Here, There, and Everywhere.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
'Leave me out with the waste
This is not what I do
It's the wrong kind of place
To be thinking of you
It's the wrong time
For somebody new
It's a small crime
And I've got no excuse'
('Nine Crimes', Damien Rice)
Chapter 08: Seeking Truths
Grimmauld Place
1999
Harry, Ron, and Hermione were in Number Twelve's living room. The place was filled by an awkward silence. It seemed that the best friends hadn't anything to say to each other anymore.
Hermione glanced at Harry and felt herself blushing. Unconsciously, she brought a hand to her lips, the images of that night playing in her head. She wasn't supposed to feel that way, but still-
She closed her eyes briefly, smiling nonetheless, but then when she opened them once again, and let them wander on her two best friends, Hermione felt a sick sensation in her stomach; A dread feeling that things couldn't be the same.
She wasn't the same.
However, a part of her still had hope. A silly and romantic hope that, perhaps, everything would be alright, and they could be happy.
A perchance...
... and she actually dreamed about it. She and he could be happy.
"Ah, guys," Harry suddenly spoke out causing to both Ron and Hermione look at him, "Ginny and me- we're together again."
Hermione blinked, a lump forming on her throat. She couldn't speak, she couldn't think.
"Oh, t-that's nice," she chocked out, getting up from the armchair she was sitting on. "I-I have to see something in my room."
And she ran up the stairs, a hand on her mouth suffocating an angst sob.
**
Hermione splashed the cold water on her face, in a silly attempt to remain awake. It was only nine in the evening but Hermione was feeling herself drowning in tiredness. She still had to do some paperwork, read some books about dark magic. She needed to distract herself Hermione turned off the tap, and then took a towel to dry her face. Looking up at her reflex, she could see the dark holes under her eyes; her skin was paler than it was almost a month ago.
Hermione sighed, thinking that she should be going back to her papers and researches, but differently from that bushy haired teenaged girl from years ago, this Hermione knew that going back to her desk in her bedroom wouldn't help anything on the case- or in anything else, really.
Actually, she was feeling more and more frustrated with herself.
"It wasn't even me who thought about Snape," she said to herself, slightly bitter at the thought that she hadn't thought about it first.
Of course, it was something silly to be feeling, but she couldn't help it. It was the brushy haired teenaged girl wishing to be the first, the fear of being a failure all over again.
She then cast her gaze down at the sink, silently staring at her and Charlie's toothbrushes.
Charlie.
It had been two days since he had come to her apartment. Yes, they had had a dinner together in Diagon Alley just the day before, but he only accompanied her to her apartment's door.
He didn't enter.
He hadn't wanted to enter.
He said he was tired and had to work earlier in the next day.
Hermione knew it was a lie, but didn't persuade the issue.
And looking now at herself, she was beginning to realize that her mistakes could not only affect her friendship with Harry (God, if there still is a friendship between them, she thought sadly) but also her relationship with Charlie.
"Granger! Granger!" Kingsley's voice coming from her fireplace. It had been very useful that so many years ago her parents had bought an apartment with a fireplace; something not so common.
"What is it, sir?" she asked as soon as she came near the green flames.
"We have a situation in the Diagon Alley. Potter is already there." Without waiting for a reply, Kingsley disappeared through the flames.
"Just great," Hermione murmured before going to change her clothes and head off to Diagon Alley.
***
Bill's and Fleur's apartment
"Charlie, my brother, this isn't you," Bill said after listening to his brother.
Charlie covered his face with his hands, sighing. "I know." He looked up at his older brother. "I know, but- I just don't know what to think; what to do."
"Charlie, it has been almost two months since you returned," Bill pondered.
"Yeah..." Charlie closed his eyes briefly to open them again a moment later. "I love her, Bill." He fixed his eyes on his brother. "And I feel like I'm losing her."
"I think you are being a little harsh about it, Charlie," Bill said. "Like I said this isn't like you. You can't be worried- afraid- of something that doesn't exist."
"But that's the problem, Bill!" Charlie slapped his thigh, frustrated. "I just don't know if `doesn't exist´ is anything. I was always sure that she had left Britain because of Ron- his betrayal." He shrugged. "But now...something happened between her and Harry. I had this-"
"What, feeling?" Bill snorted. "Merlin, Charlie! Even if they had something- the tense says everything- they had." His expression became serious. "What you can't do is push her away. Not talking, staying at home brooding suspicions won't help in anything." He took a deep breath, a serious expression on his face. "You didn't talk to her about it, did you?" Seeing that Charlie wouldn't respond, Bill continued, "What are you afraid of, Charlie?"
"I am thirty-three, Bill. I had other women- I-" He shook his head. "I'm feeling like a bloody teenager!"
"What are you afraid of, Charlie?" Bill repeated the question, looking straight into his brother's eyes.
***
Diagon Alley
"Tonks, look out!" Zach Smith shouted, blocking a stunner spell. He looked around and could only see darkness. "Where in Hell is Potter and Hermione?" he asked to no one particular.
"I think they went that way," someone replied. "Merlin, what the bloody hell is happening here?!" It had been a while since the last attack in Diagon Alley. Actually, it had been years ago- just after the end of the war. It was just seemed strange that suddenly a group of hooded men decided to desecrate the shops in Diagon Alley.
At first sight the attackers seemed to be former Death Eaters, but their robes and masks were different from the ones used by the Death Eaters.
"Stupefy!"
"Protego!" Tonks shouted blocking a spell from hitting her. She jumped back when another spell was cast in her direction. "Smith! I need back-up here!" she cried at the younger Auror. The local was totally a mess, but Tonks had a feeling that something was out of place- something was wrong.
She couldn't exactly say which was- it was just a feeling of uneasiness. It was almost like that those men were holding them (the Aurors) back, distracting them.
"But distracting from what?"
***
Knockturn Alley
"This way, Hermione!" Harry hissed, wand at the ready. "He went this way."
Hermione looked around them. It was dark; each step into Diagon Alley looked more into the distance. "We should call backup, Harry."
"There's no need or time!" he said irritably. "You didn't see who it was? Merlin, Hermione, if you want to be an Auror you can't cower on the first assignment."
"I'm not cowering, Harry!" she hissed in an angry tone. "I'm just using my brain. I thought you had learned about acting and thinking." As soon as those words came out, Hermione's hand flew to her mouth. Harry had stopped on his tracks and stared blankly at her. "Oh god, Harry, I'm sorry!"
"That's okay," he said quietly.
Hermione leaned closer to him and placed a hand on his cheek. "I'm really sorry." And for a moment it seemed that everything was fine, that they were the best friends all over again- that hadn't happen any fights, any discussions.
Harry blinked, and then heaved a sigh. "Come on, let's go."
"I just don't understand, Harry," Hermione said as they went further into the dark alley. "Blueberry is supposed to be in Azkaban. Unless-"
"Unless this is the real Mister Blueberry, Hermione."
Hermione opened her mouth to say something when they heard a strange noise coming from one of the stores.
"What is this-" Harry hissed as suddenly a black bird came out from no where and flew between him and Hermione. Surprised, they both jumped.
"What in hell-"
"Harry! Look out!" Hermione cried. "Behind you!"
Harry turned around quickly, but before he could do anything, the man they thought it was the real Mr. Blueberry stepped closer and stabbed Harry on his left side, in the ribs.
The young dark haired wizard immediately hissed in pain, bringing a hand to the wound.
"This is just a warning, Potter," the man hissed. Hermione shouted a Stupefy, but the man just disapparated on the spot.
*
"Harry!" Hermione hushed towards Harry's side, who was trying to control the pain. "My god, are you alright?"
"I'm fine, Hermione," Harry hissed through his teeth. "He got away, damnit!" he muttered almost to himself.
Hermione went closer, and looked at Harry and then his hand pressed against his rib. "Let me see it, Harry," she said quietly, her hand searching his.
"It's nothing!"
"Let me see it, Harry!" Hermione spoke firmly. She raised her wand and cast a Lumos at Harry's´ ribs direction. Harry hadn't taken his hand off the wound but Hermione could see the blood flowing through his fingers. "Let me-"
"Harry! Hermione!" They turned around and saw Tonks, Kingsley, and Zach Smith running towards them. "There you are!" Tonks said.
"It was Blueberry."
"Harry is hurt." Harry and Hermione said at the same time.
"Blueberry? But he's in Azkaban!" Smith exclaimed.
"I-I don't know, Smith, but it was him," Harry replied. It was difficult to control the pain.
"Harry needs to go to St. Mungo's," Hermione interjected. "Discussing this here isn't going to improve anything." She didn't pay attention to the angry glare Harry was sending her. "Where´ re the others, sir?"
"I dismissed part of them," Kingsley said. "MacMillan and Jones are processing the scene. Not that I think it will help anything."
"Did you a-arrest s-someone?" Harry asked, the pain was almost uncontrollable, and he could also feel a strange sensation through his veins. It was like his blood was turning hot.
"No," Kingsley said, looking at Harry strangely. It was clear that there was something wrong. "They simply disapparated. Granger is right, Potter. You don't look good. We better go to St. Mungo's-"
"I-I'm fine-it's just a cut. Nothing to worry about," Harry snapped. "I won't go to any Hospital!"
"Harry, you're bleeding. St. Mun-"
"I don't want to go to a Hospital, Hermione!"
"Good! Then you'll go home with me!" They stared at her. "I did some Healer training during the war; I think I can deal with it if it is `just a cut´, like you said." Harry opened his mouth to say something, but Hermione didn't give him the chance." She turned to Kingsley. "Sir, we'll be in my apartment."
And without waiting for a reply, Hermione grabbed Harry and Apparated away.
***
"Are you fucking crazy, Hermione?!" Harry howled angrily, forgetting the pain for an instant.
"Shut up, Harry!" Hermione cried back. "And sit down on the chair already. I have to see this cut."
"I don't need to sit," Harry said stubbornly. "I am fine, thank you."
Hermione rolled her eyes, but didn't say anything. "Whatever." She stepped closer to him and began to unbuttoned his shirt.
But Harry caught her arm. "What are you doing?" he asked.
"I need to take off your shirt to see the wound, Harry," she responded as if it was the most obvious thing in the word.
"I can take my shirt off myself, Hermione," he said, "it's not that I'm dying here." But this is hurting like hell!
"Oh." She blushed, looking away. "Right, sorry. Go on."
Harry raised an eyebrow at her, but remained silence. Carefully he took off the shirt. The wound seemed to hurt even more since he wasn't pressing his hand against it.
As soon as the shirt fell down on the floor, he heard Hermione gasping.
"God, Harry!" she said looking at the wound, a hand brought to her mouth. Harry looked down and what he saw didn't seem good: there was practically a hole in his rib. No wonder it was hurting so much. "You were stabbed."
Hermione looked at Harry and then back at the wound. She leaned her hand in to touch it, but thought better, shaking her head.
With a movement of her wand, she summoned a jug with hot water, gauzes, and some Potion's vials.
Hermione moistened the gauze and then began to clear off the blood carefully.
Harry hissed in pain as the gauze touched the wounded skin. "I'm sorry," Hermione said with a tiny smile, "but I have to clean it first. I can't use a Cleaning Spell; it doesn't prevent from infections."
"That's okay," Harry said quietly, closing his eyes. It was a strange feeling having her touching his skin- not so much for the pain, but from memories that insisted to not go away.
Hermione cleaned the wound quietly, suppressing a sigh as her fingers touched his skin.
Oh god...
When the wound was finally clean, Hermione cast some Healings spells at it and then made a curative with gauze and covered it.
She was relieved that the wound wasn't too deep.
"Did you see what he used, Harry?" she asked.
Harry shook his head, his eyes snapping open. "W-What?" he looked down and saw that she had already finished. "Oh, you finished." He gazed at her.
"Yes," she said quietly, not meeting his eyes, "I made this curative to protect the wound. You will have to change it in five days."
"Right," he replied. "Y-You did an amazing job, Hermione. Thank you." He had a small smile on the corner of his lips.
"Thank you," she replied timidly, finally looking at him. His eyes were brightening, but they seemed sad. "Oh! I almost forgot!" she suddenly cried, almost causing Harry to jump.
"What?´
Hermione took one of the vials- the smaller one- and gave it to him. "Drink it, Harry. It's for infections and pain release."
Harry took the vial from her hands and drank its content in one large gulp. However, the pain didn't fade away. Actually, even with the wound cleaned and covered- it seemed that it hurt even more second by second.
"It will start to be effective in a few minutes."
"That's alright."
"It's hurting, isn't it?"
"No," he shook his head, "I'm f-fine." He was feeling his head heavy.
"You don't look fine!" Hermione went closer, escorting him to the couch. "Here, sit down."
Harry was about to open his mouth to say something when he felt another pang of pain- and it didn't seem to be coming from the wound, but his entire body. It was like his blood was boiling inside his veins.
"Argh!" he cried in pain. "Argh!"
"God, Harry!" Hermione cried, touching him. He was burning up. "You need to go St. Mungo's! I only know the basics. You might have an infection!"
"No," he hissed, "not St. Mungo's."
"Harry, you are burning up! It's not time to-"
"Call Susan Bones! She's a Healer." His vision was blurred, and his head seemed on the verge of exploding. Thanks to the war, Harry was accustomed to tolerate pain- to stay focused, but at that moment, it seemed practically impossible. "S-She-" Harry suddenly stopped, bringing his hands to his head. "Argh!" he screamed again, just before the darkness came over him.
**************************
*Thanks Oliver for the beta!