A/N: Dumbledore's gay. Wow, that makes everything so different. '-_-
Many thanks to my beta reader, Tome Raider!
Standard disclaimers apply.
Chapter Thirteen: Past and Present Lives
"I didn't mean to hurt anybody," Angelica said quietly while her mother wiped the streaks of tears from her face with a cool, wet towel.
Hermione thought that was something they could talk about later. First, she had to know what possessed Angelica to have such a distorted perception of Harry's absence and return.
She wasn't sure where to start. "Did you really think I would lie to you about your father, Angelica?"
Angelica looked horribly guilty. "To protect me, maybe. There are lots of things you haven't told me about the day dad died… or supposedly did."
Hermione tried to settle her thoughts at the onslaught of turmoil Angelica's words wrought on her. "That's true, but I never lied about any of it. I held back because…" Hermione paused to give it a thought and she sighed. "I held back because I couldn't talk about all of it without losing it. That was wrong of me, and selfish, but I would never tell you a bold-faced lie, such as saying your father died when he's actually alive. I had absolutely no idea that your father was alive until last night. All these years, I thought he was dead. I never lied to you about that."
Angelica fidgeted, like she had something more to say about it. "It's just that… I dreamed about him all the time, mum. The dreams felt very real. Sometimes he saw me, but sometimes, he seemed so lost that he saw nothing else…"
Hermione sighed. "Those were just dreams, baby. I dreamed about him so many times."
"Yes, but it made me wonder sometimes if you were telling me the whole truth about him…"
Hermione remembered Angelica's fight with that boy in her school-how terribly affected Angelica had been by his taunts of Harry having left instead of being dead. Hermione understood it now-Angelica's extreme reaction to Connor. It was deeper than a bully's cruel words. It was a secret fear that Hermione wished Angelica had spoken to her about.
She put an arm around Angelica, pulling her closer. Angelica snuggled in her mother's embrace.
"I'm sorry," Hermione said. "I'm sorry you felt you couldn't come to me to talk about it.
"I wasn't your fault, mum. I was afraid," Angelica whimpered. "Of the answers. What if I was right? What if he'd really left us… because of me?"
Hermione believed that Angelica's secrecy was her fault, just that Angelica didn't blame her for it. Whatever Angelica had been feeling, it was a result of Hermione's reluctance to talk about any of it in detail. Angelica had felt that wall-she was very perceptive, and she didn't bring her troubles to Hermione, because Hermione prevented it.
"He never would have left because of you," said Hermione. "Why would he? You're the most adorable imp." She pinched Angelica's nose.
Angelica smiled through her tears for a moment before it waned once more. "I'm not natural. I'm a freak. I'm smarter than any child I know and smarter than a few grown-ups, too. And I-I have powerful magic.
Hermione stared at her, shocked all over again. "Who called you that? Did someone call you a freak?"
Angelica's lips trembled. "Some kids at school…"
Hermione had to settle her growing anger. "Do you-do you wish to transfer to another school, Angelica? I know I told you I won't let you, anymore, but if they're hurting you this way-"
"No! Please don't, mum. I like Inglewood, and Pramilla and Millhouse stand up for me too, sometimes. It's not so bad that I'd like to leave it. It just got me thinking this time, is all…"
Hermione thought about it for a moment. "You know, Harry used to get called a freak by Muggles, too."
Angelica's eyes widened before they narrowed in disbelief. "Is that true?"
"Every word of it. I swear," Hermione said, placing a hand on her heart. "His Muggle Aunt and Uncle, your grandmother's sister, used to call him a freak all the time."
This time, Angelica looked like she believed. "What did he do about it?"
"He couldn't do anything about it for a long time. He just accepted it because for a while, he believed he was. Then he found Hogwarts… or Hogwarts found him, rather, and he realized he wasn't a freak, and he found people who loved him, and that was mostly enough. Besides that, he grew up to be a good man in spite of his difficult childhood. He was very brave and noble, and he never would have let anyone be called a freak, much less think it of his own daughter."
Angelica sniffed, and her eyes were finally dry. "Why didn't he come back to us, then? If he was alive, why did he hide from us?"
Hermione tightened her embrace. "I don't know, sweetheart. I've asked him, and he told me he's not ready to explain all of it. I think he was suffering something, and he couldn't quite tell me what it's all about, but he said he always wanted to come back… whenever he remembered, but he couldn't, for some reason. That's all I can tell you now, but when I learn more, I'll pass it on. Is that alright?"
Angelica nodded.
After a few moments of silence, Hermione asked, "Are you better now?"
Angelica nodded again.
Hermione kissed her forehead. "Good. Now wash your face so we could down for breakfast. If the stove still works, I'll make it. If it's wrecked, I'll order take-away. That ought to be quicker, anyway."
Angelica looked guilty again. "Sorry for the kitchen, mum… I'll help clean it."
"As soon as Uncle Ron's finished sweeping off all the glass, I'll let you help." And that was all Hermione said about it. "Let's get you changed into more comfortable clothing. I'm surprised you put on stockings at all. You hate the things."
She sat obediently at the edge of her bed as her mother began to unbuckle her shoes.
Hermione tickled the underside of her foot and she giggled, complaining merrily about how her mum wasn't playing fair.
It was the easiest thing, putting Angelica in a better mood, but there was still Harry to think about, and she hoped that this next meeting would be better conducted than the first.
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Harry was cooking something on the stove while Ron cleaned the kitchen. There wasn't much mess left, which surprised Hermione. Ron had cleaned up fast.
Angelica watched the scene with seemingly mild thoughtfulness. Hermione thought that was better than the awkward despair she had displayed earlier that morning.
"Well, that was a quick clean-up, Ron. I'm impressed," she said, ushering Angelica to the seat next to Ron before attempting to help Harry with the cooking.
She saw him glance briefly at Angelica while Ron was pulling Angelica on his lap. Angelica shrieked with laughter when Ron attempted to tickle her.
"Uncle Ron!" she laughed, wiggling to get back to her seat.
Ron grinned and mussed Angelica's hair before he jerked his chin in Harry's direction, a hint of derision in his smirk. "Harry did most of it. I'm just finishing up. Now he's cooking. Maybe he could do your laundry later."
Harry shot him a withering look.
Hermione found herself stifling a laugh. "Really, Harry, you don't have to do that."
He looked over his shoulder. "And why not?"
The question surprised her, and as she thought on it, she couldn't think of a proper answer. She couldn't tell him he was guest, because that would be too weird. If she told him this was her house, Ron would say something embarrassing like, "Well, I noticed I have to do an awful lot of chores here, even if it is 'your' house," which would probably make Harry feel even more alienated.
Her lack of response seemed to satisfy him. "Thought so. What do you like in your omelet?"
"Um…"
"Ham, cheese, and a bit of green bell pepper," Ron said.
She shot Ron a glare and Harry's eyebrow arched, but he only said, "Okay. And how about you, Angelica? Would you like an omelet?"
Angelica seemed to visibly fidget. She didn't like omelets, and Hermione could see her struggling to form a polite response.
Hermione hastened to help her. "She's not an omelet fan. She loves bangers and toast, though, don't you, darling?"
"Bangers are my favorite," she said half-shyly, half-enthusiastically.
Harry cast a lopsided smile. "Mine too."
Those two little words seemed to put the glow back in Angelica's face, and Hermione thought she needed a distraction, or else she'd fly at Harry and snog him stupid. She fished bangers out of the refrigerator and handed them to Harry who was already pulling out a frying pan.
"The skin has to be slightly charred at the edges!" Angelica said more brightly. "And I like crunchy toast with blueberry jam."
"Hmm, just like your mum… only she likes marmalade," he said, glancing at Hermione briefly.
Hermione stifled a sigh. How in the world does he remember wonderful details like that?
This was not going to be easy for her.
She smiled and busied herself with the toast. She noticed that the toaster was dented, and it was about the shape of Ron's head.
She glanced at Ron. He seemed oddly quiet. "How about you, Ron? What would you like for breakfast?"
"Mum sent over food this morning," Ron grumbled. "I'm good."
"Pie and ice-cream, then. I'm sure your mum won't object," she teased lightly.
Ron scowled. "I don't always have to run things by my mum, you know."
Her lips pursed at the familiar, argumentative tone.
She was about to say, "That's not what I meant!" when Angelica frowned and said, "You ought to. Mums always know what's best."
That seemed to catch her short and Ron snorted. "Your mother certainly seems to think so, imp."
"Well, she does know what's best!" Angelica cried.
Ron was about to say something else more sarcastic, probably for the fun of it.
"Yes, she does," Harry said, just finishing with the omelet ingredients. "I always listened to her before."
Hermione couldn't help but beam.
"Now, that's a lie," Ron grumbled.
Harry chuckled. "Well, you might have caught me there… " He tilted his gaze back to Angelica. "But best you try to be better at it than I was. I reckon it's good for you."
Angelica giggled. "Well, I already know that."
He grinned and shot Hermione a look. "Silly me."
Hermione felt her face warm intolerably. The bread slices in her hand ripped against the awkward strokes of her butter knife. When she looked up, Ron was staring at her, and he was frowning.
He fished a time-piece from his pocket and stood.
For some reason, it irked her. He came by and wreaked havoc then he was going to leave, just like that? "Where are you going?" she demanded.
"I have some errands to run if I want to make it for my plans tonight."
She scowled, her chin jutting out stubbornly. She set her knife down and rounded on him, grabbing his arm as she led him out of the kitchen.
Ron wrenched his arm away as the kitchen door swung closed behind them.
She let him go and got in his face. "What is wrong with you? You've been simply intolerable, and now you're walking out on us like you hadn't meant to stick around in the first place! You're too old to sulk!"
"Sulk! I am not sulking!"
"It's not just that! You're snappish, and impossible. Now you're walking out because-"
Ron looked immensely irritated. "I made plans with Harry, tonight. We're going to see each other later and talk. Needless to say, I hadn't expected tonight's get-together, so all my plans had to change. So once again, this isn't about you."
Hermione's annoyance wilted to shame. She stepped back. "Oh. I-goodness."
Ron sighed. "Well, if it makes you feel better, it wasn't entirely your fault for thinking all that. I have to start getting used to the way you look at him, again, but for now I can't bear it. I'm not even going to start on how he looks at you and-Merlin, just give me a bit of time, alright? I'm glad he's back, and I'm looking forward to have that Butterbeer with him later. I've missed that… just us two, but cut me some slack, won't you?"
She let out a breath and threw her arms around Ron, hugging him fiercely and repentantly. She should have been more sensitive to Ron. This wasn't easy for him, either. "I'm sorry. I'm a big hag." She kissed his cheek tenderly and his eyes showed complete forgiveness.
"It's alright," he whispered.
His hand came up, and the caress of it on her cheek didn't feel the least bit platonic.
"Go then," she said hastily, but gently.
He left, and Hermione watched him leave from her porch and down the front walkway. When he was gone, she turned and closed the door behind her.
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Harry watched Hermione and Ron leave the kitchen and he pushed back the pang of jealousy that threatened to overpower him. He knew feeling it was wrong, but it wasn't something he could help.
He tore his gaze from the swinging door and found Angelica staring at him, a serious look in her green eyes.
"I'm sorry I hurt you," she said, red splotches blossoming from her cheeks. "I didn't mean to."
He took a moment to process what she meant exactly. He looked at his bandaged hands. "It's not your fault. You have nothing to apologize for."
She seemed unconvinced. "Mum said I should learn to control my temper. My magic is very strong…"
He didn't want to undermine anything Hermione told her, so he just said, "I need to control my temper, too. I've been trying since I was thirteen. One time, I got so angry that I blew up my Aunt. Sent her floating in the sky over London."
Angelica stared for a second, surprised, then she giggled. "I almost did that, you know. With a classmate. I stopped myself before it got bad, but she was a bit bloated. The school nurse explained it away as an allergic reaction."
Harry thought maybe he shouldn't laugh, but he did, and he couldn't help but be a little amazed. Inflating people at six? Maybe even younger? She was powerful.
He paused, wondering at the slight misgiving he was having about that fact.
"How did you do it, then?" Angelica asked. "Learn to control your temper, I mean."
He considered his response. "I haven't."
She seemed thoughtful about this. "I count to ten. It works sometimes, but mostly it doesn't."
He chuckled. "No, it doesn't… so, d'you want me to butter the toast before I put on the blueberry, baby girl?"
She giggled. "I'm not a baby!"
He didn't know why, but he felt his face go warm. He hadn't meant to call her that. It just slipped out quite naturally. "Of course you're no-"
"But I don't mind," she added hastily. "I don't mind if it's you who calls me that…"
Harry felt a pang, but it wasn't completely unpleasant.
"And I'd like butter, yes," she continued.
He cocked a smile and laid out more slices of bread.
He looked briefly at the kitchen door and he felt slightly uneasy. They're taking an awful long time out there…
"They're probably fighting," Angelica suddenly said.
Her words startled him, and when he met gazes with her, there was an entirely knowing look there, like she knew exactly what he was thinking. "What?"
"You said they were taking an awful long time."
Harry hadn't even realized he had said that out loud. "Yes, well, some things never change…"
Angelica just shrugged. Perhaps this was something she didn't understand. "But… they don't always fight, you know. They get along half the time, and when they do, they're the best of friends."
Harry didn't quite know what to say to that. "Are they? Well, they ought to be…"
It looked like she wanted to say something else, but she stopped herself and clamped her mouth shut.
Harry nudged her gently. "Oy. You alright?"
But before she could say anything, Hermione walked through the kitchen. She seemed a bit flustered and slightly red in the face, but she smiled, and she looked incredibly fetching for it.
"You'll be seeing Ron later, are you?" she asked.
He nodded. "Yeah. Thought we needed to talk… just us two." He eyed her carefully.
She smiled, showing no disapproval.
He wondered why he even thought she might disapprove.
He finished with the omelets, bangers, and toast and set them on the island.
Breakfast felt a bit tense. Harry knew things weren't going to be easy, but with Angelica staring at him frankly and Hermione doing everything but, he couldn't really figure out what to do.
He itched to ask Hermione more about Ron and what their real relationship was, but he didn't think the subject was open for discussion since she so quickly struck down his question about it the night before.
He decided he would concentrate on Angelica. He didn't think it would be so difficult.
"You go to school in Inglewood, don't you?" Harry asked. He knew nothing about the school, but pretending it was familiar made things easier.
Angelica nodded. "Yes… sir…"
Harry actually saw Hermione's fork pause the slightest bit before she resumed what she was doing. He didn't feel quite so comfortable about what Angelica said, either.
"Y-You don't have to call me sir," he grumbled, feeling his face grow warm.
Angelica looked at him inquiringly-expectantly.
"Do you have friends in Inglewood?" Harry added hastily.
She nodded again. "Pramilla and Millhouse. They're very smart. Julien thinks they're swots, but I don't care. Swots make better company in school, anyway."
"Julien… last time I saw him, he was so little. His dad was… how is Bill doing, Hermione?"
Hermione didn't seem so enthused by the topic. "He's still in a coma. Fleur's been taking care of him all this time."
Harry stared. "Oh…"
"Life is such. We do what we can." Harry noted the slight reluctance of Hermione talking about it so he let the subject drop. She seemed reluctant to discuss a lot of things.
They finished the rest of breakfast in silence, and when they were done, they put everything away quite mechanically.
"I've got some of your things packed in the attic. I-I never quite knew what to do with them. Would you-you know, like to sift through them?" Hermione asked.
It was an odd offer, but he also found a secret pleasure in the fact that Hermione had kept his things. Then again, there really wasn't much of it, so it wasn't as if they took much storage space.
"Wouldn't hurt," Harry said.
Angelica turned to look at Hermione. "Would you… like me to clean my room, mum?"
Harry didn't find the question strange, but there was a noticeable flicker in Hermione's gaze.
Hermione smiled and she pinched Angelica's cheek gently. "Would you mind so much, love?"
Angelica shook her head. "You've been telling me to clean it for ages. I'll just go do it. It won't take that long, anyway."
Hermione kissed her before Angelica shot off to go to her room.
Harry was yet to fathom this bond Hermione and Angelica shared. He had only seen them together a few times, but each time he was by turns amazed and fascinated. The pictures in the hallway were one thing-the moving photographs smiling and filled with inextinguishable affection were enough to make his heart twitch, but to actually see them as mother and daughter, and what he felt whenever he saw them, was indescribable. It almost felt like the parts of him that were in Angelica gave him a sense of fulfillment, and relief, that definitely, not everything could be ruined by his touch.
Hermione led him up the stairs and he could hear Angelica busy from her bedroom. She seemed to be humming something that Harry found faintly familiar.
"The attic's over here," Hermione said.
She was at the other end of the second floor walk way. There was a door and it looked like a closet at first glance, but as he came up behind her, he saw the stairs leading up.
Hermione went up first and switched the lights on.
The attic was cramped, as attics tended to be, but it was neat. Everything was boxed and shelved. Some boxes were neatly stacked on the floor, and all boxes were labeled.
It was just like Hermione to have everything in order.
"I know it looks weird," Hermione said shyly. "With everything being so organized, but believe me, if I really had my way, it would be alphabetically arranged and archived… Fleur and Ginny talked me out of it, so… this is actually a mess. By my standards, at least."
Harry didn't doubt it for a moment. "It's the nicest attic I've ever been in."
She cracked a grin. "I bet. Your things are over here. And…" She gestured to a stack of boxes before going off in another direction as she nudged a small sitting stool he could use.
There were three boxes, aside from his trunk, and that was surprising. He remembered leaving Privet Drive and having nothing but a bag and his half-filled trunk.
He sat on the stool and began opening the boxes. There were his text books. He smiled and picked up his history book. He opened it to a page and saw the tell-tale squiggles of a student who wasn't paying attention. He laughed softly to himself. His charms book seemed in more scholarly shape, pages marked by many sticky papers he had mooched off Hermione's stock in class.
He replaced the history book in the box and opened his trunk. It was full of his clothes and shoes. He never realized he had accumulated so many clothes during their supposed seventh year. There were a few knick-knacks he had gathered from their travels hunting for Horcruxes, and there were memorabilia from school.
He opened another box. In it were more school implements, like his cauldron, and a few more potions, Transfigurations, Astronomy, and Divinations equipment.
The third box contained his Quidditch equipment. His pads were there, his Quidditch breaches, and his broom polishing kit, but his broom wasn't there, and his Jersey appeared to be missing.
"I put this somewhere else," Hermione said from behind him. She carried a rather big box. It reached the height of her shoulder. "It's your broom. Angelica doesn't really know about it… I didn't want her getting any ideas… you know, with her father's genes and all…"
He stifled a grin and took the box from her, sitting on the stool to open it. It looked like it was professionally packed, and as he lifted the lid off the box, the sight of his old Firebolt sent his memories soaring back to those wonderful days of Quidditch.
He touched the broom lovingly. It looked to be in pristine condition. However Hermione packed it, she had used charms to keep it free from decay. It looked perfect.
He pulled the Firebolt from its box and he could feel its enchantments strong and sturdy. The Firebolt would fly as well as it once did.
"Hiding it from Angelica, eh?" He was greatly amused.
She reddened. "I couldn't have her flying that-that thing by herself; without my permission, now could I? Because she will, you know. Fly it without my permission, because if she asked my permission, I wouldn't give it, and since I wouldn't give it, she'll sneak off and fly it while I'm not looking, if I knew-know her father at all, and she can be her father's child, I'll have you know…"
He watched her, enchanted by the way she moved her lips with the brilliant, rambling words coming out of her mouth, and that lovely flush rising up her neck to her cheeks.
He cocked a grin. "Is that all you hid?"
"Wh-What?"
"The broom. Is that all you hid? I couldn't find my Quidditch jersey."
She turned redder than ever. "I-well, I didn't think-you know, you'd need it! Seemed a waste to let it-here, moths possibly eating holes through it-how should I know you'd need it again-"
He touched her shoulder to quiet her.
The touch seemed to surprise her and she blinked up at him, astonished.
"I don't mind you using the jersey, Hermione. I was just teasing. And I… rather like that you used it…"
She swallowed. She looked nervous. "Y-You do?"
"It's no big deal," he replied, turning back to his boxes lest she see the broad grin on his face. He imagined she wouldn't use the jersey when she went out, but he was completely happy thinking that she would wear the shirt at home-when she was most comfortable.
Or to bed? Oh, Merlin… that would be so hot…
He closed his trunk and decided he would bring the entire trunk down with him.
Letting his eyes roam the other boxes, he saw odd labels like, "Gifts," "Dried Ingredients," and "Wonky Things."
What other wonders did this attic hold?
He looked around and spied something covered by a sheet with pastel stars and moons. "What's-"
"Oh, that old thing…" she began quietly. "It's Angelica's crib. She had to have one, you know…"
He didn't even think to ask if he could see it. He went to it and carefully pulled the sheet back.
The beige wood of the crib still gleamed, untouched by dust. The sheet was charmed to repel dirt, and everything beneath it stayed pristine. The cushion at the bottom of the crib was soft and very light pink, with a few sprites flying to alight on the next tulip. Most of the sprites were sleeping in their flower cups, curled up like babies. The tiny white pillow at the head of the crib chimed a soothing, calming, barely audible lullaby when he touched his hand to it.
Hermione was beside him and she traced her fingers lightly over the lovely molding of the headboard. "Isn't it precious? I couldn't bear to part with it. I couldn't bear to part with any of Angelica's baby things. Some of her other baby clothes and shoes are still packed in boxes over there… I don't why I kept them all. Maybe… I don't know. You never know when I'd need them again, I suppose…"
Her words sent a mild pang through him, his grip on the crib's grill tightening momentarily. There were so many things he had missed; so many things he wished he had been there for. Angelica must have been a beautiful child, and every first must have brought hours of pure, incorruptible joy. Her first word; first step; first birthday…
There was a lifetime ahead of Angelica, still, and she would have even more amazing firsts, but still, those baby months would forever be a dream to him.
He wondered momentarily about just how many "firsts" he shared with his parents before they died…
Hermione laughed. "Her first word was 'dada,' you know. Typical. I try to teach her to say mum and the first word she speaks is the one she learned on her own. I figured it might as well be that way. I'll be sticking around to teach her mum. The potential for anyone to teach her 'dada' came later."
"Found a few potential dads, eh?" he asked as neutrally as he could.
She seemed a bit astonished at that. "Well… I don't mean there were… many candidates. I just… I suppose some part of me hoped that there would be."
"Just a few, then?"
She eyed him so intently that he actually began to squirm where he stood.
She shrugged noncommittally. "Precious, precious few. Ask me about them again some other time."
He was surprised to note that her revelation didn't please him as much as he thought it would. He didn't like thinking of her feeling that alone. It almost made him wish she loved Ron the way Ron loved her.
Almost.
Harry pulled the cover back on the crib.
The tension on her face waned and she smiled. "And how about you, Harry. No little black book?"
That almost made him laugh. "Filled with what? The names of priestesses and the random men that wander into Avalon? That'd be something Rita Skeeter would likely sink her teeth in. Say, how is that old hag?"
"Don't change the subject. Some of those priestesses were pretty attractive, and they weren't exactly sworn to chastity, either."
"Even if I could have-and I'm not saying I could have, either-I wasn't exactly popular over there in that way."
Her eyebrow arched. "A bit hard to believe."
He was completely aware that she had thrown him some sort of line, or else he was deluding himself greatly. "The priestesses didn't see me that way. I think they thought I was… an abandoned pet, like a stray cat. I needed caring for and that's how they treated me. Unless you're very strange, you don't get attracted to your stray cat."
She seemed greatly unconvinced by the look on her face. "I've rescued my fair share of abandoned kitties, Harry, and trust me, you don't look like any stray cat I've brought to the shelter. Now do you know what you need to bring with you?"
Dutifully, Harry nodded, waving his wand to levitate his trunk and taking his Firebolt. He had no problem with cutting their conversation short, since he didn't particularly know how he'd deal with it if it got any farther than needy felines.
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Remus arrived with Tonks nearing lunch. He still looked a bit peaky from his last encounter with the full moon, but he possibly looked paler when he gazed across the floor to Harry.
His reaction wasn't much different from everyone else's. There was that significant, "I can't believe my eyes," look, the way a Muggle audience would watch a completely baffling magic trick being performed by a magician.
He then turned to Tonks.
"Would you have believed me if I told you?" Tonks cried in response to his unspoken question.
Harry couldn't really blame Remus. It was a rather bold move on Tonks's part not to tell Remus what to expect when they arrived in Hermione's house.
"Is he-" Remus stammered. "Are you-"
"He stood up to all the Polyjuice testing," Tonks rambled. "And he knows things only Harry would know."
"It's Harry, Remus," Hermione said.
Harry felt the light caress of Hermione's hand on his shoulder. It was reassuring and warm. He shot her a grateful look and she smiled back.
He really didn't know how long they stood there, grinning at one another, but Remus's voice broke through their private moment.
"Dear Merlin."
And suddenly Remus was there, his hands upon Harry's shoulders-as if he had to be sure Harry was real, or corporeal. Remus held Harry's face, looking into his eyes that seemed to be so familiar to everyone else.
"Angelica's eyes," Remus said, which surprised Harry greatly, because he had always heard people say, "Lily's eyes." It felt different-a better different.
From the look on Remus's face, he still couldn't believe it and Harry didn't quite know what to tell him.
Remus had always been the closest thing he had ever had to a parent. Sirius had been the impetuous uncle, but Remus had been the steady, concerned presence. It was hard to watch Remus looking so detached-almost cautious of him.
"I thought you were dead," said Remus quietly. "This is-but how? I couldn't fathom it. And you just-pop out of nowhere like you'd just Portkeyed in from-I don't know, Tibet, or something. I'm beside myself with many things, right now. I couldn't believe it, yet I'm-I think maybe I'm happy…"
"You can take your time figuring that out. I don't mind."
Angelica appeared behind the loft's railing. "Hullo Auntie Tonks! Uncle Moony!" she cried, waving.
"Erm, hullo there, pumpkin," Tonks said. "How have you been?"
"Very well, thank you! I read about Moon Magic, like Uncle Remus suggested. It's very interesting."
Tonks turned desperately to Remus who didn't look like he was paying much attention to their conversation. "Um, I thought you'd like it. I'll be up in a bit to show you something, soon as I finish helping your mum make tea, alright?"
Angelica nodded enthusiastically. "Alright, Auntie." She flitted back to her room.
Remus's face was filled with question and wonder. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked at Harry with some curiosity, before his gaze traveled up the loft briefly, where Angelica previously was.
"I know she's my daughter, Remus," Harry grumbled, reddening.
Remus nodded, stepped back, and went straight to the kitchen.
Tonks shot Harry an almost apologetic look before she followed after Remus.
"Well," Hermione said. "That went better than I expected."
Harry hated to think about what could be worse than that reception.
The fireplace flared green, and Harry heard a voice that sent his heart beating with panic.
"Hermione Granger! Where are you? Hermione!"
It was Ginny, and Harry-without really thinking, dove behind the couch for cover. He wasn't quite sure why he did it, and seeing the look on Hermione's face, he somewhat wished he had given his actions more thought. But it seemed instinctual. He felt no positive thing could come of his meeting with Ginny at the moment. Maybe it was because of all the horrible meetings he had already had-and it wasn't even lunch time.
Hermione stared at him in shock before she seemed to come to her senses
Harry saw her scamper off to answer the Floo.
"Oh, be quiet, Ginevra, I'm here," Hermione said.
"Fleur told me about what happened last night, and how she had to babysit for you. How many times do I have to tell you that in emergencies like that, you can absolutely messenger spell me!"
"Lord, and have you arrange another blind date for me for it?"
"Oh, shut it, you. I wouldn't have held you to anything if it was an emergency like that. Are you alright, then? How are you feeling right now? No fever or sweats? Shock can do that to you, you know."
"Yes… I know."
Harry had to wonder what that was supposed to mean.
"I'm fine!" Hermione cried, as if she were interrupting another tirade from Ginny. "It's all taken cared of, now."
"Are you sure? I can come over and run some errands for you. Just for today, though, just so-"
"I'll be fine, Ginny. Thank you, but you don't have to. Goodness, are you working? It's Sunday, for God's sake!"
Ginny sighed. "Style editor's work is never done. Photo shoot, today. I swear to Merlin, if I have to put up with the bitching of these models another minute, Marciano and I will croak. Marciano almost spit into their pretty, flavored teas…"
"You know I always adored Marciano."
Harry frowned. Who was this Marciano and why was Hermione adoring him?
"Hold that thought. He's not exactly all sunshine and rainbows these days. He and Jasper are broken up-again."
He and Jasper… ha! He's gay! He has to be…
"That's three times this month," Hermione said. "Bit early for them to hit their quota…"
"Well, I refuse to have that conversation with him again. I've tried and failed. If he wants to get buggered by a jerk, that's his business. On the other hand, Jasper at least knows the concept of monogamy better than that man-whore Gianni. I don't care if the gym is gay neutral ground. That He-Bitch needed to be neutered."
Such language…
"Shush! Angelica might hear you!"
"Oh, please. You taught me those words."
"Ginny!" gasped Hermione. "For God's sake! Once. I used those words once!"
Wonders will never cease…
"And where better to learn new words than a book editor? Honestly, Hermione, you're unbearably modest sometimes. Well, if all is well with you, I've got a photo shoot to finish. Merlin… these mannequins don't eat. Do I have to shove it down their throats just to get them to finish the whole sandwich…?"
With that, Ginny seemed to fade, and the green glow emanating from the fireplace dissipated.
Harry gingerly rose from behind the couch. "Man-whore?"
Hermione frowned. "Can you explain to me what the hell that was all about?"
She wasn't going to be distracted, it seemed.
He sighed. "Sorry. Between Angelica, Ron, and Remus, I didn't think I could handle another shit-storm… especially from Ginny."
Her frown melted into an icy calm. "Oh."
For some reason, the look on her face made Harry dreadfully uncomfortable. "I mean-she and I never got to talk…"
Hermione nodded. "Well, you're right to be afraid. I don't even want to be there when Ginny finally finds out you're back." She stalked off into the kitchen, and Harry sat there wondering if he had angered her, somehow.
Moments later, Remus stumbled out of the kitchen door and Harry braced himself for the unexpected.
Remus seemed calmed, and giving Harry a kind smile, he strode over to the couch and sat next to him. "So you know you have a daughter. I figured you would. It's not the sort of thing Hermione would keep secret for more than a few hours. Has it sunk in yet?"
Harry hadn't expected that, but it was a welcome topic-better than Remus's awkward disbelief. Even if he wasn't sure whether it meant Remus believed it was him or not, he replied to Remus's question. "Quite. Moment I saw her, I knew it immediately. Is that strange?"
Remus shook his head. "Not at all. Muggles have been known to feel that leap in the blood, and they don't have magic to enhance it. It's probably more pronounced in Wizards, though no controlled studies or experiments have been actually made about it-"
Harry's eyebrow arched, amused by Remus's indefatigable tendency to make "science" out of magic. Remus saw the look and actually smiled in surrender.
The smile put Harry at great ease.
"Does she know you're her father?" Remus asked.
"She figured it out by herself, I reckon."
"Sounds like her. Hardly anything escapes that child. She's a genius. Did you know that?"
Harry shrugged. "Easy to figure. Hermione's her mum."
"Hermione's brilliant, but not like this. Angelica's gifted. Special. She's six, but she can go to Muggle University. She can probably mix N.E.W.T.-level potions and cast N.E.W.T.-level Transfigurations. Understand what I'm trying to say?"
Harry absorbed Remus's words. He did understand what Remus was trying to say, and it made a lot of sense. Angelica was obviously powerful, and the comprehension in her gaze was more suited to a grown-up than a child. He hadn't actually seen her display unusual brilliance, but considering what he had observed of her, it wasn't impossible.
Then he understood something else in Remus's gaze. "You're observing her, aren't you?"
Remus didn't quite smile. "Hermione asked me to-for Angelica's interests, of course. She just wants someone to look after that aspect of Angelica-in a clinical way, so that in case something comes up, we'd have some idea of handling it."
"Something?"
Remus shrugged. "Don't ask me what it is. I don't know, and Hermione doesn't know, but Hermione just wants to be prepared for anything. She's wise in thinking that Angelica's special abilities shouldn't be ignored. Just because she doesn't trust Muggle Scientists to observe her daughter, it doesn't mean she doesn't understand the merits of keeping a close eye on Angelica. Hermione brings Angelica to me for rudimentary tests-all of them non-invasive, just so we can understand as much as we can about Angelica's abilities. Angelica knows it, too, and she understands it's important. She likes it, at least, because I give her books to read, and she likes taking the Intelligence Tests. She's interested in the magical instruments I use to measure her capabilities-it's all very two-way."
Harry nodded. "Sounds helpful."
"Do you really think so?"
There was another underlying message in the question, and Harry realized that Remus was telling him all this because he, Harry, was Angelica's father. Remus was informing him of these thinks because he was a parent.
Oh, jeez…
"If Hermione thinks so," Harry began hesitantly.
"I'd like you to think so, too. You're her father. I'd like to think both of Angelica's parents are for it."
"Merlin…"
"Sinking in a bit more, isn't it? I can give you copies of every report I've made on it, or you can just ask Hermione. I'm certain she has them neatly filed and catalogued in her office."
"I'll… I'll just ask her, thanks."
Remus seemed to approve.
Hermione emerged from the kitchen carrying a tea tray. She set the tray down on the table and quickly excused herself, telling them there was more in the kitchen when they were through talking privately. She disappeared back into the kitchen after that.
Remus poured them tea. "H-Harry…"
Harry stifled a wince. "That's me," he joked mildly.
Remus smiled, though his lips were pursed. "I always… I always wondered just how connected Angelica was to the powers you gave her. I always wished-if only for that-that I'd have the opportunity to shed some kind of light on that question. And now you're here, and I'm only just beginning to believe… it really is you, isn't it?"
Harry sighed.
"I have many questions for you," Remus continued. "Like where you've been; why did you keep away from us, making us think you were dead? Where you planning on coming back? Or maybe you were forced to? And… and what happened, that night we watched you burn to ashes?"
Harry sighed. He had already resigned himself to the fact that he would be telling this story over and over again, and he'd have to make the same evasions on the details.
He told Remus about as much as he told Hermione, and Remus was just as confused about his reluctance to give up details. Remus, by nature a patient man, was less emotional about Harry's secrecy, though he didn't look any more pleased by it than Hermione was.
"Is this secrecy necessary?" Remus asked. "How can we trust you-"
"Hermione trusts me," Harry said more curtly than he intended. He was surprised by the security he felt in what he said.
Remus leaned back on the couch. "And so she does. I believe you will tell me in time, but whatever your reasons for keeping your secrets, I urge you to trust me. You never know. I might be able to help you."
Harry appreciated that leeway. As much as he expected that Snape would take care of his more troublesome issues with potions and magic, Remus's offer was a welcome option.
With that, Harry hoped to change the subject, directing the conversation to Remus.
"And how have you been doing, Remus? Better adjusted, I hope."
Remus was not fooled, but he was willing to try to ease back into what used to be. "Oh, same old-only, I'm not alone anymore. Tonks takes care of me on full moons, and I constantly have affable company during my-shall we say, sick days. I manage to keep odd jobs here and there. I don't make much, but I at least earn a bit to contribute to mine and Tonks's living expenses. It's about an ideal a life as I can have. I'm quite happy."
Harry was glad. It was good to see Remus in a state of contentment. He always seemed so tired and worn out before. "Any-erm, kids?"
Remus cocked a smile. "Well, that's not in the works, quite yet. I don't think Tonks and I can have children, but even if we could, I don't know if it would be wise, considering my condition makes having children slightly irresponsible."
"Remus…"
"It's true. It's all well and good to have children if it were Tonks and I, of course, but what if something happens to Tonks? I can't take care of children all by myself, and don't think the Ministry won't get it in their heads to take the children away from me. They'll be shipped off to foster homes and who-knows-what fate. There's too much in their lives that Tonks and I aren't willing to risk. I'm perfectly happy being Uncle Moony to your kids. Angelica and Julien are wonderful enough. Then there are Charlie's kids, whom anyone seldom sees being in Romania most times, but they're good boys, Artie and Will."
"Twins?"
"Oh, no. Will's older by a year."
Harry looked over his shoulder slightly, wondering if Hermione could hear them. He felt uneasy about her hearing his next question.
Remus's eyebrow arched questioningly.
"How's Ginny doing?" Harry asked, his voice a notch lower than normal.
There was the slightest hint of surprise in Remus's eyes. "Well… she's doing quite well. She works as a style editor in that popular fashion magazine, Be Witch. Very accomplished and successful… quite the beautiful lady. And she's-she's single, if that's what you're wondering about…"
Harry sighed. "I'm not asking because I want to date her again, Remus. I'm asking because she was my friend, too. I couldn't ask Hermione because I don't want her to think I'm still interested in Ginny in that way and I couldn't ask Ron because I don't want him thinking I'm still interested in Ginny in that way. You understand what I mean?"
Remus seemed to relax at that. "Completely, Harry. And I'm very glad you asked about her. I think she's quite happy where she is right now. Molly's been pestering her about finding someone to settle down with, but she shows no sign of slowing down. Everyone else thinks she should have her fun. It's a grand life, I think. Great career, parties, fashion, beautiful people, passionate romances-she's really living it."
"That's good to hear. That's very good to hear." And Harry meant it. In the last seven years, a part of him had always wished he had had the chance to speak to Ginny about what used to be between them and what Hermione already was to him at the time. He wasn't so arrogant to think that Ginny's life would screech to a halt because they hadn't had proper closure, but he was still grateful for the fact that Ginny had so easily moved along without holding back. It was one less life he was responsible for disrupting.
"You can ask Hermione later about how she worked things out with Ginny," Remus continued. "I don't think it was a very big issue, but I think for a very short while, Hermione wasn't exactly Ginny's favorite friend."
Harry's relief wilted just the slightest bit. "Oh."
"They're good friends now, anyway. Not as good friends as Hermione and Fleur, though. Those two found bosom companionship in one another, if you can believe it. I still don't know how that worked out the way it has, but they really seem to like each other's company and confidence. Ginny's too busy partying with her single friends to bother with two mothers, is the joke."
"Fleur Delacour-Weasley and Hermione Granger," said Harry, slightly amazed. "Who would've thought?"
"Stranger things have happened," Remus replied, his unwavering gaze making Harry understand exactly what he meant.
Before Harry could say anything, Remus suggested they join the girls for tea. Harry was glad for the distraction.
They headed to the kitchen and joined Hermione and Tonks, and after a while, Tonks left to go to Angelica.
Harry was very glad to have Hermione relaxing the tension. When lunch time came around, Remus and Tonks said their goodbyes.
They all saw their friends to the door, and Harry felt odd standing with Hermione and Angelica as he watched the easy farewell scene.
Angelica was an affectionate child, bidding her aunt and uncle goodbye with a kiss and an embrace.
Hermione was much more grown-up about it, but the warmth of her well-wishes was palpable. She seemed to exchange meaningful looks with Tonks, and Tonks just rolled her eyes in response.
Harry kept his goodbyes quite short. "I'll see you two soon," he said.
Tonks and Remus could not hide the flicker of suspicion in their gazes, but they went to him, with Tonks giving him a kiss and an embrace and Remus shaking his hand, squeezing his shoulder warmly.
"Glad to have you back, son," said Remus, with no hint of wariness.
When they left, Harry felt quite drained.
Hermione patted his shoulder soothingly. "It will get easier."
He nodded, taking her hand. She looked surprised by the gesture and Harry felt compelled to ask her about it.
But just before they could talk, Angelica gave a shocked gasp.
"Oh, mum! Oh, is that the Firebolt?" she cried, staring for a heartbeat before dashing to the broom Harry had tucked into the corner.
Harry was surprised at the fact that Hermione had talked to Angelica about his Quidditch.
But I shouldn't be surprised, should I? he thought sheepishly.
Angelica's hands were upon the broom, holding it by its handle and gingerly lifting it.
Hermione was visibly distressed. "Sweetheart, put that down. That's one of Harry's most prized-"
"It's alright," Harry interrupted quickly, fascinated by Angelica's enthusiastic reaction to the thing. "She can have a look at it. No harm in that."
Hermione shot him a vicious glare.
He ignored her and went straight to Angelica, taking her by the hand and the broom by its handle. "Let's have a look at it, shall we?"
Angelica's eyes lit with great interest as she scurried to the couch where Harry had set himself and the broom.
Harry successfully averted his gaze from Hermione who placed herself on a nearby sofa-chair, watching them like a protective tigress.
Harry began telling Angelica the fundamentals of broom parts and what made it go. He was surprised by how much of it he still remembered and he hardly wavered at Angelica's complicated questions. She made him show her how to mount a broom and she insisted on trying.
Hermione didn't protest once, but her stony face made Harry wonder if he had to flee for his life when the lecture was over.
"This broom's too big for you at the moment. You won't be able to mount it properly, but you can try to give it a handle," Harry said.
He let Angelica try, and at Angelica's first "Up!" the broom zoomed right into her tiny hands, lifting her feet off the ground an inch as the broom shot past her head for a moment before settling back down to a height just a bit past her shoulders.
Angelica's laughter was like music. She loved handling a broom. "Oh, mum, can I fly-"
"Absolutely not," said Hermione with clear decision. "You're too young to handle a broom like this one and-"
"Not alone, of course!" Angelica said, unfazed. "I'd like to fly up with daddy when he goes."
The word struck Harry like a Bludger and Hermione's shoulders visibly tensed.
A flood of familial warmth welled inside him, and he found, to his great surprise, that being called daddy sounded wonderful coming from Angelica. He had never been anyone's anything in quite that way. The unconditional, unmistakable trust that went with the title was overwhelming, and he would do anything to keep that trust.
That second's pause felt like forever, and it truly appeared that Hermione didn't know what to say.
Harry hastened to respond. The Quaffle was clearly in his court. "I'd be happy to take you, Angelica, but your mum has to approve. It's dangerous on a broom, no matter how experienced I am. You mustn't pout if your mum doesn't let you."
Instead of relaxing, Hermione seemed to tense even more. The sudden rapid blinking of her eyes began to alarm him. Was she going to cry?
"Please, oh, please, mum?" Angelica whined piteously. "I'll listen to everything he says. I'll be safe. He won't ever let me fall, will you, dad?"
It was impossible not to respond with emotion. "Never ever."
Hermione took a deep breath, her eyes remaining dry. "I'm sure your father will take good care of you. I suppose it's alright, if he ever does get the notion to go up-"
Angelica squealed happily.
"But Harry," Hermione interjected, her eyes casting a pleading look in his direction. "If Angelica must go with you… please don't fly so high. Just please. I can't bear-"
"Of course, Hermione," he said gently. "I wouldn't risk her safety like that for the world." He pressed his hand to Angelica's head, ruffling the unruly hair for a bit. Angelica giggled, shooting up the stairs.
"I'm going to owl Julien!" she cried as she went.
Hermione looked alarmed. "Angelica, you can't just-"
"Oh, I won't tell him about dad. I'll tell him you'll let me ride a broom with a professional. He'll just think Victor's coming to visit! I needn't go into details!" She disappeared into the rooms.
Harry never realized how grating it was to hear Victor's name until now.
Red faced, Hermione fidgeted on her seat. "I appreciate you-you know, letting her…"
"Are you joking? Like I'd let anyone be deprived of the pleasures of flying," he said, laughing.
She reddened even more. "N-No, I mean-letting her call you… you know… dad."
His heart wrenched. "Why wouldn't I let her? I am, aren't I?"
Her brows knotted. "Wh-When a child says it, it isn't just a matter of biological-"
He just knew his heart would break if he let her go on. He set himself near her on the couch and took her fisted hands, gaze locked on hers. "I know what it meant-to her."
Hermione nodded slowly. "I won't ask for much, Harry. I have no issues raising Angelica by myself. I've managed quite well on my own. You needn't worry about me demanding any kind of-any kind of financial help from you. I'm good on that. And just so you know, I am fully aware that Angelica's welfare is completely different from us. There's a lot to talk about still, but that's all separate from Angelica-even if they really aren't. Do you understand what I'm trying to say?"
Harry eyed her warily. "I think so."
"She'll expect things from you, now, but it doesn't mean that's equivalent to me-" she paused, seemingly to muster the courage "-me expecting something, too. So you don't have to worry about me taking things the wrong way. Just treat her good. She will trust you with all her heart because she grew up in-in this environment, where everyone loves her and she wants for nothing except a father. Do you understand?"
He did, and maybe it stung a bit, because what Hermione called the "wrong way" might possibly seem right to him on so many levels. But he knew she always never meant to hurt him. After all these years, she was still feeling and thinking with her mind. Instinct, to her, was an inexact science. Rules and regulations set things straight.
"I understand," he said, somewhat morosely.
She nodded. "Good." She looked at her watch. "Now I've got to put lunch together. Bit of fillet of sole ought to be nice and healthy, don't you think?"
Harry supposed so. He could use a bit more domesticity. Hopefully forget the drama for a few hours.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Lunch was a much more relaxing affair, now that Angelica seemed at ease with the arrangement of things. She chattered and laughed, mostly with Hermione, but she referred many things to Harry too, usually when it had to do with explaining some little nuance of her life, to him.
She told him who her friends were, and that Julien was her best friend in the whole world. She also mentioned that she had gone to several Muggle schools in the course of her six-year life. As she gave a brief rundown of how much she liked or disliked a school, Harry cast Hermione a questioning glance.
"Ask me about it some other time," Hermione muttered amidst Angelica's storytelling.
Harry decided he would.
When Angelica was done talking about her schools, she began to talk about math and science, at which point Harry became completely baffled. She spoke of formula and equations like they were regular English words, and she appeared to be applying it to numerological runes and Thaumaturgy. Hermione had to stop and concentrate on what Angelica was saying just so she could make a proper response, and Harry could tell that even then, Hermione stumbled a few times because Angelica sighed with frustration at each instance.
Finally, Hermione and Angelica seemed to come to a satisfactory conclusion, just when Angelica was finished with her lunch plate.
With her entrée done, she hopped off her seat to grab dessert from the freezer.
Harry could only lean back and stare at Hermione stupidly.
"Welcome to my world," Hermione muttered, twirling her wand to gather the plates and put them in the sink.
"Is she always like that?" Harry whispered as Angelica zipped about, gathering the ingredients for the perfect bowl of ice cream.
"Wait until she gets to the Quantum Physics books."
He absorbed what Hermione said. "Good heavens. Are you meaning to tell me she learned that stuff by herself?"
"They don't teach Calculus and Logarithms in grammar school, Harry."
Harry realized he hadn't really understood what Lupin had told him about Angelica until now.
After dessert, Angelica dragged him around the house to show him the things she did. He didn't know where Hermione went, but she appeared to be doing household chores. He would see her carrying a laundry basket, and then he would see her in the small backyard garden, then he would see her shuffling a thick manuscript in her office, then he'd see her march by in rubber-gloves, a bucket, and a mop.
Each time he met her eye, she would smile and gesture for him to pay attention to Angelica-not that he didn't find the things Angelica showed him fascinating.
Angelica showed him her science project: "A Comparative Study of Molds in Relation to Muggle Chemicals, Commercial Potions, Charms, and Hexes." She showed him some of her art. She made him listen to her poetry. She showed him her Astronomy charts. She even made him watch cartoons, which-in spite of it being the usual fare for children-was actually very surprising to him. It was hard to imagine a sophisticated mind such as Angelica's enjoying the simple pleasures of animation.
He didn't pay much attention to Mulan though. He sat on one end of the couch, watching Angelica while she ate pistachio nuts, almost by rote, while her eyes remained transfixed on the talking dragon on the telly.
He wondered what went on in her brilliant little head when she watched cartoons like that. He thought about what she did with her hair when she slept-there was so much of it. Didn't she wake up choking on her curls? He saw the watercolor stains on her housedress and wondered if Hermione sighed or laughed at them when she sorted clothes into the washer. He imagined Angelica's laughter; what it would sound like when she was riding on a broom.
"Theoretically," Angelica said, not removing her eyes from the screen. "Dragons cannot talk even if they wanted to. Muggle myth and religion gives them wisdom and intelligence, but Dragons can't even roar without spitting fire. Their vocal functions and pyro functions are physiologically separate, but they can't separate the use of the two, simply because they're too dumb to manage it."
Harry blinked. "I… didn't quite know that. I just knew that when they opened their mouths, you had to get out of the way."
"Mum told me you fought a dragon once. In the Triwizards Tournament while you were at school."
"Nice of her to put it just like that. I didn't so much fight as I did run away-or fly away."
"Mm. I couldn't blame you. Uncle Charlie said Hungarian Horntails are terribly ill-tempered-'specially the female ones."
"I-um, didn't have time to check what gender my dragon was."
"It wouldn't have mattered. Male or female, you'd have to run away from it just the same."
Harry laughed. "You're right, of course."
Her attention was suddenly back to the telly. "Ooh! This is the part Mulan runs away! My favorite!"
And their conversation was done.
Harry was perfectly fine with that. He had a lot of things to puzzle out with Angelica and quiet time with her was, he realized, as pleasant as listening to her speak of brilliant things.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The whiskey was strong. It felt thick and grating in his throat, and Harry's eyes watered as the heat of it spread through him instantly.
When he recovered from the first onslaught, he looked up through his hoodie and saw Ron smirking.
"No whiskey in Avalon?" Ron asked, tossing back his own shot without a flinch.
Harry tried to speak and realized he couldn't, for the moment. He shook his head, wiping the droplet of whiskey left on his lips with the sleeve of his arm. He coughed and found his voice. "Zeke never brought back anything like this."
"Zeke?"
"Ezekiel. Priestess's son, and even if he did manage to get his hands on a brew like this one, I doubt the priestesses or S-some of the wandering guests would let me in on it. They were very careful over there about what to give me."
Ron's eyebrow arched but he didn't prod further.
Harry gazed around him one more time and saw no familiar face, nor did any of the strangers show interest in him. They were not in the Leaky Cauldron. They weren't even in Wizarding London. Ron had brought him some place dark and seedy, though the gravy on the meat pie was rich and flavorful, and the soup had been hot and filling. Harry supposed that Ron wouldn't stand for bad food, no matter how low-key they had to be.
Dinner had been a quiet affair, apart from their meager conversation about how Ron found the place, and how he liked coming here with those closest to him, like his brothers, or Dean and Neville on occasion.
Ron hadn't mentioned bringing Hermione, and Harry supposed it wasn't the sort of place you brought Hermione to. The few who had walked through the chiming door were there to earn their night's pay-from whomever was willing to take them.
"It's a dump," Ron had whispered. "But the food's delicious and cheap. Nobody's nosy, either. It's like the Hog's Head, but no danger of running into anyone you know."
Harry could appreciate that since he had very little pocket money and he really didn't want to run into anybody else right now.
After dinner, Ron had ordered the whiskey, and now there he was, suffering under the whiskey's harsh heat.
He wondered if Ron was planning to intoxicate him-get him to say things, maybe.
He eyed the bottle suspiciously for any sign of Veritaserum.
"Did you use your time well, today?" Ron asked, replenishing their glasses. He leaned back, shaking the liquid in his glass with gentle circles.
Harry hated that Ron kept saying things that may mean something else. He had noticed the double-talk when Ron was at Hermione's house that morning. Now he was doing it again. Since when was Ron so capable of it?
"Depends on what you mean," Harry replied. "Found some of my things in the attic, spoke to Remus, and spent the rest of the day with Angelica."
"Only Angelica?"
Harry resented the implication and he frowned. "Hermione was busy doing stuff."
Ron nodded. "Sunday's for chores… got to know Angelica better, did you?"
Harry was getting a bit steamed. "Yeah. She found my Firebolt. She was really interested in it, and she made me promise to take her up when I went. Asked Hermione's permission, of course. She approved."
"Did she? Well, that would be a milestone, then. She never let me take Angelica up-"
Harry had had enough. "I'm Angelica's father. Of course she'd let me," he spat out viciously.
Ron's face fell and a scowl formed, mingling with what looked like hurt pride. "Believe me. I know."
Harry's anger evaporated and he sighed, knocking back more whiskey. It went down easier this time, but the heat still flared. "Dammit Ron… I'm sorry I had to show up and ruin your perfect little life with Hermione and Angelica."
Ron sighed right back and ran his hands through his hair. "Shite… shut up, Harry. It's-It's nothing like that. I'm glad you're back. There were many days in the past that I wished you hadn't gone and died. Birthdays were particularly hard, and when they set up the Harry Potter Memorial Day, holing up with Ginny, or with Hermione and Angelica was all we could do to get away from the madness. There were other days, too, like when I lost my job at the Ministry that first time I tried to work there, or when we kept failing to find King Arthur's sword… wished you were around during those times, too. And you know what? Now that you're here, you aren't disrupting anything. I can still see Angelica when I want to and… Hermione will treat me same as she always did…"
"You… and Hermione never dated?"
Ron shook his head, his heartbreak evident. "She never saw me that way. Merlin knows I tried everything, but none of it worked. Short of giving her Amortentia, I couldn't get her to even consider it."
"Sorry," Harry muttered, not meaning it.
Ron scoffed, possibly seeing right through him. "Whatever, Harry."
"She dated others?"
Ron's lifted his eyebrow.
Harry prodded a bit more. "She said something about it. Didn't go into details, though."
Ron didn't budge. "So what did you do in Avalon, exactly? Other than heal yourself of your mysterious malady."
Harry figured Ron wouldn't talk about Hermione behind her back-which was just as well.
He had spoken a bit about Avalon, and why he had to be there, mostly in the same way he explained it to Hermione. Ron had been less insistent on details, and Harry could tell it was because Ron knew it when Harry preferred to keep some things to himself. Harry was willing to let Ron keep Hermione's secrets, because Ron was letting him keep his.
"Lots of things," Harry replied. "There was no shortage of work for me. They made me do all sorts of heavy lifting, harvesting their crops, taking care of the beasts, teach the children magic… I did some research in the library when necessary. I wasn't idle. There were days I was completely useless, though. It hardly bothered them. Zeke was doing almost half the work anyway." Harry looked at his rough and calloused hands-the parts that weren't covered in bandages. He had worked pretty hard, come to think of it.
There was a thoughtful look in Ron's eyes. "You glad to be back here?"
Harry hadn't quite expected that question. He had assumed everyone would think he was. "In a manner of speaking… there were times in Avalon that the prospect of coming back here terrified me, but I always wanted to see the lot of you again. I didn't want you thinking I was dead, but…"
"They wouldn't let you tell us you were there?"
Harry didn't answer. He didn't want them knowing he was there. More importantly, he didn't want them coming to see him. Not in his condition, at least. "Things might have been different if they told me about Angelica. She's… something."
"Yeah. She is. Must've been a big shock to you when you found out."
Harry didn't say anything, but his eyes seemed to convey his answer because Ron actually laughed.
"I've been imagining that very look on your face for years," Ron replied. "Frankly, I didn't think you would mind all that much if you had known back then. You're just that type of bloke, I suppose, but I reckon you still would've been surprised."
Harry sniffed, smirking slightly.
"Well," Ron continued, amused. "Maybe not that surprised. For my part I couldn't fathom it. I kept trying to convince myself that you and Hermione put an order with the stork and the baby had come nine months later in a bundle. It only really started to sink in that-well, you put in there when she started to show."
Harry made a face. "Nice, Ron."
"Can you blame me? I'd only just gotten the news that you two were together. You don't even want to know how Ginny reacted."
Harry felt his face warm. "So I've been warned. Come on, Ron… Ginny and I hadn't been together for months by that time."
Ron sighed. "I know that, but I can understand some of where Ginny was coming from. She though you ditched her because you cared about her. She had every reason to think that you and she would resume your relationship once Voldemort was gone. She was waiting. Did you see her dating anybody else?"
Harry slumped in his seat. "That's not my fault," he muttered.
Ron gave him a look. "The least you could've done was talk to her about where things were headed…"
"Well, I didn't know myself!"
"So you were keeping her on reserve?"
Harry turned away, somewhat shamefaced. "I didn't-I wasn't-"
Ron didn't even wait for him to finish. "Even if you weren't doing it consciously, a part of you was deliberately yanking her chain. Hell, Hermione and I felt it at the time. Neither of us could talk to you about Ginny."
Harry starkly remembered Hermione's insecurities with respect to that and he could only wish he had done better. "So Ginny was angry?"
Ron looked like "angry" was the understatement of the year. "Ho boy. She Who Must Not Be Named was a demon for weeks, especially since you were supposedly a dead hero and she can't even be properly furious with you. Know what I mean? She took it out on the living, because she couldn't really take it out on your sorry, celebrated carcass. She refused to speak to Hermione-said she wasn't one to terrorize a pregnant woman, so I got the brunt of it, and she sort of allocated the rest of her anger to everyone else. I think only after Hermione finally cornered her and they got their little shouting match out that Ginny started to ease back to her normal self. The names she called you were awesome, and I think Hermione just kept saying, 'Don't call him that!' in that bossy voice of hers. It was over when they just both broke down crying, and they made up easy. Ginny helped get the press off our backs after that. It was her make-up kiss to everyone."
"Maybe she's past her anger now…"
"With us. I dunno with you."
Just once, Harry wished Ron would lie to him.
The tension between them seemed to ease after that, and their conversation began to sound like what it used to be before they were at odds, before hunting for Horcruxes, before they fell in love with the same woman.
Ron talked about old classmates, and Harry was glad to listen to Ron tell him about Dean, Seamus, Neville, Lavender, Parvati, Cho, the other Weasleys, and finally, Ron began talking a bit about himself. Harry was glad to listen, especially when Ron spoke of things other than Hermione. Ron talked about Angelica, too, and Harry saw what Ron was like when his love was unconditional.
The whiskey dwindled to nothing, and at the end of the evening, he felt a bit drunker than he should have been. Ron wasn't quite so steady, either.
Leaning on each other as Ron walked him to Hermione's house, they laughed at the silliest things and slurred their words ever so slightly.
"Say, Harry…" Ron said in a sing-song tone as they walked down the sidewalk. "Neat trick with your eyes this morning."
Harry blinked to steady his gaze. "This morning?"
"In the kitchen… when I was kicking your arse!"
Harry laughed at that. "No, I was kicking your arse."
"Nooo, I was kicking your arse, but that thing you did with your eyes distracted me. Very clever."
Harry, amidst his semi-intoxicated state, began to get the tiniest bit nervous. "Thing… with my eyes?"
"We're here! Merlin, Harry, tuck in your shirt! Hermione's going to let me have it bad enough in the state you're in…"
Harry watched Rom lumber up the walkway and steps, fishing out a key for the lock.
"If we can avoid confrontation," Ron began, "that would be best."
Ron proceeded to try to key them in. He swore, struggling with the lock.
"'Haps I shouldn't have had that last drink," he grumbled. "I was using the wrong key, no wonder…"
But before Ron could remedy his mistake, the door opened and Hermione stood there, hand to her hip and giving both of them the once over.
Harry supposed some of the alcohol was firing his libido. She looked positively luscious in pajamas and a tank-top, hair a complete mess on her head, and looking them over like she could turn them away at any moment's notice.
"Well," she said. "You boys reek of whiskey. I ought to leave you both out on my stoop."
"Even Harry?" Ron asked, leaning sluggishly against the doorframe. "He only just got back from limbo, the poor thing…"
"I can smell tobacco on your shirt. Have you started up that awful habit again?"
Ron looked affronted. "What? No! Must've been the other patrons. I didn't smoke, did I, Harry?"
"Not at all," Harry replied automatically. Harry hadn't seen him smoke, but Ron had stepped out for a bit while Harry had some coffee to counter the effects of the whiskey. Ron had come back with the perfume of tobacco on him.
Hermione leaned over Ron, and to Harry's horror, he truly thought she was going to kiss him, but she didn't. She sniffed at his nose quickly and Ron tried to pull away, but it was too late.
She grimaced. "Ugh! You did smoke!" she cried. "You told me you'd quit!"
Ron sighed. "It was my first one in weeks! I don't smoke 'em regular, you know. Merlin, you're a bleedin' nag!"
"You smoke, I nag. Come on, Harry. Smokers not allowed in this house or has he gotten you to smoke, too?"
"No. Never smoked anything in my life," Harry muttered, hurrying up the steps before Hermione changed her mind for one reason or another.
"Traitor," Ron shot after him. "What am I supposed to do out here, then?"
"Go home," Hermione told him, pulling Harry behind her by the arm. "It's late, anyway. You've got work tomorrow."
"Whatever."
"Goodnight, Ron. I'd give you a kiss, but you stink."
"Bleedin…" Ron smacked a kiss on her forehead anyway before turning and leaving, muttering to himself and kicking a small mound of dried leaves aside as he went.
She closed the door and turned to face Harry.
"I'm only a little tipsy," he said before she could chastise him.
She smirked. "I'm not your mother, Harry. I only do that sort of thing with Ron because he likes it."
What other thing do you do for Ron that he likes? he thought grumpily before shaking the thought off. "Oh."
"Coffee?"
"Had it at the pub."
She nodded. "Time for bed, then."
Yours or mine? He must have been tipsy, else he wouldn't have had the gall to even think it. "Yeah. Long day."
She cast him a sympathetic look as they headed to his bedroom. "Poor dear. Angelica asked me whether you and her Uncle Ron were out to get 'banjaxed' tonight. She no doubt learned the word from her brain-to-mouth-malfunctioning uncle. I said you weren't, but she was quite worried."
Harry waited for her to go on and wondered if he should say or do something. He blurted out the first thing that came up in his mind. "What time does she get up on school days?"
"Seven. Why?"
"I'll wake her up. Ought to settle her worries about her old man."
Hermione smiled at him gratefully. It was lovely to behold. "I really appreciate you spending time with her today. You didn't have to. Not so soon…"
"Sooner's better than later."
She stood leaning against his bedroom door as he sat wearily on the foot of his bed. She seemed ready to stay there for a bit, but she crossed the threshold of the door and Harry once again found himself in a silent panic. He watched her cross the space between them and stand over him. She looked very pleased with him, and he began to work out the proximity of her lips with his, how he could just bounce off the bed and snatch her into his arms.
Her fingers delicately touched the unruly clumps of his hair. He closed his eyes at her touch.
"Thank you," she said softly.
He looked up at her. "No problem…"
She leaned down and he closed his eyes again, praying that her kiss would fall on his lips, but he felt her touch on his brow.
Her whispered goodnight left him wanting her deeply as he watched her leave his room and close the door behind her.