Author Notes: okay, okay, I'll stop apologizing for the long chapters! *grin* I'll take it as a compliment that you guys like me when I'm wordy. I agree that more fanfic is better in theory, but you never know when you're boring someone to tears.
Some reviewers have said that Harry should be less apologetic, some have said that Hermione should less forgiving. Personally, I love hearing everyone's opinion and knowing all of you are invested in what's happening. I can only hope the opposing viewpoints mean I've found some sort of balance in the middle.
Oh, and to clear something up: the version of this story that's on my livejournal (http://louisalorin.livejournal.com) isn't any different content-wise, just prettier-looking because of the formatting. So don't worry if you don't have a livejournal, you're not really missing anything. :)
And now, to the fic!
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CHAPTER FIVE
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"Is that it?" Harry asked, watching the last levitated moving box go zooming up the stairs.
"I think so." Hermione dusted off her hands and started up the staircase. "Come on, Dotty! Let's go see our new flat!"
Harry's flat was a third floor walk-up. The stairs were rather rickety and steep, but charmed to be safer for the younger tenants, so Dotty skipped up ahead of them with ease.
Ron and Ginny were sitting cross-legged on the living room floor when the three of them entered, busy unpacking Hermione's boxes. Dotty greeted them both with hugs. Since it was Sunday and neither had to work, they'd come over to help with the move.
It wasn't strictly necessary; Hermione didn't have much. Most of the boxes she did have were full of Dotty's books and toys. Their beds they had left behind, as they needed new ones anyway. But Ron and Ginny had made sandwiches and put music on the Wizarding Wireless, determined to make a fun afternoon of it.
"Bedroom!" Dotty cried, entirely uninterested in the living room and kitchen. "I wanna see the bedroom!"
Ginny grinned knowingly. "You're gonna love it, Miss Dotty."
Harry led them around the corner, to the doorway of their new room. He gestured with a flourish. "Here you are, ladies."
Hermione gasped. She'd expected to find the room entirely empty, like the last time she'd seen it, but instead it was beautifully furnished with a queen sized bed in one corner and a smaller twin bed in the other. There was a handsome desk, bookshelves, and a little sitting area with a circular rug. Everything was decorated in pretty shades of blue and cream.
"You like it?" Harry asked anxiously. "Ginny helped me pick out some stuff. I wanted it to be a surprise."
"I love it," Hermione said truthfully. "It's gorgeous, Harry."
Harry smiled, drinking in her awestruck expression. They both looked over at Dotty, who was already jumping up and down on her new bed with wild excitement.
"Do you like it, Miss Dotty?" Hermione asked her.
Dotty nodded joyfully.
"Then say thank you to Harry."
"THANK YOU HARRY!" Dotty shouted, and bounced straight from the bed into his arms.
Hermione gasped; the distance was a good five feet. But Harry caught her securely.
"Careful, Dot," he warned her. "Wouldn't want you to break a leg, now."
"I won't!" she assured him. "The carpet is very soft! Look!"
Harry nodded solemnly. "You're right, it is soft."
"All the same, darling," Hermione told Dot, "you have to be more careful. Now, do you want to go unpack your books?"
"Yes!" Dotty began to wriggle out of Harry's grasp. He laughed, and set her down.
Hermione and Dot walked back out into the living room - but Hermione looked over her shoulder at him as they went, a touched expression on her face. Thank you, she mouthed.
Harry followed, feeling extremely gratified. He paused in the doorway, then cast a cushioning charm on the floor - just in case of future mishaps.
*
After Ron and Ginny had gone, and Dot went down for her afternoon nap, Harry and Hermione sat down for some tea and a much-needed break. In wordless agreement they split up sections of the Daily Prophet and read them at the kitchen table. Harry turned straight to the Want Ads.
"Job hunting?" Hermione asked him with some surprise. "I would have thought you didn't need to work, seeing as you're Mr. Big Shot Ambassador Moneybags and all that."
Harry laughed. "It's actually kind of a part time thing," he told her. "It requires extensive weekly communications via their special breed of invisible owl, more frequent if necessary, but that's about it. I have certain contacts at the Ministry that give me daily updates, and of course I have to meet with the Minister biweekly. But I'll go crazy if I haven't anything to do the rest of the time. So I'm job hunting."
"What's your impression of Ogden so far?" Hermione asked him. Tiberius Ogden, an elder of the Wizengamot who'd resigned in protest during the Umbridge fiasco, had been appointed Minister after Scrimgeour's death with a near-unanimous vote by the Oligarchy. This was widely viewed within the Order as fantastic news.
"Oh, smashing. He's very passionate, obviously. He has a lot of good ideas and loads of energy. He was next in line for Chief Warlock if he hadn't resigned from the Wizengamot."
"And may I inquire as to his position on Elf Rights?"
Harry glanced at Hermione warily, but she was grinning at him over her cup of tea.
"I can't believe I haven't asked him about that yet." Harry donned a look of importance, pretending to scribble down a note in the newspaper margins. "I'll put it first on the agenda for our next meeting."
"So what kind of job are you looking for?"
"Anything, really. I'd prefer something less visible, but beyond than that I'm open."
"Hmm," Hermione said. "I'll think on it."
"Are you going to the Burrow next weekend?"
"I don't know, are you?"
"I was planning on it, yeah."
Hermione turned a page in the entertainment section. "I suppose since we all live in the same flat now it would make sense to go together."
"I suppose so," Harry smiled.
From the direction of their new bedroom, Hermione heard the fretful sounds of Dotty waking from her nap. "Oh, there she goes. Be right back."
Harry thumbed through the Want Ads, circling jobs here and there. He looked up, though, when Dotty and Hermione reentered the room.
Dotty was obviously still half asleep. Her hair was mussed and untidy and her cheeks were rosy, one side of her face creased from the bed sheets. She was wrapped in one of the small quilts Mrs. Weasley had sent over, head tucked against Hermione's shoulder, whimpering lightly. Bad dream, Harry thought instinctively.
"Do you want some water, sweetie?" Hermione asked in a soothing voice. Dotty nodded, rubbing her eyes.
"I'll get it," said Harry, starting to stand up.
"No, that's all right, I'll get it. Here, you take her."
Sleepily, Dotty reached out her small arms to Harry. Hermione handed her over and Harry set her gently on his lap. She was quite warm from being under the quilt, and she snuggled against his shirt front, still whimpering in slight distress.
"Shhh," he found himself murmuring. "It's okay, it's okay. You're awake now." He cradled the back of her head with one hand, stroking her hair. She calmed down considerably.
Hermione rounded the corner with a glass of water and stopped in her tracks. Harry was holding Dotty, gazing down at her with an odd expression on his face. It was an look that Hermione immediately recognized.
"I'll take her," she said quickly.
Harry nodded, and Hermione gathered Dotty up and carried her over to the living room sofa. Dotty took the glass of cool water, only needing a little help to drink it. Harry quietly returned to his Want Ads. But Hermione kept staring at him over the top of Dot's head, shaken by what she'd seen.
On the day Dotty was born, the Grangers had turned up in the delivery room just as Hermione and the baby were finished being cleaned up. Hermione's father had a Muggle camera, and he snapped a photo of Hermione as she held her daughter for the very first time.
The look on Harry's face while holding Dotty had exactly mirrored Hermione's face in that photo.
He's her father, Hermione thought heavily. How long can I go without telling her?
*
Sunday afternoon at the Burrow was lovely. Hermione, Ginny and Mrs. Weasley sat inside for the most part, chatting about womanly things. The boys had the promised Quidditch game, but since Charlie was absent the two sides weren't as competitive as they might otherwise have been. Harry was forced to play chaser after several minutes, since without Ginny playing there wasn't anyone who could match him as seeker.
Dotty ran around the yard beneath them, playing her own little toddler games. She picked flowers and gathered them in a heap at the front door. She found some twigs and made them talk to one another, pretending they were people. After a while she began to get interested in the Quidditch game, as the women had come outside to watch and Ginny had Dotty on her lap, explaining what was happening as best she could.
"Now until you're old enough to play," Ginny was saying, "you've got to cheer for the one you like best."
Dotty screwed up her little face, thinking hard. Then she stood up on Ginny's lap, waving her arms.
"GO HARRY!" she shouted at the top of her voice.
Harry was busy passing the quaffle back to Bill, but he heard Dotty and waved down at her, grinning. Dotty waved back furiously.
Hermione, watching this scene, felt a sharp tug at her heart.
Eventually everyone flocked inside for dinner. Mrs. Weasley's cooking was, as always, excellent. "So Harry," Fred said, around a giant mouthful of roast chicken - Mrs. Weasley glared at him, but did not tell him off for talking with his mouth full as she might have done three years ago. "Found any work yet?"
"Not yet," Harry said mildly. He'd decided not to tell anyone else about his work with the society, and had informed Hermione and Ron as such. They'd even offered to undergo an Unbreakable Vow, knowing how serious he was about it, but Harry had assured them of his trust in them.
"There's got to be something at the Ministry," said Molly. "Isn't that right, dear?"
"I can certainly make an inquiry," Arthur agreed.
Since Ogden's appointment as Minister of Magic, Arthur Weasley had been promoted to Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. It was a more bureaucratic job than one might expect - the Head of the Auror Division, for example, was considered to hold much more power, even though he or she was technically outranked by the department head - but it was a huge title bump, and Arthur seemed to be thriving in the job.
"That would be great, Mr. Weasley. Thanks." Harry and Arthur exchanged a look, and he knew they'd speak privately later.
"How are you settling in at Harry's, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked Hermione.
"Oh, it's a lovely neighborhood," Hermione answered. "Our bedroom is gorgeous, Ginny helped with it. And the closest daycare is much better than Dot's old one."
Mrs. Weasley seemed to notice that Hermione had said nothing substantive, least of all about her new roommate. But she let it pass, and the cheerful conversation moved on.
*
Three weeks later, life had settled into a pleasant enough sort of pattern. Hermione, and especially Dot, filled his flat with noise and activity, which Harry relished after so much time away. He'd decided to put off the job hunt until he got more used to his official duties as ambassador - which wasn't his official title, of course, but he didn't want to risk revealing it to anyone outside his official Ministry contacts - and the hours he spent alone in the flat had started to seem oddly quiet.
Having Hermione as a flatmate was wonderful. He'd always enjoyed her company, but there seemed to be a new kind of energy now when they were all three together in the flat, even when they were each in separate rooms. While Hermione still seemed cautious about his role in Dotty's life, she'd allowed him to pick Dotty up at daycare a few times and each time the little girl seemed delighted to see him, introducing him to all her new friends and showing him the macaroni projects she'd made.
On this quiet Friday afternoon Harry was loitering around the flat, absently picking up after himself. As was typical for this time of day, Hermione was at work and Dotty was at daycare. Tonight's plan was for Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Neville, Bill, Fleur and himself to go out for dinner and drinks later. But before dinner Harry had his first official appointment at the Ministry.
He checked the clock above the mantle: time to disapparate.
The next thing he knew he was standing in the lobby of the Ministry of Magic. Arthur Weasley was waiting for him by the famous gilded fountain, which no longer depicted the preposterous scene it had before the war. Now it was several inoffensive unicorns, enchanted to frolic in the fountain and spout water from their horns.
"All right, Harry?" he said in a low, casual voice. "Come along then, I've found a good place to talk privately."
They'd decided his office was too obvious a place to meet on a regular basis. Their time together had to go unnoticed if at all possible.
It turned out that Arthur had chosen a Muggle diner several blocks away. "Now then," he said, as Harry sat down across from him, "what has Ogden told you?"
"Just that you're my Ministry contact," Harry replied. "And I couldn't hope for a better one."
Arthur grinned. The wizard chosen for this task was specially selected by the Oligarchy, the small elite body that chose each new Minister of Magic. Typically it was someone who'd shown great integrity throughout their career and had no particular political aspirations of their own.
"I must say, Harry, this whole business shocks me immensely. I never knew a thing about any hidden island or secret society. But it makes sense, doesn't it? The balance of magical intentions and all that."
Harry agreed. "We shouldn't have our hands too full, should we?" he asked then. "Ogden seems a decent fellow."
Arthur nodded soberly. "He is. I've known him many years, he has a deep sense of civic duty. It's his Senior Undersecretary, though, that I have certain concerns about."
Harry looked startled. "That's the position Umbridge used to fill. It's Dawlish now, isn't it?"
"Yes. Scrimgeour promoted Dawlish shortly before his death - and unfortunately, the new minister can't turn over the staff for several years without a legitimate reason for dismissal. I know Dawlish to be a hard, ambitious man, and he has consistently demonstrated contempt for anyone involved with the Order."
"We'll keep an eye on him, then." Harry nodded briskly; his tone had become decisive. "Do you think you'll be able to watch him closely enough?"
"Between your meetings with the Minister, and my not infrequent dealings with his office, we should be fine."
"Okay. But if a serious need for surveillance arises - well, we'll make that determination when the time comes."
"When's your first meeting with Ogden?"
"Three days." Harry fidgeted. "I'm a bit nervous."
Although Harry was technically his superior in these dealings, Arthur gave him a fatherly pat on the shoulder. "You'll be fine. From what I know about the position, Harry, you're perfect for the job."
Harry grinned. "Thanks."
"Oh, speaking of jobs. I put in some inquiries with different departments about your possible employment. I tried to keep it quiet but when word got around that Harry Potter was looking for a job with the Ministry…well, it sort of blew up in my face."
Harry sighed. "Sorry about that."
"Oh, it's no problem, I wanted to keep it low key for your sake. The less pressure, the better. But the good news is that any of the departments would be delighted to have you." Arthur paused, his voice taking on a note of significance. "Particularly the Auror Division, Harry. Gawain Robards had visited my office at least five times since he got wind. He's even prepared to overlook the fact that you missed your N.E.W.T.s in seventh year."
Harry made a thoughtful noise, but said nothing.
Arthur looked at him quizzically. "I thought that might catch your interest a bit more, Harry. You used to want to be an Auror, or so I thought."
"Things have changed a bit," said Harry. He was considering the many dangerous aspects of the job, which wouldn't have bothered him - except that now there was Dotty to think about. Looking at his face, Arthur seemed to understand.
"Anyway Harry, if you figure it out what it is you'd like to do, just say the word."
"I will. Thanks so much, Arthur." The two shook hands, and Harry hurried off to find a spot to disapparate, hoping he wasn't late for dinner.
*
Harry was the last to arrive at the small Indian restaurant in Diagon Alley. When he walked inside, Bill's jovial voice rang out.
"Harry! Jolly good. I was starting to think we'd have to send Fred and George after you, to make good on their threat."
Remembering Fred and George's promise to tackle him to the ground lest he attempt another escape, Harry smiled sheepishly. Ron and Hermione, he was relieved to see, were laughing.
He took the empty seat across from Hermione at the end of the table, and she smiled at him in greeting. She must have changed after work, Harry thought. She was wearing a black sleeveless dress and earrings that glinted him in the low light. She looked relaxed, and very pretty.
"Ron and I are both here," Ginny pointed out, "so who's baby sitting?"
"Luna Lovegood," Hermione answered. "And apparently Harry has some reservations about that."
"I like Luna, I really do," Harry protested. "But we all know she's a bit nutters and to think of leaving Dotty with her-"
"She's great with kids," Ginny reassured him. "She's sat for Hermione a few times before."
"All the same, it makes me nervous."
Talk flowed easily from that point on. Harry felt he really was beginning to catch up with all that had happened in his absence. Bill and Fleur had two children, both sickeningly attractive, and Fleur was every bit as beautiful as ever. Bill had some lingering scar tissue from the werewolf attack, but he'd retained his original handsomeness - plus it lent him an air of toughness he hadn't had before.
Percy, Harry learned, was still the same as ever, working diligently in the Minister's office. Word was that Ogden couldn't stand him: sniveling and power-hungry were some of the kinder adjectives he'd used thus far.
Harry was deep into a three-way Quidditch debate with Bill and Ron when he overheard his name in a quiet conversation across the table. Fleur and Hermione were talking in low voices. He didn't turn to look at them, but his ears perked up all the same.
"You are much too forgiving, 'ermione," Fleur was saying. "If Bill had done to me what Harry did to you, 'e would have been lucky to avoid castration."
Hermione winced at the graphic image. "It's different, though," she said in a low voice. "Harry was my best friend first and foremost before he left. It's not as if he could have foreseen me getting pregnant. The most important thing is that he's back in my life, Fleur. And if Dotty can have a father - well, isn't that worth trying for?"
Harry was deeply touched by her words, but couldn't give away that he was listening in. He threw in some comment about the Falcons' offense, and the debate between Ron and Bill raged on.
"I suppose I understand," Fleur said. "But still, I think you let him off too easy. You must make him beg from now on, Hermione."
Hermione looked puzzled. "For what?"
Fleur laughed. "Sex, of course. You are - how you say - intimate, are you not?"
Hermione flushed all over. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw her glance at him nervously. He listened carefully to her response, which was even quieter than before.
"No, no, nothing like that."
"But you want to, no?"
Harry froze, again waiting for her answer - but at that moment Ron addressed Hermione with a healing question, as their Quidditch debate had extended to players on the disabled list, and the moment was gone.
*
Despite Fleur's embarrassing questions, Hermione was enjoying herself at dinner. She felt pretty in her favorite black dress, and was happy to see Harry sitting across from her, looking especially handsome. When it looked for a while like he might not show up she'd felt oddly disappointed.
Having consumed several bottles of wine, they were getting punchier as the evening went on. Laughter drifted over them all like a healing tonic, pushing the hurt and uncertainty of the past three years into the realm of distant memory, little by little. It was while they were reminiscing about their first trip to Hogsmeade - when Harry had snuck in through secret passageways under his Invisibility Cloak - that Hermione had a startling revelation: she, Harry and Ron were interacting much as they had before Harry left.
"So Dad's getting you a job at the Ministry, eh?" Ron said, grinning. "Has the Great Harry Potter decided which department he'd like to seize control of? As a jumping off point, of course, with the potential for promotion to Minister of Magic within six months."
"Hey, I'd make a great Minister. And my first official act would be to fire all three of the Cannons' starting chasers."
Bill, overhearing this, laughed. "Hear hear!"
"Oh no," Hermione protested. "No more Quidditch talk, please. It's enough that I get it every morning at the breakfast table, when Harry tries to read me all the headlines."
"Only because you wake me up with your singing in the shower," Harry accused her. "I can't get back to sleep so I have to come out of my room and bother you!"
"Please," she laughed. "You only get up so I'll make you eggs and toast, seeing as you can't cook to save your life."
Harry opened his mouth and closed it like a fish, unable to respond. The table erupted into laughter.
The talk moved on to Ron's latest article in the Prophet. Hermione leaned forward, addressing Harry a little more seriously. "Harry," she said, "you don't mind my singing, do you? Seriously, I don't want to be a horrible flatmate."
He grinned. "Sometimes you're a bit off key, but otherwise I love it. You're an excellent flatmate, Hermione." He took a sip of wine. "But maybe you ought to stop parading around in those short nightgowns, it's causing me some problems."
Harry blinked as he realized he'd just spoken those words aloud. But Hermione was already responding in kind.
"Oh yeah?" she demanded. "How about you, parading around in your boxers with no shirt on? How's that fair to me, huh?"
They stared at each other, grinning. Then they seemed to realize what had just happened, and looked away quickly.
Desperate for a distraction, Hermione glanced down the table - and she found that Ginny had been watching them. Their eyes met, and Ginny's emotions were bare before her: sadness and resignation. She gave Hermione a wistful smile, and turned away.
Oh no, Hermione thought. I have no idea what is happening here.
*
Harry and Hermione arrived home a little after eleven to relieve Luna. Harry offered her some Galleons - which Luna declined - while Hermione rushed into the bedroom to check on Dotty.
"I hope everything went all right," Harry said.
"Oh, it was just lovely. We watched out the windows for a winged caladrius right up until Dot's bedtime, but we didn't spot anything."
"That's too bad," said Harry politely.
"Quite all right," said Luna, sounding cheerful. "Next time I'll bring omnoculars!"
Hermione came out of Dot's room just after Luna had gone, looking tired but content. "Dot's fast asleep," she sighed.
"Good."
Harry was standing there, hands in his pockets, looking at her carefully. It was all over his face that he needed to say something important.
"What is it?" she asked, walking up to him. Harry looked at her, breathing in deeply.
"I'm leaving this up to you, Hermione," he said in a rush, "but listen. I'm happy here, living with you. I want you to know that. And I also want you to know…."
Here he paused, staring at her intently. Hermione looked into his face and felt hope dawning inside her, the kind of hope she'd scarcely allowed herself to feel for all four years she'd been fighting against it. There was something alive in his expression, something that put a riot of butterflies in her stomach, and she waited for him to finish without realizing she was holding her breath.
"I'm ready, Hermione. At least I think I am."
"Ready for what?" she asked him softly.
"Ready to tell Dotty that I'm her father. I love her, Hermione, and I want to help you raise her. I want to hold her hand when she crosses the street and protect her from all the scary things and I know I'm young, I know we both are, but I really believe that we can do this together."
"Oh." Hermione's mind abruptly shifted gears, stifling the selfish part of her that had wished to hear something entirely different. "Yes," she said matter-of-factly, "I think you're ready too. I was going to bring it up with you this weekend, in fact."
Harry grinned. "You were?"
"Yeah, I was."
He shuffled his feet a bit, looking pleased as all get out. "Well," he said, "how should we tell her?"
Hermione sighed. "I don't know. I've been wondering about that. Have you got any bright ideas?"
"Not a one."
"Well then," Hermione said, "let's think of something by tomorrow."
*
End of Chapter Five. I suppose you all have figured out by now that this is *not* in fact the last chapter. The story will have to extend a bit longer. I seem to have stumbled upon an actual plot along the way, fancy that!
In all seriousness, though, I don't mean for it to go beyond one more chapter and an epilogue. I'll resolve the Dotty stuff and give you a peek into the future. But I *am* seriously considering a sequel, so let me know what you think about that. I have all these ideas about Harry's new post and Ministry politics and Draco entering the story and Percy coming around and so on and so forth….
Oh, and yeah, Scrimgeour kicked the bucket. I'll go into that later, I promise, even if it has to be pushed back until the sequel.
Thanks again for all the feedback, my lovelies. Makes the time spent writing totally worth it. :)
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