Here is the final chapter of "Bat Returns From Hell" - unless I decide to write an epilogue.
The Bat Returns From Hell
- Chapter 17: Going Back
After almost a decade, the moment had arrived. Finally, Harry was going home and Hermione was coming - if not home - then at least back to England. Her Apparition was so rusty that she feared Splinching herself in an overly ambitious trans-oceanic try, even side-alonging with Harry. Harry was fine with Muggle airplanes, and quite content to leave arrangements to Hermione's greater familiarity.
Harry checked them out of the Waldorf. Expecting her to be at the curb with one of New York's innumerable taxis, Harry did a double-take when, instead, he saw her chatting with the driver of a black stretch Lincoln Town Car limousine with "RUNWAY" vanity plates.
"Being the new owner of Runway has its share of perks," she told him, with a flirtatious wink.
Without another word, the driver took the luggage trolley from the hotel bellman and began putting their things in the trunk. Harry thought he'd been traveling light - only two bags - but Hermione had but one.
"That's all?" he questioned.
She leaned over and whispered in his ear, "Yes. I'm out of practice with plenty of things, but I still know my Shrinking Charms…. Now get in."
Harry ducked into the limousine while Hermione gave the driver instructions, "McArthur Airport in Islip."
Hermione entered, offering Harry her hand - now bearing a 24- (or, by another measure, 35-) carat Tiffany's souvenir. They snogged all the way to the airport.
When the limo's momentum slowed, they broke apart and quickly made themselves presentable. "Not long now," Hermione remarked as the vehicle slowly approached a boxy, bright white sheet-metal building.
"Umm … where's the terminal?" Harry asked.
"We don't need one," she answered. "Look!"
The limo around the side of the building, and Harry saw "RUNWAY," stenciled in meter-high letters.
"Your own hanger…," he said appreciatively.
Hermione pushed the button that lowered the tinted glass window next to her. A loud, whiny noise flooded in, forcing her to raise it again. Taxiing from the hanger was a Boeing business jet with the same RUNWAY logo on its tail.
"And a plane to go with it," Hermione added. "It's too big, even for our annual Paris excursions. I'll downsize it, but for now, it's all we have with trans-Atlantic range. I'm sure you'll like it. Ms. Beastly has private sleeping quarters."
"How can you stand that woman?" Harry hissed faintly so the driver (a Runway employee) could not overhear. "Everything I've read about her, or that you've told me, says she's an insufferable … well, it rhymes with `witch'.''
"She gave me a chance, Harry," Hermione explained in a whisper of her own. "For all her faults, she let me rise as far as my talent would take me. And she … she helped me at the end…."
"Why would she help you become her boss?" Harry mumbled. "That's not like her…."
"It is so," Hermione said so softly that Harry could barely hear. "She appreciates loyalty. I told her at the outset of the negotiations that I needed her to stay on - even though my lawyers wanted that as a bargaining chip. Well, all the problems we had in the negotiations … none involved her. The holdouts, her own people, ironically - were just angling for more money…. I thought I'd have to pay it until she showed me something…."
Harry broke in. "To get more for herself, I'd wager…."
"Not at all," Hermione disagreed, a little more loudly than intended. The driver, still waiting for the plane to turn about, glanced back.
Harry held up a hand, signaling Hermione to stay silent. His wand was in his other hand, hidden from the Muggle. "Imperturbatus," he spelled. "I hoped not to do that. I might have damaged something in this car, but it can't be helped…."
"Don't worry, Harry. Anything I want can be fixed," she reassured. "As I was saying, Ms. Beastly saved me considerable time and money by telling me that the holdouts held backdated stock options, which I guess is illegal. Less than 24 hours after I told my lawyers to look for that in the due diligence materials, they caved and we had our deal…."
"And then I got you back, right?" Harry asked.
"That's right," Hermione confirmed.
"Then I like Ms. Beastly," Harry smiled, "no matter what anybody says."
The jet - the size of a small airliner - finished circling around, and its boarding steps deployed. "Come on, Harry, it's time to go back," Hermione said as she took his arm and led him forward.
The pilot emerged to meet his passengers. "Miss Farmer," he greeted her avuncularly, in that vaguely southern accent common to American flyers. "Traveling alone, this time?" Harry emerged a split second later. "Evidently not…. Ms. Beastly, she has approved…?"
Hermione's persona switched instantly to Harmony Farmer. "Oh, thank you, Seth, and yes you needn't worry about Ms. Beastly. I trust we'll be having a smooth ride to London."
"It's your funeral, ma'am," Seth the pilot began, "and yes, weather's nominal. Should be a perfect ride to England."
"What was that all about?" Harry asked when they were alone.
"We're having a gradual transition," Hermione explained. "The buy out, takeover, or whatever one calls it, was in my real name - used as sparingly as possible. Gradually, Harmony Farmer will be phased out. But for now, as Harmony, I'm still working for Ms. Beastly, not vice versa."
Once airborne, Hermione gave Harry a tour of the largest existing general aviation jet. The couple ended in Ms. Beastly's erstwhile private rear cabin, and did not soon reappear.
They did what now came quite naturally.
Harry half dozed in dim light, Hermione resting comfortably in the crook of his arm, as he let the muted roar of the plane's engines lull him asleep. He never expected the question she - oh, so hesitantly - posed.
"Harry … you're sure … you want to do this?" she almost whispered. "If I'm … not who you thought I was, I'd under…."
"Nonsense, Hermione," Harry perished the thought. "I've wanted this so long I can hardly remember when I didn't. I love you, Hermione. I think I always have, and there's nothing holding me back anymore."
"But you couldn't have known…. Your child - the one I aborted…. You've taken that so calmly," Hermione responded anxiously.
Harry snuggled behind her on the plane's queen-sized bed. "The only thing you're right about is that I didn't know. But consider what I did know…. Hermione, for years, every Healer told me I was out of phase with every woman in the world - effectively sterile. After all that, your confession was a godsend…. I felt so lucky just to have Molly, and now…."
Hermione needed more reassurance. "You're not furious that I kept from you…?"
"Not hardly," Harry murmured while stroking her hair in the semi-darkness. They passed into nightfall somewhere east of Newfoundland. "You're absolutely right. I know how I was. I surely would have sent you away for safety had I known…."
Harry sighed as another thought flitted by. "You know? I told Ginny the exact same thing…."
"I do know, she mentioned it several times," Hermione replied. "You may or may not know that I brewed her Contraceptive Potions…."
"Another of life's not-so-little ironies," Harry answered, shaking his head sadly. "You told her about the antidote, and we know how that turned out."
"I did no such thing," Hermione responded rather sharply. Harry felt her body tighten. "I'm no fool. That certainly wasn't in my interest. You did it, didn't you? It did give you a bit of an edge … we knew that."
"I couldn't have told her if I'd wanted to," Harry resisted, "because I didn't know about any antidote until it was over. I was your typical clod. I left all that to you two - and Fleur."
"Then how in Hades did she find…? Oh, damn…." Desolation crept into her voice.
"What's wrong, Hermione?"
"I told … Ron…."
"Why him, but not me?"
"Simple, he asked," Hermione groaned. "About two weeks before - well, you know - he said he worried about Ginny harming herself, her child-bearing ability, by doing what she was doing…."
"The big brother routine," Harry commented.
"Or so I thought," Hermione said somewhat grimly. "I told him not to worry - it was reversible, and I kept antidote in Madam Pomfrey's office. He must have told her."
"If he did, then Ron should have been sorted into Slytherin," Harry growled. "I wouldn't put it past him, though."
"You think he did it on purpose?" Hermione asked tightly.
"We'll never know, I suppose," Harry said equally tensely. "But we both know how jealous he was where you were concerned."
Hermione sighed. "Ron's dead. It's no use speculating."
"We lost almost a decade, Hermione."
"And you gained Molly," she reminded him. "A fair trade, I suspect."
"For me, yes," Harry grunted. "You're who suffered."
* * * *
Once they left the Runway jet at Gatwick, the positions of leader and led switched. England was Harry's home turf, not Hermione's.
They took a short drive in a hired car to a secure location. From there they Flooed to Potter Manor.
"Molly will love you," Harry encouraged her as they departed. "No doubt in my mind."
Still, Hermione was tense, almost agitated. "I wish I shared your confidence," she fretted. "What kind of mother meets her only daughter at age nine?"
"Hermione, neither of us could have known," Harry reassured.
"You're sure we'll have privacy?" she raised another concern. "I'll die if I have an audience for this."
"I called ahead from the airport," Harry explained the arrangements for seemingly the twentieth time. "Tonks has everything under control. Sure, everyone can't wait to see you again after all these years, but they understand that Molly's more important. Only Molly and Deegie, her elf nanny, will be in the house when we arrive."
Green flames flared in the sitting room fireplace of Potter Manor. In a puff of soot, Harry popped out.
He looked around. The room was dark, meaning that Molly had not yet noticed his return - but not for long.
Molly's soprano voice questioned, "Daddy?"
"In here, Pumpkin," Harry called - producing a delighted squeal from his daughter.
Fwoosh!
Harry sensed the fireplace behind him flare as Hermione arrived. She was badly out of practice with the Floo system and tripped as she was expelled. She would have gone sprawling but for crashing headlong into Harry.
Hermione's impact caught Harry half turned around. He staggered, grabbed her to prevent her from falling, but lost his own balance. Harry landed not too badly in a sitting position, still holding Hermione. She sprawled partway across his lap.
The patter of not-so-little feet got louder. "Daddy!" the girl trilled, ready for her customary welcoming dive into his arms. She skittered to a halt after turning the last corner, seeing her father with a strange woman in those arms she considered hers.
"Daddy?"
By then Harry was standing, and Hermione nearly so. "Hi cutie, I'm back."
For once, Molly paid him no mind. "Is that her … Hermione?"
"Yes it is," Harry answered happily.
Hermione started introducing herself. "That's me, I'm…."
"She's prettier than the photos," Molly pronounced.
So she was. Harry's photographs were a decade old - before Hermione had vanished from his life … before his wedding … before Molly was born. Today's Hermione Granger was also Harmony Farmer, erstwhile administrative assistant to the Executive Editor of Runway Magazine. She looked the part.
Her auburn-brown hair, no longer bushy, untamable, and uncut, hung in gentle shoulder-length waves, ending in an even cut. On either side of her lightly made up face, those waves merged into understated curls. Harry thought she looked like every day was Yule Ball day.
Hermione was also at least an inch taller than Harry's pictures - genuine growth - and more in heels. Yet she weighed several kilos less, a testament to the demands of her job. She also wore nylons, not Hogwarts knee-socks, although the left had a large run, courtesy of her tumbling entrance.
In place of shapeless Hogwarts robes and nondescript student togs, Hermione wore a casually elegant sleeveless terracotta dress with silver highlights. Cinched with a decorative silver chain belt, the dress flared and ended just above her knees.
"She is prettier than in the pictures," Harry agreed.
"Will you stay?" Molly cut to the chase, her eyes intense.
The girl was rather more forward than Hermione expected, "I would like to stay here … with you and Harry, but I won't do anything you don't want. You were here first, after all."
Hermione stopped. Asking whether Molly wanted her to stay was harder than anticipated - because Molly, with her orange-red hair and emerald eyes, was every bit Harry and Ginny's child.
Hermione still feared intruding. In the back of her mind, she saw herself doing exactly what she originally left to prevent - coming between Harry and Ginny….
It was easier to ask him. "Harry. Do you want me to stay? Really?"
"Hermione," Harry rumbled in the low voice he used when holding nothing back. "I want you with me forever … and I think Molly does to, do you cutie?"
Harry rescued Hermione once again - articulating the question that stuck in her throat.
Molly frowned, not in sadness but thought. "Would … would you be my Mummy, then? She's left."
Hermione's smile seemed to light her from within. "Molly dear, I-I … I am your mother, and I'd be honored to be your Mummy."
The red-haired girl took a tentative step towards Hermione, and Hermione did the same. Then Harry intervened, scooped up the child, and whisked her to their eye level. "I love you, Pumpkin," he declared, uttering both a statement and a vow. His tears glistened as he continued. "Hermione, she'll love you too … as much as she loves me…. Just give her a chance…."
"Oh, Daddy…! Oh, Mummy!"
A group hug ensued. Lowering his daughter slightly, Harry turned towards Hermione and gave her a slow, lingering kiss. "Will you put it back on?" he murmured.
"Of course," she whispered back.
* * * *
Harry, Hermione, and Molly shared their first family dinner together in Potter Manor's small dining room. They had one last night's privacy before it was off to London. After a meeting with Ginny - something both women wanted - Harry had booked a live interview on WWN hosted by Luna Lovegood. Like it or not, he remained the Chosen One. They would explain things, announce Hermione's return, their engagement, and take a few call-in questions.
That was tomorrow.
Tonight was still the three of them, enjoying excellent broiled haddock, endive salad, and tiramisu for the two adults prepared by Harry's free elf staff - and SpagettiOs for Molly, prepared by Hermione, under Molly's watchful supervision.
The little family ate together at the intimate, linen-covered table, nothing but the clink of silverware to be heard, when Molly inquired, "Why did you go?"
Hermione knew the query was directed to her. It was inevitable - according to Harry, she was extremely clever.
Hermione struggled with her answer. How to explain those kind of feelings to a nine year old? "Because I couldn't stay. I-I loved Harry. He also loved me, but Ginny was pregnant with you, and everybody thought she was your only Mum…."
"But she wasn't?" Molly always had more questions.
"No, but nobody knew," Hermione explained, while cutting herself another piece of fish. "Harry was your Daddy, and it was only right that he and your Mummy get married. But I … I couldn't just give him up. I wasn't that strong. I was afraid, if I stayed, I would do something hurtful - bad - either to him, to Mummy Ginny, to myself, or to everyone. So I went to America without telling anyone."
Hermione popped the morsel in her mouth, signifying she was through.
"You didn't know about me?" Molly asked.
"I knew about you … I just didn't know about me and you," Hermione said sadly, as she contemplated her fork. "I didn't think there was, or could possibly be, any me and you."
"But, but … why not come back when you found out I was sick?" Molly bore in. "What did I do that was…?"
"You didn't do anything," Hermione immediately reacted, dropping her fork and giving the child her full attention. "It was always my fault … well mine and Harry's…."
"Why?"
"Because Harry tried to make come back before I was ready," Hermione tried to explain in words a child could understand. "I can be very stubborn. When somebody tries to make me do what I don't want, I tend to do just the opposite. Only after you got sick and nearly died did I know. But Harry was still trying to make me come back, and I wanted…."
"Why?"
Hermione was in a quandary, not wanting to interpret Harry's actions to his own daughter. That was his job. "Because Harry … well he's also stubborn. And while I wanted to hide, Harry was a very good seeker, so…"
"Why?"
"Because…."
"Because I think I've always loved Hermione," Harry took over. "You needed a Mummy and a Daddy, so I married Ginny. I thought - everybody did - she was your only Mummy. But even then, I still loved Hermione, so I tried very hard … too hard … to find her. And when we found out, even Mummy Ginny knew what we had to do…."
"You had to get Mummy Hermione back," Molly declared.
"I had to get Mummy Hermione back," Harry echoed, his glance sliding from his daughter to Hermione. "So I could make things right."
"And he did," Hermione added. The Tiffany ring glinted on her finger.
That finally satisfied the precocious child. They turned back to their meals.
Molly did not care for tiramisu. After very messily finishing off some strawberry shortcake (with colour-changing whipped cream, courtesy of the elves), she turned to Hermione.
"Daddy says you know more magic than anybody," Molly declared without pretense. "Will you teach me magic?"
"Molly, I'd love to," Hermione began, taken somewhat by surprise, "but Daddy knew me a long time ago. When I went away, one of the things I stopped doing was magic. I'm not sure I know much anymore…."
Harry stopped her with a hand gesture. "Wait a minute. Twersky!" he summoned a younger elf hovering in the background.
The elf moved immediately to Harry's side. "Yes, Harry Potter sir," Twersky chirped. "What is it that you wants, oh kind sir?"
Harry whispered something in the elf's ear. He instantly popped off.
"Dobby's son," Harry told Hermione. "Long story, but Winky was pregnant when Dobby died. Ginny found out…."
Twersky popped back, grinning ear-to-ear. He brought an old, rather battered book.
Wearing his own contagious grin, Harry levitated the book to Hermione. Molly, who kept her peace as long as she could, could restrain her curiosity no longer. "What is it?"
"Why it's the Standard Book of Spells - Level One." Hermione answered. "Where did…?"
"Open it," Harry urged.
Hermione gave Harry a look, but complied. "Why it's … it's mine." She showed Molly. "See, `Property of Hermione Granger.'"
"Harry, where did you get this?"
"When you left, I collected, and saved, all your things," he admitted. "I had no idea I'd have them for so long, but they're here."
Hermione smiled and turned her attention back to Molly. "Molly, how would you like learning magic together?"
Molly clapped her hands and bounced up and down in her chair. "Yeah!"
Hermione finished dinner. She rose, holding her serviette, and moved to Molly. "Well, let's get you cleaned up. Wouldn't do to get our book all sticky…." She continued while cleaning her up. "…Let's go to your room. Harry tells me you have real goosedown pillows…."
"I have a wand, too," Molly said brightly. She hopped from her chair. "Harry got it for me special."
Hermione mouthed `see you later' to Harry as she and Molly left the room. "…There's this spell. Maybe I can still do it and show it to you. It goes, `Wingardium leviosa,' and you twist your wand like this…."
Harry sighed happily as he watched his daughter and his daughter's mother stroll out of sight, each lost in the other.
For the first time, Harry thought he could look into the Mirror of Erised and see himself exactly as he was. His war was finally over. His bat had returned from Hell.
- 13 -
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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