Hermione's House
Hermione heard the bell and looked at the clock. It was nearly nine o'clock on a Tuesday evening. Who in their right mind would be calling at this hour? She rose out of her bed, abandoning the thick book she had picked up earlier that day in Diagon Alley. She sighed, wondering who was so blatantly abusing her door bell, the chime echoing in the house. She pulled her robe on over her sensible sweat pants and tee shirt, tying it around the waist, and slipped her feet into rather care worn bunny slippers.
"I'm coming, I'm coming!" She shouted finally sick of the bell. She flicked her wand at the chime silencing it at once, though it didn't seem to stop the assault on the switch outside. She peeked out the peep hole, surprised to see Ron and Harry standing there. She pulled the heavy oak door open and bade them entry. "Really, Harry, did you have to press the bell so many times?"
Hermione was looking rather disapproving at the bell as it hung limply by its wires. She turned her wand on it and it repaired itself immediately. She closed the door behind the two late night visitors and gestured for them to follow her to the living room. Harry and Ron took their usual seats on Hermione's over stuffed sofa bed and looked at her expectantly as she sat in her usual arm chair.
"What are you guys doing here? Don't you know what time it is?" Hermione asked as she slipped her slippers off and pulled her feet up onto the chair.
"Mione, it's like nine o'clock," Ron retorted as he checked his watch. Hermione glanced over her shoulder at the clock on her mantel.
"Yes, and I have to be at the ministry early," Hermione said rather crossly. Hermione glanced at Harry, who was looking rather sulky. She frowned.
"Your shift starts at nine, like the rest of us," Ron said. Hermione looked at him with questions in her eyes.
"Certainly you two didn't come all the way to Mondatta Rowe to discuss when my shift is or isn't," Hermione said as she looked to Harry. "We all know that Harry is our leader, and if you want me there at a different time an owl would have sufficed."
"We're not here about your shift, Hermione," Harry said with cold overtones in his voice. Hermione glanced at Ron but found that Ron was staring out the window at Hermione's patio garden.
"When did you start calling me Hermione?" Hermione asked as she narrowed her eyes, turning back to Harry. He wasn't looking at her. He was looking at the various things in her living room. He had been in this room a dozen times; seen many of these pictures, but it occurred to him that he had no idea who any of these people were.
"Were you never going to tell me?" Harry asked after a few minutes of silence. He was standing now at her fire place, his back to her. He was holding a framed picture of them taken their first year of school. That seemed like ages ago, more than the decade that had really passed.
"Tell you what?" Hermione said. Her voice was even, if not a bit confused. Ron looked at her, as if trying to talk to her with his mind. Ron had never been a subtle one and Harry had seen Ron's bizarre twitching in the reflection of the mirror over the mantle.
"You said you didn't know anything about it, Ron," Harry accused as he rounded on Ron. Ron jumped up immediately, his hands up in a defensive move.
"I don't," Ron implored.
"Then what the hell was that little head jerking thing?" Harry asked. Ron shrugged.
"I was just trying to get her just to tell you whatever," Ron grumbled as he stalked off to raid Hermione's fridge. "See if I come along anymore for moral support."
"Moral support? You are raiding the enemy's fridge," Harry called to him. Hermione jumped up at this rather angry.
"Who in Merlin's beard are you calling `the enemy' Harry Potter?" Hermione said waspishly as she pointed her wand at him in a rather threatening manner.
"So now we are on full name basis, Hermione Granger?" Harry accused. She narrowed her eyes.
"I think you need to say your peace and leave," Hermione said crossly. "You and I are friends, but you aren't acting very friendly and I am not above cursing you were you stand. It would be worth a meeting with Shacklebolt."
"Are we really friends, Hermione?" Harry asked her with his own bright green eyes narrowed. Hermione's eyes widen with disbelief.
"Of course, Harry," Hermione said. "I wouldn't have fought beside you and Ron against he-who-must-not-be…"
"Just call him Voldemort, already, ok?" Ron snapped from the kitchen, his mouth full of tuna.
"Fine, Voldemort, I wouldn't have fought Voldemort if we weren't friends," Hermione snapped. She couldn't believe that Harry was questioning her loyalty after all of these years. "Oh, and Ron, that is Crookshank's cat food you are eating."
Ron audibly spat right into Hermione's sink and nearly drowned himself under the faucet. On any other day, they would have been laughing together, Harry and her, at Ron, but the tension was so thick not even this bit of highly amusing comical display could crack even a slight smile.
"Is that so?" Harry asked.
"Yes, that is so Harry," Hermione snapped at him. Her patience was waning. She was tired, she had that book she had wanted to read, and he just wasn't getting to the point fast enough. "What is it that you are accusing me of exactly, Harry?"
"Tell me about Ava," Harry said. He was looking her straight in the eyes. She stood absolutely still, not making a sound. He tried to read her face, but she had been getting so well with the poker faces he couldn't read anything that was going on behind those big, brown eyes.
"Ava?" Hermione said as slight confusion slipped across her face. "Is she a witch at the ministry?"
"No, Hermione, and you know that," Harry snapped.
"I don't know an Ava," Hermione retorted. Harry was inches from her now, breathing in a hard, angry way that made Hermione just the slightest bit nervous. After all, he was known for his temper and his short fuse, and while she had never been on the receiving end of one of his tirades, she knew that they could be nasty.
"Come off it, Hermione. You know Ava, though you might have called her something else," Harry snapped. "She's my daughter." The silence was deafening. Ron had stopped his choking and gagging to stare at Hermione and Harry standing just inches from each other. Harry looked ready to kill, and Hermione looked confused.
"You… you have a daughter?" Hermione asked slowly. Harry was even more enraged.
"Yes, and you knew it, Hermione," Harry spat. Hermione shook her head, denying it.
"No, Harry, I didn't even know you were seeing anyone that seriously," Hermione protested as she stepped away from him. He was about to erupt and she wanted to be clear of that volcano when it exploded.
"I'm not, but I needn't be dating anyone to have a child," Harry snapped rudely. "Especially when I have you so near and dear," he added with a cold chill in his voice.
"What is that supposed to mean, Harry?" Hermione asked with her own annoyed look on her face.
"Don't pretend you didn't know we have a daughter, Hermione," Harry growled. "I may be a guy, but even I know you wouldn't have been able to ignore the symptoms."
"What in the hell are you talking about?" Hermione demanded.
"Ava, Hermione. She is our daughter, as in yours and mine," Harry screamed at her angrily. "You kept her a secret and hid her in the muggle world! I just want to know when! When did you trick me?"
"I never slept with you, Harry!" Hermione yelled.
"That is what I thought, too, but I know how skilled you are," Harry accused coldly. "A potion, a spell… poof… memory erased!"
"How dare you, Harry Potter," Hermione screamed at him, enraged. "You can leave now, and if I never see you again, fine by me!"
"Fine!" Harry said as he stormed through the door she was now holding open. "But this is not over, Hermione Granger! I will find out what you did to me!"
Hermione slammed the door behind Ron, the sound reverberating and setting off car alarms of cars parked along the street at Mondatta Rowe. The door remained closed, despite Harry and Ron standing outside of it, glaring at it with all the hatred that Harry could muster. He turned and found himself outside of the house at Grimmuld Place, needing a safe place to cool off.
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