Bearings
Disclaimer/Author's Notes: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter. Remember, I started this story between HBP and DH. Though I was never convinced that canon!Snape was evil, in this story he was. And Hermione's sister's name is pronounced "VIE-oh-luh," not "vee-OH-luh."
If I had just one wish, only one demand
I hope she understands
That she can take this life and hold it by the hand
And she can greet the world with arms wide open
Creed
Adapted from With Arms Wide Open
Chapter Nineteen: Holiday on the Highlands
Sunday, December 22, 2002; 3:50 pm
The Ministry was almost completely deserted. The last place Harry wanted to be on the Sunday before Christmas was in his office, but he had been slightly neglecting his duties during the past week because of Hermione's new sister. Viola was…amazing. He had spent as much time with Hermione and the new baby as he possibly could, but there were some things he had to finish up before Christmas.
Hermione was also in her office, but they had set a deadline of four o'clock. He was supposed to meet her in the Atrium then, so he started making separate piles of all the papers on his desk. His mind wandered to the beautiful infant who would someday be his sister-in-law, even though she was more than twenty years younger than him. No one had yet been able to determine whether Viola was magical-McGonagall had said that it took anywhere between two weeks and two months to be absolutely sure either way-but Harry hoped that she was.
He didn't want Hermione's little sister cut off from the world that was so integral to him and his friends; however, if she was not magical, that would not change the love and support she would receive from any of them, and he knew that. Hermione had said something to that effect, and Dan and Jane had also expressed their extreme curiosity over the subject.
He nox'd the lights in his office and closed the door behind him, exiting into the large foyer of the Ministry's executive suite. There was only one other senior administrator at the office, and Harry waved to him as he headed for the lift. The other man also appeared to be putting the finishing touches on his day's work.
The artificial windows were showing heavy snow in the day's fading light as Harry strolled down a corridor toward the lift. He heaved a sigh as he thought about how short the days were during the dead of winter. He stepped into the lift and it clattered upward, depositing him into the Atrium. Hermione was standing by the statues of the Three, staring up at their tall figures.
Ron's likeness was on the left, Hermione's was in the middle, and Harry's was on the right. Their expressions had remained frozen since their inception, but the sculptor had done a marvelous job making them seem lifelike. Their body language was spot on and Harry felt a powerful wave of some feeling, something resembling nostalgia, as he came closer to Hermione and the statues rose far above him.
"Hey there," he said.
She turned her head, smiling at him as he stopped next to her. Her Ministry robes were slung over an arm; her hair fell in waves past her shoulders. She had been glowing since Viola had entered her life, and that joy was still on her features.
"Hey," she responded, leaning into him and wrapping an arm around his lower back. She lowered her head to his shoulder. "Did you get enough done?"
Harry made a noncommittal noise. "For now, sure. There's always work to be done, but it'll have to wait until after Christmas. You?"
"Just enough to relax for the next few days," she answered, and he could sense the smile in her voice. "I think we will both be putting in some long days after the New Year…"
"You're probably right," he chuckled, and she tightened her arm around him. He felt the tiny pull of her magical core as she prepared to Disapparate.
"Wait," he said, softly. That inkling of her magic faded. "When is everyone due at the Manor?"
"Dinner's at six. They'll all probably start arriving between five and five thirty." Harry considered this for a moment, imagining the wonderful scene of family and friends that was only a few short hours away. Molly and Hermione had both wanted to throw big Christmas dinners, so they had compromised: Hermione and Harry were having everyone over to the Manor today and the Burrow would be receiving everyone again on Christmas Eve. Unlike other years, when the whole group joined together on Christmas Day, each couple and family would take that day for themselves.
"Is there anything you need me to do before the party starts?" Harry asked.
She shrugged. "I don't think so. Why?"
"I need to make a quick trip to Hogwarts," Harry told her. "It shouldn't be more than an hour or so."
"For what?" she wondered, facing him and looking into his eyes. There was concern buried deep in her brown irises.
"I've wanted to talk to Albus for awhile now," he explained. "Our last meeting with him wasn't exactly pleasant, and not that I feel like I have to, but I want to clear the air a bit."
She nodded. "I understand. Do you want me to come with you?"
"If you want to," he said.
"I think I'll skip it for now. Sometime, though, I'd like to go back with you. I have some questions for Albus."
"Ok. So I'll see you back at the Manor?"
"You know it, mister," she said, and leaned in for a kiss. It was quick, only a phantom whisper of her lips against his; when he opened his eyes, she was gone. Her Disapparition had been silent. He stood there staring at the empty space, letting the lingering scent of her perfume tease his nostrils, and then Disapparated as well.
He reappeared outside the main gates of Hogwarts, which were ajar. Snow was falling heavily and silently around him; the sky was a gloomy gray and visibility was already disappearing as the night began to fall across the Highlands.
As he passed through the gate, he felt a tingle of magic that he assumed was caused by the wards around the school. He passed through quite unmolested, though, and walked for several minutes along the snowy path toward the castle. As he rounded the final corner, Hogwarts came into view, in all of its gothic glory. The tallest turrets and towers were barely visible in the falling snow.
He turned toward the lake instead of continuing to the castle, trudging through the deepening snow, without the aid of any charms, around the far shore. His destination blended almost perfectly with the accumulating whiteness, but he knew where it was without any visual cues.
The White Tomb was an impressive piece of masonry, almost as impressive as the statues in the Atrium. Its pristine marble had remained immaculately maintained since Albus had been formally buried here, and as Harry laid a hand across the top of the ivory sarcophagus, warmth not of the air permeated his skin.
Out here on the far side of the lake, with the Forbidden Forest pressing in on his left, the darkening day held a muted, hushed quality. The insulation of the falling snow contributed to this feeling, and Harry couldn't have thought of a more peaceful final resting place for Albus. The warm stone beneath his hand almost hummed against the twilight, and he mourned the loss of the unnatural warmth as he turned from the tomb. He wanted to get inside Hogwarts before night actually fell, so he cast several charms to melt the snow and keep him warm.
A few minutes later, he was mounting the final staircase to the corridor before the Headmistress's office. Hogwarts was just as deserted as the Ministry had been; Harry had thought he had seen Mrs. Norris, but other than that, the corridors were dark and soundless. The gargoyle moved aside without him having to give any kind of password, nodding at him as he passed under its outstretched wing. There seemed to be some kind of intelligence lurking behind those eyes, and Harry wondered if the gargoyle was really only very advanced magic.
He knocked on the door to the office as a courtesy, but he did not expect McGonagall to be there. She was due at the Manor in less than two hours, so she was probably either in her quarters or at her home away from Hogwarts. If there were students at the castle for the holiday recess, Harry had not seen any of them.
No answer came, so he turned the knob and entered the office. It was dark and deserted. He waved his hand at the sconces on the walls, restoring light to the large, circular room. Several portraits blinked in surprise at the light and there were murmurs of shock at seeing Harry Potter, but he ignored them for the most part. His eyes were singularly focused on the large portrait hanging over the desk on the back wall.
"Harry," it said, with surprise in the voice. Albus stared down at him with wide blue eyes, looking nothing like the calm, cool, and benevolent Headmaster he had seemed in life.
"Albus," Harry responded, moving to the desk and sitting sideways on it. "You seem surprised to see me."
"Forgive me, Harry. It is nearing Christmas and with the way our last meeting went, I would not have expected you to visit for some time."
Harry smiled; it was a hard look, hearkening back to the days of the war. "I am not as juvenile as I once was, Albus," he said.
The portrait inclined its head. "And I never said you were. I do think I must apologize for what I said, though. You had a war to win, and although Mr. Malfoy might have been redeemable, he was acceptable collateral damage. I still think it is odd he had the Horcrux in his possession, though…"
"As do I," Harry agreed. "But that is not why I came here today. I also want to apologize for the way I acted. I had only been back in Britain for a short time, and I was unprepared for how quickly I had to adjust to everything. I think I took it out on you, Minerva, and Hogwarts."
"Hogwarts, Harry?" Albus asked. Harry's eyes went to the window behind the desk, focusing on the steadily falling snow. The light of day was almost entirely gone now.
"When I came back, I never wanted to set foot in this school again," Harry elaborated, though he stopped, thinking about all of the aspects of his life that were encapsulated by the school.
"Why?" Albus prodded, when Harry's silence stretched on.
"I felt betrayed one too many times while here," he finally continued. "It was like the home the Dursleys never gave me, but it was a constant struggle. There were the old prejudices, the lack of guidance for students raised in the Muggle world, the ever larger threat of Voldemort, and expectations that I honestly did not know how to deal with as a teenager."
"I am truly sorry I was not there at the end, Harry…"
Harry waved it off, still staring at the snowstorm. "It wouldn't have been your battle to fight. Or win. I had to be the one, at the end, to finally do it."
"But to put all of that on you, when you were so young?"
Harry glanced back to the portrait. "When did you become so sentimental, Albus? You knew all along that it would be me in the end."
The portrait's mouth widened into an ironic smile. "Death rearranges your priorities, my boy. When you are alive, hindsight is something in which you indulge only occasionally. When you are dead, hindsight is the only thing you have left. My days are filled with thoughts of how things could have been different."
"There are some things I would change if I could go back," Harry said. "But we also did finally win against Riddle and have purged many of the old prejudices since the end of the war… So I'm not sure how much I would actually change. Except for you dying, of course," Harry added, glancing up at Albus. He hadn't wanted to sound callous, and it would have made certain things much easier if the old man was still around.
"I would have been dead by now, anyway," the portrait said. "I was old, Harry. Very old. As I am sure you know, I made several enormous mistakes at the end, some of which contributed to my death."
Harry conceded the point. "You're right, I suppose. I do sometimes wish you were still here, though…" He was now staring at the portrait. If a painting could express emotion, the picture looked somber and regretful.
"You have done fine on your own, Harry," Albus said, quietly. "I would have only been in your way."
"I don't know about that," Harry responded. "I've had to make some large decisions recently, none without consequences and repercussions, and I just hope I'm doing the right thing by everyone."
Harry had voiced these concerns only to Hermione; she had of course told him he had made all the right decisions and was doing a wonderful job balancing all of his responsibilities, but it almost felt like the fate of the world had sunk back onto his shoulders during recent months. When he lay awake, with nothing but the sound of Hermione's breathing to break the stillness of the dark night, he sometimes wondered if he was strong enough to protect the ones he loved and move forward with his plans. He was aware of what some people called his savior complex, and it had kicked in once again after he'd been elected. There were so many things he wanted to accomplish, and most of them were dangerous or at least could possibly be dangerous to the ones he cared about the most.
There was no open warfare like there had been during his teenage years, but just because the pureblood resistance was quiet did not mean it was any less stubborn or potent. Narcissa's attack on him, regardless of whether it was motivated by the policies he and Arthur wanted to implement, was the most visible effect of Harry's election. His presence had always galvanized forces in the Wizarding world-good and bad-and this time was no different. His four-year absence had allowed things to settle back into some kind of normalcy, but that wasn't good enough.
It wasn't good enough at all. The status quo would never be good enough for Harry; it would also never be good enough for Hermione, which meant that he would never rest until there was equality, accountability, transparency, and opportunity for all in the Wizarding world. Hermione was the perfect example of what could have happened if the marginalization had been complete: magical Britain, and the entire magical world, would have lost one of its most brilliant minds. Harry quite honestly expected great things from Hermione, though he would never put that kind of pressure on her by telling her something like that, just as he expected great things from himself. He knew he was his own worst critic, but there were things that needed to be done and he was likely the only person able to accomplish a few of those things.
"I think you will make a brilliant Vice Minister. Though there will always be those out there who oppose you, violently or not, you should know that you have the ability, the presence, and the loyalty of more than enough people to make your years as Vice Minister successful. You should not let the recent attack on your life stymie your efforts because, as you once again proved, those that stand against you have little chance of success," Albus stated. There was no doubt in his voice, and Harry felt a little better. Even though Albus was just a collection of memories embedded in a magical painting, there was still something reassuring about his voice, his wisdom, and his insights.
Harry just continued to stare at the Headmaster. Slowly, and quietly at first, there were noises of agreement from many of the other portraits around the office. Harry rotated his head to look at all of them, catching many of the past headmasters and headmistresses smiling and waving at him. Some were nodding vigorously in agreement with Albus.
"I hope I live up to expectations," Harry commented, sarcasm dripping from his voice. He was smiling now. There was something serene about this conversation, something that eased a festering worry deep within his psyche.
"I have no doubt that you will," Albus returned, laughing slightly. "Except perhaps your own?" he then questioned.
"What…?"
"Harry, I know what it is like to have everyone looking to you for answers. I know what it is like to be able to sway popular opinion just by uttering a few choice words. Leaders-the best of them, that is-always have some kind of objective feeling for their responsibilities, which is then always subordinated by a subjective qualification of their performance."
"Right…"
The chuckles continued. "If you do not yet fully know what I mean, you undoubtedly will in the near future. Just know that I know you will be marvelous as one of our leaders. Your priorities have always been in the right place; you have no tolerance for intolerance, and you are usually very receptive to the opinions of others, no matter how extreme they might seem at first. I think Hermione might have helped you on that last one, if I am not mistaken?"
A genuine smile flit across Harry's face. It made him look like he was fifteen again. "Yeah, I think you're right."
Albus was quiet for a moment, prompting Harry to look back to the portrait. The old man was just staring down at him, bemusement coloring the corners of his lips.
"It is good to see you so happy."
"Thanks, Albus. It's good to actually be happy for once." A shadow then crossed over the portrait's face, but Harry ignored it. If Dumbledore still felt guilty over Harry's childhood, there was nothing he could do to change that. He had long since moved on from the neglect and abuse; he was exquisitely happy moving forward in his life with Hermione and his friends all around him. There was just so much work to be done, though.
"Albus…regarding that attack, how does the Killing Curse actually work?" Harry suddenly asked, voicing a question that had been on his mind since he woke up next to Hermione in the hospital bed.
"Well Harry," Albus started, transitioning smoothly into teaching mode, "there has never been any concrete information collected on the Killing Curse, but our best magical theorists have concluded that it annihilates the magical core. The body then undergoes an almost instantaneous shutdown, similar to what would have happen if the brain suffered severe, irreparable damage."
"Do you have any idea how I could have survived it again?"
"Not in the least," Albus admitted. "But I am very thankful you did."
"No one else has ever survived the Killing Curse, right?"
"None other than you."
"And now I've survived it twice…" Harry said, trailing off and considering this information. On top of everything else that made him special, he had survived the unsurvivable. He sighed, resigned to his fate of being different.
"Harry," Albus said, after another minute of silence. There was an uncharacteristically hesitant quality to his voice. Harry merely raised an eyebrow in the direction of the large portrait.
"Have you ever thought about coming back to Hogwarts?"
Harry had to suppress the smile that threatened to spread across his lips. He had actually expected something similar to the question the Headmaster had just asked.
"What do you mean?" Harry responded, preferring a question of his own.
"Suppose you were Vice Minister for two terms," Albus began, obviously sounding something out. "And then perhaps you go on to be Minister for another two terms. You would then be in your late thirties, possibly ready for a career change. I was merely suggesting that Hogwarts could be the right environment for you, after your political aspirations have run their course."
"But my work will never be done, Albus, and you know that. There will always need to be someone fighting for the freedom of all our sentient species. There will always need to be a voice for the voiceless, someone powerful enough to stand for the powerless."
Harry stood from the desk and moved to stand in front of the window, which overlooked the dark grounds. He searched the sky for any traces of light, but it seemed that night had officially fallen over the Highlands. Snow still swirled past the glass, shining in the warm glow of the office's lights.
"I completely agree. I could not have said it better myself. But there will always be avenues for someone like yourself to do those things, even if you are not an executive administrator in our government."
"I've only just started," Harry responded, now sounding tired. His brain was spinning with the possibilities. "And now you want me to think about what I'm going to be doing after my time as Vice Minister is over?"
"Not necessarily, Harry. I just want to suggest that you can and should think about these things occasionally. And, more than anything else, Hogwarts could use you. One day in the future if you decided to grace her halls with your presence, you could do great things. You would be influencing the future of the Wizarding world in ways only an educator can."
Rather than respond directly, Harry took a moment to properly imagine what teaching could be like. His mind first went to History of Magic, which was excruciating, but somehow he thought he could make his classes more interesting. Then he thought of Potions, primarily with Snape, and his lip curled involuntarily into a snarl of disgust. That hated man had been the harbinger of horrible things, and the less he thought about the deceased traitor, the better. He really had a hard time imagining himself as a Professor. Hermione was better suited for that position.
"I just don't know, Albus. Maybe we can revisit this topic in twenty years," he concluded, laughing weakly.
"Maybe," Albus replied, and Harry knew without looking that the damned portrait was twinkling down at him.
"Now that we have my future out of the way, I do need to go," Harry said, moving away from the window. He levitated a crumpled parchment from the wastebasket by the desk.
"I am glad we could spend some time talking," the portrait said.
"Me too, Albus."
"Visit anytime you want," the Headmaster added. "Hogwarts could use a little celebrity every now and then." This time Harry did look at the portrait, and Albus's blue eyes were indeed twinkling out of the canvas. Harry did not know-nor did he want to know-how that was even possible.
"Portus," Harry said, watching as the parchment glowed blue for a brief instant. "I'll think about it," he said, and reached for the Portkey.
"Goodbye, Harry. Happy Christmas."
He made eye contact with the Headmaster as he felt the familiar tug at his navel.
"Same to you." Then the world became a rush of color and he was gone, into the nether between Hogwarts and the Manor.
Less than two seconds later he arrived at his destination, which was the master suite of his large house. A quick check told him that Hermione was somewhere else in the house; he could feel the presence of her magic, though he couldn't pinpoint its exact location.
He shrugged out of his Ministry robes and laid them across the bed, turning to his closet to find more relaxed clothing for the party that would shortly be getting underway. He chose a dark button down shirt and faded jeans, raking his messy hair back along his skull. After walking past the mirror and passing his own quick inspection, he left the master suite to find Hermione. He thought about ascending to the loft, but intuition told him that she was probably in the kitchen, waiting for their guests to arrive and attending to any last minute preparations.
When he reached the landing directly above the foyer, the delicious smell of many freshly cooked dishes reached his nose, and he stopped briefly to inhale the mouth-watering scents. Hermione's cooking had vastly improved since their Hogwarts days, but he assumed that Dobby and Winky must have been helping her prepare the meal. Only House Elf cooking could smell that good. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he turned toward the kitchen; when he reached his destination, he leaned against the doorframe, crossed his arms, and stared in with a wonderful smile at the scene before him. Dobby and Winky were indeed tending to a few things on the stove and in the oven, and Hermione was watching them, asking questions here and there. She had her hair pulled back into a tight bun and her sleeves rolled up, looking somehow sexy in even the most practical clothing.
She must have sensed his presence, because she turned toward him about five seconds after he stopped in the doorway; her face cracked into a huge smile.
"Harry!" she exclaimed, moving toward him and opening her arms. He received her, hugging her like he hadn't seen in her thirty years, rather than only forty minutes. He saw Dobby and Winky watching them from over her shoulder. He winked and, shockingly, Dobby winked back.
"Just in time, too," Hermione said, breaking away from him and leading him into the kitchen by the hand. Hers was warm and soft and… Damn, he was so easily distracted when Hermione was touching him, even if it was completely innocent. "Dobby and Winky were showing me the finer points of making the perfect chocolate cake. We'll be having their coup de grace later on in the evening… I don't think anyone will be disappointed!"
"Is anyone ever disappointed with Dobby or Winky?" Harry asked, squatting by his House Elf friends and peering through the glass into the oven. The chocolate cake looked positively marvelous, wavering in and out of focus within the enclosed heat of the oven. Dobby and Winky looked sideways at him, smiling shyly. After all this time, they were still unable to openly receive any kind of praise.
Harry stood, feeling his knees pop, and looked around the kitchen. "Where's Libby?" he asked, searching for the tiny Elf.
"Right here!" an impossibly high voice called, and he turned toward the sliding back door. Libby was pushing the door closed with her physical strength and just a hint of magic. She was partially covered in the steadily falling snow; when she turned toward the interior of the kitchen, Harry could see that her miniscule nose was pink from the cold. She shook herself, sending some of the snow flying to the floor. Some House Elf magic took care of the mess and she grinned up at everyone
"Hi!" she said, coming toward them all. "I was making a snowelf! But then I got too cold."
"A snowelf?" Hermione asked, smiling down at Libby. "That sounds like fun. We'll have to try to make a really, really good one tomorrow."
"Deal!" Libby said. Before there was any more conversation, slight popping noises from the foyer announced the arrival of the first two guests.
"In the kitchen!" Hermione called. All eyes tracked to the door and they waited for the visitors to appear.
Flaming red hair beneath the hood of a thick, yellow parka announced the arrival of the newlyweds. Neville was just behind Ginny as she entered the kitchen.
"Neville! Ginny!" Hermione cried. "You're back!" she added, receiving Ginny in another crushing embrace. When they separated, Hermione banished their heavy winter coats to another room.
"Well, well, well," Harry said, coming around the island in the center of the kitchen. "If it isn't the newlyweds themselves, back from the honeymoon. Somehow I doubt you're both freshly rested…"
Ginny glared at him half-heartedly and Neville laughed out loud. Harry clapped him on the back and stepped forward to hug Ginny. She looked radiant-as radiant as Hermione and Jane had looked recently-and Harry basked in her warm glow as they hugged. It was odd to think that, instead of Ginny Weasley, he was now hugging Mrs. Ginny Longbottom. An image of her at the foot of Salazar Slytherin's statue in the Chamber of Secrets flashed through his mind. He had only been twelve. An entire decade had passed.
"Happy Christmas," Harry told them, backing away from Ginny.
"Yes, Happy Christmas all around," Ginny responded, looking around the kitchen. "No one else here yet?"
Hermione shook her head. "Nope, but they'll all be coming-"
Several more pops announced the arrival of more guests; Harry could hear Ron's resonant laughter coming from the foyer, as well as Luna's musical giggles. There were voices mixed in belonging to others that Harry didn't immediately recognize.
"Here are some more," Harry said, pushing open the door to the foyer. Ron and Luna were just on the other side, still bundled against the winter night, and Fred, George, Arthur, and Molly were behind them. "Hi everyone," Harry said, smiling at them. He received Luna and Molly in hugs, shook hands with Arthur, and greeted Ron, Fred, and George in less cordial ways. Hellos and happy holidays were spread all around, and soon enough ten witches and wizards, Dobby, Winky, and Libby were standing around the kitchen. The warm light in the room, the delicious smells, and the smiling faces gave it all a very enjoyable atmosphere.
Harry and Arthur began talking to Fred and George about their new defense contract with the DMLE, which had just kicked in and meant that all of the department's offensive and defensive gear came from WWW. It was a big step for the Twins, because it completely legitimated the aspect of their business that had begun only as a side project during the Second War. Weasley's Wizard Wheezes had since become the premier producers of magical combat gear in the world, and Harry wouldn't be surprised if other governments began to contact them about their products.
During the middle of that conversation, Minerva, Remus, Tonks, and William arrived. Minerva looked resplendent-and many years younger-in flowing crimson and gold robes; Harry commented that the Gryffindor colors looked very good on her.
"Oh, you always were a flatterer," she responded, with emphasis on the r's in the last word, due to her Scottish burr. Harry knew she suppressed her regional accent when she was at school, so it was always somewhat surprising to hear it come out in force when she was with friends.
"Just playing the host," he sing-songed, smiling wickedly at her and turning to find Hermione. He heard McGonagall's laughter as he headed toward the sliding glass door, where the three younger women had congregated. Hermione's back was to him; Ginny and Luna were facing him and the interior of the room.
"…leave the room at all?" he heard Hermione ask, as he drew nearer.
Ginny did not answer, inclining her head over Hermione's shoulder in Harry's direction. As Hermione turned her head, Harry came up against her back, wrapping his arms around her abdomen and resting his chin on her shoulder.
"Sounds like I'm missing some interesting conversation," Harry joked, pecking Hermione on the cheek. He felt her press back into him, eliminating all space between their bodies. Merlin, he loved her.
"Oh, we were just discussing how many times Neville and Ginny had sex in one day on their honeymoon," Luna said, as if nothing could be more normal. Harry began to chuckle, followed soon thereafter by Hermione and Ginny.
"Thank you, Luna," Ginny said. "I'm sure Harry really cares to know that information."
"I dunno why," Luna said, either missing the irony in Ginny's voice or purposely ignoring it. "Ronald and I managed twenty-five times during the first day of our honeymoon. Nothing too remarkable."
"If you say so, Luna," Ginny said, sounding extremely skeptical. Harry had to hold in more energetic laughter; he would have to hassle Ron over the information Luna had so casually just divulged. If the number was accurate…damn. Congratulations were in order. Harry didn't think he'd want anyone or anything to touch his bits if he did it twenty five times in one day.
"Ouch," Hermione whispered to him, obviously thinking similar thoughts. Harry shook his head lightly, squeezing Hermione gently and separating from their backward embrace.
Harry cocked his head to the side. If he was not mistaken, the sound of a baby crying could now be heard over the din of conversation in the kitchen. He tapped Hermione on the shoulder, pointing toward the foyer.
"I think your parents are here," he said. She looked up for a moment, listening, and then nodded. Harry had given Dan and Jane a Muggle-safe Portkey for travel to the Manor, and even though he had pumped some extra magic into its creation to smooth out the ride, he had expected Viola to disagree with the abrupt transition. Her crying seemed to have proved him right.
The kitchen door opened again and Dan and Jane came in; she was holding Viola in the crook of her right arm. They both looked slightly harried, though the immediate and intense attention given to their new daughter by the occupants of the kitchen obviously brightened their mood considerably. Viola was a complete hit within their little group.
Harry approached the week-old infant and her parents with Hermione, slipping an arm around her back as they came near.
"Hullo, Harry," Dan said, shaking his hand. "Hermione," he said, wrapping her in a one-armed hug.
"How are you two holding up?" Hermione asked, taking Viola from her mother and inspecting her little sister up close. Viola had stopped crying, but her eyes were red and the tear tracks were still visible. She cooed at Hermione as their noses almost touched. Harry watched, fascinated, as big sister and little sister shared a moment.
"Tired," Jane said, though there was a trace of humor in her voice. "I think we forgot how much work it is to raise a child," she added, looking to Dan. He nodded.
"I wouldn't trade it for anything, except perhaps a little more sleep," he said.
"Oh Dad," Hermione laughed, passing Viola to Ginny, who was waiting to hold the precious little girl. Harry watched as Hermione passed her gently to their friend, wondering what it would feel like to see Hermione pass their own daughter to Ginny. He suddenly yearned to be a father, in that explicable, inexpressible way that washes over the uninitiated when they see the progeny of others fawned over. If only his children were that beautiful, that much of a wonder to behold…
"What are you thinking about?" Hermione asked, quietly, as their friends and family continued to ooh and aah over Viola. Harry met her eyes for an instant, catching something maternal in them.
"Probably the same thing you are," he told her.
"That you can't wait to have a few little Potters running around here?" Hermione wondered, stepping close to him again. They embraced and he kissed her lightly on the lips.
"Exactly," he said. "All in due time, though."
"Oi, no more displays of affection!" Ron called, making a disgusted noise in his throat. As Hermione opened her mouth for a retort, Dobby`s voice rose over the noise in the kitchen:
"Dinner's ready!"
"Woo hoo!" Fred and George called, in unison. "We're starving, and it's been ages since we enjoyed Dobby and Winky's splendiferous cooking!"
Hermione led the mass exodus to the formal dining room that had been set up for their many guests. After conjuring a high chair for Viola-the one oversight in her preparations-and making sure everyone was seated, Harry and Hermione returned to the kitchen. Dobby and Winky were levitating all of the food, waiting for their return. Libby was standing on the counter, watching her parents.
"I'll just take those," Harry said, overriding the Elf magic with his own and taking control of the Levitation spell. "Now you three can go take your seats at the table," Harry said, gently. There was no mistaking the undertone of command in his voice. Dobby and Winky looked like they wanted to argue with Harry, but they must have sensed it would get nowhere, because they nodded.
"Come on, Libby," Dobby said, and Harry watched as the three of them walked into the dining room.
After the door had swung closed, Hermione turned to Harry. "Even after all this time, they still didn't expect to sit with everyone tonight?"
"The change is going to be gradual," Harry responded, shrugging. "Changing all of the old ways in our society is going to take an enormous amount of time and effort, which this clearly shows. They know that they are always welcome at our table, but it was such an ingrained habit to be maltreated and ignored that they still question good, normal treatment."
"Harry, the way we treat Dobby, Winky, and Libby is not normal," Hermione said, sounding quite sad.
"It should be," he countered. She agreed with him and then led the way into the dining room, into which he carefully brought all of the delicious food. Dobby and Winky had truly outdone themselves, and even if they didn't think so, Harry knew they more than deserved their seats at the table.
After levitating all of the dishes into suitable places, he took his seat at the head of table. He knew that Hermione had carefully orchestrated the seating so that he would occupy the primary position. He thought Arthur, the Minister of Magic, should get his seat, but he didn't want to argue with Hermione about it. No one had said anything about their seating arrangements, so he sat without comment.
He then found all eyes on him.
"Yes?"
"Perhaps a few words, Harry?" Arthur asked. Harry thought he saw a tiny smirk on the older man's face.
"Wouldn't that be a task for the Minister?" Harry replied.
"Or the Chosen One?" Arthur countered.
Harry was silent. Then: "Touché."
"This oughta be good," George mumbled, leaning back and crossing his arms.
"Hush!" Molly said.
"Thanks for coming and happy Christmas!" Harry suddenly said, reaching for the nearest dish. If only he could reach it and put food on his plate, he could avoid this speech nonsense-
"Not. So. Fast," Minerva said. Harry's hand bumped against an invisible magical presence, which the Headmistress had silently and wandlessly cast. "As your former Professor, I know you can do better than that."
"Fine, fine," Harry said, with mock annoyance. He paused, letting the moment pass, and then refocused.
"I'm glad you all could make it tonight," he started, looking around the table. As he settled on each face, he briefly made eye contact. "It means a lot to me and Hermione that our friends and family could be hear to celebrate the holidays. We know that you all have busy lives-just like ours, I'm sure-so we think it's important to take some time, step back, and reconnect with everyone.
"The last six or seven months have been barmy, but we made it through because we had your support and love. I know I was absent for awhile there, so I want to personally thank all of you for welcoming me back with open arms."
Hermione was on his immediate left, so she was the last person with whom he made eye contact. "And I want to thank you, Hermione, for helping me pull my head out of my arse when I needed it most. I couldn't imagine life without you now that we're together, and I hope we can celebrate Christmas with everyone for many years to come."
She smiled beautifully and leaned forward to lock lips with him, prompting some awws from the gathered witches and wizards. Ron made another disgusted noise, to which Harry raised a solitary finger, eliciting guffaws from Fred and George. Even Arthur laughed a bit. When the kiss ended, Harry saw unconditional love burning in Hermione's gaze. He knew the emotion was mirrored in his.
----------
7:45pm
"Lumos magna!" Harry yelled, pointing his wand toward the lake. He, Hermione, and his guests were gathered around the front the entrance of the Manor, all bundled up in their winter clothing. Jane was inside with Viola, unfortunately unable to join the outdoor festivities so soon after the birth, but Dan was there with them.
Hundreds of lights suddenly flashed into existence, brightly illuminating a path through the snow from the Manor down to the lake. They were arranged on both sides, every ten meters or so.
"Wow," Ginny breathed. "That's some magic, Harry," she said.
"Just wait," Hermione commented. "You haven't seen anything yet."
"Come on, everyone," Harry said, starting toward the lake. "Hermione and I have planned a little surprise tonight."
Some had originally been skeptical after dessert when Harry and Hermione mentioned going outside, but they had been coerced by the promise of some spectacular fun. Many had just been convinced to brave the weather by Harry's little display of magic, so they were willing to follow Harry and Hermione along the glowing path toward the shore of the frozen lake. The snow had abated during dinner, slowing to mere flurries. Harry thought it was actually quite beautiful, watching the sparse snowflakes waft down through the magical light.
After two or three minutes of walking, during which the couples had normally gravitated toward each other and were now walking arm in arm, they arrived at the shore of the large lake. The lights ended just in front of them, so the dark expanse stretched out of sight into the blackness.
"That's eerie," Neville observed, pointing across the lake. "Who knows what could be out there?"
"A little spooked?" Ginny teased, leaning against her tall husband. He shrugged, smiling.
"Fear no more," Hermione said, locking eyes with Harry. He nodded, knowing what she intended to do; they pulled out their wands and pointed them at the lake.
"Fresco illuminatus," they incanted, at the same time. Vibrant blue magic shot from their wands, pooling on the ice for a moment before spreading out in all directions. As the magic moved across the lake, it visibly melted the snow and hardened the ice. After about twenty seconds, an ellipse formed of smooth, hardened ice stretched in front of them. The blue magic remained at the edges of the clear expanse, providing ample light by which to see.
"Ooo, I like it when you two do magic," Fred said, watching the blue light sway lazily in the chilly winter breeze.
"So what's this about?" Ron asked. Harry glanced at him, not surprised to see genuine puzzlement etched on his face. Of course Ron wouldn't know about Muggle winter sports.
"We're all going to do some ice skating!" Hermione announced. "Revelo," she said, pointing her wand about five meters to her right. A pile of ice skates suddenly came into view.
"What's ice skating?" George asked, and he wasn't the only one. Harry grinned, knowing this would be a fun, if not slightly frustrating, introduction to ice skating for many of the magical people around him.
He and Hermione had decided on this when they were trying to figure out how to pass the time after dinner. She had suggested some kind of physical activity, but the time of year had put some constraints on what they could do. They had eventually decided on ice skating because of the large lake adjacent to their home, so they had set up the path and rink in advance. Their spells had really only revealed work that had been finished for several days.
There were some minor accidents at first as everyone became used to their skates and the sensation of gliding over the smooth ice, but soon enough there were shouts of joy mingled with boisterous laughter as the general skill level increased. After retrieving Luna from the snow beyond the edge of the rink, and after making sure Molly didn't break Arthur's hand from squeezing it too hard, Harry and Hermione were finally able to skate around the edges of their makeshift ice rink, arm in arm and essentially alone. No others were within earshot, nor could any of the others keep up with them.
"I love you, Hermione," Harry said, squeezing her hand and leaning to the left, bringing them around the north edge of the rink.
"Oh Harry," she said. He looked at her. Her rosy cheeks and pink nose made her incredibly beautiful in that moment. "I love you too. Thank you for such a wonderful night."
"You're welcome," he said, moved again by the look in her eyes. Delighted screams interrupted their reverie for a moment, and they looked up to see Ginny and Fred racing across the southern portion of the rink. Fred crashed halfway across, sliding to a stop at the snowy edge. They watched as Ginny, laughing, pulled her older brother up.
"I just had a strange thought," Hermione said, refocusing Harry's attention.
"Do tell," he urged.
"I hope our children can make these kinds of memories," she said. "Ours, and Ginny and Neville's, and Ron and Luna's," she clarified. "Could you imagine what this would be like with a bunch of first years speeding around the ice?"
"Chaos!" Harry yelled, throwing his head back and enjoying the sensation of the cold air rushing through his hair. "But I probably wouldn't trade it for anything. I know I wouldn't trade this moment for anything," he finished, maneuvering a little and coming around, so that he was skating backward while facing Hermione. He placed his hands on her hips and lifted her up, twirling them around in a few circles as they moved along the ice. Her face split open in an amazed, joyous grin; she leaned down and he looked up. They kissed in mid-spin.
After a few breathless seconds, the kiss ended. Harry gently put Hermione back on the ice and moved back to her side, so that they were facing the same direction again. He leaned left and this time they arced around the southern edge of the rink.
"That was amazing, Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, wonder filling her voice. "You're amazing."
"I must get it from you," he said.
"Maybe," she told him, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. After that, they skated in silence for about five minutes, content to watch everyone around them. Arthur and Molly were linked by the arm and skating quietly around the rink as well, though they were opposite Harry and Hermione. They appeared to be talking about something; both were grinning.
"And to think, after Christmas we have to go back to work," Harry said.
"Don't ruin it!" Hermione chastised him, though she was only kidding. "But that does remind me about something. When do you leave for Rome?"
"January second," Harry supplied. "I should be back very late on the fourth."
"And who's going with you?"
"Three of the other Directors: Hillmook, Nebnar, and Kregg."
"What do you think of them?" Her questions were coming one after the other. Harry could sense some latent worry beneath her words, but he chose not to point it out. She did not need the added stress at the moment. After the attack on him in the Alley, Ragnok had wanted to cancel the envoy to Rome, but Harry had insisted that he still be allowed to make the trip for Ragnok and Gringotts. Ragnok had relented, albeit reluctantly. Harry supposed it showed how far their relationship had come, for the supreme Goblin to acquiesce to Harry on something so large.
"Hillmook and Nebnar seem fine," he explained. "They have been supporters of me all along and Ragnok expressed his confidence in them. That's enough for me. Kregg, on the other hand, is a bit of an enigma. Ragnok has never said anything overtly bad about him, but Kregg seems to be the only Director to directly undermine Ragnok's authority without any repercussions. He's very…passive-aggressive? Or maybe just passive. In any case, it will be interesting to see what he does during our talks with the Italian government."
"Oh," Hermione intoned. "Hmm…are you going to be speaking in Rome as the Vice Minister too?"
"If the opportunity presents itself. I need to start being as diplomatic as possible, if Arthur and I are to accomplish any of our goals."
"You'll be brilliant, love," Hermione told him, skating closer to him. Their hips touched and she leaned her head against his shoulder. As he pressed a kiss into her cool hair, the magical fireworks they had purchased for the final surprise of the night began to go off.
All skating immediately stopped and every eye turned toward the night sky. Harry watched as the exploding fireworks reflected off the upturned faces of his friends and, most importantly, the love of his life. He just stared at her until his gaze tore her eyes from the fireworks.
"What?"
"I know I just said it, but I'll say it again. I love you."
The corners of her eyes crinkled as she smiled again, and she leaned forward. This time the kiss was deep and languid, an expression of all the passion and love they felt for each other. Harry thought she tasted and felt like heaven.
They eventually broke the kiss and resumed watching the fireworks, side by side with an arm wrapped around each other. The exploding fireworks illuminated a similar scene across the rink, where the most were standing with their significant other.
That is, until Fred hit Ginny squarely in the back of the head with a large snowball.
"Fred!!!" she screeched. "This means war!"
-->