit. We both - we both feel the same." Hermione felt her mother's fingertips press into the skin above her elbow, as she squeezed her arm. Hermione could feel the maternal approval in the touch.
"I've never seen anybody so torn up in my life. We came to St. Mungo's after - after we heard; we were actually back in a private waiting room with the Weasleys - when they brought Harry in. He - he was fighting them tooth and nail, even though he'd been knocked around pretty badly during the Battle. There were some internal injuries, and - and something with his magic, I wasn't clear on what exactly. They finally had to Stun him, just to be able to work on him; he was shouting that they had to let him go, he had to find you." Mrs. Granger's voice got watery over the last few syllables.
"He came to see us for awhile afterward, gave us updates on the search, talked to us honestly when others at the Ministry gave us the runaround. He was only just in training then, but your Mr. Lupin said that the raw potential in Harry was almost awe-inspiring. We were so glad that he was working to find you, but at the same time, you could see how much he blamed himself, how anything less than your safe return was utter failure. The visits got fewer and farther between, as new leads came to nothing. I think - I think it hurt him to come see us - we reminded him of you, and all he'd lost. And he was also dealing with poor Ron."
Hermione leapt on that statement.
"What happened to Ron?"
"He almost had as hard a time as Harry did. They both seemed to think they were responsible for your disappearance. Ron didn't have an outlet like Harry did, so he started drinking. The last time I spoke with Molly, she said that he was destroying himself."
One of Hermione's hands wandered up to her mouth.
"I didn't - I didn't know, Mum. Thank you." Even as she spoke, Harry peered back in the doorway, naked curiosity as to what they'd been discussing in his eyes. But about it, he said nothing.
"The trial will be starting soon. We'll need to be going, if you're going to get clearance in time." He produced a colorful swirl of material from somewhere behind him. "You'd best put this back on."
"What's that for?" Mr. Granger wondered aloud, as Hermione took the cloak from Harry.
"There's going to be media furor when the wizarding world finds out Hermione's alive," Harry said, speaking in a brisk tone that Hermione had not heard before. His Auror voice, she determined. They had not spoken of his career, but from what her mother had said, it appeared that this would be what he'd chosen. "I'd rather spare her as much of that as possible. She was also listed as a witness for the trial, more to annoy the defense than for any other reason." He was addressing her parents, as Hermione had already heard this explanation. "Her aspect of the trial was thrown out, since there was no proof that she was alive. But now that she's back…" Harry's eyes glinted with something indefinable, and Hermione wondered again what he'd gone through all these years.
She eyed him uncertainly, as she embraced her parents, and tossed the cloak over her head. She didn't know what the next few hours would bring, but she did know that she trusted Harry…and, for her, that was enough.
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If anyone thought Harry, Ron, and Luna's formation down the corridors of the Ministry was odd, no one appeared to give it much notice. They had used a special Auror-only Floo, with limited password access, so that Hermione could enter the Ministry in the invisibility cloak, something that was normally prohibited.
The Auror department was bustling with activity, a veritable warren of cubicles and offices tucked haphazardly here and there. Owls swooped and soared, deftly dodging all the self-propelled memoranda.
Harry ducked through the flight paths of the memos, without really noticing them, and stepped purposefully to Kingsley Shacklebolt's office. He tapped on the door softly, and when instructed to enter, did so. His friends piled in behind him, and Ron carefully latched the door.
"Harry!" The Head Auror said, with no small amount of pleasure in his voice. "It's good to see you again." His voice lowered slightly, and his eyes grew cautious, as he added, "Did you find anything?"
Harry nodded slightly, as he looked over his shoulder. The empty space between him and Ron rippled slightly, and a cloak flowed downward to reveal none other than Hermione Granger.
Kingsley stared, a dazed half-smile flitting on and off of his face.
"Great Merlin's Ghost," he murmured under his breath, and stood hastily to his feet, his chair scraping noisily against the tiled floor. "Miss Granger, you are a sight for sore eyes."
"Thank you, sir," she said. Shacklebolt turned to Harry, shaking his hand and clapping him on the back at the same time.
"Good show, Harry. I should have known you wouldn't come back without her." Something about Kingsley's phrasing made a slight sheen film over Hermione's eyes. Harry looked sidewise at her, and almost absent-mindedly, threaded his fingers through hers.
"What does this mean for the trial today?" Harry asked, turning everyone's mind back to the business looming immediately before them.
"She was listed as a witness before her aspect of the case was dismissed. I expect the prosecutor wouldn't have trouble reintroducing it. The judge seems fairly sympathetic to our side."
"But - but I never saw Malfoy," Hermione mentioned tentatively. "I can't prove he was there, that he was involved in any way with my - my abduction." Harry's hand tightened around hers.
"Luna and Calpurnia had evidence linking Malfoy to the Multiverse room," Harry said. "But Ron tells me my Legilimency on Malfoy was inadmissible?" It wasn't exactly a question, but Shacklebolt nodded.
Harry reached into the neckline of his shirt, and pulled out the crystal that had returned them home.
"This is the necklace I saw in Malfoy's mind. Now maybe we can't use that information directly, but since it is the necklace I used to retrieve Hermione, couldn't we link it that way? Malfoy was in the Multiverse room."
"It's circumstantial. We can't use your testimony that directly links Malfoy to that particular necklace," Kingsley replied.
"What about a magical resonance trace?" Hermione blurted suddenly, startling everyone in the room.
"Magical resonance wouldn't still be detectable after five years," Harry told her. "The only Adjicio that would be found on the necklace would be mine."
The group looked glum.
"At least, Malfoy will go to Azkaban for a little while," Ron pointed out, after a moment. "He was hiding Lestrange. Scrimgeour may just slap his wrist, but he can't let him go free."
"I was Stunned," Luna said, her seeming non sequitur drawing confused glances from the others. Her eyes darted around, assessing the bemusement, and she explained, "When Malfoy broke into the Multiverse room, I was Stunned, and Calpurnia was Obliviated. The necklace was still on Malfoy's person at the time. Wouldn't there be - ?"
A wide smile - a real smile - was spreading over Harry's face, and it was mirrored on that of the Head Auror.
"Magical residue," Harry finished for her triumphantly. He exchanged glances with Kingsley. "It's entirely possible, Luna. You're a genius." Luna's smile was complacent, as if Harry had told her something she already knew.
Kingsley gently slid the necklace Harry proffered into an envelope, and scrawled something on the outside. He then strode to the door, stuck his head out, and bawled for MacKie. When the trainee arrived, the Head Auror handed him the envelope.
"Send it down to Magical Forensics," he instructed tersely. "Tell them it's top priority. Have them send the results to Courtroom Seven." MacKie nodded breathlessly and disappeared around a corner, traveling with all the officious urgency of someone relatively new on the job.
"The trial will be starting soon." Kingsley turned back to his visitors. "We should be going."
"You're going to have to get her in the courtroom door," Harry reminded him. "The security measures won't allow an invisibility cloak inside." He was speaking in that businesslike tone again, and Hermione couldn't repress a look of wonder, as she assessed him again.
"What?" Harry asked, noticing her scrutiny.
"You're an Auror. It just - it seems - " she shrugged helplessly, unable to put words to her reaction.
He squinted at her a bit, trying to divine the reason behind her comment.
"Most people seem to think it's what I was born to do."
She ducked her head, self-consciously, and replied,
"Somehow, I always thought you'd be a teacher - you always seemed to regard Hogwarts as your first real home."
Ron gaped openly at her, as Harry turned his face partially away from her, obviously trying to maintain control of his emotions.
"Finding you was of paramount importance," he said roughly. "Becoming an Auror was the best way to do that. And Hogwarts wasn't the same for me anymore… not after that."
She wasn't sure how to respond to that.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, but then he fully faced her again, and mustered a smile.
"Don't be," he said. "You're here. Nothing else matters now."
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Harry's entrance into Courtroom Seven unleashed a torrent of rustling whispers. A handful of flashbulbs popped in what their operators hoped was a surreptitious way, so as to not jeopardize their privileged position as the few members of the media allowed inside.
Malfoy met Harry's carefully neutral gaze, coolly, although not without some surprise. The appraising glance slid into a sneer as his eyes moved on to Ron. Luna, as a witness herself, had remained outside the courtroom, along with Hermione.
Harry followed Kingsley with his eyes, as the Head Auror moved up to the Prosecutor's table, covertly erected a Muffliato, and spoke earnestly to the barrister. Harry saw the lawyer's eyes widen visibly with surprise, and he began to scrawl something hastily, his quill flying over the parchment.
Malfoy was leaning indolently in his chair, trying his hardest to affect an aura of unconcern, but his eyes were fastened with intense interest on the adjacent table. He leaned on one elbow, and muttered something to his solicitor, out of one side of his mouth.
Just then, the judge arrived, and called the court into session.
Wasting no time, the Prosecutor leapt to his feet, and called for a re-evaluation of a set of charges that were dismissed, as per Ministry Code 84A, Section 13.2.
"What charges?" the judge asked.
"Those dealing with the alleged kidnapping of one Hermione Granger."
The courtroom exploded. Draco was speaking irately to his lawyer, who had come to his feet, spitting objections. It took several taps of the judge's Amplified wand to calm everything down.
"And what new evidence have you to offer?" the judge asked.
Kingsley Shacklebolt nodded solemnly to the Auror standing guard by the courtroom door, and he reached behind himself and opened it, holding it wide enough to allow someone to enter.
The courtroom waited with baited breath, Harry and Ron's attention fixed, not on the doorway, but on the defendant.
At the threshold, the very air seemed to swirl slightly, and Hermione Granger stepped into the room.
Murmurs turned into shouts, there was a veritable lightning-storm of camera flash, while the judge rapped his wand with enough force to nearly splinter it, and Draco Malfoy's face went pasty white.
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Harry slouched in a booth, whose seat was made of fraying vinyl, in the back corner of a Muggle pub, Hermione tucked neatly into the crook of his arm, and Ron and Luna seated directly across from them. The latter two seemed almost ebullient, effusive in mood, but it appeared to Harry that the sudden lifting of all their burdens had left him and Hermione nothing but slightly exhausted.
"I just can't believe it's really all over," he said, for the eighth time since they'd arrived, his eyes dropping to the folded newspaper on the tabletop in front of them.
The headline read, Long-Lost Member of Heroic Trio Found: Hermione Granger Returns From Dead. ("That's a little over the top, don't you think?" Hermione had scoffed.) An inset story, below it and to the right, was titled, Malfoy Heir To Receive Kiss Alongside Aunt.
"Come on, Harry," Ron teased. "You're the Hero again, universally admired, we're-not-worthy-to-kiss-the-hems-of-your-robes. Scrimgeour practically crawled on his hands and knees to offer you your job back. Doesn't that at least warrant a smile?"
One corner of Harry's mouth turned up obligingly, as he regarded his best friend.
"He didn't want to offer me my job. Just like he didn't want Malfoy to be Kissed. He just realized that popular opinion was against him this time. Scrimgeour wants to play for the winning team."
"You still didn't have to say what you said," Hermione admonished gently, "but I'm glad you did." Harry's half-smile turned into a full-blown grin, as he flipped the paper over to show the bottom half of the front page.
There, the headline read, Boy Who Lived Rejects Ministry Job Opportunity.
"Rather diplomatic of them, wasn't it?" he mused. "Didn't know the Prophet was capable of that."
"Your language wasn't exactly fit for public consumption," she reminded him, and Ron smothered a smile.
"It wasn't that bad," he protested.
"The nicest thing you said was that `Rufus' could shove the job offer up his arse!"
"Don't forget the part where he said there should be room up there since Malfoy was gone!" Ron chortled, mirroring the loud guffaw that he had emitted when Harry had originally made the comment at the press conference. Harry tried to look contrite, but still seemed inordinately pleased with himself.
"Honestly!" Hermione muttered under her breath, but approval glinted in her dark eyes, nonetheless. Harry settled back against the worn black vinyl, pushing the paper away, and pulling Hermione closer, savoring her warmth against him.
"So," Ron asked, taking a long quaff of his soda, not yet feeling comfortable with alcoholic beverages of any sort. "What are you going to do now? Mum's being chafing my arse about my `plans'… might as well pass some of the same on down to you." His eyes darted, not too subtly, between his two best friends.
"Yes, Harry," Hermione said, in a teasing tone that said she was all too aware of Ron's insinuations. "What are you going to do now?"
A sudden, hungry look flared in Harry's green eyes, a look blazing with the sort of promise to make Hermione flush slightly. His voice was innocuous enough, mindful of the company they shared and their public venue, but his gaze said something else altogether.
"Oh, believe me, I have plans," he replied loftily, lifting his tankard to his lips.
-
AN: My humblest and most abject apologies for the delay. First, the holidays bogged me down. Then there was a one-two punch of the flu and bronchitis. And then I was just so out of the groove that I had a hard time getting back in. I hope there are people out there still interested in this! (And let us not even mention poor "Resistance". I hope an update won't be too far out in the future.)
You may leave a review on your way out, if you like (if you're still speaking to me, that is!)
Oh, and I did kind of gloss over the end of the trial. That was a deliberate choice, because my knowledge of American Law comes from television and one Criminal Justice class in college. My knowledge of British Law is even sketchier, so hopefully, discrepancies can be chalked up to, "Well, this is the Wizarding World, after all." I wasn't really trying for any kind of real-world accuracy, because it is, frankly, out of my grasp.
Epilogue to come. Many thanks for your patience.
lorien
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