The Bat Returns From Hell
- Chapter 15: Miss Farmer I Presume?
Harry immediately took Hlr. Huxley's advice. He slipped into the waiting room, gathered his meager things, and looked for a private Apparition point back to Potter Manor. Just before he vanished, Tonks called on him to wait.
Harry was exhausted. "What is it?" he grumbled.
"Harry," Tonks addressed him, "you know I haven't agreed with many of your choices about her…. But you're … you're still the best friend anybody in the world could hope for. You saved her life last night, again, while risking your own…."
"Some friend I've been," Harry scoffed. "I broke just about every promise I ever made to her. Even tonight I put a Tracking Charm on her handbag. That helped save her, but was one more broken promise…."
"You saved her life. That's all that matters, Harry," Tonks insisted.
"Not anymore," Harry sighed. "It's over for me. She's found someone else. I only hope she'll agree to see Molly…."
Tonks' hair abruptly became a forest of dark red spikes, as she remembered that Muggle's confession. Hermione had never mentioned seeing anyone. "That `someone else,' did you happen to see him last night?"
"Yes."
"Well that `someone else' was one of those Muggles I caught at the address you gave me," Tonks revealed. "He confessed to ordering her murder."
Harry's tired face reddened and grew hard. Magic crackled between his fingertips. "I'll kill him," he declared coldly.
"No you won't. He's in Muggle custody, and they'll deal with him. He's confessed, after all. You need to worry about what's important," Tonks all but ordered him.
Harry clenched his jaw and said nothing. He kept his options open.
"Forget him. You ought to see something," Tonks changed the subject. "That's why I came after you."
"What?"
"The Muggle police inventoried everything they found near that van that they thought was Hermione's," Tonks told him. She held out a piece of plain white paper containing what looked like a list.
"So?"
"Quit moping and read it, dammit," Tonks upbraided Harry.
He did. "So wha….?" he started to complain, but stopped. He pronounced a word silently twice before saying it aloud. "Eurostar?"
"She sure hadn't told me she was dropping by," Tonks responded. "I'd wager Galleons to Knuts she planned to see you today, if all this hadn't happened…. I told her she should."
Harry realized he still had a chance. If, for once, he managed not to blow it….
"Thanks, Tonks."
"Anytime, Harry."
* * * *
It was almost time.
Hlr. Huxley palmed his hand mirror, and uttered, "Harry Potter."
Eventually, Harry's groggy features appeared.
"I'm ready to start bringing her out of her coma," the Healer informed Harry. "You have at least fifteen minutes."
"Where do you want me?" he replied, instantly awake.
"In the same waiting room," he instructed. "First, she must agree to see you. Are you bringing Molly?"
"Not now," Harry told Hlr. Huxley. "I won't have her feelings crushed if Hermione refuses to see her, and I don't want Hermione thinking that I'm pressuring her. Molly's staying with Ginny until this gets sorted out."
"A wise choice."
Hlr. Huxley had spent several hours preparing. After confirming full restoration of Hermione's lung function, he restored her power to breathe independently. One by one, he dismantled the jungle of tubes that kept the young lady alive. Finally, he Healed her neck once and for all. Once survived, her injuries had a fortunate aspect. A single clean slash from an extremely sharp non-magical object would Heal readily. After a few weeks, virtually no scar would remain.
Attended only by a Healer Practitioner, Hlr. Huxley performed magic that gradually ended Hermione's induced coma. His major concern was to ensure an orderly increase of her body temperature some ten degrees back to normal.
Hermione began stirring. Hlr. Huxley saw her shiver - a good sign of her vital systems functioning entirely independently of magic. He had the practitioner cover her with another blanket. One by one, he dialed down the last spells that had maintained her life during her recovery. All the glowing indicators stayed green.
"C-c-cold…." Hermione stammered her first word.
Hlr. Huxley placed a warm water bottle in her hands. She clutched it. He stood back.
Her eyes fluttered. "Where…? Where … am I?" she mumbled barely audibly. "Am I … still alive…?"
"Harmony Farmer, I presume?" Hlr. Huxley spoke slowly, but loudly, to ensure she heard.
Her eyes instantly popped fully open. "What…? Who…? Hea … Healer Huxley?"
He heaved a sigh of relief. She seemed mentally and physically normal in every respect.
"I've been treating you for several hours," he began. "You're fortunate indeed still to be with us, but rest assured you are quite alive. I shall explain everything, but first, should I call you Harmony or Hermione?"
"Hermione, I suppose," she sighed.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed, trying to get up.
"Please stay still. You've had quite an ordeal." She paused as Hlr. Huxley rattled off some necessary information. "You're still in Paris - at a Muggle hospital. The Muggles brought you here and tried treating you. Your friend Tonks called me in. Your throat was cut and you'd aspirated a lot of blood. The Muggles tried, but I had to magick you to an artificial lung for several hours. You've been here about fourteen hours. You should recover with no permanent injury - thanks to a timely rescue that saved your life."
Hermione tried taking all this in, but was still very weak. She groaned and asked a key question omitted from the Healer's synopsis. "I suppose you'll have to tell Harry about this?"
Hlr. Huxley replied, "I don't have to tell Harry anything…."
Hermione relaxed.
"…since he's why you didn't die last night."
Hermione recalled the last image she saw before losing consciousness. "You mean … that was real?"
Familiar enough with near death experiences, Hlr. Huxley could guess what Hermione was thinking. "I assure you, Harry's rescue was very, very real."
Hermione flopped bonelessly on the bed. "I … I … don't believe it…. Even after what I did…." She shook her head and fell into thoughtful silence. Hlr. Huxley was about to move things along, when Hermione asked, "Is he … here…?"
Hlr. Huxley smiled. "You know him as well as I. What do you think?"
Hermione returned his smile wanly. "I'm so relieved he wasn't hurt. That man had a gun…."
Opting not to mention Harry being shot, Hlr. Huxley brought up the most important topic, now that Hermione was out of danger. "Harry's in the waiting room, and wants very much to see you. I won't allow it without your consent. Will you see him?"
Hermione stared at the ceiling. She had no idea how Harry had found her, but had none of this happened, she probably would be meeting him this very moment. She had bought a ticket to England to try working something out about Molly….
She sighed. "Yes, of course…. I owe him my life - again. I certainly owe him that much…."
"Practitioner Clarisse, please watch the patient for a moment. I'll be right back."
* * * *
For over a half-hour, Harry waited - trepidation building. He was still clueless about what to say to her. Tonks and Remus both tried to help. Remus left the Burrow for Paris the moment Hermione was out of danger. Tonks spent some time telling Harry everything she knew (which was not very much) about the last nine years of Hermione's life.
The door to the ICU swung open, and Hlr. Huxley emerged. Harry rose, fixing the Healer with an anguished, questioning gaze.
Hlr. Huxley responded with a nod and a broad smile. "She's awake, perfectly well it seems … and she wants to see you…."
Hearing those words, Harry almost went limp - so much accumulated tension left his body. An almost stupid grin remained on his face as he followed Hlr. Huxley inside.
That grin evaporated by the time Harry put on sterile scrubs over his Muggle clothing (for other patients, not Hermione, Hlr. Huxley reassured him) and followed the Healer to her.
He still had no idea what to say. Seeking inspiration, he reviewed what he had written for those newspaper ads, but after what just happened, it all seemed so trite….
Reaching the entrance, Hlr. Huxley told Harry, "She's in fine shape and doesn't require constant monitoring. I'll leave you to it." With a pat on Harry's shoulder, and a signal to the Healer Practitioner to follow him out, the Healer turned and left Harry alone.
Harry's mind raced - thinking only of her - as he felt magnetically drawn to her presence. He would be talking to Hermione for the first time in over nine years - since…. Oh, Merlin, had he really so foolish for that long?
Hermione saw him appear in the doorway.
"Harry … I…."
"Hermione, I'm … I'm … I don't know…."
"I wish we were doing this under better circumstances…."
Harry dropped to his knees before getting halfway across the room. For a brief, awful moment she thought … she would have to tell him "no," but instead….
"I'm sorry, Hermione - so sorry, I don't know what else to say. I tried to do the right, not the easy, thing and failed at both…. If you can't forgive me, can you at least…?"
Hermione tried staying neutral through Harry's outburst. Finally, she cut him off. "I swear, Harry, some things about you never change, do they….?"
"What? I'm trying…. Please, you have to believe me…."
"I believe you, Harry," Hermione continued in a voice so soft it was like music to his ears. "Only you could save someone's life and still feel compelled to apologize…. I forgive you, not that you need it. I probably would have anyway, but to do that after how I'd treated you…."
Harry gathered himself and uncertainly regained his feet. "Hermione, I … Molly needs to meet … to know you…," he continued floundering.
"Harry, come here," Hermione directed despite being supine on her hospital bed. She pushed a button, and with a whirr the top part of the bed pivoted her into a sitting position.
As he complied, Harry got a better look at her. She extended her hand as he approached.
He took it greedily. "You're healed…. And you look amazing…." He said nothing about her hair.
Harry was right. Due to her job, Hermione paid far more attention to her appearance (and lost fifteen pounds) than ever before. She was now a mature twenty six, not the mere teenager she had been when she disappeared.
"I'd look better with hair," she made light of his comment. "But the Muggles cut it all off…." She paused. "Harry, thank you for saving my life…."
Tentatively, she squeezed his hand.
His whole hand felt warm, and his mind numb. "I … that's what saved your life," Harry said, pointing to the yellow tube in the jar at the head of her bed. He explained what he had done and why.
"You … you were incredible," Hermione praised when he was done.
Harry resorted to tried-and-true self-deprecation. "I was desperate, and … and, well, it's … I had to, after messing up your life for the last decade," he started.
"It's still incredible," she said softly. "Especially right after I deliberately tried driving you away…. So stupid…."
He was so determined to make amends for his obsessive pursuit that he talked past her. "Still, I'm hoping you can please forgive…."
Hermione parried his apology with one of her own. "Harry, what you did wasn't nice, but I should never have run away to begin with." She had agonized over that decision for weeks, since learning about Molly. "It wasn't the Gryffindor way; to leave without telling you why … not even afterwards. Do you know why I ran?"
"You were scared of something," Harry answered. "Something really bad…."
Hermione gaped at how resolutely clueless Harry still was. "I suppose you could say that. I left because I realized I just couldn't give you away - when you wanted me to replace your parents at your wedding. I couldn't say why, and I couldn't refuse, because either way would have exposed what really happened…. So like an idiot, I gave up and fled."
"Hermione, don't…."
"But I could have told you afterwards," she sighed. "I'm afraid I'm not a very nice person sometimes…."
"But will…? Will you stay … now …?" More than anything, Harry needed that question answered. The rest of his life - and his daughter's life - depended on it.
Hermione could not answer. For weeks, she had tried, but could not make up her mind.
Could she be the mother of a nine-year-old girl she had never met?
Could she refuse to mother her own (magically, at least) daughter?
"Honestly, Harry, I don't know. I have this really excellent job in America, and everyone, even my boss, tells me how well…. Oh, shit!"
Until Hermione's outburst, Harry felt his heart going to pieces all over again. "What's wrong?"
"Dammit, dammit, dammit," she swore, looking around nervously. "Everything's screwed. I need to call Ms. Beastly immediately. She must think I've let her down horribly…. Harry, do you have a phone?"
Instinctively, Harry felt his pockets. Maréchal Delacour still had his Muggle mobile, and Merlin knows where hers ended up. "No, but I'll get one," he promised and hurried from the room.
Soon Harry was back. Hlr. Huxley borrowed a very high powered mobile from a Muggle colleague. Completely business-like, Hermione punched in an international number she knew by heart.
Harry held his breath.
"Ms. Beastly, this is Harmony."
Harry heard some voice on the other end, but the volume was too low to overhear anything that other person said.
"Yes … I know. I'm sorry … I was mugged."
"Well … right now, I'm in a hospital in Paris."
"I'm dreadfully sorry, but I don't know where it is. It was stolen when I was mugged."
"Yes, I know you trusted me…. I hope you still do."
"You're sure I can't do anything to help?"
"Well, I could try…."
"No, I'm not trying to make a joke…."
"But, Ms. Beastly."
With a totally frustrated grimace, Hermione set down the mobile while muttering, "That bitch."
"You didn't tell her you almost died," Harry pointed out. "What happened?"
"Wouldn't have mattered," Hermione dismissed Harry's comment. "Anyway, I've probably just been fired … er, sacked…."
"Does that mean you'll stay?" Harry asked hopefully.
Hermione seemed not to hear him.
"…Unless I magically produce a billion and a half dollars really fast," she went on. "They're in the midst of some takeover battle for the magazine I work for, and she sounds like her side's losing…. I wonder…?"
Harry could almost hear the wheels turning in Hermione's brain. Nine plus years ago he had loved her cleverness almost as much as anything. Now, he hoped she would forget those Muggle things and agree to stay.
A quick nod of her head confirmed that she had a plan.
"Harry, can you help me?" she asked.
"Hermione, stay with me and I'll give you everything I've got. I'm single now. I've gotten an annulment…."
"I don't want your money, Harry," she told him. "If I can just get at it, I should have enough of my own."
"Do you want me?" he followed without thinking.
"I … I don't know yet. This has all been such a shock," she answered frankly. "I can't think that far ahead. Please, help me solve this immediate problem. We can discuss everything else somewhere besides a hospital room."
Harry teetered between resignation and elation. She could have used the question that slipped out to crush him utterly. Despite his having pursued her like a fugitive for most of a decade, she left things open. He chose to consider that progress.
"I'll do whatever I can," he told her. "Ask me to jump; just say how high."
"Thanks, Harry," Hermione sighed, her eyes growing brighter by the moment. "I need Larry and Sergey's private direct dial lines. I assume you still have them."
"Wha … I think I do, but I haven't talked to them in months … not since they helped me transfer a large block of shares to Ginny," Harry recovered quickly. "The number's at the manor. I'll go find it."
"Please hurry, Harry," Hermione urged. "That's exactly my plan - sell my stake. Ms. Beastly sounded like time was running out. Maybe I can still come through."
"She doesn't deserve you," Harry declared as left.
The unspoken premise was, did he?
Harry returned within five minutes, with a mobile that, courtesy of the Weasley Twins, was magic hardened. He brought several numbers, and he hit paydirt with the second.
He flashed her a thumbs up. "Larry, this is Harry Potter…. Yeah, I know it's a bit late there, but you'll never guess who's here - Hermione Granger…. That's right, I said Hermione. Finally found her after all these years. She wants to talk to you. Sure, I'll put her on…."
Harry handed the mobile to Hermione, whispering, "Okay, it's all yours - and it's a secure line, so no worries."
"Larry, this is Hermione … er … Granger," she began.
"You don't need a surname with me, but is it really you, after all this time?" Larry asked.
"It is. I've had an … well, let's just say, some life changing experiences over the last couple of days, and I'm back together with Harry," Hermione told him.
Hearing that, Harry could have flown to England without a broom.
Larry continued, "It's about time. He never should have let you get away the first time. I'm sure I'm going to love to hearing about this…."
"I'm not so sure about that," Hermione replied.
"…But first things first. Since it's been so long, tell me something only Hermione would know," Larry challenged.
Hermione paused, but only for a few seconds. Then she rattled off a stream of words and numbers that, to Harry - indeed, to anyone but Larry and his partner - sounded like gibberish.
"You still remember," Larry piped up when she finished. "That's the fix … that made Google happen. For the millionth time I thank you for inventing it. What can I do for you, Hermione? Name it…."
"I need to sell my shares, at least some of them. I've a pretty good idea what they're worth," she told him. "I hope you'll either buy them or…."
Larry cut her off. "Why on earth do that? You must know our results have been excellent. That should continue. I hope you still have faith in Sergey, Eric and myself."
"I do, but I need money right away - about a billion and a half - right away, to help buy a company," Hermione told him.
"What company?" Larry asked. "Have I heard of it?"
"I don't know. It's Runway Holdings," she told him.
She heard Larry snort on the other end of the line. "You want into that takeover fight that's on the front page of this morning's Journal? You, in fashion…?"
"Actually, yes," Hermione replied, a little offended. "I work for the magazine, actually. I'm the administrative assistant to the managing editor…."
"Well, how about that," Larry pronounced, all ears. "According to the Journal, she's part of the problem - although that could just be hostile takeover propaganda. Hermione, you don't have to sell anything."
"Yes I do," Hermione maintained. "Ms. Beastly's at least a billion and a quarter short, and … well, I - I … don't think much of the group trying to take over Runway."
"No you don't have to," Larry instructed. "I'll stake you - for everything, not just a slice. And I'm sure Sergey will, too, once I reach him. He's skiing in Patagonia at the moment."
Hermione gaped. "You'll give me a billion and a half dollars!?"
"No, I'll invest however much it takes for you to finance whatever corporate entity you create to succeed Runway Holdings," Larry told her, "on one condition…."
"What's that?!" Hermione said excitedly. She grinned at Harry, who had been floating in his own warm and fuzzy world ever since she used the words "back together" in the same sentence as "Harry."
"You're the most brilliant woman I've ever met, Hermione," Larry said. "The condition is the same you held the two of us to when you invested in us - before there was much to invest in. I trust your judgment implicitly…."
Hermione recalled perfectly that conversation from her 1997 visit. "You want me to be the hands-on chief executive officer of Runway?"
Observing, Harry gasped. Hermione would not be returning to Britain to stay.
"Exactly," Larry confirmed. "You're right, you need to hurry. These things move fast. I'll contact an investment banker for you to get things going. And I'll put you in touch with my London counsel. He's with a transatlantic firm … and his daughter's the spitting image of you at her age. Maybe that's why I use him…."
They talked details for another ten minutes before a jubilant, if rather overwhelmed, Hermione ended the call.
She turned to Harry with a huge smile. "I can't believe it. I'll be Ms. Beastly's boss!"
"Congratulations, Hermione," an unsmiling Harry said tightly. "I can't believe it, either. I'm losing you again."
"Poppycock," Hermione spat. "Tonks told me you Apparated all the way from Tibet to New York on nine-eleven, thinking you had to save me. Apparating across the Atlantic should be child's play."
"You mean … you actually want me to…?"
Hermione reached from her spot on her hospital bed and took his hand. "I'm not leaving you again, Harry," Hermione told him. "And I do want to meet Molly. Beyond that, I'm not exactly sure what to do, but give me a few days to straighten out my Muggle life, and we'll talk … about us. Okay?"
From the depths to the heights…. Harry felt light as a feather. "Just tell me how high to jump," he repeated his earlier offer. "But could I ask one little favour?"
"I'll try, Harry," Hermione agreed. "Just don't overstep your bounds - I've got a lot of adjusting to do."
"Same here," Harry concurred. "But for … for old time's sake, could I have one … one little kiss?"
"No, Harry," Hermione regarded him sternly. "No little kisses for old time's sake…."
Harry's smile crumpled.
But Hermione's smile beckoned.
"…but I'll give you a kiss for new time's sake … and not a little one, either."
"Hermione, I'm…."
She cut him off. "You're entirely too far away, that's what you are. C'mere."
- 15 -
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