A/N: Tome Raider expertly ironed out the crimps in this chapter. Many thanks to her being brilliant and being the same, encouraging beta that I've come to depend on.
Standard disclaimers apply.
Chapter Fifteen - Actions Speak Louder
Hermione woke up, her pillow dried of the tears the night before. Her tears had been of anger and even humiliation, but now, with the sun streaming through her balcony doors, she felt oddly numb.
She felt, now, that she just wanted to forget everything that happened. Railing and screaming about it would only make the situation more mortifying.
It still angered her that only Harry could make her feel so rejected. After all these years, he was really the only one who could ever make her feel this insecure. Yet, she knew so well that he only ever resisted doing what he wanted-because he had wanted her last night-for noble reasons, though she couldn't quite bring herself to forgive him just yet. After all, she had made the first move last night, and so what did it mean when he suddenly didn't want what she offered?
She punched the pillow beside her in frustration before deciding to get out of bed.
She got ready for the day, dressing in her most rigid business suit and knotting her hair in a severely tight bun. She had decided she was in a cranky mood.
Angelica hardly ever needed help getting ready for school anymore, but she stayed in Angelica's room, anyway. She didn't want to be caught alone with Harry. She didn't quite know what to say to him at that point.
When Angelica was done, she hustled them through their morning. Harry had, like the previous day, made them breakfast, but Hermione didn't stop to enjoy it. She spent a lot of her time that morning in her home office doing absolutely nothing, then just before she had to take Angelica to school, she stuffed breakfast down in a hurry. She just wanted to be out of the house without having to have a conversation with Harry.
Harry looked to be on the verge of saying something every time she caught his eye, but she never gave him the chance, turning away to do something else.
Angelica seemed oblivious to it all, giving her father a warm goodbye before they left the house.
With Angelica dropped off at school, she headed for work, and when she got there, she felt extremely annoyed by the stares of curiosity she seemed to be eliciting from everyone.
As she neared her office, the usual slew of staff met her.
Her copy editors and two of her associate editors intercepted her amidst Olivia's terrifying stares.
She could deal with her copy editors. They usually just wanted something approved and signed. They hardly ever bothered her about queries in person, but her associate editors were most unwelcome.
"I'll deal with you and you later," she barked. The two associate editors slunk away.
Olivia gathered the papers of the copy editors and shooed them away, following Hermione into her office and shutting them in.
She took the cup of coffee Olivia had for her and sat at her desk, trying to gather calm from the hot, flavorful drink.
Olivia sat at the chair in front of her, primly waiting for Hermione to let her get on with today's business.
"What do my copy editors have for me?" Hermione asked.
"Easy stuff. Frontmatter and cover proofs, highlights, and a few written queries." Olivia handed her the material and Hermione looked them over briefly before setting them aside. "Anything else?"
Olivia paused. "Mr. Shrewsbury arranged an appointment to see you in a bit."
"Did he seem unhappy?"
"Not at all."
Hermione nodded. "Good."
"And…"
"Yes?"
"You've been receiving Floos all morning. I'll not get into everyone who called, but you might be particularly interested to know that you've been Flooed by Mrs. Lupin and possibly every Weasley in existence."
Hermione's eyebrow arched. "Odd. Did they say why they didn't Floo me at home? Or just messenger spelled me?"
"It seemed to me that you were already out of the house by the time any of them felt pressed to call you, and I think this is the sort of thing they can't simply messenger spell you with. I suspect that the lot of them were too busy reading the morning paper to catch you at home…"
Hermione frowned, letting her mind take it in. The strange stares of everyone in the office and Olivia's insinuations were highly suspect. "Have the papers said something about me?"
It was only then Hermione realized that Olivia still had her morning paper clutched in her hands.
Olivia forked over the paper and excused herself from the room.
It was the Daily Prophet and Hermione hurriedly unfolded it. Emblazoned just beneath the headline of Ministry Reconsidering Ban on Flying Carpets! were the words, Hermione Granger and Her Secret Tryst, Revealed!
Hermione had never quite felt so drained of blood as she gaped at the picture of her and Harry at Kensington Gardens the day before. Harry's face kept being obscured by angles, shadows, and people, probably a result of his concealment charms, so at the very least, they couldn't identify him, but her face was clear enough, and she appeared to be leaning suggestively near him. They appeared to be talking very privately before she answered her phone, jumped up, and left with Harry in a rush.
The photographer was unable to take more pictures, but the columnist did find out that she and her "companion" had rushed to Angelica's Muggle school to pick her up. The writer also somehow discovered that they had all taken a trip to St. Mungo's. Of course, the writer insinuated that her running all over London, attending to her beloved daughter's needs, with the mystery man in tow implied that her relationship with the man was much more than casual. It went on to say that neither Ron Weasley, Oliver Wood, nor Viktor Krum could be reached for comment.
Hermione sank into her seat and groaned, tossing the paper aside in frustration. "Just wonderful…" She closed her eyes.
A few minutes later, the Floos began pouring in again.
Olivia stuck her head through her door. "Madame Fleur Weasley-"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Transfer her Floo." She hastened to the hearth and waited for the onslaught.
"I am `urt," were the first words from Fleur's mouth. "You obviously `ave been seeing zis man for quite some time, and you let me lecture you like an idiot."
Hermione sighed. "Oh, Fleur! It's not what you think!"
"Ze article says-"
"It's the Daily Prophet! Since when did you believe the Daily Prophet?"
Fleur frowned. "Is zat not you on ze photograph?"
"Yes, but-"
"And did you not pick up Angelica from school wiz `im?"
"I did-"
"And perhaps zey exaggerated your trip to St. Mungo's?"
Hermione paused. "Well, maybe not…"
"Zen it is all true! Mon deiu! You do not trust me enough to tell me you are secretly seeing someone?"
"I'm not seeing him! I mean-"
"He is married, isn't `e? `Ermione, `ow could you?"
"No, he isn't!"
Olivia popped her head through the door again. "Um… Mrs. Lupin is at the Floo…"
Hermione pursed her lips.
"I shall Floo you again," Fleur said petulantly. "I am not finished wiz you, `Ermione Granger." The Floo puffed off.
Olivia left, and moments later, Tonks's face materialized.
"Hermione, what the hell?" she cried.
Hermione groaned. "I thought we would be safe in Kensington Gardens!"
Tonks sighed. "Well, at least they don't know who he is, but goodness! It's only a matter of time before their trail leads them here at the Auror department and all hell breaks loose!"
"We can fix this. If this gets any worse, I can arrange an interview with Luna."
"D'you want to lie to the poor girl?"
"Of course not!" Hermione cried. "Oh, balls! I think perhaps I may have messed up…"
"I suppose it was just a matter of time. Harry Potter is a hard secret to keep."
"He still is, though," Hermione pointed out. "A secret, I mean."
"I'll try to keep it that way around here. As long as the Auror Department isn't involved, this is all just celebrity gossip. Keep your fingers crossed!"
Olivia's head popped in once more. "Erm, Mr. Weasley."
"Goodness… tell him I'll Floo him-"
"He's here."
"Great."
"Shall I-"
"Oh, let him through, Olivia. He won't go away, anyway." She then turned to Tonks. "I'm really sorry, Tonks."
"It's not entirely your fault, but just keep him away from prying eyes, won't you? For your sake and Angelica's."
Hermione nodded and as Tonks disappeared from the Floo, Ron walked in.
"Reporters have been Flooing me for a comment all morning!" Ron cried as the door was shut behind him. "I can only tell them to shove off so many times. What in the world should I tell them?"
Hermione let out an exasperated breath. "Oh, Ron, I'm sorry."
He sighed and plopped down on the chair. "It's fine. It's not them I'm completely worried about, it's you, and basically, I just don't know what to tell my family! Mum's never going to give me a moment's peace and Fleur and Ginny are already on the war path."
"What is it about my love life that has the whole of England so interested, anyway?" Hermione cried.
Ron actually chuckled.
"You think this is funny, Ron Weasley?" she squeaked, infuriated.
He grinned. "Nice to be on your list of men, actually. And I'm first, too."
"Oh, for goodness sake," she muttered. "I never even dated you or Krum. They've got their facts completely wrong!"
"Yes, well, I'm still first. I beat Oliver. Ha!"
"Must you turn everything into a pissing contest?"
He waved off her words. "You need to Floo Harry. Give him the heads up. People might start showing up at your flat and…"
Hermione felt instant annoyance. She did not need this pressure now. Not after what happened with Harry last night.
"What?" Ron asked, perhaps seeing the expression on her face.
She shook her head immediately. "Nothing. I'll Floo Harry. He should be at home. In the meantime, if you get asked by the press, just tell them that my private life is not for public consumption."
Ron frowned. "Fine, but I can't tell my family that-"
"Tell them to ask me, then. I'll deal with them."
"Even mum?"
"God help me, yes!"
Ron rose from his seat. "Alright, but if you have any trouble at your place, you, Angelica, and Harry can stay over until this headline goes away. Shouldn't take too long, so long as they don't figure out who your mystery man is…"
Hermione nodded. "Thank you."
Ron left, and no sooner had he stepped out of the office that other Floos began to pour in. Molly's Floo was all talk and no anger, which was a bit of a relief, but Ginny's Floo was dark and foreboding. It rather made Hermione nervous. It took a while before she could find the time to Floo Harry at her house.
She saw his face and it was lined with repentance.
"Hermione, I am so glad you Flooed. Please just let me ex-"
She hardened her heart and said, "Have you read the morning papers yet?"
That caught him completely off-guard and he stopped, staring at her questioningly. "No…"
"Go get it and read the article under the main headline."
He paused before he took off and came back with it. He unfolded the paper and scanned the front page. He froze when he began to read. When he was done, he seemed to take a deep breath. He was possibly angry, because he didn't speak for a minute.
"Oliver Wood?" he asked. "What does he have to do with all this?"
She wasn't quite sure if she should be surprised of his question or what. "We dated briefly."
"How briefly?"
She pursed her lips. "I don't know if that's any of your business, actually."
"Was it serious?"
"Again, I don't know if that's-"
"It's not my business, but I want to know." He sounded firm. He wasn't going to back down.
She frowned but replied. "It was serious enough, but I broke it off. Look, we'll talk about Oliver some other time. Right now, I just want you to keep a look out for strangers. If they come by the house, don't let them know you're there. Don't answer any Floos, and if you can, avoid being seen leaving the house. Understand?"
"Yes. Whatever. Did you sleep with Oliver?"
Her eyes widened with outrage. "I don't have to answer that!"
His eyes seemed to flash. "Did you sleep with him here? With my baby daughter in the next room-"
She shot him a death glare. "Well, at least someone had the guts to."
She didn't even wait for him to respond. He didn't look capable, anyway. He had his mouth hanging open from shock, like she had slapped him, but she was so angry, especially because of the previous night, that she didn't care. She banged the Floo shut on him. She hoped he got terribly smoked for it.
It was odd that she gained some sort of satisfaction for it. She could feel guilty about making it sound like she and Oliver had slept together at her house, later. That one and only time she slept with Oliver, it had happened at his place, and she hadn't stayed around for the morning-after, either. She had known the moment it happened that it had been a mistake, even after she had put the encounter off for weeks and weeks. Oliver had cared for her. He had been loving and sincere. Angelica liked him immensely and he would've been a great foster-father, but Hermione didn't care for him as much. At least not in the way he deserved. After that one night of passion, Hermione knew the relationship was over. Oliver seemed properly heartbroken for a while, but he appeared to have recovered nicely the last time she spoke to him and his lovely fiancée. He seemed wonderfully besotted with his Irish beauty.
In her state, she figured she was in no condition to receive any more Floos that weren't work related. She concentrated on her books the rest of the day, and when Draco dropped in to see her, she expected that he would say something, but surprisingly enough, he didn't make a very big deal about it. He just said, "Looks like you would've made the papers without me, anyway. Clever of you, Granger."
And that was about it.
Hermione still thought having Draco keep quiet was worth it all. Knowing the Daily Prophet, they could very well associate Draco's attacker with her "secret" boyfriend, and that wouldn't do.
In the midst of explaining an editing point to Draco, Mr. Shrewsbury came prancing in bearing "good news". There would be a press release later in the week, and it would pertain to how the publishing company was glad to welcome Draco Malfoy on board, and that the company was doubly glad to have him working with their best and brightest, Hermione Granger.
Hermione never realized until then how there could be days when she'd choose to kill someone else over Draco Malfoy.
Draco looked amused, but if he had anything to do with the press release, he would've spouted a flea-bitten dog's tail right then and there.
But in spite of everything, her work got her through the day, and it was only a bit later, counting down the hours before she left to fetch Angelica from school, that she realized she didn't quite want to face Harry just yet.
She wondered briefly if she was angry enough at Harry to kick him out of the house to stay with Ron, but she realized she didn't want him away from her, either.
"Ugh, I am positively and disgustingly weak of will," she muttered to herself as she began to put her things away for the day. "And possibly very randy for him."
It was, as life would have it, about the same moment Fleur stepped into her office unannounced. She was probably the only person in the world capable of intimidating Olivia, which was why Olivia respectfully called her Madame Fleur Weasley.
Fleur's frown was fierce. "So it is worse zan I thought. You are sleeping wiz zis lover of yours?"
Hermione groaned, and all she could say was, "Don't you know how to knock?"
"I do, but I choose not to. You are going to pick up Angelica, no? Zen let us go. Julien will be at `is grandmama's so you `ave my full attention zis afternoon."
"Lovely."
Fleur's pocket mirror instantly popped out of her hand and she admired herself for a few seconds. "I know."
Hermione rolled her eyes.
Fleur snapped her mirror shut and turned to leave. "Come along, zen. Tell me all about it or I shall be forced to drug you wiz Veritaserum on our next lunch date."
Hermione dragged herself to follow Fleur through the hallways, staying alert for the inevitable score or so of men who would be tripping all over themselves at Fleur's wake.
They left her office building and hurried to the Apparating points.
"You `ave known zis man long?" Fleur asked her as they walked.
"In a manner of speaking."
"What does zat mean? Do I know `im?"
"You might remember him…"
"And so you-what is zat word? Reconnected?"
"You can say that."
Fleur pouted but waited until they could Apparate before she continued her line of questioning.
"Why are you so evasive?" Fleur demanded once they began walking towards Angelica's school.
"Because," Hermione said, "you wouldn't believe me if I told you. I'd rather you just… meet him."
"Meet `im! Well, I `ave no objections to zat. Meet `im where?"
"At my house. It's where he's staying right now."
Fleur gasped. "'Ermione! For shame! `E `as moved in already?"
"Oh, Angelica loves him. Dearly. And no, we are not staying in the same room. We haven't done that, so you can just get those naughty thoughts-"
Fleur nudged her, the twinkle in her eyes in no way obscured by her snooty expression. "It is not my naughty thoughts zat you should be worried about."
"Whatever," Hermione grumbled. She was in no mood to talk about her miserably failed sex life.
"Oh, `Ermione, I tease. It is no sin to want someone so."
"If it is I'm pretty much damned to hell… over here, love!" Hermione waved at Angelica.
Angelica smiled wide and true. She seemed to give her two thickly-bespectacled friends quick goodbyes before she shot off and ran straight into Hermione's arms, just before she transferred her hellos to Aunt Fleur.
"Are you coming home with us, Aunt Fleur?"
"Oui. Your mum wants me to meet your `ouseguest."
Angelica's eyes widened. "Ooh! Mum told you about dad?"
Fleur's eyebrow could have shot to the moon-it arched so high. "Dad, is `e?"
"Oh," said Hermione. "You don't know the half of it."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Of course, Fleur's arrival caught Harry completely off guard. He had been so anxious to get the chance to speak to Hermione again that he didn't even consider the possibility that Hermione would have company, and from the way Hermione had let Angelica rush to give him a hug hello, Hermione hadn't intended to keep him very secret.
Hermione said nothing as Fleur stared back at him in open-mouthed shock.
It occurred to Harry that Fluer may very well be Hermione's way of putting off their inevitable talk.
Well, can you blame her?
He had to take it. "Hello, Fleur. It's been a while, hasn't it? Angelica, want to help me make tea while your mum and aunt talk?"
"Okay," she replied without batting an eyelash.
They went to the kitchen together, Fleur still frozen to her spot.
The kitchen door had barely swung shut behind them when Angelica clambered up a kitchen stool and asked, "Are you and mum fighting?"
Harry felt his hand tighten around the kettle grip. "And why, pray tell, do you think we're fighting?"
"Oh, dad… it's plain as anything. She doesn't want to speak to you. She doesn't even want to look at you. And now you didn't even give her a proper hello. You spoke to Aunt Fleur first. You and mum shouldn't fight, you know. Best friends shouldn't fight, period."
He couldn't help but tilt a smile at her. "Well, sweet pea, you're right, but things are a bit more complicated than that."
She looked thoughtful for a moment. "That's what Uncle Ron says when he and mum fight, too."
"Yes, well…"
He put the kettle on and began to get the pastries ready. He was pulling out plates to put on a tray when Hermione burst into the kitchen looking terribly distressed.
"Fleur left. She's angry with me. I don't know why, but she is. God, this day couldn't possibly get worse!"
Harry opened his mouth to say something, but when Hermione saw that he was going to speak, she shot him a glare.
"I take that back," she said, turning to leave.
Harry gave a disgusted sigh as Hermione left.
"You ought to go after her," Angelica suggested.
"Right," Harry muttered, following Hermione out. "Are you going to ignore me forever?" he cried after her.
She went up the stairs and said nothing. He followed, but just before he could step into her room after her, she slammed the door in his face.
"Oh, for God's sake," he said through the door. "Look, Hermione, I'm sorry I spoke to you that way in the Floo this morning. You're absolutely right. I had no right asking those things. I was a right berk-"
"A complete and utter arse!" she yelled right back.
"Yes. Yes, I was. I'm sorry. I really am."
There was silence from the other end, though he could feel the tread of her step through the carpet and floor. He decided not to push it, but he didn't leave, either.
A few minutes later, Hermione reemerged in house clothes. She almost ran into him on her way out.
He put his hands up. "Whoa, there-"
"Move," she growled.
He stepped aside at her ferocious tone. "Angelica said we shouldn't fight."
"Oh, don't you go and drop my daughter's name to get away with this."
"God, I'm not dropping-" He sighed in frustration.
"Just let me be, alright? This has been a really stressful day for me and I don't need you getting in my face and-and reminding me of what happened last night."
He felt his face grow hot instantly, but he was at least glad that she was no longer ignoring him. "I was jealous," he blurted out.
She stopped in her tracks and seemed irritated. "What? What does that have to with last-"
"About Oliver. I was jealous and it made me say those awful things to you this morning. You provoke very strong, intense feelings in me, Hermione. Always, so last night, it wasn't about not wanting you. I need for you to understand that. It was about wanting you too much… when I had no right to."
He finally got her to listen.
Her hard expression softened. He could even see a slight flush rising in her cheeks. He thought that to be a positive sign.
"Harry," she began gently. "You have every right…"
He shook his head before he got swept into the sweet promise of her consent. "I don't. Not until I tell you everything. Not until you know the absolute truth."
Her brows knotted. "And why won't you tell me?" She reached out and touched his face.
Her caress was like a balm to his worries. "The same reason most of us keep secrets. We're afraid of losing the people we love."
She said nothing for a moment. "Harry, whatever it is, you have to let me help you. You used to let me, you know."
He made no reply in words. Instead, he took her hand and kissed the back of it, pressing it briefly to his cheek.
She cast him a small smile. "You've nothing to be jealous about when it comes to Oliver. You should know that. I broke it off with him. He was a good man, Harry, but I didn't care for him enough. He's moved on from me. He's quite happy with his fiancée. He didn't even Floo me this afternoon about the article. That was a relief. I couldn't bear it if I had to apologize to him for any trouble I may have caused him, but he always was better at handling headlines than I was."
He wasn't going to admit it, but it felt good to hear that Oliver was just a happy memory now.
The grip of her hand tightened around his. "Oliver and I did… you know."
He swallowed, feeling the slightest pinch.
"But only once-ever. I thought it was the right time, but I realized right after that it would never be right. Not for him. Perhaps not for anyone. And it wasn't here either, so your baby girl was safe."
He reddened. "I didn't-what I said was quite unreasonable. I'm sorry I even said it."
"It's alright. I understand why. And Harry, Oliver was the only other man I've ever been with that way."
He couldn't quite look her in the eyes. He was slightly ashamed of himself for making her tell him these things. "I don't care if you had a dozen boyfriends. It doesn't matter…"
"I just thought you should know. I only sleep with men I love, and I thought I loved Oliver-or that I could. It was a mistake. I thought it would be as right as it was with you, but I should've known better. My relationship with Oliver didn't even come close."
There were equal parts relief and regret. He loved her enough to have sincerely wanted her to find happiness, even if it was with someone else, but his passion needed her to be his. It was a strange dichotomy, but it was the only way he could explain it.
He pulled her into his embrace. He wanted to kiss her, but it would've driven him mad to stop at that. He hadn't the will-power. He meant what he said about wanting to tell her everything, but he needed strength and courage for that, and at the moment, he was still lacking.
The thing about being a Gryffindor was that they weren't less afraid than anyone else, just that the few who seemed to take the "bravery" aspect most seriously were also the ones who tended to think less of the consequences did so with almost foolhardy (if not entirely Gryffindor-worthy) vigor. Most times, that made it easy to seem brave, because seeming to be brave was almost as good as the real thing, but Harry, arguably one of the most foolhardy (debatably most Gryffindor-worthy) of them all, has had seven years to simmer on his fears. Those years, ultimately, was a lot to overcome in a few short days. Besides that, his daughter and Hermione were too important to him for him to ignore consequences.
Hermione sighed, lifting her face from his chest to tempt him with her lips. As gently as he could, he turned away.
"Hermione, I'd like to see your pendant. Please? If you want to help me, we'll start with that."
She seemed disappointed, but she nodded. She looked over her shoulder and called out. "Angelica, dearest, do you have mum's pendant on you?"
Angelica popped out of the kitchen, a bowl of ice-cream in her hand.
Hermione frowned at it.
"It's just a bit!" Angelica cried defensively.
"Give it here and go get my pendant. Your father wants to see it."
Angelica forked over the remaining ice-cream and Harry could've sworn he detected a hint of suspicion in Angelica's gaze when she said, "Why?"
"I just need to, baby girl," he said, giving her a pleading look.
Still fixing him with a questioning gaze, she hurried up the stairs to fetch it. She came down with it in a few seconds and with apparent reluctance, she held it out for Harry to take.
Harry took it, and the moment it rested on his palm, he detected a faint flicker of latent magic in it, much like the way it felt to pick up someone else's wand. It was strange, but nothing out of the ordinary. Certain materials, like wood, gemstones, and crystals, had a tendency to absorb magical signatures in small traces. Each material was appropriate for certain types of spellcasting, like wood was good for wands, gemstones were good for powerful alchemical enchantments, and crystals served as Wood Witch charms, or natural-force magic, like the enhancement of fertility, cerebral concentration, good dreaming, fitful sleep, and such "household remedies." Each material may be used as a wand of sorts, but wood was the strongest, most accurate conductor. Gemstones and crystals tended to scatter magic almost as badly as having no wand at all. Still, if used as wandcores, they were known to harness magic in the most powerful way.
He palmed the crystal momentarily, trying to feel if there was more to the crystal than it first seemed. There was nothing, just that trace of magic, like fading perfume. The crack at its center gave it a peculiar look, but it was mostly benign.
He had been wrong. The crystal was not a Horcrux.
It was a disappointment of sorts, because it meant it was still somewhere in this house, he just didn't know where or what it was.
He handed the crystal back to Angelica. "Thank you. I've seen what I needed to see."
Angelica took it back without a word and rushed back up the stairs, slamming her bedroom door shut and not coming back out.
Harry eyed Hermione questioningly.
"She's very attached to that crystal," Hermione explained, heading back to the kitchen. "She considers it an heirloom of sorts."
He nodded. "Any more heirlooms, by any chance?"
She eyed him with curiosity. "Granger heirlooms, and then there's your Invisibility Cloak. I haven't told her about the Marauders Map, and I'm still wondering if I ever will…"
That made him smile, even if at the pit of his stomach, he somehow felt a great deal of anxiety.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hermione and Harry were putting away the dinner plates when the doorbell rang.
They both looked up at the clock. It was almost eight, and while that wasn't really late, it was strange to receive unexpected guests at that hour.
With the headline that morning, Hermione wasn't going to take chances.
"Wait here," she said and was very much startled when Harry was saying the same thing.
They stared at one another across the dinner table, first in surprise, then with their respective glares of stubbornness.
Angelica jumped up. "Um, I'll go look-"
"Sit!" both her parents said.
Angelica plopped back down on her chair without a word of protest.
"This is my house. I'll go," Hermione said.
"You're all over the papers and the press are hounds. It isn't safe for you to be opening your doors-"
"It's not like I'd open the door without looking. I've had to put up with the press before, you know. I don't need anyone's protection."
"You didn't have anyone's protection. Now I'm here and I can do my part."
"Your part is a man in hiding. It's a little silly for you answer the front door!"
The doorbell rang again, more impatiently this time.
"It's so easy to Glamour my face," Harry said, already taking off.
Hermione took off after him. "This is ridiculous. Go back into the kitchen, Harry!"
He didn't and she was so primed to be stubborn and so determined to get her way that she didn't bother to peek through the peephole. She swung the door open. Just as she thought, Harry barely had time to duck behind the door.
"You opened it!" he whispered in an accusatory tone.
She shot him a smug grin before she realized that it was Ginny staring at her from across the threshold.
"Well, it's nice to see you're quite satisfied with yourself," Ginny said rather haughtily.
"G-Ginny!" Hermione exclaimed.
Harry gasped softly, a horrified expression on his face.
"Don't look so surprised!" Ginny cried, stepping into the house and pushing her way through. "It's not everyday we read something interesting about you in the papers! And with Ron refusing to tell me anything and Fleur acting all shady about it, it would only be natural for me to ambush you at your home! So here I am!"
Ginny swung the door shut behind her in a dramatic flourish, exposing Harry in his un-Glamoured glory.
Hermione wasn't quite sure what to do. Harry seemed so frightened by the prospect of coming face to face with Ginny that she felt sorry enough for him to help him delay the inevitable, yet his reappearance wasn't exactly the kind of thing she had intended to keep from Ginny forever. Sooner was better than later, wasn't it?
Ginny was just about to say something more when her eyes fell upon Harry standing stiffly at the corner, just beside the door. She froze.
Harry swallowed visibly.
Ginny blinked. "H-Harry? But no! You're-I mean, he's dead!"
"He's not," Hermione piped in gently. "We just all thought he was."
Ginny's draw dropped in apparent disbelief and Hermione braced herself for the explosive anger Ginny had always seemed to harbor for Harry all those years ago.
A Bat-bogey first, before the real pain begins… thought Hermione dourly.
But Ginny did the most unexpected thing. She burst into hysterical, wailing tears.
Hermione was only surprised for a second. "Oh, Ginny honey!"
She went to the weeping woman and threw her arms around her, enveloping Ginny in a comforting embrace. Ginny sobbed against her shirt, taking fists full of cloth as she heaved, cried, and whimpered.
Angelica came stumbling out. "What is it? Is it a Banshee? Oh! Aunt Ginny?"
"Hush!" Hermione said to her, leading Ginny into the living room. "Harry, be a dear and get me a wet cloth. There's some in the bathroom cupboard."
Harry didn't need to be told twice. He shot out of there like he couldn't get away fast enough.
Ginny was still crying when Harry returned, but the wailing had stopped and she actually looked up at him in wonder when she took the offered cloth from him.
"Holy Helga…" Ginny whispered, wiping her face with the wet towelette. Her magazine-perfect eyeliner had run, and strands of her bright, fashionably bobbed red hair stuck to her face, but she still looked like a lovely doll. Her sparkly hairclip certainly hadn't lost its place, and as her fingers fluttered over the cloth, her perfect manicure was only accentuated by her decorative rings.
She sniffed and tried to compose herself amidst her hiccupping. "Is it really you, Harry? But it has to be. Why else would Ron and Fleur keep mum about this?" Her nose was stuffy and Hermione offered her a tissue. She blew her nose. "Are you sure it's Harry? Not an imposter?"
"I'm right here," Harry muttered. "One would think you'd wait `til my back was turned before you asked questions like that."
Ginny reddened. "I'm sorry. I'm just very shocked by all this."
Hermione nodded understandingly.
"Merlin, Harry, where have you been?" Ginny asked with an exasperated sigh.
"Oh," Harry began awkwardly, obviously at a loss at what to say. "Somewhere…"
It hardly mattered. Ginny went on talking. "You don't know how miserable everyone was at your loss, and shite, Hermione was-well, she could've used your support!" She had to blow her nose again.
Hermione gave her an appreciative smile as Harry sank further into his sofa chair.
"He couldn't help it," Hermione explained. "He was horribly indisposed, from what he told me."
Ginny gave a miserable laugh. "I'd imagine so. Bursting into flames and everything. Only Harry Potter would come back after something like that!"
Harry looked terribly ashamed.
Hermione patted Ginny's knee. "Would you like to talk to him privately?"
From the corner of her eye, Hermione could see Harry's rather reluctant look, but Ginny nodded, so Hermione ignored Harry and stood from the couch.
"Come along, love," Hermione told Angelica. "Let's leave Aunt Ginny with Harry for a bit. We'll hang around in my office, alright?"
Angelica complied without a word, and just as Hermione expected, Angelica left her office door ajar, just enough for both of them to eavesdrop.
For a moment, Hermione considered letting Angelica do her mischief, but she realized that Ginny deserved her privacy with Harry. It was a talk long overdue.
Hermione shut her office door, and Angelica could do nothing but pout quietly in her corner.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Harry shot Hermione a meaningful look as he watched her leave. Angelica flashed him a cute smile before following after her mother.
It wasn't that he was afraid of Ginny. He'd seen enough horrible things in his life to be too afraid of feisty redheads, and really, from what he remembered of her, she was quite sweet and thoughtful. She was also quite lovely-still was. She had been the perfect girlfriend for a sixteen-year-old boy.
He just didn't quite know what to say. What was he expected to say? Should he apologize? Apologizing seemed wrong, since he never regretted falling for Hermione, or for siring Angelica. Was he expected to make some kind of explanation for it? That was a bit difficult, since one just happened to fall in love. Should he apologize for not saying something before? Whatever Ron said, it seemed silly, since he and Ginny were broken up for months before Hermione began to permeate his thoughts. He felt so awkward. He wished Ginny would lead. Much of their past relationship was mostly about her leading, anyway.
She started quietly, asking the questions everyone else had, about where he had been, and why he had kept away, and how, in Merlin's name, could he have come back from the dead. At this point, he already had answers to those questions by rote, expertly evasive by saying enough, yet not enough. After a while, Ginny, just like everyone else, gave up with a quiet sigh.
After another awkward pause, Ginny went on.
"I'm glad you're not dead, Harry," she said, sniffling. "You have no idea how happy I am."
"Little hard to tell," he grumbled.
She laughed at that through her waning tears. "I am happy. I suppose there was a time I was a bit put-off with you, but then I thought you were dead, and after I let it out that one time, the anger was gone, and I just kept wishing you hadn't died even if we hadn't… you know… tried again."
Harry fidgeted even as he nodded. "I appreciate that."
She smiled. "It was very hard at first. When I first found out Hermione was pregnant with your child, I just-I was furious with Hermione. I just thought she, you know, somehow got you to sleep with her and got knocked-up in the process."
He frowned.
"You have to understand," she went on. "Up until then, it never crossed my mind that you would see Hermione that way, and I happened to know that Ron was so gone on her that I thought for sure it would be Hermione and Ron. You just never showed anything other than platonic affection for her all those years I knew you both. It was difficult to accept, Harry. I was really in love with you back then."
He felt his face grow warm.
"It took a while, but I understood eventually that the two of you did fall in love and that even if you came back to us alive, I'd have already lost you to her. I did wonder if things would've been different if I had stubbornly gone with you on those long camping trips you took."
He smiled apologetically. "I don't know if it had to do with any of that…"
She shrugged. "I suppose so. I think maybe I was just very miserable that I didn't get the closure I needed from you. You just died all of a sudden and then I found out Hermione was having your baby. Was a bit jarring, even if we've been broken up for months, not to mention that I was saving myself for you."
Harry's eyebrow arched in confusion. "Saving yourself? Were you in trouble?"
Ginny blushed, frowned, then laughed. "You know… saving! My virginity. I was hoping our first time would be with each other."
Harry felt the flush rising in his neck and cheeks. "Well… um, I could tell you that it would've been very awkward. Bumping heads and clumsy things like that."
Ginny laughed even more. "Yes, well, it still would've been romantic, yeah?"
He thought about it. Was his first time with Hermione romantic in spite of the bumped heads and awkward pauses? Well, yes it was. It had been very intense, and remembering it still made his heart turn summersaults. "Yeah."
"So there. I think everyone thought it was an infatuation, so my anger was a bit of a shock, but it worked out in the end. And now, seeing you again… I think I'll live."
"That's good to hear."
Ginny smiled. "You wouldn't happen to be amenable to letting my magazine conduct an interview with you, would you? I'll direct your layout from start to finish. You'd have a killer spread. I bet I can make you look breathtakingly gorgeous in jeans and a fabulous robe, with or without an undershirt. You can even keep the glasses. Ooh! I can see it now. It'll put you on the 50 Most Enchanting Wizards list!"
He had never felt such horror.
Ginny laughed. "The look on your face! Okay, maybe not now, but I asked first, Harry, and the offer stands."
He said nothing to that, lest he inadvertently agree to any of it.
He had to admit, though, that the entire talk had given him some form of relief. Maybe he really had left something hanging, avoiding this talk with Ginny.
The more important matters being settled, he thought perhaps he could move on to having some kind of renewed friendship-less of the "ex" awkwardness and back to the sisterly camaraderie he had with her before he ever had thoughts of dating her, but there appeared to still be something Ginny wanted to discuss with him.
It looked serious-deathly so. He was almost afraid to ask her what it was.
"Something else?" Harry asked.
She motioned to speak, but she clamped her lips shut, shook her head and smiled. "It's nothing. I ought to be going. Perhaps I'll drop by at Ron's. You have sat down and spoken to him, haven't you?"
"Of course."
"So… you know his thing for Hermione?"
"Yeah…"
Ginny nodded and stood. "So long as. That's for you two to work out. I'll be seeing you around Harry. We'll talk again."
Harry could've sworn she put a rather serious edge to that last bit. He hoped it didn't mean she was going to commandeer him for her magazine. "I'll go get Hermione."
"Oh, that won't be necessary. See me out, won't you?"
"Err, alright." He walked her to the door. He took care to conceal his face from anyone who might see him outside.
"Listen, Harry," Ginny whispered, her gaze intense on his. "Sometimes I feel… what I mean to say is-" she paused. "Look, just take good care of Angelica, alright?" She bit her lip. "Listen to your instincts."
She turned to leave.
His brows knotted, alarm bells ringing in his head. "What? What do you mean-Ginny, what are you-"
"Oh, bollocks! I forgot something I had to do!" Ginny cried, hurrying down the porch steps. "I have to go! Tell Hermione goodnight, for me! Tell Angelica I'll bring her a present next time!" She left almost in a jog.
"Dammit," he hissed, bothered by the strange feeling he suddenly had at the pit of his stomach.
Something told him that he wasn't the only one with secrets to keep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"It's not the pendant," Harry said.
Nearby, Hedwig flapped his wings slightly and gave two mournful hoots at the moon, as if to commiserate. A few leaves shook loose from his perch.
Snape frowned and smoothed the front of his night-robes calmly, stirring some of the mist around him. "You woke me from my sleep just to tell me that you got something wrong, yet again?"
Harry ignored his bitching. "I held the pendant in my hand and it wasn't the Horcrux, but the thing's in the house. I know it is."
Snape expelled a breath and picked some sort of imaginary speck of dirt from the front of his robes. "How do you know?"
"My dreams tell me it's there. I can feel its presence when I sleep."
"Then why can you not feel it when you are awake? You should be able to."
"It's warded. That's the only explanation I can think of." Harry stood from his tree stump and cursed, kicking at some loose leaves on the ground. "Even in my dreams, I could feel it through some kind of filter."
"Filter? Like a shield?"
"No, like I'm seeing into someone else's night visions."
Snape's lips pursed. "There were only four people involved in the spell at that moment Voldemort tried to create his Horcrux."
Harry tutted irritably. "Three. Me, Voldemort, and Hermione-"
"Four. You forget, yet again. Hermione was not just one person anymore."
Harry froze and looked up. He felt his eyes blazing, and anger like he'd never felt before flared. His protective instincts have never been so strong. "Leave my daughter out of this."
"It ought to be considered, do you not think?" Snape said heartlessly. "She was there."
"Angelica has nothing to do with this. If it has anything to do with her at all, I would've felt something by now. I would've known. Same way I would've known if Hermione were connected in the magic of it-"
"Well, are you sure you are not feeling anything from Angelica? Some kind of subtle bond? You will not feel it like you felt Voldemort all those years ago. He was your enemy. No ritual mixing of your blood with his could take that away, but Angelica is part of you. She came by your blood through birthright. Any connection you have with her will not manifest through pain-"
"Shut up, Snape. Just shut-up!" he hissed, his fists clenching so hard that he could feel his nails digging into the palms of his hands.
"Listen to me, Potter. If indeed this has something to do with Angelica, it is all the more reason for you to do something about it."
"Don't you think I know that?"
"Forgive me if I am used to spelling even the most obvious things out for you."
"You know nothing. You have no idea how it feels to have a daughter-to want to protect someone so badly that you just know that if someone harms her or tries to? You could kill. You understand that much, don't you, Snape? Killing?"
Snape's expression was forbidding. "I understand that if you let your sentiments cloud your judgment, you may be putting her in more danger than she might already be in."
"I told you to shut-up. Shut-up! She's not a Horcrux! She's. Not. A. Horcrux!"
Snape froze.
Harry had his wand drawn, his breathing was labored, and his voice-his voice…
There was a profound silence as Harry began to feel his eyes burning with rage. He blinked once, then twice-more forcefully this time, and he struggled to calm his fury. His stomach twisted painfully from the strain, and next he knew, he was on his knees, gasping and choking for air and sanity.
There was a squawk from the trees overhead, the flapping of wings steady and agitated. Imogen was upset. She always was when he got this way.
His fingers dug into the soil and the spasm of breathing was agonizing.
After a long moment, Snape spoke. "You need to take more of your potion."
Harry shook his head. "No-" He coughed, trying to swallow and clear his throat of the remnants of that awful, inhuman sound that had crawled out of his throat. "No. It's too soon. I can't be taking doses too soon." He looked up, sweat dripping from his brow. "I can handle it. I swear I can."
Snape's jaw tensed, and he looked like he was ready to hex Harry from frustration. "Try to hold off until the end of the week at the most, then take more of it, but bear in mind that another outburst like this one and you might not be able to control it. Keep your negative emotions in check. Try to remember the meditative techniques you were taught-"
"Yes, yes! I know all that!" growled Harry.
"Temper, Potter!"
Harry turned away in disgust, though he heeded the warning.
"You need to go back to the house," Snape said after a while. "I imagine that being in the presence of Granger and your sprog would do better for you than being here-with me."
"No shit."
"You are the one who called me here."
Harry conceded the point as he gingerly got back on his feet. "I'll stay in touch," he finally said. "If I find anything out, I'll owl you."
"See that you do," said Snape, turning to go back into the mists.
Harry watched him disappear and he was alone again in that dark wood, beyond the soundless park and playground, just past the eerie glow of streetlights.
Overhead, Hedwig hovered near. Imogen had flown further, though Harry could still feel her presence. She wasn't far.
Sighing, Harry headed back to the house.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hermione heard the back door open and close, the jingling of keys distinct in the silence of the house.
Harry's tread became louder as he emerged from the kitchen, and through the darkness of the house, her night vision adjusted, she could see from the top of the stairs that his shoulders were slumped heavily. His bone-tired gait was familiar. She remembered it from years ago, when he worried about the fate of Britain and the fate of his life.
He went to his room and seemed to have kept his door open. He wasn't quite turning in for the night.
Quietly, she descended the steps and peered into his room. He was about to remove his coat. She knocked on the frame of his door.
He froze and looked over his shoulder. He seemed tense. "Did I wake you? I'm sorry."
She shook her head. "I woke up by myself. Couldn't go back to sleep and was just about to grab a midnight snack. Heard you coming in then."
She didn't ask the obvious question, but he appeared to be expecting it.
"Went out for a walk," he muttered, his eyes not meeting hers.
So many secrets.
She went to him, taking hold of his arm and squeezing it. "You won't lose me."
He stared, a hint of doubt in his gaze that pierced her heart.
She went on. "Earlier, you said you were afraid you'd lose the people you love. You can't possibly lose me, Harry. I've stuck by you through the worse of times before. Goodness, I even stuck by you when you were supposed to be dead, if you can believe that. I'm not going anywhere. I won't ever abandon you."
The trust in his eyes, that old light she had cherished so much, flared for a moment, but it dimmed even as he said, "I went to see Snape."
That was a shock. "Severus Snape? He's alive? He-"
"He's been in Avalon all this time," he interrupted. "I think perhaps he likes it there more than he cares to admit."
She pursed her lips, noting how he was trying to make light of the situation. "What has he been doing in Avalon?"
He paused at her stern tone but nodded. "The priestesses brought him there… for me. He helps me and… well, I-I owe him a lot."
That was confusing in the extreme. "What-"
A pained expression crossed his face and she realized that his muscles under her grip were almost rock solid from tension. She could make him tell right now, she knew it, but it would cost him something. She did not know for sure what it was, or how she even figured that, but she was suddenly a bit afraid of what could frighten Harry Potter.
She sighed, remembering a time long ago when Goyle tried to force her to do what she didn't want to do, and how Harry, having been abused in different ways so many times, held her because he understood.
Slipping into his arms, she enfolded him in her embrace and whispered in his ear, "It's alright. It's going to be alright."
He embraced right back, and it was a needy, desperate embrace, parts appreciation and something else.
She knew what it was. She had felt it before.
She lifted her face, offering a kiss.
He froze.
It's alright. It's just a kiss…
She knew better now from the previous night's experience. He had demons. Whatever they were, they held him in his grip, yet he needed comfort, and she needed him. She expected nothing more than a kiss.
He took it. It was a sweet, gentle caress, and it was filled with tender intimacy.
Their hands roamed, and the kiss began to gain heat.
She breathed against his lips, rising on her toes to press closer.
He moved back and they toppled on the bed.
A gasp escaped her, and she found herself staring down at him, her body weighing down his. She wondered somewhat excitedly if he would let this get further, and when he rolled them over, her body caged between his arms as she stared up at him, her heart beat furiously, wanting him and the desire in his eyes.
But then he collapsed against the bed on her side, gathering her in his arms. Stifling a sigh, she couldn't help but turn on her side so she was spooned into his embrace. She felt his breath on her nape, labored and softly suffering. The feel of his lips against her spine was distinct, but there was no kiss in it. His hand splayed on her abdomen, stroking down, and then up, just short of those places she wanted him so badly to touch.
She had to control her own desires now, and as she curled a bit tighter, his body molded more snugly to hers. Finally, she expelled that trapped sighed in her chest, frustrated, though resigned.
"Please stay," he whispered.
"I will," she replied without the slightest hesitation. She resisted turning around to face him, locking him in her bodily embrace and kissing him into submission. He wouldn't be able to resist. She could make him make love to her. She knew she had that power, but she stayed the way she was, abiding by his wishes.
She stayed, hyper aware of the warmth of his body.
He fell asleep much quicker than she did, like he was exhausted.
Finally she turned over in his arms. He let her adjust, but he kept sleeping, and with her cheek pressed against his chest, she finally fell asleep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The forest had never been quite so lit. He had never seen it beyond night. There was a faint trace of morning light from some distant horizon and the beasts that roamed its shadows were surprisingly absent.
He could see color. The leaves were deep green, and the sky was grey instead of black. He saw the brown of bark and even the blood red of ladybugs. There was life where he always seemed to see only death.
Cautiously, he walked, watching warily for signs that this was a trap; that he was being fooled.
Nothing stirred, and moments later, he heard that familiar strain of music.
He followed it, listening for every note and pause.
As the sound got louder, he saw an ancient door, carved with strange images.
Runes.
He never did learn how to read them.
The door was ajar. He could tell even from a few steps away. He stepped even closer and the door creaked wide open by itself.
It was a room, candlelit. The room was lined with books and scrolls. In one corner, a piano played by itself. In the center there was a desk, a book resting atop it.
A girl stood over it, her back turned to him.
He had seen the girl before. Many times, but he could never remember her face. He never knew who she was. Once, she had crossed over to his realm, but he had driven her away, knowing that she would be devoured by his demon-infested mind if he left her unaided.
She looked over her shoulder, peering at him through her bright green eyes.
He stared, staying just beyond the threshold of the door. There was a barrier. He could step no further.
Then the girl spoke. "Dad?"
Her voice, that word, echoed through his head like a pealing realization.
He didn't know why, but unspeakable horror rose in his stomach. He saw how close she stood to the blank pages of the book. He saw the droop of ink bleeding into the paper and slowly forming into words.
~~
Where was he when you needed him, Angelica?
~~
It was a diary; a diary he knew well. He had destroyed it once…
Impossible, he thought.
"Get away from that," he rasped, struggling to move towards her, but the barrier prevented him. "Sweetheart, get away from that thing!"
She seemed afraid, but she did not move. "It calls to me. Always has, but I could make it go quiet before. It seems stronger now. Much stronger…"
Panic rose in his heart. He pushed, trying to get to her, but her mind was pure and it would not let him taint it. "Love, listen to me," he said desperately. "Just step away from the diary. Step. Away."
Her eyes widened at the urgency of his tone, but she nodded. She took one step back.
"Keep going," he said. "Just please keep going…"
The diary rattled on its podium, and then that wrathful roar began.
It was coming from the book and his fury for the creature in its pages rose. Suddenly, the roar was coming from behind him, too. His forest was darkening again. It was everywhere, but Harry couldn't be bothered by the demons that sought him-not yet.
Angelica had covered her ears, terrified, and she was screaming that high-pitched cry. "Daddy!"
He fought the barriers that kept him out, pressing his hands flat against it and forcing his magic through.
A beam of power shot through the invisible wall and slammed against the diary. Dark magic fought against dark magic, and Angelica was screaming anew.
He gave it everything he had and the book was wrenched close with a resounding bang.
His demons were close. He couldn't stay, or else they would devour him.
The diary was bound. It would not bother Angelica again tonight.
Angelica was going to him, arms outstretched.
He shook his head and he slammed the door shut between them. He could hear her fists banging, her voice pleading for him to come back.
It was like a knife through his heart, keeping her away, but she would be safer this way.
The beasts were coming.
Running his hand against the door in a gentle caress, he turned away, the strains of familiar music drowning against the wailing cries of the demons pursuing him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Harry was startled awake when Hermione shot out of his arms.
She ran to door just as he heard the distinct sound of Angelica's voice.
"Daddy!"
He wondered momentarily if he was still dreaming, but a blur of dark curls materialized at his threshold just as Hermione swung his door open.
She was so fast that he didn't even realize what was coming until he had that little blur in his arms, desperately clinging to him.
Angelica sniffled. She was crying.
Hermione blinked as she stared at them, no doubt a strange picture to her who was more used to having Angelica go to her for comfort.
He didn't ask Angelica what was wrong. Somehow, he knew, and her fears were real to him. He held her securely, rocking slightly as he whispered soothing words of comfort against his daughter's head.
Hermione, though completely baffled, seemed to relax and she sat by them, back on the bed. "Nightmare?" she whispered.
"Probably," Harry replied softly, knowing, but pretending he was guessing just as she was.
Hermione smiled, lightly running her fingers through Angelica's hair.
Angelica looked up at them, and when her gaze met Harry's, he thought maybe he saw the tiniest pinprick of red coming and fading.
Good God…
Angelica whimpered and Harry felt his stomach clenching with fear.
Snape's words earlier coming to the forefront of his mind.
"Well, are you sure you are not feeling anything from Angelica? Some kind of subtle bond? You will not feel it like you felt Voldemort all those years ago. He was your enemy. No ritual mixing of your blood with his could take that away, but Angelica is part of you. She came by your blood through birthright. Any connection you have with her will not manifest through pain…"
He shut his eyes tight, hoping he could push the words back, but he couldn't. It was too real, too condemning.
All those years…
He thought in despair. All those years, we've been connected in dreams… and nightmares.
He held Angelica tighter in his arms.
END, PART TWO.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N: Have an inkling? ~_^
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