10. At the Nathan's
Harry was happy to say the least. He and Hermione were sitting under a tree at the side of a quite road. She was lying on the grass with her head resting on Harry's legs. They had been sitting there for almost two hours, but they felt no hurry to leave.
He still couldn't believe what had happened between them. Hermione liked him just as much as he liked her, and that was satisfying. It had been so long since he had felt this close to a girl. Sure he had gone out on dates, but none of the relationships had ever lasted more than a couple of dates. He would quickly find out that those girls were just interested in the 'Boy Who Lived', and that they didn't really know - or even seemed interested in knowing - the real Harry.
Fortunately, Hermione didn't know that part of his life, which meant she saw him as a regular bloke. And that felt great. He sure was thankful to Mr. Weasley for getting him this job. Okay, perhaps he was going to be reprimanded by Moody. How many times had he told Harry never to mix business with pleasure? But he couldn't help it. It had just happened. And he wasn't going to back away from it now that he could finally have the opportunity to enjoy a normal relationship.
There was only one thing troubling him: Could Hermione be a witch without knowing it?
Things would be so much easier if she were a witch. "Not that I wouldn't like her if she was a Muggle," he thought. But he couldn't deny that if she had magical skills, it would allow him to bring her into his world much more easily. He just needed to find out whether she had magic in her, but how?
He couldn't just ask, 'Hey Hermione, are you a witch?' He could clearly imagine the reaction a question like that could generate in a girl. There had to be another way.
He was just about to start pondering on that, when a car passed by - the first one in more than an hour. The man driving the car must have spotted the pair because he stopped abruptly and backed op to where they were sitting.
Harry saw that the car was occupied by an old couple. The man smiled at him, while the lady talked to them. "Do you two need some help?"
Hermione rose after hearing the lady speak. She turned to face Harry, waiting for him to respond.
"Uh… yeah," Harry finally replied.
"Where're you headed?" the man asked them.
"Chicago," Hermione said, although she had a feeling the nice couple was not going in that direction.
"Chicago… That's a long way from here, especially if you plan to walk all the way there," the man said mockingly.
"Where are you planning to spend the night?" the lady interrupted. "You don't intend to sleep out here, do you?" Harry and Hermione looked at each other. They hadn't realized that the night was soon approaching. "C'mon!" she continued. "Hop in. We live just twenty minutes from here. I'm sure we can make some room for you two."
For some reason, Harry felt good about the couple. They inspired trust. He stood up and helped Hermione to do the same. Minutes later, they were driving away with the old couple.
By the time they reached the house, Harry and Hermione had found out the names of such good-hearted people. They were Keith and Angela Nathan, and they had lived in that little house outside town since the day they got married. They had two grown children, but they both were married and lived in the state capitol.
Hermione quickly warmed up to them and told them about their adventure, carefully leaving her identity aside. They listened intently and showed concern for their problem. They were now having coffee in Keith and Angela's kitchen. "You can spend the night here, and tomorrow we'll figure out a way to help you get to Chicago."
"Thank you very much," Hermione said to them. "We really appreciate your generosity."
"Don't mention it," Angela said, waving a hand to disregard her words. "Follow me. I'll show you where you're going to sleep."
She led them to the second floor. Hermione was to sleep in the room of Angela's daughter. Then, she took Harry to the room that used to be her son's. "I'm sure I can find a new pair of pants for you," she said to Harry, looking at his dirty pants. "My son still has some clothes here." She walked to the closet and dug out a pair of jeans and a cotton t-shirt. "Here! I guess this will do the trick."
Harry smiled warmly and thanked her, but she didn't seem to hear him. She was staring at his face in a way that made Harry feel uncomfortable. "What did you say your name was?" she asked.
"Harry," he responded.
"Harry… Potter?" she said tentatively.
Harry's mouth fell open. "How do you…"
"Oh, I knew it!" she said. "The moment I saw you, I knew you looked like the great Harry Potter, the savior of the wizarding world." She grabbed Harry's hand and caressed it enthusiastically. "Dear Merlin! What an honor."
"You… you're…" Harry whispered, hoping Hermione wouldn't hear Angela's words.
"Yes, dear," she replied, nodding her head. "Of course! Why do you think we live here, out of town?"
As she continued to speak in a loud voice, Harry leaned closer to her. "Please," he said. "Don't say anything. My friend doesn't know."
"Oh!" Angela replied, covering her mouth with a hand. "She's a Muggle!" she whispered. Then, winking an eye at Harry, she added, "Don't worry. I'll warn Keith as well."
She continued to smile and caress Harry's hand until he asked if he could take a shower. Slightly embarrassed, Angela finally let go of his hand and showed him where the bathroom was.
While Harry was enjoying a much-needed shower, he smiled as he remembered Angela's excitement. He had not expected to be recognized in this country. Of course, he knew there were wizards and witches all over the world - he knew a few of them. Just then, an idea came to his mind.
Hurriedly, he finished his shower, got dressed, and exited the bathroom. Hermione was waiting for him in the hallway. "Hey," Harry said, checking her expression. He was glad to see she showed no signs of having heard the conversation he had had with Angela.
"I'm going to shower, too," Hermione informed him.
"Good," he replied.
She smiled at him, stood on her toes to place a kiss on his lips, and then entered the bathroom. Harry sighed. "Perfect," he thought. That gave him the opportunity to talk to Mr. Nathan freely.
Harry walked downstairs and found Mr. Nathan sitting in his living room, reading a book. As soon as he saw Harry, Mr. Nathan stood up and embraced him. "I never thought I'd have to pleasure to meet you!" he said.
Harry smiled at him and gently broke the embrace. "Listen," he said. "I want to ask you something."
"Anything!" Mr. Nathan quickly said. "Just ask."
"Well, I was wondering if your fireplace is connected to…"
"To the network?" he interrupted Harry. "Of course it is! You need to contact someone? Go ahead," he added before Harry could respond. "It's all yours." Right after that, he exited the room to give him some privacy.
Wasting no time, Harry headed to the fireplace. Right next to it, he found a small pot sitting on the floor, containing floo powder. He threw a handful at the fireplace. "Professor McGonagall's office," he said, sticking his head into the green flames.
Soon after, the Hogwarts Headmistress' office came into view. The familiar room seemed almost exactly as it had been when Professor Dumbledore was the Headmaster. One of the few changes was that his portrait hung on the wall like all the other past Headmasters and Headmistresses.
Professor McGonagall was at her desk, writing on a piece of parchment. She placed her quill down when she realized someone's head had appeared on her fireplace. "Potter!" she exclaimed.
"Hello, Professor," he greeted.
"It's good to see you," she greeted back. "Just yesterday Arthur was telling me you were abroad in a special assignment. Are you back home?"
"No, actually that's why I need to talk to you," he continued. "I need your help."
"What can I do for you?" she asked, leaning forward curious to hear what he was about to tell her.
In as few words as he could, Harry told Professor McGonagall about his current assignment, protecting the Muggle Prime Minister's daughter. The Headmistress looked at him curiously. It was not common for the Minister of Magic to provide this kind of support to his Muggle counterpart.
"Do you know if the magical quill at Hogwarts has ever failed to register a birth? Or has any acceptance letter ever failed to be delivered?" Harry asked.
"You of all people should know that better than anybody," she replied. "The acceptance letters will never stop from coming until the person they're addressed to reads them. As for the magical quill, it certainly never fails. Why do you ask?"
"Well, I have reasons to believe that Ms. Granger may have magical powers."
Professor McGonagall remained silent for a while, pondering this information. "I'm sure you know that some Muggles have been able to develop their brain's capacity to higher levels," she finally said. "That provides them special skills, which have nothing to do with magic."
"It's more than that," Harry pressed. "Trust me, Professor. I really think we should look into it. I don't think she's aware of her own abilities, and it'd be great if I, I mean, we could help her to develop those abilities to their fullest potential."
The Headmistress smiled warmly at him. "I see you have a real interest in this. I'll contact some people, then. I'll keep you informed."
After thanking the Headmistress for her assistance and telling her that she could contact him at the Nathan's - at least for the next 12 hours - he said good-bye.
………………………………………..
Back in the town of Decatur, Kath and Maurice were still trying to figure out where Hermione could be. They had asked around hoping that someone would be able to tell them what new direction she could've taken. However, nobody in town seemed to recognize the picture Kath was showing them.
"Now, what?" Maurice asked.
Kath remained silent for a while, analyzing their options. "Well, we may not know where she is right now, but we do know where she's heading," she stated as she paced around. "I say we head out in that direction and hope for the best." Turning to Maurice, she added, "Just keep trying Potter's mobile phone."
Maurice nodded as he took out his mobile phone to dial Harry's number, as Kath suggested. "Nothing," he informed her after a while.
Sighing in frustration, Kath got in the car and, after Maurice got in, took the road to Chicago, hoping this little adventure would soon come to an end.
………………………………………….
After enjoying the excellent dinner that Angela cooked, Harry and Hermione went outside for a while. The night was clear and the moon shone brightly above them. The stars could easily be seen because the Nathan's house was located away from the town. But the pair of lovebirds would've seen stars even if they were in Las Vegas, surrounded by neon lights. Love made wonders…
"It's a beautiful night, isn't it?" Hermione said, looking up at the sky.
"Beautiful," Harry repeated, not removing his eyes from her.
Feeling his penetrating gaze on her, Hermione turned to him with a smile on her face. Looking into the green of his eyes, she realized she could easily get lost in them. He had such piercing eyes that looked right through her, deep into her soul.
In a moment of doubt, Hermione closed her eyes, wondering how further she should allow him in. But she quickly opened them again, realizing it was useless. She was already falling for him. Right that minute, with his arms around her and his forehead resting on hers, she decided to let her feelings take control.
She wanted to experience and enjoy all the wonderful things love had to offer. There was no reason to be afraid. She had always lived cooped up in a bubble, longing for a normal life. This was her chance, and she was not going to walk away.
Determined to take the plunge, she pulled away to look into his eyes, stood in her toes, brought her lips to his, and kissed him with all she had.
Harry gasped into her mouth, surprised by her reaction and oblivious to the swirl of thoughts in her head. But he quickly responded to her with the same intensity, vanishing the shadows of her doubts. With one kiss, he reassured her silently that he would also devote himself to her.
……………………………………………………….
Harry couldn't sleep that night. His heart was too full of emotion and his mind was restless. Lying in bed, his hands under his head, he thought about Hermione. He still couldn't believe his luck. She was such a smart, funny and adventurous girl - not to mention how beautiful she was, with her shiny brown eyes and her bouncing curls.
Harry smiled, remembering how wonderful it had felt to hug her tightly. Her body seemed to fit into is arms perfectly. It had been so hard to let go. Hours could pass by without him being aware of anything but Hermione in his arms.
Harry glanced at the door with a half smile on his face. He couldn't wait to see her. Knowing she was just across the hall was unnerving. But he knew he had to control his hormones. He didn't want to scare her away, acting like a horny arse.
He was determined to make things work; he was willing to wait as long as she needed. He promised himself he wouldn't do anything to ruin what promised to be the most wonderful thing in his life.
He stood up and walked to the open window. It was still early, but the clear sky promised it'd be a beautiful day. As he inhaled deeply, his lungs filled up with crisp morning air.
Wanting to release all the tension of his body, he put his shirt back on and left the room, planning to take a walk. But as he stepped into the living room, something familiar called his attention: green flames in the fireplace.
"Potter, at last!"
"Professor McGonagall," he said as he walked up to the fireplace and kneeled on the old rug.
"This is the third time I try talking to you," she continued.
"Do you have any information for me?" he asked as he looked over his shoulder to make sure he was alone in the room.
"I sure do," the Headmistress replied. "And it was no easy job, I must tell you Potter. I had to contact an old friend of mine at the French Magical Ministry. Only she could access certain information."
"The French Ministry?" Harry repeated, trying to digest McGonagall's words.
"Perhaps I should start from the beginning," she said tentatively. "Potter, it turns out that your intuition was correct. Ms. Granger is indeed a witch. As a matter of fact, her mother was one of the greatest witches Hogwarts has ever seen."
"Her mother was at Hogwarts?"
"Head Girl," she said, nodding her head. "Marie Vaughn was the best of her generation. She was a smart and bright young lady. I always thought she'd do great things, but…"
"But…" Harry urged her to continue.
"Well, I don't have all the details. I didn't have any contact with her after she left Hogwarts. I do know that she withdrew from the magical word after she married a Muggle."
"Withdrew?"
"Yes," she continued. "Marie left it all behind and became the wife of a Muggle until the day of her death. I didn't know until now that the Muggle she married was the Prime Minister."
"But, what about Hermione?" Harry interrupted. "Why doesn't she know? What happened to her acceptance letter? And, does her father know all this?"
"I can tell you only what I know. Hermione's name was recorded at the time of her birth. However, her letter never went out because, according to our records, she died on the same day her mother did."
Seeing the open-mouthed expression in Harry's face, the Headmistress continued before he could recover his ability to talk.
"I know, I know. Here's where my French friend comes into action. I did some research about Marie's death, and when I found out it had happened in France, I contacted my friend Emily Bonnet. Pulling some strings, Emily was able to dig into it, but I must tell you there isn't a lot of information. Important details are missing."
Harry nodded his head, waiting for her to continue.
"My friend looked for information in both magical and Muggle reports. The accident took place in a Muggle area, so there was a police report filed. According to the magical reports, Hermione was in the car when her mother died, but it doesn't mention Hermione's condition. The Muggle police report only indicates that she was seriously injured. But both reports failed to give any more details. Since Hermione has always lived as a Muggle, I contacted Dean Thomas. I knew his job as Muggle Liaison put him in an advantageous position to find this kind of information. With his and Emily's findings, I was able to come up with a tentative answer."
Once again, Harry looked over his shoulder. Seeing the area was clear, he moved closer to the fireplace. "What do you reckon happened?" he asked, anxiety in his voice.
"About two days after the accident. Hermione was transferred to a private Muggle hospital in Scotland. I honestly can't believe they actually moved her being in such a delicate condition, but Muggles do a lot of things I can't understand…"
Harry nodded in agreement.
"While Hermione was fighting for her life, she was in fact at the edge of death, something important was taking place in London. Her name was changed."
"What?"
"Hermione was born as Hermione Jane Granger," McGonagall continued. "Before she turned 11, her name was changed to Hermione Marie Granger."
"Who changed her name?" Harry asked.
"Dean found a request to change her name signed by Mr. Richard Granger, her father."
Harry tried to remember if Hermione had ever mentioned to him that her name had been changed when she had talked about the accident. He was almost certain she had not said anything of that matter. "Why would his father change her name?" he asked more to himself.
"I can't answer that," the Headmistress said, thinking he had directed the question to her. "What I can tell you is that as a consequence of that name change, Hermione's acceptance letter was never sent. I can't quite understand this myself, but somehow during the day of the accident and her 11th birthday, Hermione's name was erased from the registry. The magical quill marked her as deceased. Thus, her letter was never sent and she never found out about her magical skills."
"I can't understand how the magical quill was fooled by a change of name," Harry said, passing a hand through his hair.
"I wouldn't exactly say that the magical quill was fooled, Potter," the Professor said in a reprimanding way. "After all, a part of Hermione did die in that accident along with her mother."
Harry pondered the information he had just been given for a while. Then a thought came to his mind. "Do you think her father knew that changing her name would cause all this?"
"My question would be: Was he aware of his wife's magical abilities? Did he realize that their daughter had inherited her mother's talent?" McGonagall added. "You know magical kids sometimes make things happened as they don't know how to control their magic, yet. But that varies from child to child. Some youngsters do not give any sign of magic until their early teens.
What concerns me, Potter, is that if you were able to spot it in her, then her magic must be spilling out. Whether it happens with or without her knowledge, I don't know. But she needs to learn how to deal and control her magic. Otherwise, she could be a danger to herself or others."
"I know," Harry replied. "I believe she's somewhat aware of her magic, but I don't know if she consciously knows she's making things happen."
"You must talk to her, Potter. I don't know how close you've gotten to her in these past days, but you must confront her. It may take a while for her to accept it, but if you say she knows there's something special about her she may be ready for it. Either way, she needs to face her truth and take some responsibility for her skills. I'd be glad to refer her to a professor who could provide some private lessons. Oh, and I can also put her in contact with her mother's best friend during school, Constance Dickens. She may be able to give more details about Marie's life and her decision to leave the magical world. I believe they maintained contact even after Marie's wedding. Constance is a great woman, and I'm sure she'd be glad to meet Hermione."
"Thank you, Professor," Harry said. "As always, you've been of great assistance."
"I'm just glad to help, Potter. And please, do come visit. We will all be happy to see you. I believe a heart-broken Myrtle still cries her heart out whenever someone mentions your name."
Harry chuckled. "Myrtle doesn't need an excuse to cry."
The Headmistress smiled warmly at him. "Good luck, Potter," she said just as her face disappeared amidst the green flames.
Harry shook his head, remembering the time he had met Moaning Myrtle in the Prefect's bathroom at Hogwarts. With that image still in his head, he stood up, thinking he could now enjoy his walk. But he didn't even take a step away from the fireplace. As he turned around, he found a dumbstruck Hermione standing noiselessly in front of him.