Here, There, and Everywhere
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
AN: I hope you like this chapter. Thanks Amy for the beta!
Chapter 07: Difficulty
Harry was doing some paperwork. It wasn't very exciting but at least it took his mind off of a certain someone.
And to be honest it was necessary, as they didn't exactly have many clues about Mr. Blueberry or whoever the person was. Harry had a strange feeling that he wouldn't like the answers.
His work as an Auror had been somewhat peaceful during the past few years. There weren't any important dark threats. Only the usual former Death Eaters- and sometimes not even them. In fact, the majority of the Death Eaters were killed or sent to Azkaban during or soon after the war.
Lucius Malfoy was included in that group. Hermione had killed him during an ambush in Hogsmeade. He remembered the ambush with a shiver: when Malfoy Senior had raised his hand at a badly wounded Ron, and he was about to pronounce those two terrible words, when Hermione cast a powerful Stupefy at him.
Harry had never seen someone cast that spell with so much power- and, perhaps, rage.
Not even him.
Days later, Remus would tell him that it had been the first time that anyone had ever done it.
Harry shook his head, trying to focus on the problem before him.
Lucius was dead.
However, there were still three names that hadn't been captured or better, in Harry's opinion, killed.
Antonin Dolohov, Severus Snape, and Draco Malfoy.
"Snape," the young man repeated the name heatedly to himself. "S-" Then he stopped as if something had suddenly come to mind, something that neither he, Kingsley, or even Hermione had thought to consider.
Someone, who, unfortunately, was a Master in Potions and Dark Arts.
"Why didn't I think about it before," he asked himself, looking at his notes. It was then that he heard someone knocking on the door.
'Why do people have to come at the worst times... I bet its Muriel,' Harry groaned, standing up and walking towards the door.
"Muriel, I-" he was saying as he opened the door, but then stopped in the middle of his sentence as he noticed who it was. "Charlie?"
"Hullo, Harry," the red haired said in an oddly serious tone, "I came here to have a talk with you. Is something wrong?"
It had been years since the last time Harry had truly spoken with Ron's brother, and he couldn't help but find the situation a little awkward. He blinked twice before nodding.
"Sure- I mean, no. Not a problem. Come in," Harry replied, motioning for Charlie to enter the apartment. "Um, there's the couch..."
Charlie nodded absently as he entered the apartment. He sighed deeply as he sat down on the dark red couch.
"So, Charlie, how have you been?" Harry asked with a forced smiled. The young wizard didn't know exactly what to say.
"You know very well I didn't come here to chit chat, Harry," Charlie replied seriously, his eyes darkening.
Harry sighed, sitting down on an armchair. "Yeah," he replied, bitter at the thought that Hermione had sent her fiancé to have a talk with him.
You used to have more courage, Hermione Granger.
"And I didn't come here to say Hermione was sorry," Charlie continued. "And she doesn't know I'm here in case you were wondering." Harry gave him an almost imperceptible nod. "But like I was saying," Charlie continued, "I didn't come here to say Hermione is sorry ...blah blah blah....You already know that. You know that she is sorry and there's no reason to repeat it all over again." He paused a second, running a hand through his flame hair. "I came here because I'm tired. I'm fucking tired of all this little crap that's been going on."
"Charlie-"
Charlie raised a hand for Harry to stop. "Please, let me finish," he spoke firmly. "I can't pretend that I know what you, Hermione, and Ron had to endure. I don't think anyone can. What you did, what you saw, what you fought together is only between the three of you. I can accept that. Even if it's difficult." He sighed heavily. "And it is difficult. It's difficult to wake up in the middle of night because your girlfriend is crying- it's difficult to hear her calling your name or Ron's name during a nightmare. Yes, it is difficult, but I try to understand, because I know that some wounds from war will never go away."
Harry shifted uncomfortably in the armchair. That simple statement just confirmed the level of Charlie and Hermione's relationship for him.
He didn't like it.
"Is she still having nightmares?" he suddenly asked before could stop himself. So many years later, he also still had nightmares, and even as he tried to deny it, a wave of concern filled his body.
Charlie looked surprised for a moment, but then nodded. "Yes, but now with less frequency. However, nowadays, she seems to be crying for other reasons." Harry looked away, unable to control the blush on his cheeks. "And that's what I can't take. I can't take anymore of seeing her cry because of you!"
Harry looked back at Charlie and his eyes widened slightly. Somehow that statement seemed wrong.
"I know she made a mistake in not telling you, but what's done is done. In your place I would be hur- mad too, but I would have accepted her apologies or at least have tried to listen to her reasons. And you know why? Because... me- I- would be happy to have my best friend back. However, I am not you and I can't put the two of you together and order you to shake hands and forget all about it like two five year old kids. I can only ask if Hermione's mistake was enough for you to start hating her so much."
Harry was taken aback by Charlie's last statement.
"I don't hate Hermione," he said quietly and for a second he thought that he saw a slight glimpse of sadness in Charlie's eyes, but dismissed it quickly.
"I am not a stupid bloke, Harry. I may not be as powerful as you or as smart as Hermione, but..." Charlie heaved a sigh, closing his eyes painfully. "Just think about all this." He opened his eyes again, looking straight into Harry's emerald ones. "I love her. I love her with every fiber of my being." He stood up, and began to walk towards the door. "I don't want to have you as my riv- enemy."
And without waiting for a reply, Charlie opened the door and left.
*
Neville and Ginny's house.
"Ron," Ginny spoke in a soothing tone, rubbing her seven month tummy gently, "you need to calm down."
"Calm down? Calm down?!" He shoved his arms into the air. "How can I calm down when I have two bloody brick-heads as best friends?"
"Mate, Gin is right," Neville broke in, "you need to calm down. I'm sure Harry and Hermione will come to their senses. Merlin, they're Harry and Hermione!"
Ron turned his blue gaze at his former housemate, and gave him a sad smile. "Yes." He sighed heavily. "However, they aren't the same Harry and Hermione. I'm not the same me from...A long time has passed and still-" Ron stopped, and looked down at his hands, all those memories flashing in his mind.
1999
Ron could hear the fireworks exploding outside Grimmauld Place. The wizarding world was still celebrating the defeat of You-Know-Who by the Chosen One, the Boy-Who-Lived. Everybody seemed so hyper and happy...
He sipped his tea and then looked at Hermione, who was quietly having her breakfast, her eyes focused on her plate.
She was wearing one of Harry's old shirts and a pair of pajama shorts. It wasn't an outfit that Ron had never seen her wear before. She had started wearing his and Harry's old clothes a while back. However, he knew- and that hurt him more than anyone could ever imagine- that this time was different.
Ron closed his eyes as flashes of the previous night came back into his mind.
He hadn't slept.
He had heard them.
"You slept with him," he blurted out, his voice wasn't angry, but sad.
Hermione practically choked on her coffee, as she looked up at him, her eyes widening. "W-What?"
"You slept with Harry last night," he repeated flatly.
"Ron, I don't kn-"
"Please, don't tell me you don't know what I am talking about. It wasn't a question. I was stating a fact."
Hermione played nervously with her napkin. "I'm sorry, Ron," she said softly.
"I guess I never had a chance, huh?" He gave a dry laugh.
"Ron..."
"I am not going to shout or whatever, believe me. I-I just need some time to myself, okay?"
Hermione nodded and tears began to fall from her brown eyes.
He wanted to ask if she loved Harry, but he already knew the answer.
However, he did ask her some weeks later.
And she lied.
*
"Ron, mate?" Neville's voice broke his reverie. "Are you alright?"
Ron blinked and then forced a smile. "Yeah... just lost in thought for a second."
"Ron," Ginny spoke again, "do you want to talk?"
"What have I been doing, Ginevra?" he replied in disbelief.
She sighed. "I know you, dear brother- and I know that you have been bottling too many things inside that heart of yours."
"I am fine, Ginny."
But he wasn't.
Ginny nodded, giving in, and Ron was glad for that. Sometimes, he wondered if he could go back in time.
But then-
What was done- was done.
But he had a strange feeling that wounds from the past would be showing up again soon.
No matter how hard Harry and Hermione had been trying all those years to ignore it- no matter how much they had been fooling themselves.
And Ron just kept hoping that his brother wouldn't get hurt.
**
The Burrow
Charlie Weasley lay down on his bed and stared at the ceiling above him. Somehow he didn't think that his little chat with Harry had gone well.
In a way, it had been much worse than expected.
Who had he been kidding?
He closed his eyes, remembering the day when Hermione had told him about her needing to come back to Britain. He had thought it was a good idea- he missed home and Bill had already spoken to him about working with Gringotts' dragons.
It had all seemed so perfect then...
He would have a job in Britain, and twice a week he would take a Portkey to Romania to see his dragons.
He had made plans, and when Hermione accepted his proposal... it was probably the happiest day of his life.
Charlie covered his face with his hands as he swallowed the scream that he could feel coming up his throat.
He wanted to be a bad man.
He wanted to be angry.
But, instead, whether he wanted it or not, he was... afraid.
***
Have a good Weekend everyone! :)