Author's Note
I think, without a doubt, that this chapter will be your favourite so far…
Janie xoxo
P.S. If there are any mistakes, I sincerely apologise; my Spell-Check Quill's charm has worn off and I'm having trouble being anything other than horizontal at the moment, due to a bout of 'flu. I'm really bad at being sick, by the way, since I virtually never get sick - you wouldn't want to know me. *Janie staggers off looking for her Pepperup Potion…*
SORCERERS' NOOK
By JanieB
CHAPTER ELEVEN
In which Verity and Emrys get chatty, some things are revealed while others are kept hidden; Hermione and Harry get to work on research and at the end of a long day, Harry pampers Hermione who has some rather unsettling thoughts while soaking in the bath and something quite unexpected and rather surprising happens after dinner…
Hermione was up early the next morning, intent on getting to work as soon as possible so that she could begin researching this new threat which had materialised. She also made a mental note to check with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement about Draco Malfoy, Malcolm Rafferty and even Oscar Blakely, just in case.
She'd been firm with Harry the previous night when he'd wanted to sleep on her couch again.
`You're sleeping in your own place, Harry. I'll be fine and you'll be comfortable.'
Harry knew when it was pointless arguing with Hermione, although for his own peace of mind he surreptitiously cast a Comperio Charm on her flat that would notify him of anyone or anything entering her flat during the night. He'd been relieved, although not terribly surprised, when it hadn't been activated. He decided to put it in place permanently, just in case, making a mental note to do the same to all the flats in the Nook.
Hermione normally Flooed to the Ministry at half-past eight, but on this Monday morning she was up and ready to leave at half-past seven. Harry, ready since six a.m., had come over at seven and they'd enjoyed an amicable breakfast together while discussing where they'd look and what they'd be looking for. Hermione made a list as they talked, the sound of her quill on the parchment bringing back vivid memories of school to Harry.
As they made their way downstairs shortly before half-past seven, Esmerelda called out a cheery, `Good morning, early birds!' from her office.
After they'd returned their landlady's greeting, Hermione said, `We should ask Esmerelda to the meeting, too,' and Harry had murmured his agreement.
When they reached the fireplace, Harry went to the mantel to get the Floo Powder. Hermione was watching him when she saw something out the corner of her eye and she glanced up at the portrait of the Leighs. The old couple were, as always, asleep in their rocking chairs, although she could've sworn she'd just seen one of them move.
`Good morning, Verity, good morning, Emrys,' she said, despite knowing that, as always, there would be no reply. She'd asked Esmerelda about the couple in the portrait not long after moving into the Nook, but learnt only that her landlady had scant knowledge of them beyond the fact that they'd built the Nook and weren't known to talk to anyone.
Harry chuckled as he placed the pot of Floo Powder back on its stand, some of it now sitting in his hand. `Why do you bother?' he asked. `They never answer.'
Hermione smiled and shrugged as Harry dropped a good pinch of the powder he held into her outstretched hand.
`See you there,' said Harry as Hermione cast the magical powder into the fireplace and with a clearly spoken, `Ministry of Magic!' disappeared in a brilliant green flash.
Just as Harry was about to do the same, he heard his name and stopped, looking around to see who was speaking; there was no one else in sight.
`Mr Potter! Up here!'
Harry turned and looked up at the portrait over the fireplace, his open-mouthed expression showing his amazement at seeing Verity Leigh sitting up straight and looking right at him; her husband was doing the same, a small smile curving his mouth.
`Close your mouth, Mr Potter - there's no need to gape.'
As Verity spoke, her husband chuckled and Harry quickly closed his mouth as he gazed mutely at the grey-haired couple, unable to think of anything to say.
`Mr Potter,' said Verity in a voice that reminded Harry very much of Professor McGonagall, `I would ask a favour of you and would be very grateful if you would consent to carry it out.'
Harry nodded, still speechless with surprise.
`I need to have a certain book returned to me. It was given to me for safekeeping some time ago and it has been kept in a safe place here at Sorcerers' Nook ever since. However, when I last checked to see that it was still safe - as I do regularly - I was greatly dismayed to discover that it's no longer there.'
Harry gazed at the elderly woman blankly. `Book? What book? Why are you asking me?'
Verity sniffed. `I am perfectly able to sense that you are the most powerful wizard around here, Mr Potter, and you do need to be powerful to deal with this book.'
Harry shook his head. `I don't understand - how can a book -' and then he stopped, the events surrounding Tom Riddle's diary suddenly blazing in his memory. He gazed thoughtfully at Verity. `What sort of book is this?' he asked her.
`It's a private book, Mr Potter, somewhat in the nature of a diary - or a book of records. It's an old book - very old.'
`What could happen to the person who has it?'
Verity and Emrys exchanged a quick glance before Verity replied. `No actual harm would come to them; it's more in the nature of experiences that may be detrimental to their peace of mind.'
Harry frowned. `Do you mean a person who read this book could actually experience the memories it holds? Like a Pensieve?'
`A Pensieve?' queried Emrys. `What's that?'
Harry looked at the old man. `It's a special magical device that you can store your memories in and look at them as an unseen, objective observer - anyone can. You can retrieve the memories at any time, too. Or you can store them in the Pensieve.'
`Impressive,' murmured Emrys.
`But what about this diary, this book of yours?' asked Harry. `Is it a similar device?' He couldn't help but feel a certain dread stemming from the memory of Tom Riddle's diary.
Verity looked thoughtful as she spoke. `I think perhaps it may be similar in that you can experience the memories written in it, also as an unseen observer, although I'm not certain the experience is equivalent to that which one is faced with through the Pensieve.'
`You have no idea who may have taken it?' asked Harry.
Verity leant forward in her chair and said quietly, `We believe it had to have been Esmerelda, as she is the only one that normally has access to the spot where it was kept. However, we know she no longer has it and we can only surmise that she has given it to someone else.'
Just then the fireplace filled with green flames and Hermione stepped out, her blue robes swirling around her.
`Harry! Why are you still here? I've been waiting for an age and I was beginning to get really worried!'
Harry jumped. `Hermione! I'm so sorry - I forgot - I was -' He glanced up at the painting, only to see Verity and Emrys once more asleep - or appearing to be.
Hermione followed his gaze. `You were what? Talking to Emrys and Verity?'
Harry looked back at Hermione and nodded. Hermione's eyes widened in amazement but before she could begin plying him with questions, Harry said, `Come on, let's go - we've lost enough time already.'
Hermione fetched some more Floo Powder from the pot on the mantel and told Harry he should go first this time, which he did so quickly, impatient to tell Hermione what had just taken place.
Giving the apparently peaceful, sleeping old couple a piercing look, Hermione stepped into the fireplace virtually on Harry's heels, then a few seconds later, stepped lightly out into the Atrium to find him waiting for her. They'd arrived through the fireplace closest to the security desk; without needing to speak, they turned together and headed through the golden gates to catch the lift up to Level One and the Department of Magical Research, the security guard giving them a welcoming wave and a smile as they passed him.
Since there were others in the lift, Hermione had to refrain from asking Harry the many questions spinning in her head. It was only after Level Two they found themselves alone, save for a couple of inter-departmental memos circling over their heads, and Hermione said in a rush, `So what did Emrys and Verity say?'
`They - well, no, it was actually Verity - she asked me if I'd do her a favour.' Harry stopped as they'd reached Level One, and he waited for Hermione to leave the lift first. They both then stood in the vestibule, sunlight streaming in through the magical window at the end of the room.
Harry continued as the lift doors clanked closed, `Verity says she had an old book, a sort of diary or a book of records I think she called it, which was in a hidden spot. She says it's gone and that it must have been taken by Esmerelda because she's the only one with access to the hiding place.' Harry paused, puzzled by the look on Hermione's face. `What's wrong?' he asked her.
`Nothing, keep going,' urged Hermione, shaking her head slightly.
`Well, somehow she knows that the book isn't in Esmerelda's possession anymore and assumes she's given it to someone. Hermione, what is it?' asked Harry, exasperated; Hermione was almost bouncing on the spot and she looked desperately as though wanted to say something.
`No, nothing - please, keep going!'
Frowning speculatively down at her, Harry hesitated, but Hermione urged him on again and so he continued.
`Apparently it's a book that has similar powers to a Pensieve, which I had to explain to them - they mustn't've had them back in their day and they're not exactly a common magical object - anyway,' Harry drew a deep breath, `this book is very old and Verity's worried about someone having a "detrimental experience", I think she called it, if they manage to use the book. It sounds to me as though it could be dangerous, regardless of what she says.'
Hermione's hand had flown to her mouth and Harry decided he wasn't saying another word until she explained herself. He opened his mouth to tell her so, but Hermione didn't give him a chance as she gasped, without any prompting, `It's me, Harry! I have Verity's book!'
Harry was thunderstruck. `What? How on earth did you get it, Hermione?' Harry stared at her, feeling as though something icy cold had just Apparated into his stomach.
At that moment the lift clanked open once more and an elderly wizard stepped out, smiling at Hermione.
`Morning, Miss Granger, you're early,' he said, lifting his pointed wizard hat. His eyes popped as they came to rest on Harry - and his scar. `And - oh my! Mr Harry Potter!'
Harry gathered himself and acknowledged the old wizard with a nod before giving Hermione a slightly desperate "what now?" look.
`Good morning, Mr Finch,' she said cheerfully. `Harry and I are working on a special research project today, so we'd better be getting along.'
`Oh, of course,' said Mr Finch, sounding happily eager, as though he'd been let in on some monumental secret. He tipped his hat at Harry once more before disappearing through the shiny, black door over which hung the sign, "Ministry of Magic - Department of Magical Research".
`Let's go,' said Hermione as she turned and led the way to the dark green, unmarked door that was between the one Mr Finch had just gone through and another, navy blue door, that was also unmarked.
Hermione lifted the brass knocker on the green door and tapped once. `I thought I'd spare you the ordeal of walking through my department,' she said, looking up at Harry with a mischievous grin, which faltered and disappeared when she saw the grim expression on Harry's face. `We'll just go straight to the library which is where we'll need to work, anyway,' she finished with a sigh, knowing Harry was probably going to give her an earful about the book - and the danger he believed it presented.
`Name?' asked the door.
`Hermione Granger.'
`Password?'
"Evolutio.'
`Good morning, Hermione!' said the door happily as it swung open. Harry followed Hermione through, their robes swirling impatiently around their ankles.
The door had barely closed behind them when Harry grabbed Hermione's arm, pulling her around to face him. `Hermione! Where is it? That book is probably dangerous! Verity warned me only powerful witches or wizards could deal with that book!'
`Harry, stop!' cried Hermione as she pulled her arm free of Harry's grasp. `I haven't opened the book yet - Esmerelda told me it was probably dangerous when she gave it to me; she said it felt as though it was full of Dark Magic.' Hermione's hands went to her hips. `And so you think I'm lacking in enough power to -'
Shaking his head impatiently, Harry said, `Of course I don't! But what the hell is wrong with Esmerelda?' he said fiercely, his eyes blazing behind his glasses. `I can't believe she gave you something she thought was dangerous! It's not her book to begin with and she had no right touching it, let alone giving it to you!' He even surprised himself with the force of the anger coursing through him, all because he believed Hermione's safety was being compromised.
Hermione stared at him and the mixture of confusion and puzzlement in her eyes brought him to his senses. He took a deep, uneven breath and pushed his hand through his hair, dropping his head a little so he didn't have to meet her eyes.
`I'm sorry - I just - well, I don't like to think about you being in danger and…' His voice trailed off and he heard Hermione sigh. Raising his eyes he looked at her; she was shaking her head, her lips pursed, one eyebrow arched as she gazed at him.
`Harry, I'm not silly - I've taken every precaution with that book. Esmerelda didn't know who it belonged to and when she stumbled across it, the first thing she did was bring it to me - she could feel the Dark Magic in it and knows better than to take chances with such things. I've got it here at work so I can research it in complete safety - it's in the Armarium with a Tutis Charm placed around it.'
Harry gave her a rather mortified grin. `I'm sorry, Hermione. I know you're not silly - I guess I just reacted without thinking.'
`Without a doubt, and not the first time,' replied Hermione with a wry smile.
`By the way,' Harry asked, his eyes now quizzical behind his glasses, `what's an Armarium? And a Tutis Charm?'
Hermione looked mildly surprised before smiling. `Of course, I'm just so used to it having worked here - the Armarium is a wizard safe, and anything kept in one is usually protected with its own Tutis Charm which keeps it safe and secure. It's just that the different things kept in the Armarium often need to be protected from each other.'
Harry shook his head, grinning. `Magic! Every time I think I've heard it all, along comes something to remind I probably never will.'
Hermione smiled at him. `All right, let's get on with what we came here for. Esmerelda's - or rather, Verity's book, is safe and sound for the time being. You can tell her so when you get home,' she finished, removing her cloak. Harry followed suit, and they hung their cloaks on a row of hooks beside the door; removing the list she'd made earlier, Hermione then hung her bag up beside her cloak.
She turned and stood for a moment, eyes closed, taking a deep breath; Harry rolled his eyes, positive he knew what she was doing. `Smelling the books, Hermione?' he asked her with an indulgent smile.
Hermione grinned at him as she nodded. `I just love the smell of this place.' "This place" was the research library attached to the Department of Magical Research and it was where Hermione spent most of her time when at work. It was a large room with a white, vaulted ceiling from which hung many large candelabras. Along two sides of the room were rows of old, polished wooden bookshelves stuffed with tomes, large and small, above which candles floated, providing extra light in the aisles. Because some of the books and other objects stored here were very dangerous, there was limited access and the security door would only allow certain people in.
As they passed an oak trolley laden with books waiting to be returned to their places, they heard a dusty sneeze. `Bless you,' said Hermione automatically, while Harry chuckled as he spotted a book on top of the trolley with its cover blown open; its title was, "Magical Aid for Allergies - Lose Your Sneeze and Wheeze" by Messrs Sniffilles & Hakke.
Harry continued to follow Hermione past two unoccupied desks, both of which had tottering stacks of books on them as well as myriad scrolls. On the other side of the room was her office, the cheerfully yellow door standing open. In contrast to the organised chaos in the library, Hermione's office was as neat as pin. Harry had visited Hermione at work a number of times, but on each of those occasions she had been working in the Department next door, not here in the library. He didn't say so, but he hoped they wouldn't need to go next door later, after everyone had arrived at work - he found their reactions to his presence rather embarrassing and a little tiresome.
Hermione took her seat behind her large, wooden desk - which Harry thought looked more like a table and said so as he sat down opposite her.
Hermione nodded as she unrolled the list she'd written earlier. `Most desks are too small and I need room for a lot of books at times.'
Harry picked at his black robes, worn because Muggle clothing - while not actually banned at the Ministry - was nevertheless frowned upon and would have been out of place.
Drawing out her wand and tapping a long, square box that sat to her right, Hermione said to it, `I need books that contain references or even mentions of "the Dark One" or "disciples of the Dark One", please.'
The long box made a muffled noise that sounded like paper being riffled before it shot open to reveal that it was actually a drawer.
`Thank you,' said Hermione as she took a handful of cards that had sprung up from the many hundreds contained in the drawer. She smiled at Harry, her eyes alight with enthusiasm as she said, `More than I expected!'
`What, there are books here you haven't read? Hermione, I'm shocked!' said Harry facetiously, gazing at her in mock amazement.
Hermione poked her tongue out at him in an uncharacteristically playful manner as she handed him a card. `Let's begin, shall we?'
*
They then spent most of the day reading, following various leads through different books - some that shed a little light, some that told them nothing. Hermione had been most excited by a mention in one old history book of a "Book of Records" that was last known to be in the possession of the Rileys, a very old Wizarding family. This book apparently held first hand accounts of many Dark battles from long ago, even before the battles of the Goblin Rebellions in the sixteen hundreds. It was also noted as containing significant information pertaining to the Dark One.
However, when the trail of this book grew cold and it became apparent that it was very doubtful they'd be able to get their hands on it, Hermione was bitterly disappointed. Harry on the other hand had spent some time after lunch composing letters to everyone, Hermione going over them with him before they sent them off.
Rather than overtax Hedwig with so many letters, Hermione used Ministry owls to send most of them. Aside from the warning they'd decided on, the letters also included an invitation to meet at Hogwarts the following Friday, Hermione feeling certain Professor McGonagall would agree to host such a meeting. They asked Hedwig to deliver only two of the letters, one to Hogwarts and the other to the Burrow.
`I hope we've said enough to make everyone wary without scaring them to death,' commented Harry after the letters had gone.
`I don't think it matters how we put it - they'll all be worried, as anyone would be,' said Hermione. `At least they know we can all meet up next Friday, and hopefully by then we'll know more.'
`Wouldn't be hard, since we know next to nothing now,' said Harry wryly. `I don't feel as though we've found out that much really. There are those mentions and references but no real information.'
`I'll find out more,' said Hermione grimly, her brown eyes darkened with determination as she gazed across her desk at Harry. `There's no way that some foul creep is going to threaten us or get the better of us. If we can defeat Voldemort, we can defeat this Dark One.'
Harry felt his heart swell as Hermione spoke. She was saying precisely what he was thinking - he knew she would be as fearless and determined as he was himself to defeat anyone - or thing - that tried to disrupt the lives and happiness of those they loved, together with the rest of the Wizarding world. The smile he gave her said so, too, and Hermione impulsively held out her hand to Harry who leant forward and took it across the top of all the books lying open on Hermione's desk.
`We'll win this one, too,' she whispered.
`I know we will,' said Harry, squeezing her warm fingers, wishing more than anything else at that moment that he could walk around her desk, pull her to her feet and kiss her…
Later, at Hermione's insistence, Harry Flooed home and left her at the Ministry; she was determined to try and catch up on some of the work she'd neglected due to their research efforts that day, and also wanted to send off an inter-departmental memo to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement requesting up-to-date details on Draco Malfoy, Malcolm Rafferty and Oscar Blakely...
*
Ron, Luna, Seamus and Colin were still in Holyhead, not due to leave for Kenmare in Ireland until the following Thursday. Seamus and Colin were out with almost the whole of the Holyhead team; they'd gotten on particularly well with the Harpies, not least because it was an all-witch team…
Ron and Luna were enjoying a quiet dinner for two in the hotel restaurant when an owl arrived and landed at their table, drawing curious glances from the other diners.
Ron's expression was perplexed as he removed the scroll from the owls' leg on which he could plainly see his name and the Ministry of Magic seal. After the owl flew off in a flurry of efficient feathers, Ron was left wondering why on earth the Ministry was writing to him and said so aloud.
`Perhaps it's from the Magical Games & Sports department,' ventured Luna, curious.
As he opened the scroll, Ron recognised Hermione's handwriting immediately and as he began to read, he told Luna quietly, `It's from Hermione.'
Luna watched while a deep frown formed on Ron's face as his eyes quickly scanned the parchment. His sharp intake of breath as he read increased Luna's concern. However, with great patience she waited until Ron had finished reading before saying anything. As he looked up at her, his expression dazed, Luna felt her stomach lurch.
`What's wrong?' she whispered, reaching out and taking Ron's hand; his fingers closed around hers convulsively.
`We're all in danger,' he said tersely, his expression grim.
Luna's fingers tightened in his. `What do you mean? What's happened?'
Ron passed the scroll to her and Luna read quickly, a small gasp escaping her as her eyes travelled down the parchment.
`We all have to go to Hogwarts this Friday,' said Ron, his fingers tightening around Luna's. `We need to hear everything Harry and Hermione can tell us.'
*
Minerva McGonagall was in her office when Hedwig delivered her letter. Almost as soon as she'd finished reading it, she began to write her own series of letters which she personally took to the Owlery, sending them off with school owls, her expression bleak as she watched them go. A strong feeling from the past washed over her as she stood there gazing out the window at their diminishing forms - a strong sense of deja vu. She wished very much at that moment for the presence of her dear friend and mentor, Albus Dumbledore. Her heart continued to ache at his absence; the contact with his portrait in her office had long ago proven to be second best to his living presence which, together with his wisdom, had always given her an unassailable sense of security…
*
At the Burrow, Molly was waiting for Arthur and Ginny to come home from work, enjoying a quiet cup of tea at the kitchen table whilst reading the Daily Prophet, a delicious dinner bubbling away on the cooker. When Hedwig flew out of the chimney unexpectedly, Molly jumped in fright before smiling at the beautiful snowy owl as she landed on the back of the chair next to her.
`Evening, Hedwig,' said Molly, `what do you have there?'
Hedwig was holding out her leg and Molly quickly removed the last remaining scroll. `Would you like some water and an owl treat?' she asked. Hedwig hooted softly and Molly went to a nearby cupboard, bringing back an owl treat which she gave to Hedwig. Then she used her wand to conjure a small container of water which balanced itself on the back of the chair beside Hedwig. While Hedwig enjoyed her refreshments, Molly picked up the parchment and read. As her eyes travelled down the page, she felt an awful pain in her chest as though a huge hand was squeezing her heart. When she finished, she looked up at Hedwig, white-faced. `You'll take letters to Bill, Charlie, Percy and the twins for me, won't you, girl?' Hedwig hooted softly through a beakful of owl treat and Molly moved quickly back to the cupboard to retrieve some parchment, ink and a quill.
*
When he Flooed home, Harry stepped out of the fireplace and the first thing he saw was Esmerelda, sitting in one of the armchairs. The second Harry appeared, she was on her feet, wringing her hands, her eyes constantly darting to the portrait above the fireplace.
`Harry, I'm so glad you're home! I need to talk to you - in my office.'
She scuttled off, throwing a desperate glance over her shoulder at a bewildered Harry who looked up at Emrys and Verity, not surprised to see them sitting up, their eyes open, both of them leaning forward to watch Esmerelda as she disappeared around the corner past the staircase.
`Mr Potter,' said Verity in a subdued voice, `have you found out anything about my book?'
Harry looked from Esmerelda's disappearing figure back to the portrait, feeling a trifle confused.
`What's going on?' he asked. `Why is Esmerelda being so - so - un-Esmerelda-like?'
`Probably,' said Emrys quietly, `because we just asked her about the book she found and which we now know she gave to your friend, Hermione Granger.'
Harry shook his head and held up his hand. `Wait a minute, why did you ask Esmerelda about the book after asking me to track it down?'
Verity and Emrys exchanged glances. `Well,' said Verity, sound strangely hesitant to Harry's ears, `we - Emrys and I - thought that it would be best to find the book as soon as possible and so we thought we should use every avenue open to us to do so as quickly as possible - including speaking to Esmerelda.'
`Your book is at the Ministry of Magic,' Harry explained quickly, wanting to join Esmerelda and hear what she had to say. `It's being held in the safe - the Armarium - in the Department of Magical Research and has a protective spell around it. It's perfectly safe. I'm sorry, but I have to go - Esmerelda's waiting and she's obviously upset.'
As Harry followed in Esmerelda's footsteps, Emrys and Verity watched him as well, before settling back into their rocking chairs, their expressions grim.
*
Esmerelda was pacing in her office and when Harry entered, she quickly crossed to the door and closed it behind him, turning to stand with her back to it, her eyes darting around the room.
`Esmerelda, what's wrong?' asked Harry, moving to stand in the middle of the room.
`Harry, sit down, please,' said Esmerelda, as she took one last look around the room before walking across it to sit down behind her desk.
Harry, still feeling confused and now also a little worried, took the seat across from Esmerelda.
`I don't think they can hear me in here, although I'm not absolutely certain,' said Esmerelda, her eyes roaming around the room.
`Who?' asked Harry.
Esmerelda's eyes snapped back to Harry. `Emrys and Verity, of course,' she said, sounding a little exasperated, as though Harry should somehow have known this.
`Esmerelda, start from the beginning please, I'm a bit confused,' said Harry, wishing desperately that Hermione was with him.
`All right. Well, it began a couple of weeks ago, when I found an old book, hidden here in my office, and gave it to Hermione. I was worried, because I could sense Dark Magic in it - something I've always been able to do, sense Darkness. That's why I gave it to Hermione - I know she deals with that sort of thing at work.'
`Esmerelda, since you gave the book you found to Hermione, and it's now safe and sound, what's wrong? What's the problem?'
Esmerelda took a breath before continuing. `I asked Hermione to let me know when she had the time to take a look at the book, although she did warn me it could be a while. I wasn't worried, though. Then tonight, Emrys and Verity actually spoke to me, something they've never done before.' Esmerelda's eyes still held the amazement she'd felt at this unusual occurrence. `They said they knew I'd removed their book and wanted to know who I'd given it to. At first, I didn't what they were talking about because it had been a little while, but then I remembered. I answered without thinking, telling them Hermione had it.'
Harry was beginning to feel impatient, he didn't understand what it was that had upset Esmerelda so much and as she kept talking, he failed to see how anything she'd told him so far explained her nervous, harried manner.
`But I still don't understand what the problem is,' Harry said, working at keeping the exasperation he was feeling out of his voice.
Esmerelda sat motionless, staring at Harry. When she spoke, her voice sounded strangely hollow. `They told me that the book had been given to them by a wizard named Alexander Riley.' Esmerelda took a deep, steadying breath before continuing. `Alex Riley was the wizard who murdered my father. Riley disappeared afterwards, and was never convicted. There might be something in that book that could lead to his whereabouts. I want that book - I want to know, I want to find out what happened, so my father can rest in peace.'
*
Hermione glanced up at the clock, dismayed to see how late it was. She pushed aside the report she'd been reading, a report she was supposed to have read, researched and summarised that day for Mrs Morley, the head of the department. Hermione rubbed her eyes and thought longingly of a hot bath and some dinner. To hell with it! she thought. I can come in early again tomorrow - I really just want to go home. She stood up and stretched before leaving her office, collecting her cloak and bag from beside the dark green door which bid her a sleepy good night as it closed behind her. Her footsteps echoed eerily as she emerged into the Atrium a few minutes later, where the security guard on duty had his hand over his mouth, covering a yawn. Hermione gave him a sympathetic smile as she waved at him before Flooing home.
As she emerged into the small sitting room at the Nook, she was grateful to find herself alone - no Esmerelda to be seen or heard. She'd barely taken two steps, however, when she heard a woman's voice whisper her name.
`Miss Granger!'
Hermione froze. It had to be Verity. She groaned inwardly - so many times she'd wished the Leighs would speak to her but right now, tonight, it was the last thing she wanted. A crooked smile of irony touched her lips as she turned to look up at the portrait.
`What is it?' she asked wearily.
The old witch's eyes held sympathy as they rested on Hermione. `I'm sorry, my dear, I know you must be tired. It's just that we know Esmerelda gave you my book and I'm very anxious to have it returned.'
`It's in a very safe place at the moment,' began Hermione; she got no further however, as Verity spoke again.
`Mr Potter told us that, but please, Miss Granger, it's imperative we have that book back. It does belong to me, after all.'
`Please, call me Hermione. Now, aside from pointing out that you are, in fact, dead, Verity, and therefore not actually entitled to own anything, per se, I would also point out that this book appears to contain Dark Magic. It goes without saying that it's therefore not something that should be kept here, unprotected - it poses a threat to all of us, especially since we don't know the extent of its powers.'
Verity sniffed and gave Hermione a cool look. Emrys leant forward then and spoke softly. `Miss Granger - Hermione - we need that book to help - well, an old friend, I guess you could say. Granted, there appears to be Dark Magic in that book, but it wasn't created with Dark Magic - that comes from the records it contains. It's the Dark Magic that occurred in events recorded in the book that can be sensed. It poses no danger to anyone unless they use it unwisely.'
Hermione shook her head wearily. `I'm sorry, I really am - but I can't do anything right now. And I am very tired and hungry. I'll talk to you again tomorrow, I promise.'
Hermione turned to go, hoping their voices hadn't alerted Esmerelda to her arrival; she desperately wanted to get upstairs and relax.
`We'll hold you to your word, Hermione,' said Verity, smoothing her apron. `We'll talk again tomorrow, then. Good night.'
`Good night,' Hermione replied quietly as she reached the stairs, walking up them as quickly as she could. When she reached her flat, she hesitated, her wand out, hovering over the handle. It sounded as though someone was inside. Frowning, Hermione tried the handle - it opened. Ginny? she wondered. Perhaps she came back for some more of her things…
As she stepped inside, her hand flew to her mouth, stifling a gasp of surprise, her eyes wide as they took in the sight before her: the table was set for two, a cluster of low candles burning in the middle. A delicious aroma was drifting from the kitchen, making her achingly aware of how hungry she was, while she could hear water running in the bathroom. She looked to her left and could see a wedge of light coming from the open bathroom door with swirling clouds of steam dancing in the light.
`Knew you were back,' said Harry's head as it popped round the bathroom door, grinning. `Charmed your kitchen clock to tell me the second you stepped out of the fireplace. Go put your things away and get into your bathrobe. You can come and have a soak while I finish dinner.'
Hermione stood, her lips parted in astonishment; the strain of the day, coupled with her tiredness, caused her throat to tighten as tears of gratitude filled her eyes, threatening to spill down her cheeks. Somehow, Harry seemed to know, and within seconds he was beside her, looking at her through slightly steamed-up glasses. He took her hand and led her along the hall to her room where they crossed the room to her bed. Taking her bag from her unresisting fingers, Harry placed it on the bed, doing the same with her cloak. Crossing back to the door, Harry took her bathrobe from a hook on the back of it, then walked back and dropped it lightly on the bed. He smiled at Hermione, lifting his hands to frame her face, his thumbs gently caressing her cheeks.
`You deserve a little TLC and pampering, Miss Granger,' he told her softly. `This is going to be a rather harrowing week for us. Now, you are going to get into that bath and I'll knock on the door when dinner's almost ready.'
Hermione smiled at him, tears still glistening in her eyes. `Thank you,' she managed, her voice husky with emotion.
For you, Hermione, anything. `What are friends for?' he said out loud, repeating her own words back to her before leaning forward and dropping a quick, light kiss on her forehead. `Now go!'
A few minutes later, lying in the warm, fragrant water with her eyes closed and her head resting on a soft, rolled towel, Hermione felt her tiredness and tension slowly drift away with the rising steam. A smile played around her mouth as she thought of how wonderful Harry was, doing this for her. A true friend and an extremely thoughtful man, she mused, feeling particularly grateful at that moment; after she and Ron had realised they were destined to be just friends, she'd felt a little lonely...
Hermione's thoughts began to drift as the spiralling tendrils of steam floated around her… And Harry no doubt feels lonely, too, with Ginny gone. I wonder why he stopped loving her? He never did tell me. I'll have to ask him again, sometime. At least he's free to spend time with me, to help me research. He was always much better at that sort of thing than Ron. In fact, it's worked out rather well at the moment for Harry and me - we have each other. Well, I suppose really we've always had each other. He's the best, best friend you could ask for. I wonder what would have happened if I'd married Ron and Harry had married Ginny? I suppose that all four of us would've been best friends…but now? Ron and Harry and I are all right, but what about Ginny? Will she and Harry be able to be friends again? I hope so. I suppose I'm lucky; even though Ginny's gone, I still have Harry. And we've certainly been looking out for each other - keeping each other company. And Harry is such good company - just what a girl needs after… Then completely unbidden and totally unexpectedly, a picture burst into her mind: Harry standing, looking out the window in his bedroom, wearing only his jeans, no shirt covering his smoothly muscled back …
Hermione sat up abruptly feeling horrified, bubbles and water sloshing around her unheeded. What in the name of Merlin's Mother am I doing thinking about Harry's back?!
`Hermione?'
Hermione let out a small scream at the sound of Harry's voice.
`Hermione! Are you all right?'
Harry's voice was tense with concern and Hermione felt her heart begin to race madly as Harry's fingers appeared around the edge of the door, which she'd left ajar an inch or so.
`I'm fine! You just gave me a fright,' said Hermione quickly, her eyes glued to Harry's fingers.
`You sure?' persisted Harry.
`Absolutely,' said Hermione, her heart still thumping.
`All right, sorry I frightened you. Dinner's almost ready, by the way.'
`I'll be right out,' said Hermione faintly as she watched Harry's fingers disappear, her gaze remaining fixed on the spot where they'd been. Then she slowly slid down into the bath, fully immersing herself. As she sat up a few seconds later, water streaming from her hair, she determinedly told herself she'd left those strange, stray thoughts about a half-naked Harry beneath the water, resolving never to return to them…
Ten minutes later, resolution intact, Hermione was sitting at the table with Harry, her cheeks rosy from the warm bath, damp, curling tendrils of hair falling around her face and neck having escaped her hair clip. She'd put on her pyjamas, her favourite pale blue satin pair, with a matching dressing gown; Harry had insisted it was the best thing to do, so she could just fall into bed after they'd eaten.
`This is delicious!' exclaimed Hermione, spearing a perfectly cooked piece of carrot. `Did you do all this yourself?'
Harry beamed as he nodded. `I did,' he told her, `and I didn't "swish and flick" either - well, aside from peeling the vegetables and such. There's a whole swag of Mrs Weasley's recipes in one of the kitchen drawers and this one seemed the easiest. It's really just a vegetable and beef casserole,' Harry finished modestly.
`It's divine,' said Hermione, her eyes glowing as she smiled at him and Harry thought how perfect this evening would be if they could end it sitting on the couch to finish their glasses of wine, curled up together, his arm around Hermione, her head on his shoulder, her soft lips so close he only had to drop his head an inch or two to feel them against his own…
Hermione's voice interrupted his happy reverie.
`We should do this more often, don't you think? We could take turns with the cooking.' Hermione felt her new resolve twitch a little, but chose to ignore it.
`Sounds like a worthwhile plan to me,' said Harry, picking up his glass and taking a sip of wine. His heart was racing as much from thinking about kissing Hermione as from the prospect of future dinners-for-two.
`By the way,' asked Hermione, `have you heard back from anyone?'
Harry nodded. `Hedwig only arrived home a short while ago with a note from Mrs Weasley. Professor McGonagall owled back as well, and so did Neville and Dean. I didn't expect anything back from Ron.' They shared a laugh as Harry said this, then he continued, `And since we asked everyone in the letter to not come here or contact us beyond saying they'll be at Hogwarts on Friday, we won't be deluged with visitors and questions. We can't really tell them anything just yet, anyway.'
Hermione smiled appreciatively at him. `That was a good idea of yours, so we don't get inundated,' she told him, making Harry feel quite pleased with himself.
After they'd finished - Hermione trying in vain to stifle a yawn - Harry insisted he would clean up and that Hermione should go to bed. As they both rose from the table, Hermione walked round to him, her arms held out; they closed around Harry's waist as she reached him, laying her head on his chest.
`Thank you for everything,' she said quietly, feeling deliciously tired, yet perfectly content.
Harry had been caught off guard by Hermione's hug - the feel of her pressed against him sending his heart rate rocketing. He wrapped his arms around her hesitantly, wondering what she thought of his pounding heart, which she had to be able to hear since her ear was pressed against his chest right over the top of it.
`You're more than welcome,' he managed to say, his voice uneven with emotion.
Hermione moved slightly against him, sending a rush of fierce desire flooding through his whole body; she tilted her head back to look up at him, her expression puzzled.
`Harry, do I frighten you? Your heart's racing!'
`Frighten me? You? Er - no, of course not,' stammered Harry, unable to think clearly with Hermione's arms still wrapped around him, parts of her pressed against him that he really couldn't afford to think about right at this instant. He brought his arms up to rest on her shoulders, trying to put any sort of distance between them, but to no avail. Then Hermione's eyes drifted to Harry's mouth for no reason she could fathom and she seemed to have forgotten she had Harry in a tight embrace.
He has a very nice mouth, she thought. I wonder what it's like to kiss him? He's almost as tall as Ron, not quite, but he certainly feels - what? - leaner and harder, more muscular. And once again the picture of Harry naked to the waist pushed its way into her mind. But this time it didn't shock her. He did look pretty damn good, she thought, feeling as though she was in some tenuous dream state - halfway between waking and sleeping, where her resolve was irrelevant...
Harry was in an agony of indecision. Hermione's silent thoughts had taken up only a heartbeat or two as she gazed at his mouth and he was fighting an almost overwhelming desire to kiss her, while at the same time, he knew it could well have disastrous consequences at this early stage.
`Harry?' Hermione whispered his name, making it a question as she lifted her eyes to his once more.
He felt his insides churn at the imploring look in her eyes. Does she know what she's doing to me? Does she know that look in her eyes is doing? That it makes me want to kiss her? Does she want me to kiss her? Harry struggled with his unruly emotions, certain Hermione was simply caught up in the moment, following a long, hard day, then coming home late, so tired and hungry. Now, warm and fed, and sleepy and full of gratitude for him, and perhaps a small part came from missing the warm, physical closeness of a man; `I guess I miss the hugs and cuddles the most,' he remembered her telling him. But for Harry, her lips seemed to have taken on the properties of a powerful magnet - an irresistible force. As though of their own volition, his hands moved gently up from her shoulders to frame her face. Harry thought his heart was going to burst from his chest it was beating so wildly, his breathing was shallow and rapid, his senses becoming overwhelmed with the feel and scent and warmth of her. He couldn't tear his gaze away from her luminous brown eyes.
Their lips were an inch apart and Harry knew he could no more stop this kiss than he could stop breathing. He moaned her name softly in the last second before their lips met and then he knew nothing as a fierce, rapturous joy encompassed him and he was aware only of the achingly delicious softness of Hermione's lips beneath his - parting to deepen the kiss as though it was the most natural thing in the world. He couldn't get enough of her - his hands left her face, sliding back to her shoulders then down the delightful curve of her back to her waist, pulling her hard against him. And Hermione kissed back as fiercely as he was kissing her. She had no idea where this desire to kiss Harry had come from - she wasn't capable of thinking, so she couldn't even begin to imagine why Harry was reacting to her and kissing her as though she was what he wanted more than anything in the world. Her heart was now beating as frantically as his, and it was only as the heat of desire began to ignite her whole body that from somewhere deep inside, she heard a cool, logical voice - or was it that damned resolve? - `This is Harry - what on earth are you doing?'
Hermione immediately let go of Harry, her hands flying up to his shoulders in a vain attempt to push away from him. She could feel the straining, knotted muscles beneath her fingers, his strength so much greater than hers and she knew she was helpless. But Harry felt her pull back, and calling on an iron will, he loosened his grip and lifted his head. They stood, her hands on his shoulders, his hands on her waist - staring at each other, their eyes mere inches apart. They were both breathing quickly, as though they'd been running for their lives.
Hermione attempted to speak - although no sound came out at first and she had to clear her throat.
`I'm so sorry, Harry - I don't know why - I shouldn't have -' gasped Hermione, her voice sounding strange to her own ears.
Harry shook his head, his jaw set, unable to speak at that moment; then he pulled her to him, her arms reflexively going from his shoulders to wrap around his neck. Hermione felt a desperate need to draw some sort of reassurance from hugging him, something she'd done countless times over the years.
`You have nothing to be sorry for,' he managed hoarsely, his lips pressed against the side of her head. `I'm the one who should be sorry.'
He felt Hermione shake her head.
Harry laughed shakily. `Do you want to argue about it, then?'
Hermione made a sound that was a cross between a laugh and a sob as she shook her head in reply.
`Sensible choice,' joked Harry, his voice still a little hoarse.
He felt Hermione's arms loosen as she leant back, her hands coming to rest on his chest. He lifted his head and looked down at her, unable to prevent an indulgent smile crossing his lips at the sight of her flushed cheeks. She looked down at her fingers as they began to fidget nervously with the buttons on his shirt.
`That was, erm - unexpected,' she said, feeling extremely confused and distinctly faint-headed.
Harry was only able to manage a mumbled "mmm" by way of agreement.
`So, what should we do?' asked Hermione, still quite breathless and unable to meet Harry's eyes.
`Do?' echoed Harry, gazing down at the top of her head.
`Well, I mean, should we pretend it didn't happen - that it was just one of those inexplicable moments - or should we…' Hermione hesitated, wondering, Could I ever pretend it didn't happen?
`Or should we what?' prompted Harry. Before Hermione could answer, however, he continued, unable to stop the words tumbling out, `I don't think I can pretend it didn't happen, Hermione.' There's no way I could ever pretend it didn't happen! Impossible!
`Oh.' Admit it, Hermione! There's no way you can pretend it didn't happen…
`Hermione? You don't hate me, do you?' Harry groaned inwardly. You idiot, Potter! What a stupid question! Why is it my brain always seems to shrink to the size of a walnut at times like this?
Hermione made a slightly strangled sound, ceasing her button-fidgeting as she looked up at Harry, her eyes wide with surprise.
`No! Of course not! I could never hate you, Harry!'
Harry heaved a sigh of relief.
`You don't think I'm - well, a bit of a scarlet woman as Ron likes to say, do you?' ventured Hermione tentatively, wondering how it seemed to Harry; she'd not long broken up with Ron and here she was kissing him! Hermione closed her eyes in self-disgust. Oh, brilliant, that's a really intelligent thing to say, Hermione!
Harry quickly suppressed a grin, although there was amusement in his voice as he said, `Hermione, I would never think of you as a "scarlet woman"!'
They smiled at each other, at their joint silliness and awkwardness and somehow the tension seemed to evaporate. It was Hermione's turn to sigh with relief. `So what just happened? What do we do?' she asked, her face serious.
`To be honest, Hermione, I can't say. But I do know you are tired and you need to get to bed. How about we sleep on it, get through tomorrow and have dinner together tomorrow night so we can talk about it? That also gives us a little time to think about it all, too.' Which I sure as Hades need! thought Harry.
`I couldn't have come up with a better idea, myself,' said Hermione, smiling and sounding as relieved as she felt. `I do feel a little confused and a good night's sleep should help - and you need one, too, Harry.'
`Don't worry, you go - it was part of my plan to clean up, and then I'll go to bed myself.'
Harry hated the emptiness he felt when Hermione moved out of his arms and walked away towards her room. She paused in the pointed archway and turned, smiling gently as she said, `Thank you for tonight, Harry, good night,' before disappearing. He drew his wand out and with two flourishes cleared the table and the kitchen. As he reached the front door and darkness descended with a final wave of Harry's wand, Crookshanks miaowed sleepily from his basket. Harry paused, his fingers on the door handle, looking over his left shoulder towards Hermione's bedroom door at the end of the hall. He wasn't sure what tomorrow would bring, but he did know that by some miracle Hermione seemed to have actually enjoyed kissing him, and had said emphatically that she'd never hate him. He let himself out, using his wand to lock Hermione's door before crossing to his own room, humming under his breath.
*
Soon after she fell asleep, Hermione had a dream that she was a young lady of the realm, living in a castle that looked an awful lot like Hogwarts, being courted by two young, ardent gentlemen - one with light brown hair who looked suspiciously like Neville and the other with an untidy, jet black head of hair that definitely resembled Harry… She smiled in her sleep as their rivalry unfolded and they tried to outdo each other and impress her. And all the while, dream-Hermione knew exactly to whom her heart belonged…
*
For his part, Harry found he didn't feel in the least sleepy, and so he lay in bed, his hands behind his head, reliving every second of the kiss he'd shared with Hermione, over and over. His heart soared at the thought that it was quite possible after all for Hermione to fall in love with him. Just don't rush it, he told himself sternly, you don't want to crowd her. Nevertheless, he couldn't stop smiling into the night as he began wondering what the next evening would bring…
Neither of them, for that one night, had any room in their heads for thoughts of the Dark One or his Disciples…
TO BE CONTINUED…
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