Fumbling Towards Ecstasy (5/6)
By MmeFleiss
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.
*~*~*~*~*
The biggest downside to tossing off before work was that it made one want to roll over and go right back to sleep. Years of experience should've taught me this, but after my frustrating dream the night before, I figured that I was better off tired rather than giving anyone I happened to run into a very rude hello. Just my luck that it coincided with my division's monthly dueling exercises.
Unfortunately, this knowledge didn't make it any easier to swallow the fact that I was repeatedly getting knocked off my arse by a man so old that by all accounts he should've retired right after Voldemort's first reign of terror. The mixture of other Aurors either jeering at every fall or looking on as if they'd just discovered that Father Christmas did not, in fact, exist only exacerbated my growing irritation.
"Let this be a lesson to you," My partner of five years said as he swaggered-well, as much as a man with a peg leg could swagger, I suppose-over to where I laid sprawled on the ground. "I can't have you getting overconfident just because I let you win all those other times."
Well, I suppose that was one way of describing his decision to start every duel with a yawn-inducing recollection of some time or other when he managed to be victorious, followed by an attempt to hex me while I was in the midst of something more exciting like trying to decide just how many packets of instant noodles I needed to buy that particular week. I would've said all that aloud, but I couldn't shake off the look of disappointment that was sure to be on Hermione's face after finding out about it. I decided to stay still and whimper instead.
"Boy, don't tell me you're already giving up. How do you expect to learn everything I have yet to teach you?" The howls of laughter from some of the onlookers only worsened when he continued to blabber on about how wonderful he was to a spot above my head and to the left, serving as a reminder that apart from the bum leg and an ego that would rival a Malfoy's, old Quintus Hardgrave was also as blind as a bat.
"How did he ever manage to defeat You-Know-Who?" a rookie whose name I had yet to learn wondered aloud. "He's complete rubbish!"
I turned to glare at him, once again really grateful that Hermione had forced me to learn at least the basics of Legilimency so that I could traumatize him with the true story behind Aberforth Dumbledore and a very surprised goat. It must've worked, because he turned pale and stepped back to blend in with the mass of nosey parkers behind him.
"What do you lot think you're doing?" Kingsley's deep bass unexpectedly thundered across the training room. "This isn't social hour!"
Our section chief's pronouncement was followed by a rush of saluting before everyone scampered off to their designated areas. Quintus merely shook his head and offered me a hand, which I politely declined considering that he was swaying enough under his own weight. Some days, just watching him pace around our office was enough to give me a severe case of motion sickness.
I somehow managed to stand back up on unstable legs. I clung against the wall with a desperation unbecoming of a man many considered to be the world's savior, which only prompted Quintus to snort and mutter that, "They just don't make men like they used to."
Kingsley stood unmoving at the edge of the mat with his arms crossed, an unreadable expression on his face as I raised my quivering arm up to signal my willingness to continue.
"That's more like it," my partner said with a satisfied nod as he limped back towards his end of our practice space. "Reminds me of myself as a young man. Why, we had this one battle with Grindelwald where we were outnumbered ten-to-one. Despite all the debilitating hexes we managed to acquire, we still…"
"Just get on with it," I interrupted through gritted teeth as a particularly hard muscle spasm almost sent me falling with only my face to serve as a cushion.
He obliged by attempting to blast me with a curse that was so off the mark that it hit the aforementioned rookie instead. I barely had time to feel righteous satisfaction over it before the subsequent attack landed above my head, sending me skidding off the mat to avoid the wooden crossbeam impaling the spot I previously occupied.
"Whoops," Quintus muttered as he gave his wand a furtive look before shoving it back in its holster. Kingsley just shook his head.
*~*~*~*~*
"What do you mean there's nothing wrong with you?" Ron demanded as he waved a newly-arrived Luna over towards our table at the back of the pub. "I've seen how little you've been eating the past couple of days; it's just not right."
"That's what I told the Healer," I replied with a grimace as our waitress took one look at me, pulled her already low-cut shirt down to expose more of her cleavage, and leaned over to hand us our drinks. I pointedly looked away towards the other patrons, momentarily riveted by a mass of curly hair that disappointingly turned out to be much too blonde upon closer inspection. It was just as well that I chose that moment to lose interest, because her boyfriend was none too pleased to spot the scrawny bloke sitting by himself in the corner eyeing his girl and decided to let his feelings known with a well-placed punch. The publican had both men stunned and bound with practiced ease.
It probably said something about the sort of clientele the pub favored that most didn't find the commotion to be worth a second glance. I continued my scan of the crowded room, marveling at the amount of people that showed up to get pissed during Seamus' birthday celebration despite it being only the middle of the week. Even though it was just half nine, we already had two instances of a fellow guest trying to dance atop the tables. "I spend my whole day feeling like I'm going to throw up. I can't sleep. I also feel cranky all the time."
"Are you suffering from any back pain?" Luna inquired as she airily shooed our disgruntled waitress off and took the seat next to Ron.
My body twinged in remembrance of the thorough beating it received the day before. "How did you know?"
She shook her head and held up a palm towards me. "How about your ankles? Do they feel swollen?"
I rotated them experimentally. "Now that you mention it…"
"And do you often find yourself developing odd food cravings?"
If only Hermione had been with us; she almost certainly would've realized by then that something was amiss and changed topics. It would've certainly saved me a lot grief. "I don't think so?"
Luna leaned over to pat me on the arm. "Well, it's not like you're required to have all the symptoms."
Ron snorted. "You're making it sound like he's going through the same thing as Fleur."
"Erm…"
They both ignored me completely as she turned to look at her boyfriend. "If you had taken Muggle Studies third year, you would have learned that their technology had long ago made it possible to transfer an embryo to a surrogate parent to complete gestation."
"ARE YOU TRYING TO TELL ME THAT HARRY IS HAVING A BABY?"
Before I could demand to know if they had both been dropped on their heads as children, there was the familiar blinding flash of a camera, followed by Rita Skeeter on the seat next to me with her Quick Quotes Quill already scribbling madly behind her. "So, is that the real reason for Ms. Granger's conspicuous absence? Do tell."
*~*~*~*~*
"Harry, do you think you could take off the Invisibility Cloak now? I look like a complete nutter talking to myself like this," Ron said as we sat in the stands waiting for the match to begin.
I thought that his decision to support his team by spelling his entire body bright orange-strongly reminding me of the summer after sixth year when Dudley overdid the spray tan in an effort to look "rugged"-was the most likely cause of the strange looks, but I was still feeling too annoyed over what happened two nights before to tell him so.
"This is all your fault," I said instead: simultaneously cursing everyone from the paparazzi camped outside my flat (I was forced to undo the second rushed attempt at a Fidelius charm after I forgot to take the proper precautions and ended up with my confused neighbors sparking a debate on mass selective amnesia on the telly) to whoever wrote the politically correct Muggle text that was the source of all the confusion. About the only upside to the entire ordeal was that it appeared to have cut the number of my admirers in half. "Do you know how many Howlers I got at work after the morning edition of the Prophet came out? Kingsley banned me from stepping foot inside my own office until it all blows over."
"Well, at least Hermione didn't take the news of her supposed pregnancy too badly."
I couldn't help but grin at the remembrance of her hour-long rant on the Floo the day before. I didn't even know that half the stuff she mentioned was physically possible. "Is that what you call her threatening to come back so she could tar and feather `that nasty Skeeter woman?'"
"Sure. She could've actually done it."
We both sighed and shook our heads, my annoyance ebbing away at our shared disappointment. Any further conversation was postponed by the start of the match, our cheering in tandem as the lineup for the Cannons zoomed past one-by-one, their bright orange robes whipping around so wildly that one of the Chasers nearly ran straight into a hoop. I usually saved the sort of enthusiasm I displayed then for the Tornadoes-a team I developed an interest for in an attempt to impress Cho Chang once upon a time (and retained long after any romantic feelings for the girl had faded)-but I figured the Quidditch gods would understand my effort at best friend solidarity.
Our hisses of displeasure were easily drowned out by the rest of the crowd as the opposing team arrived on the field, their tight v formation only broken by the two Beaters at the front doing an impressive series of loops that left a cloud of dust in their wake to resemble a magpie.
"Show-offs," Ron muttered under his breath.
I could only nod, unable to shift my gaze away from Oliver Wood. The witches' screams became almost deafening when he turned to wave at the crowd. A few of the bolder ones yelled out propositions that would've had staunch traditionalists like Fudge rolling in their graves, though they might've been relieved to know that the Quidditch star in question made no moves to encourage those advances.
It was clear to see the reason why once I managed to loosen my death grip on my Omnioculars enough to place it in front of my eyes. Up close it was hard to miss how haggard he looked, the dark rings beneath his eyes emphasized by his sickly pallor. He also appeared to weigh at least a stone less than the last time we saw him, which combined with the unmistakable way he kept scanning the stands for a familiar head of bushy brown hair, was identical to the figure I've been staring at in the mirror all week.
And that's when it hit me. I wasn't suffering from something any Healer could cure; I had a full-blown case of missing Hermione.
"I think this might be a lot more serious than I thought."
*~*~*~*~*
AN: And here ends the plot point that made this story two chapters longer than planned (well, what I planned after I realized it was going to be more than a oneshot). Hermione was originally going to be gone for just a weekend, but then I decided that Harry had spent the majority of the story thinking with his other head and needed something to prove that it's not just another monster in his pants chest. Whether I actually managed to achieve this or not is another story.
There's going to be a bit of a delay before the final chapter gets posted because I got distracted with writing a pwp for the erotic_elves challenge due at the end of this month rather than the last chapter. I apologize to those of you who've really been looking forward to the resolution.
Thanks to Jenn for betaing this. Any mistakes left are mine. Also special thanks to those who contributed to the "Favorite `subtle' H/Hr Moment" thread over at Portkey for giving me some ideas on how to portray Harry missing Hermione.
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