The Bat Returns From Hell
- Chapter 16: Working Things Out
Miranda Beastly was not accustomed to losing - at anything, at anytime.
But now, she was losing the biggest fight of her life … for control of the magazine that was her life.
The surprise takeover bid for Runway Holdings caught her flat-footed, overseas, and due to the extremely untimely and equally unexplained disappearance of one personal assistant (who, henceforth, would be nameless) - bereft of her usual resources.
Even the Concorde was too slow to catch her up with the whirlwind events.
Back in her office, Ms. Beastly frantically worked the telephones, using every scrap of thirty years of wiles in her increasingly desperate effort to thwart the hostile bid.
Outmaneuvered at every turn, she was down to one last, possibly best, stratagem. An unexpected White Knight had emerged; its backers' identities obscure. Some people she trusted (as much as she trusted anyone) suggested Google, but Ms. Beastly though that absurd. That company had no reason to involve itself in something as foreign as high fashion.
Literally for the first time in years, Ms. Beastly found herself on pins and needles. The White Knight's representatives were due at any time.
Unannounced, someone knocked on her frosted glass door. Before Ms. Beastly could do anything, the door cracked open and a familiar, if not exactly welcome, face emerged.
"Miss Farmer," she hissed with frank distaste, "what brings you here? Even if you've brought my Daytimer, I'm afraid you're a little too late."
The visitor began explaining, "I'm sorry Ms. Beastly, I couldn't get here any faster…."
"My impression was that you lost my Daytimer because you were at death's door in some French hospital after being robbed," Ms. Beastly cut her off.
"I was…."
The younger girl could not get a word in edgewise. "Well you seem to have recovered most remarkably."
"I have…."
"Which raises the question of how seriously injured you were in the first place," she said acidly.
Without another word, Hermione rolled down the collar of her turtleneck sweater, revealing an angry red slash extending virtually from ear to ear.
Momentarily, Ms. Beastly was taken aback. "Oh, my," she exclaimed, before recovering her poise. "While it's nice that you're up and about, I've no time to chat. I'm expecting a very important person any moment … more important than you could possibly imagine. So if you would kindly excuse yourself, I'll get back to you in a couple of weeks if there's still a place…."
"Ms. Beastly, I'm sorry to interrupt, but I'm your important visitor," Hermione revealed.
"Oh, come now, this is hardly a time for humor…."
Hermione cut her off for once. "Ms. Beastly, I assure you this is no joke. My lawyers are waiting in your outer office."
"You…? Buy Runway…?"
"Well, Runway Holdings, to be precise," Hermione pressed her advantage. She began producing papers from her valise. "My formal proposal … for three point four five billion, U.S. - three dollars a share more than the current bid. Here's a certified statement, from RIT Capital Partners, of funds on deposit. An outline of agreement…. If your lawyers are ready to talk to mine, perhaps we can get down to business…."
* * * *
Harry paced back and forth like a caged tiger, seemingly determined to wear out the expensive, deep pile carpet. Part of him was bored out of his mind. Another part was in a cold sweat. Every day he went walking. Every day he took the same route - the same eight blocks to the same store. Every day he looked, but never bought.
It would be presumptuous.
A few days became a week, and then ten days. Hermione was immersed in that Muggle deal to buy the company she worked for.
During this latest disappearance, their contact was limited to occasional hurried telephone chats. Each time it was: The deal is more complicated than anticipated. The other side (whether her former boss, other bidders, or whatever; he did not care) did something. We are making progress. I will call when this is over.
Between boredom and stress, critical questions rarely left Harry's mind:
"What if she likes being a Muggle better than being a witch?"
"What if she wants more excitement than I can give her?"
Or, even worse:
"What if she wants children I can't give her?"
He sat heavily on the freshly made bed and thought of everything he still needed to tell her. Aimlessly, he fiddled with the television's remote control.
It fell from his hands when he heard his mobile's tinny ring.
"Harry, it's me. It's over. I'm ready to go home."
Harry froze. What had she just said?
"Hermione," Harry choked out. "Where…? Where do you want to go? You mean the … the deal's done, right?"
"It finally is…. Where are you, Harry?"
Relief flooded over him. He and Hermione were not "over."
"Umm … I'm pretty close, I expect. I'm in the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel, suite T42-C," Harry told her.
Her voice betrayed her surprise. "You mean … you're here in New York, not England? For how long?"
"More than a week. I wanted to surprise you," he revealed.
"Oh, I'm so sorry it took this bloody long," Hermione tried consoling. "It's just … lawyers! They're awful! Anyway at least you did it."
"Did what?"
"You surprised me. I'm coming over. I'm only ten blocks away - just a few minutes by cab. Leave word with the desk so they'll let me up."
Harry did that, and more.
Ringing chimes heralded her arrival. The door opened. Hermione slipped the bellman a ten-dollar bill and stepped into Harry's suite. She looked resplendent, yet understated, in a grey business skirtsuit with big black buttons on the coat, and elbow-length red gloves. As soon as they were alone, she kicked off her matching high-heeled shoes and dropped her matching handbag in a nearby chair.
She looked about. "Very nice, Harry. You didn't say you'd rented a tower suite."
"Didn't think it mattered," Harry replied nervously. What should he do? Hug her? Kiss her? Bed her? He settled for a handshake. "It's so good to see you again…."
She looked oddly at the proffered hand. "Harry, I know I've done stupid things over the years, but I'm still Hermione - at least to you…."
"Umm … what does that mean?" Harry dumbly asked. She was still Hermione, her mind racing far beyond his.
In stocking feet, she took two running steps and leapt into his arms - giving him a bone crushing hug. Breaking into tears, she told him, "I'm so thankful … that even after all I'd done … you came for me one last time…."
Then she kissed him, properly.
The next few minutes were a blur. In nearly nine years of marriage, Harry never felt such passion within him. The only thing that exceeded it … back at Hogwarts….
They pawed at one another atop a wine-colored velvet sofa in the suite's main room - when their higher mental functions reasserted themselves.
"Hermione … what do you want to do?" Harry whispered in her ear.
"I think that's obvious," she started saying breezily, but her voice trailed off. "…but seriously, I can't say I'm sure…. It's been so long…."
"Do you … want to … stay here tonight?" Harry asked tentatively. "I'd like that, a whole lot."
She looked at him uncertainly. "Umm … I think I'd like that, too, Harry." She put her hand on his chest. "Just, be gentle, it's been a very long time since I … we … well, you know…."
Harry's eyes went wide. "You mean, in nine years you never…?"
"That's right…."
"But you're … you're so beautiful," Harry goggled. "I can't believe…. You mean; nobody…?"
"I tried, Harry," Hermione confessed. "I tried to forget you … that you ever existed. But none of the men I met … they couldn't compare…. I guess I never could get over you."
He took her hands and helped her to her feet. "Come with me. I'll show you the rest of the suite, and I'll be gentle…. That's one promise I know I'll keep."
The outside world interfered. The chimes rang again.
"To Hell with it…. Ignore it," Harry said.
"But Harry…."
The chimes rang again, with the announcement, "Room service."
"Oh, shit, I did…." Harry sighed. "Just … wait a minute."
Harry threw on a hotel bathrobe to hide his rather disheveled appearance and let the man in. The waiter methodically arranged Harry's order, pocketed a substantial tip, and left Harry with a knowing smile.
Harry had forgotten - Hermione 2.0 wore lipstick.
"My, Harry … that smells good. What is it?" came her voice from the next room.
"I've got the stroganoff," he told her. "For you there's prime rib, medium rare, French onion soup, endive and leek salad, and cheesecake with raspberries. There's also a selection of soda."
"That's excellent," she purred as she returned to the main room. "I've had the same law firm menu for five days, now. But how did you know my favorite?"
"Umm … it's exactly what you had the last time we were together…. You remember, at the Hungry Hippogriff? That was where…."
"…You asked me to stand for your parents at your wedding. I could never forget," Hermione finished his sentence for him. "That's … what I ate when I broke. Maybe I should eat the same thing to mend."
Harry looked into her intense brown eyes. "You see, I've tried to remember everything about you…. That's all I had … memories."
They tucked in. Later, as Hermione finished off her cheesecake, a sliver of it stuck to the corner of her mouth. Inspired, Harry came around behind her and licked it off. Hermione's fork clattered to her plate as she turned and dove into another passionate kiss.
"It's time, Harry," she murmured as they broke for air. He guided her to the suite's bedroom. There were actually two, but he saw no need to mention that.
They eyed each other tentatively. Hermione was unsure how to begin, and Harry…. He was afraid of doing something wrong, and what still seemed a dream would somehow vanish in a puff of smoke.
During their previous activities, Hermione's wine-colored blouse came loose from her skirt. She fingered the bottom button nervously. "Well, Harry," she tried making light, "what's the etiquette these days? Should I do this or you…?"
Harry smiled. His own voice trilled with anxiety, "Hermione, I'd be honored." He moved towards her, took her in his arms, and began kissing her cheek, then her chin, then her neck….
The tip of his tongue brushing the sensitivity of her now fading scar took her breath away.
His hands kept busy, undoing each button in turn - allowing his roving tongue more access.
Almost immediately, they switched from vertical to horizontal. When Harry finished with her blouse, he carried on with what was left. Eventually he got there….
Hermione's world shrank to just Harry and his amazing tongue and fingers. She felt like she was floating, careening breathlessly through time and space, as he did wonderful things to her. She felt warm, she felt full, she felt a hundred different feelings unknown for a decade - or forever.
Most of all, she felt loved.
Reflexively she pulled her hands through Harry's black hair - still unruly after all these years - and clutched it wildly as he took her over the top. She bucked, kicked, jerked and but for Harry stopping her … would have bounced herself off the king-sized hotel bed altogether.
"Harry, that was wonderful," she panted upon regaining the power of speech. "I'm sorry. I don't know how … umm … to do that to you. I'd probably mess everything up…."
"Hermione, don't do anything you don't want," Harry reassured her. "But before we continue, I … some things I … I need to tell you…." He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "You see, I took a walk around town this morning. I came to a place I'd heard of … called Tiffany's. I couldn't help myself. I went inside…."
"Harry, don't," Hermione heard herself plead. "It's too soon. I haven't even met Molly yet…."
"I didn't," he answered - not going where she feared he might. "I'd done the same thing all week … but couldn't. You see … I don't … I can't … I'm not capable of giving you what I should. Since beating Voldemort … I'm not really a man anymore…."
He looked so pale he might faint.
"Harry!" she said, aghast. "You're more man than anyone I've ever met." Her own most uncomfortable memory stirred, unsettling her further. More than anyone, save Ginny, Hermione knew precisely how much a man Harry was.
Harry rushed on before losing his nerve. "I'm impotent, sterile; I'm afraid I could never give you children…."
She was, if possible, even more shocked by that revelation. It went against everything she knew.
"But, I … I felt you. Earlier tonight…. You seemed plenty damn capable…. And what about Molly?"
"Oh, the parts still work." Harry hastened to explain. "It's just … well the Healers call it `out of phase….' It's a knock-on effect of how we finished Voldemort…. Nobody really understands it, but it put my … well, reproductive system…." Harry grimaced, speaking the phrase like a high-school health teacher. "…out of sync with everyone except Ginny…. But it hurt her too…."
He started tearing up. Harry rarely cried.
"Oh, no, my poor Harry," she moaned. She threw her arms around him protectively. He was clothed (somewhat), she was not, but nothing mattered at that moment. "That's so sad…. What happened to Ginny?"
"The spell screwed up her own system … destroyed her remaining eggs, somehow" he explained. "She had conceived moments before - with your help, we know now - so I stayed in phase with her. But life sucks, I guess. Her injuries prevented me from having any more children by the one woman in the world that I could … well, you know…. And that's why I know … I'd be a lousy … husband for you…."
Confession complete, Harry slumped bonelessly. Silently, Hermione rocked him in her arms.
Time passed. His breathing slowed and regularized as he fell asleep in her embrace. Silently she laid him on the bed and climbed in next to him, snuggling along his left side.
"My poor, poor tortured love," she whispered in the darkness. "And now I have to torture you some more…."
His confession raised an obstacle - a huge one - to their reconciliation.
But not at all what Harry thought.
In the middle of the night, Hermione awoke. Shifting in his sleep, Harry spooned her. His equipment was, ahem, evidently in quite good working order.
His arousal brought with it unpleasant thoughts - she faced an equally momentous confession before she could ethically allow his into hers.
She tried shifting him a bit to minimize the poking, but as she did, he awoke with a snort.
Her hand was still against his … umm…..
"Hello beautiful," Harry said warmly. "Glad to see my condition hasn't scared you off. If you want to continue, you'll make me happier than I think I've ever been…."
"I do," she consented, "but I have to ask a question first…."
"No, it had nothing to do with the annulment. That was Ginny's idea. She realized I loved you more…."
"That wasn't the question, Harry."
"Okay," Harry sighed. "Try me."
Hermione took a deep breath. "Whatever happens over the next five minutes, please don't hate me…."
"I could never hate you, Hermione," Harry immediately responded. Suddenly worried, his eyes almost palpably bored into hers.
"No Legilimency," she warned. "I'll tell you everything. I have to."
"Now I'm thoroughly alarmed," he said truthfully. "Why are you saying such things?"
"Harry … was your staying `in phase,' as you call it, uniquely with Ginny, a result of Molly's conception?" she asked slowly and precisely.
This was the real Hermione - making some logical connection that totally eluded him. "I know only what the Healers told me. Yes. Because we conceived … a child … we stayed in phase despite everything else. But then the spell affected her in another…."
He stopped as Hermione abruptly rolled out of bed and moved to a chair by the opposite wall. The bedroom was unlit. The only illumination was through the door. Was it symbolic that Hermione chose the darkest corner?
Her voice cracked. "Then … I can't … make love with you … without you knowing…. No, don't get up … stay," she demanded as he started to stir.
"What is it, Hermione?" Harry replied plaintively. Something had her spooked - and very little could do that.
"I … we … conceived, too," her halting words flowed across the darkness. "The one time we … back at Hogwarts … during the war…."
"What!" Harry's voice was worthy of a castrati choir. "You don't mean…?"
"Harry, sit and calm down." Hermione ordered, obviously regaining at least part of her composure. "When I'm finished, if you want me to go, I will. But you have to know."
"Yes, dear," he replied as he had so many times when Ginny was in one of her moods.
"The one time we … made love, after you told me your feelings…. It was so sudden, and I didn't use any protection. I got pregnant. I never told you because you would have sent me away to keep me safe, and beating Voldemort was far more important. I used Snape's potion and aborted it. I thought that was it … that you'd never need to know … until now."
"Oh Merlin, Hermione!" Harry gasped, anguish evident in his voice. "You mean…?"
Sounding defeated, she confirmed, "Yes, Harry, I killed our child - for the greater good. Now, if you want me to go, I will. Just … just don't try to hit me, Harry. I know how men can get…."
Harry rose and began walking around the side of the bed.
"Harry, please don't!" she almost begged.
But he did not approach, not right away. Instead, Harry retreated into the next room.
Hermione was forlornly gathering her clothes when he returned. He sat back down on the bed, and she shrank into her prior chair.
He cleared his throat slowly. "Hermione, first of all, I would sooner kill myself than ever hurt you. I've hurt you far too much already. Second, and tell me if I'm wrong, I'm guessing that you've told me this because you didn't want us making love under false pretenses … the way I'm sure you think Ginny did."
"That's … that's right, Harry," she mumbled. "The one time before, I got pregnant. I wouldn't ever want you thinking that I tried to entrap you, since apparently I'm the only one in the world ….."
"Hermione, you could never entrap me," he instantly affirmed. He cautiously edged around the bed until facing her - less than a meter separating them. "You can't entrap me. You already have me…. You've owned my heart since … well, since forever…."
It seemed too good to be true. "Oh, Harry, you're not furious?"
"It was for the greater good," he echoed her in flat monotone. "The greater bloody good." Harry stopped and exhaled loudly. "Heck … the only reason I was ever with Ginny was for the greater good…. I needed her … and Ron, remember him? I couldn't do it alone…. But everything got so out of kilter…. And I ended up losing you, the one person I wanted most in the whole world…."
Hermione felt her unreasoning fear of his reaction melt away. She put her head in her hands to stop crying. "I love you, Harry," she murmured. "Even though we…."
Suddenly, catlike, he was before her, bent low, clutching her hand. "Hermione," he rasped huskily, his eyes gazing into hers in the half-light. "What you've just told me only cinches what I'd pretty well decided. Will you marry me?"
"Harry!" she squeaked. "Didn't I tell you…?" Then she realized everything was different - finally honest. Gathering herself, she started over. "Yes, I will be delighted to marry you - provided Molly approves."
"You've made me the happiest man on the face of the earth," he blubbered.
She felt him pressing something hard onto her finger. Had he lied about leaving Tiffany's empty-handed?
"Hermione, I know this isn't much, but for now it'll do. I could Transfigure it, I suppose, but I'd much rather see if Tiffany's is open all night…."
She looked down. Her finger bore the top of an aluminum room service soda can.
"… I mean they do say this city never sleeps…."
"It can wait till morning, Harry," she interrupted. "There are things I'd much rather do with you than shop - right damn now." She slithered off the chair and into his arms. "And you need to lose those clothes. They'll only get in the way."
Harry immediately complied. Festivities resumed on the Waldorf-Astoria's king-size bed.
"Hermione, will you do the honors?" Harry asked. Their sweaty grappling was rapidly moving towards their mutually desired objective. "I haven't learnt how … with my medical condition, and all."
Hermione breathlessly told him, "I haven't cast those spells since teaching Ginny, and I don't have a wand."
Harry smiled. "Forget the second part. I reclaimed your wand from Ministry custody before coming here. Had to pull some strings…."
"Who cares, anyway?"
Harry sounded a bit hurt. "I … I thought you'd like your wand back…."
"I meant, who cares about Contraceptive Charms?" she clarified.
He grinned. "I don't, if you don't."
- 12 -
C:\Documents and Settings\Owner\My Documents\HP & The Fifth Element.Bat from Hell Ch 6 Endings and Beginnings.doc.doc 12/28/06
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