Disclaimer: Harry Potter - not mine but JK Rowling's.
Chapter 28 - The Last Phial
After driving away two blocks and circling around to come back, Ritchie now knew what Ron meant. It was good that Ron mentioned not to be spooked when it happened because both he and Harry had experienced it.
"Littering is disrespectful, inconsiderate and against the law."
It was Jane. He looked around his car, thinking she might have just apparated, but there was no one in the car with him. Then he realized it was his conscience with Jane's voice. Weird. He didn't really even care that much about littering. It kept on repeating itself and after two blocks he could no longer ignore it. The thought of it plaguing him all the way across town was unbearable.
"Littering is disrespectful, inconsiderate and against the law."
"Yes, yes, but you should have thought about that before tossing my ashtray out."
"Littering is disrespectful, inconsiderate and against the law."
Apparently, it was not interactive.
As he was about half a block away and training his sight at the spot where his cigarette butts lay peacefully, he saw a hooded figure suddenly appear in the alley close to it. No matter how much he strained at the outline, it was a misfortune that poor lighting prevented him from seeing anything distinguishable.
He watched as the entity crossed the street. At the dimly lit entrance of the edifice that housed the Saint Lamb Homes Foundation, a sudden gust of wind momentarily exposed a tuft of blonde hair before the individual entered, without knocking or ringing the bell. Ritchie also noticed that the lights on the first level office were on and a silhouette of a seated figure, likely a wizard, was visible through the window.
Ritchie parked and assessed the situation. He, a lowly Muggle, was by himself. Possibly two wizards were inside and one of them could be the Cardinal. It was a no-brainer. He took out his phone and called the obvious. A curse flew out of his mouth. Still not in service.
He tried Harry and got the same result; he was exceeding his average number of expletives per day easily. Drumming his fingers against the steering wheel, he contemplated calling the Chief, but that would tip off Gomez. He took out a piece of paper and wrote out what he was about to do, knowing it was a bad idea. Of course, it would have made more sense to wait for either Jane or Harry to come.
Just before alighting the car, he tried Jane one more time.
Finally!
"Jane, it's me."
But it wasn't Jane who answered.
"Harry, wait…" and the phone was dead.
They were in the middle of something. Great! He shook an unwanted image from his mind but it was too late to stop the pain from coming. Take it like a man, Tilly. Suck it up.
Phone on vibrate and gun in hand, he quietly walked towards the front of the building under the windowsill. He couldn't hear a thing. Maybe there was an entrance in the back.
He walked around and started checking for open windows and other possible entrances. There was a backdoor but there was neither a lock to pick nor a knob to dismantle.
Ritchie didn't have a warrant, not even probable cause, to barge in and arrest anyone. What if he knocked and flashed his badge, maybe say he was investigating some made up call across the street?
The advantage was he would be able to meet the two individuals in there, maybe even get them to tell him who they were. They were dodgy characters for sure; it was way too late at night for them to be employees of the foundation. The danger was he could be stunned, or worse, be killed. Hmmm…meet some suspects, get killed or both? On any other day, he would not be so idiotic. But today, having just lost his girlfriend, taken up smoking again, and now, hearing she was getting along extremely well with the love of her life, he was feeling kind of crazy, not to mention stupid. Crazy and stupid were a terrible twosome to feel at the same time while on a stakeout.
Ritchie paced confidently and deliberately towards the front entrance but a few feet before he got to the door, he felt his phone vibrate. Jane. He retraced his steps to a more soundproof location, pressed the button to answer.
And again, it wasn't Jane. Harry told Ritchie to come to his house quickly and told him the reason. Totally forgetting why he was where he was and what he was doing, Ritchie got into his car quickly and sped off to Number 12 Grimmauld Place. He turned his lights and siren on, wishing he could apparate to get there faster. So much for trusting Harry Potter to make sure she would be fine.
XXXXXXXXXX
Inside the Foundation, the sudden sound of a siren interrupted the Cardinal's train of thought. It was almost time for the meeting at Harry Potter's house and anticipation was high about whether or not Hermione Granger would make it.
Fear permeated the air and that was the one emotion the Cardinal was very familiar with. The Cardinal knew real dread, having learned and felt it first hand years ago when Voldemort took Elise Kline's life. And absolute terror was an easily recognizable emotion having seen it so many times in the past four months while in the act of completing the murders.
The Cardinal was more than halfway through with the second set of slayings. Lowes was killed, kind of accidentally; he was quite an annoying man; Dorner, because Miguel asked it to be done. Lyle Franks' was out of necessity; he knew T.M.Didler and while it was unknown whether or not Franks saw that name on the Lumos enabled list, there was a risk Franks could connect the old and new aliases for Granger. Malfoy was Miguel's idea, because it made sense for Granger to want Malfoy dead. It was a good thing that it failed; it allowed the Cardinal to select a more appropriate subject. And Snape's murder was to retaliate for his betrayal of the father the Cardinal never knew.
The next three murders were already decided, all Cardinal picks. The last two would be individuals Granger would least want dead. The next one was personal, to avenge for lost innocence and decency.
XXXXXXXXXX
Sometime after, Hermione regained awareness. She remembered darkness, Dementors and lying on the cool moist earth. No, whatever she was on it was way more comfortable and warmer. Oh yes, the silvery light at the mouth of the cave. Was she dead?
Hermione caught a whiff of something burnt and felt a familiar hand take hers. No such luck. She realized she was still alive. Hermione was disappointed, on all counts.
"If I'm dead and then you must have joined me by smoking yourself to the grave," she tried to say but it took great effort and her voice kept breaking off. As she opened her ton-heavy lids, she was not surprised to see Ritchie seated beside her on the bed, thinking it was too bad he was smoking again. She heard someone disapparate as he smiled at her.
"Don't waste your strength on trying to be funny. You're supposed to take these the moment you wake up," he pointed to chocolate bars and a reviving potion on the side table, one of Madam Pomfrey's.
"He's okay, right?" her voice still weak but it sounded better. She knew Harry would be but needed to hear it from someone.
Ritchie glanced behind him at the seat in the shadows, "Don't worry, he's fine. I checked him out myself for you, not one scratch."
So he was here, but yet again, he had passed on the opportunity to be with her, giving it to someone else. She hoped Ritchie didn't notice the momentary anguish that would have flitted in her eyes just as a throbbing discomfort erupted in her chest.
Hermione looked around and recognized where she was. She had to leave. She got up but couldn't will any of her muscles to cooperate, almost falling off the bed had it not been for Ritchie.
"Where do you think you're going?" Ritchie coaxed her back in.
"The meeting, then Ron. We should go…" she found good reasons to get up and tried to do it again but without success.
"The meeting finished about half an hour ago. You need to rest," Ritchie gave her a bar of milk chocolate and she started eating it, fast.
"Who came?"
"I've never met so many wizards and witches in my life. It was kind of overwhelming. I met most of Ron's family, some of the other Ministry Aurors, some of your friends from Hogwarts, Professor McGonagall was here and Madam Pomfrey came to attend to you. There was Moody and Remus."
"How did it go?"
"Harry and I talked to them about everything we knew for sure happened and who we think are involved. We really didn't get into too much detail about Lumos and the counters. There was quite a discussion about how to proceed but we had to cut the meeting short when the Aurors had to leave for an emergency. By the way, about teaching Harry tonight, he says it's best to postpone."
She nodded. That was a good idea. If she was having these undesirable aches in her chest and throat each time she heard his name, spending time alone with him right now would just be masochistic. They did need to continue their conversation, but for her, it was more to formally end it as she had said they should. She had to think about something else. Why was the meeting abbreviated?
"What was the emergency?"
Ritchie hesitated before telling her.
"There were perplexing deaths tonight at St. Mungo's."
She felt blood drain from her face and must have looked ghastly because Ritchie was quick to assure her, "No, no, Ron's fine. Though it happened in Ron's room. His guards and…and Healer Frances."
Healer Frances. From their few brief interactions she only had utmost admiration for the healer. But, why her? The Cardinal said family was next. Was she related to the Cardinal? If only they had T.M. Didler's birth records to know possible relatives. Wait.
"Perplexing?"
"The Killing Curse, all of them. No note either and no indication if it was or wasn't the Cardinal. Healer Frances was killed first."
She had a set baffled look. They had to make some assumptions. Because it happened in Ron's room it had to be related to the Cardinal case, and if that were true then it almost certainly would have been the Cardinal. Was the Cardinal cracking under the pressure, getting less fixated on killing using just Cardinal curses? Giving up after having meticulously done it for Muggles and being on track for the wizard murders?
Hermione hoped not. There were a couple of clear distinctions between the Killing Curse and the Cardinal Curses. The Killing Curse was intended to kill whereas the effects of the Cardinal Curses varied and depended on the intention of the envoker. And while in the hands of the Cardinal the end result for both was death, at least the Cardinal curses had counters. It was a relief that Ron, evidently, wasn't on the Cardinal list. Hermione shared her thoughts with Ritchie.
"Harry also thinks it's the Cardinal."
"Maybe Healer Frances caught him by surprise."
"Harry thinks the Cardinal panicked and just reacted."
"The murders are not random; at least we don't think they are. Why would he kill Healer Frances?"
"Harry wonders if she recognized him."
"So, what is it? I must be doing something noticeable every time you say his name," she was not angry, she didn't have the energy to be. She knew he was fishing.
"It's the left eye," he motioned, "An almost imperceptible twitch."
She'd have to watch that. She could only force a smile, because if she didn't, she would cry, "Don't be such a meanie, then. Stop saying his name."
"What happened at the University? Why does it feel like he's pushing you back to me?"
Good. Consistency, at least, and no room for doubt.
"That should be obvious."
"You gave him heat and he had to get out of the kitchen. You didn't tell him,"
She didn't have to answer. Ritchie would know that if she did, Harry would be sitting in his stead, holding her hand, even if she gave him hell-intense heat. That was precisely why she couldn't tell him.
"It's too bad it didn't go your way," Ritchie continued.
Yeah, it's too bad.
Hermione suddenly stood up without help, surprising even herself. She felt so much better after eating a block of chocolate and chugging a few mouthfuls of Madam Pomfrey's potion. Quite determined to leave Harry's house though uncertain of where to go to recuperate, she wrote a note of thanks to the homeowner. St. Mungo's was a definite scratch; Ron's room would be crawling with law enforcement and in her state, she didn't think the healing spell would be of any benefit. Maybe tomorrow. That meant tonight, she could visit an old friend. She was sure he wouldn't mind giving her some peace of mind.
She got her stuff together, including the yearbooks she sent over from Hogwarts, and exited the room despite Ritchie's objections, telling him she was leaving with or without his help. It turned out that she did need assistance. She lost her footing on the stairs and had it not been for the availability of Ritchie's hand, she would have done more damage to herself.
"Ouch!" Ritchie yelped as Hermione had grabbed and on instinct, squeezed his hand as she was about to fall; his bandaged right hand.
"What happened to this?" she asked as she started to unwrap the bandages at the foot of the stairs.
"It's fine, it's just a paper cut, from mail today."
Hermione had yet to see a paper cut cause injury that would need the whole hand wrapped up and cause the amount of pain she caused by squeezing it. She dragged him to the Potter kitchen where she knew Dobby kept quick remedies for minor cuts and wounds. She found an owl feather within the wound and gave him a most annoyed look for trying to lie to her, suspecting Harry had something to do with it. It was quite infected.
"You should have asked someone to look at this earlier," she gave him a reproachful look.
"I've been busy."
"Ow!" Ritchie withdrew his hand as she cleaned the wound a bit more vigorously than she had to.
"Oh, don't be such a baby!" she snapped at him.
Typical, them both! It wasn't even about her!
Owl bites could be nasty and Hermione had never seen one so bad. Sitting opposite him and working in silence, she did her best and it took some time before she was satisfied. After applying a clean dressing, she looked up and met a most disarming gaze that she had seen so many times in the past two months. He must have been staring at her for quite some time. After a brief moment, he touched her face with his well hand.
"You know I would take you in any way, shape or form."
She wished he would stop doing that. Irrational as it was, it was a statement, a declaration. Only she wished it came from someone else.
Hermione took his hand from her face and held it as she expressed regret in her eyes, shaking her head lightly. It wouldn't be fair. She imagined there would be no more roller coasters for the next little while.
XXXXXXXXXXX
Neither heard Harry as he left the adjacent room after witnessing their exchange, having come as she was putting on a fresh bandage on Ritchie's hand. Sending Mr. Pecker had definitely backfired. He went back to his study, forgetting his hunger that was the reason for his coming down to the kitchen. He couldn't face her, not yet.
Harry tried to get some work done at the Ministry after knowing for sure Hermione was going to be fine. Unable to concentrate from worry, he brought the Gomez files home thinking that he would be close enough in case something happened. Of course, he didn't count on her leaving tonight. She probably needed space.
He needed space. There had been no opportunity to reflect on how he truly felt about this more secretive and closed off version of Hermione that he found today. He needed heartfelt answers to her questions before he could talk to her again, particularly about her insistence on not talking about her recent past. And most of all, he needed to be sure about what her intentions were and for this, he needed help. While it troubled him that he couldn't be at her side tonight, he trusted Ritchie to make sure she would be fine.
He looked at the note she left on the guest room side table.
Harry,
Thanks for the hospitality. You saved my life, yet again. You really shouldn't have.
Hermione
So, the next time Dementors tried to kiss her, she wanted him to watch her die. He crushed it in his hand. Right now, he had to think about something else.
Flipping through the Gomez files from the 1990s, everything looked like the same unrelated stuff he was reading earlier in the day. Then he got to 1994. There was nothing at first pass and nothing the other three times he went over it with a fine-tooth comb. That was dejecting; so much for that theory.
Going through the motions for the remainder of the documents, he stopped and stared at a journal entry in Gomez' handwriting.
28 June 1995
Meeting with the Minister and Professor Dumbledore
RE: T.M.Didler, Saint Lamb Homes Foundation
Through notes that followed, he found out that Didler's mother was a Healer, Elise Kline. Kline was a descendant of St. Mungo himself, and had been working at St. Mungo's about a year before Didler was born up until her mysterious death in 1991. Healer Frances probably knew Kline and must have recognized Didler in Ron's room. All of this pointed to Didler being the Cardinal.
But why didn't Didler kill Ron? Everybody else was dead and every opportunity was there to do him in. The only logical explanation he could think of was that Didler didn't want Ron to die. He sent Hedwig with a quick note to Kingsley, suggesting that Gomez might indeed be in danger. Kingsley would know what to do.
It was close to one in the morning when Harry finished. He did not find anything else in Gomez' file. Tomorrow, they would confront Gomez about his meeting regarding Didler and maybe they could find Didler through the Saint Lamb Homes Foundation. Neville also had that list he was putting together. They were so close to finding out who Didler was; he just hoped that once they did, they could stop the murders.
Work now out of the way, Harry's idle mind kept replaying his conversation with Hermione at the University. He had to get some air to think. Flying would have been perfect except his broom was way across the Atlantic. A walk would have to do.
Hermione had asked him questions he didn't expect. He froze both times. That was bad, he realized, but he still thought it was better than babbling, or worse, saying something he did not really mean.
Of course, he knew how he felt about her taking the amnesiac with Dean. There was disappointment that she found it necessary to take it and apprehension of what could be, that she may have taken it more than that one time and that he might come across something about her he would find unbearable. He should have blurted that out, but at that time, he wasn't clear what that meant to them. That and he didn't want to say anything to hurt her.
There was nothing he could do with the disappointment he felt; it already happened. The fact that it was Dean made it complicated, but really, it could have been anyone. However, he kept asking himself what 'unbearable' was? And did that really matter?
The only serious relationship he ever had before was with Ginny and there were nothing to gleam from that experience to help him with this one. Could he live with this? Could he live with the prospect of having this 'unbearable' thing hang over them? What if the event in her past that she did not want him to know was unbearable, too? He agreed with Hermione; if he could not accept that she would not discuss that with him it would be the scab that they would continually pick at throughout their relationship, a wound that would never heal.
He took a step back, realizing he was so focused on the 'may' and the 'might'. In all fairness, the amnesiac with Dean may have been the one and only time she did take it, so there would be nothing unbearable there to expect. And Hermione did say whatever happened had nothing to do with them now. Based on these, he should have had no problem answering her questions.
Then it hit him. He felt unwell recognizing what his apprehension was about.
It was about trust.
Over the years, he had come to trust her as a friend. He trusted her with his life and knew that she would not intentionally do anything to hurt him. As his friend, he did not have any qualms about that; but as intimate partners?
That was not an issue two years ago, definitely not when he was thinking about her at Hogwarts. He figured that the circumstances around his leaving compounded by the time they spent away from each other and their unshared experiences may have eroded into that. It did not help that she wasn't as open to him as she was in the past. Was this instance of deliberate concealment enough to not trust her judgment that this incident was something he didn't have to know about? Did he trust her with his heart somewhat or did he not trust her at all, because if it was the latter, Harry wasn't keen on building a relationship without trust.
Was trust black and white, and absolute trust merely a redundant exaggeration? Or were there varying degrees of trust, earned and lost all the time; had he lost some of hers in him when he left and had she lost some of his in her by not telling him everything from the very beginning? He believed it to be the latter.
Obviously, she did not think he was trustworthy enough to do the right thing with whatever it was she was not sharing with him. In fact, an ultimate show of faith would be telling him everything about it.
She was adamant not to talk about it. Knowing Hermione, she wouldn't back down on this and she was serious about ending it now if he didn't do as she asked. Whatever it was, she was willing to let go of what they had and could have, to keep it hidden from him. It was that important to her.
The question was, how important was it to him? Was it important enough to let her go, too?
The answer was clear. He had wanted a life with her for so long, it was not really a hard decision to make. The opportunity to be with her was more important. If she couldn't tell him, he would take a leap, trust her assertion that it did not have anything to do with them now. A show of faith that could hopefully be the block of trust they could both build on that would last forever.
If it didn't work out for whatever reason, then at least they tried. Hopefully, they would not have regrets and if there were, at least it wouldn't be remorse for not trying. The worst thing that could happen was they could ruin their friendship more than they already had, but at this point, he doubted that they could ever go back to how they were at Hogwarts, anyway.
Harry asked himself what it was that he was most afraid of about her past that would make him not want to be with her. That 'unbearable' he was so wary of. Other men? Murder? Addiction? Prostitution?
Maybe. All would fit what she said about what she couldn't tell him. All quite abstract and unreal; what ifs magnified by the mystery she created around it by refusing to tell him. This was Hermione; deep in his heart he knew it would not be about the last three. Yes, it would definitely hurt him had she dated and slept with other men, but she wouldn't have done anything wrong if she did.
However, there was one thing that he wanted to know for sure.
Harry took out his phone.
"Can we talk?" Harry said, listened briefly. "No, just us…I'll meet you there."
He disapparated into an alley adjacent to the Screeching Moon and went in. It was almost empty as he sat at the bar. He figured he had a few minutes.
"Hi Tom. What does a wizard have to do to get a drink around here?"
"Harry! This is a pleasant surprise, what can I get you?"
The first name basis was from hanging out with Hermione in the Screeching Moon days before he left.
"I hear you make a mean amnesiac special. Do you have one that can wipe, say, two years worth of memories?" he asked, kind of serious.
Tom bellowed a laugh, "Took that troublesome drink off my list two months ago; too many witches and wizards coming back to ask me what they did. I can't even remember this morning and they expect an old man to keep track of everybody's stupidity!"
Harry laughed with him and got a firewhiskey instead. Tom was drying shot glasses and preparing for the following day.
"Odd. For something that I haven't sold in a while I've talked about it twice tonight," Tom continued.
"She was here," Harry wasn't surprised at all that she would want to talk with Tom. Tom, she knew would never betray her.
"With her Muggle friend, nice chap."
Was he the only person who didn't like this guy?
"I hope you were able to give her what she needed."
Harry remembered Tom took the drink off his list because of the pesky witches and wizards who wanted their memories back.
"Hers was easy. I remember it as vividly as if it happened just now. She took it once and it was the first one I sold. I stopped offering it to her after the 7th time she turned it down thinking if she refused to forget that, she would refuse it for everything else. And that one time she took it, it was for a memory that, in my opinion, wasn't really potion worthy."
That was great news. She would be relieved. He was relieved.
"The memory of Dean trying to kiss her?"
"Yes, Ron's brother-in-law, I couldn't believe the gall! I had to swear to her I wouldn't tell Ron. And she didn't really have to drink it. I figured she just wanted to be supportive."
"Of Dean?"
"I guess, but more so of me," Harry must have looked curious because Tom provided details, "The amnesiac special was a concoction that I created. It was the best tasting drink I had ever created, too. I was just having trouble selling the first one. Word got around that Hermione Granger took it, which she denied, of course because she did not remember, and I had no problem selling it after that. Considering how she had been, it was really nice of her to do that for me."
Harry saw melancholy in the old man's eyes as he spoke of it and had to ask, "What do you mean?"
"After she and Ron broke it off she busied herself with work, rarely came in, and when she did she would only sit there," Tom pointed to their favoured booth two years ago. "Usually she had a drink, by herself, turning down company from everyone except Ron. It was sad to watch her, really."
Tom carried on, "Then that one night about five months ago, she got up and joined me at the bar. We joked that maybe if she was the first to drink it, others would follow. She told me how the drink probably tasted good, but adding the amnesiac was a terrible idea. I kind of feigned that I was hurt and told her that perhaps to be able to judge it so harshly, she should at least try it. Finally, she said she would, but only if she could find an appropriate memory."
"And she did," Harry said. That explained a lot. Dean's memory wasn't that significant to her. But it was important to Dean and the amnesiac was special to Tom.
The chime at the entrance announced the door opening. It was Ritchie. He turned down Tom's drink offer and sat next to Harry at the bar. Tom knew when he wasn't needed.
"Thanks for meeting with me," Harry said.
"Is this going to take long?" Ritchie answered impatiently.
He got to the point, "I love her. I want to be with her."
Ritchie replied, "You sure have an unconventional way of showing it. I don't think she's convinced. I'm not convinced. If this is about her past that she won't talk to you about, I can't tell you. I gave her my word."
"No, I'm not going to ask you about that, but I hope that if it happens to be about that, you answer it anyway," Harry paused, trying to think of how to ask him the question without being insulting. "She told me you broke up. I want to be with her but only if she really wants to be with me. I figured you'd be straight with me. I need to know if she wants to be with you, because if she does, then she should be with you."
Ritchie looked at him as if he was from another planet.
"What would make you think that?"
"I've seen her with you more times than you think, through Ron. She cares a lot about you. She was willing to live a Muggle life to fit in your world and she said you never asked for that. I can see that you care about her too. You make her happy, you make her laugh and she trusts you implicitly. You were there for her during the worst time of her life. It doesn't make sense that she wouldn't want to stay with you."
"She broke up with me to be with you," Ritchie still didn't understand why he would have doubts. "How dense can you be?"
"It's complicated," Harry didn't think it was necessary to expound.
"I'm sure it is," Ritchie did not press him. "But to answer your question, no, she doesn't want to be with me or anyone else. Her wanting to be with someone else was my story."
That was a relief. He wasn't sure if Ritchie would tell him but he had to try to see her tonight.
"Where do I find her?"
Ritchie wrote down an address on a napkin with instructions. Harry thanked him as he got up to leave and just as he was about to exit the front entrance, he doubled back. From his jacket pocket, he took a small glass container filled with silvery material and set it on the bar right in front of Harry.
It looked just like one of Ron's phials.
Harry's perplexed look got the clarification he required.
"Ron knew she wouldn't tell you. He asked me to give this to you if you came back and still wanted to be with her. For what it's worth, I agree with Ron. You should know what happened."
Ritchie was about to walk away when he turned back, "By the way, all my life I've always been a sore loser and Jane knows it's something I need to work on. This is for coming back."
Before Harry could ask what it was, it was too late to block or avoid Ritchie's freshly bandaged right fist and it connected with the centre of his face!
XXXXXXXXX
Just a few blocks away at a safe house, a Muggle radio was playing a song from the popular young American witch cross-over singer, Anne Roberts. It was her latest hit single, 'Not Meant To Be'. Hermione often wondered why women gravitated to sad music when they felt sad, and now she finally figured it out. Misery loves company.
You left without a trace,
Wherever I look I see your face
Your brown eyes, your red hair
They haunt me everywhere.
But we were not meant to be…
Hermione was in bed trying to get some rest. Tom gave her the peace of mind that she needed. It made perfect sense to her why she did that, particularly that one night five months ago.
On their way to where she was, Ritchie told her about what he saw and didn't see while staking out the Gomez charity. Kingsley had apparently sent an Auror over to continue surveillance. The rest of the donor list was indeed quite interesting. It was filled with names of prominent wizarding families and figures but she doubted if that bore any significance.
Hermione felt they were closing in on the Cardinal but there was still the task of capturing him and getting a confession so her name would be cleared. Finding and identifying the Cardinal was going to be a cakewalk compared to what they had to do after.
Still just not ready to fall asleep, she summoned the Hogwarts 1994 Yearbook and opened the cover. The Triwizard Tournament figured prominently within its pages. She smiled as she saw a picture of the Durmstrang delegation and a full page dedicated to their Champion. Her first kiss, actually kisses. She knew Viktor was still playing professional Quidditch. Fleur was now married to Bill. Cedric. And Harry. Ugh, Rita Skeeter and that vicious article! She couldn't believe the Prophet still allowed her to write.
Each house had sections dedicated to its members. She quickly browsed the Gryffindor students knowing T.M. Didler would not be there; having been Prefect in the subsequent years and eventually Head Girl, she knew all of them.
Hermione checked the Slytherin first years. There was that rookie Auror, she forgot his name. She would ask Tonks to see if he could help. She recognized a few Ravenclaw freshmen who now worked for the Ministry, too. From Hufflepuff, there were a few as well, and yes, her. If Didler was a first year in 1994 she would be the best person to ask who it might be.
She was interrupted by a knock on the door. That would be Ritchie.
"I thought you were heading…", Hermione froze as she opened the door and did not see Ritchie. "…home…Harry, what are you doing here? And what happened?"
His eyes were red and there was blood on the front of his shirt, and on close inspection some on his face. There was also something about his nose.
"Can I come in?"
Yes, it hurts to be in the same space with him but you can't really say no. He has blood on him. And you need to at least fix his nose.
Hermione stepped aside and opened the door wider for him to get through.
"What happened to your face?" she asked again.
"It's nothing. It was stupid, really. I wasn't paying attention, ran into something and broke my nose. I fixed it myself."
A likely story; she wished they could be adults about this. She took him to the bedroom, the only room in the place where there was sufficient lighting, and sat him down on one of the chairs. As she stood over him she suddenly felt underdressed in her nightgown.
Stop thinking about it. Don't make this harder than it already is.
Summoning her wand to reset his nose more accurately, she did not have the heart to tell him how it looked like when she saw him at the door.
"I trust that this something that you ran into does not need medical attention at St. Mungo's?" she said as she continued to clean up his face and take the stains out his shirt.
"Oh, no. Definitely not," Harry vehemently denied, then muttered, "At least not immediately."
Harry sat for quite some time after she finished, just looking at her. And she couldn't move either, just content to look back. She wasn't sure why he came but if they were going to end it today, she wanted to look at him like this when it was still appropriate. She had serious doubts that they could do what she and Ron had done; she didn't think they could be friends after this.
Harry spoke first.
"I know it's kind of late," he stood and moved closer, not letting go of her eyes, "I wanted to answer your questions, the ones from earlier tonight."
"You already answered them," she hoped he was not trying to attempt to make her feel better.
"No, not really. Please," he took both her hands in his.
She nodded for him to go ahead.
"I was disappointed that you took the amnesiac with Dean and quite worried that you had done something that would make it unbearable for me to stay with you. This part of your life that you won't talk about, it scares me the same way. I wasn't sure if I could live with that without it coming up every time you chose not to tell me something."
"The thing is, I can't ignore this feeling I've had for you since that last year at Hogwarts. We blew our chance to be together two years ago and I'm not about to turn my back on this rare second opportunity. So the answer is yes, I can live with not knowing that part of your life, if only for this second chance. And, while I want to know what it is so I can be a part of it, it's clearly very important to you to keep it a secret."
He took something from his pocket and put it in her hand. It was a phial of memory.