Ministry Employees
Harry was surprised to find Hermione waiting for him at home that evening. Kreatcher had let her in and she was waiting for him upstairs in his room. She had dumped her stuff on his bed and was looking intently at the pictures of James, Remus, Sirius, and Peter. Harry stood there watching her for a moment. She reached and touched the front of the picture, trying to make a connection with the past.
"It doesn't feel the same," Harry said. Startled, Hermione spun and looked at him. He had to admit she was as pretty as ever. She looked a little sad, he thought, but that had to be his imagination.
"Sorry," Hermione said gesturing to the bed where she had placed her stuff. "Kreatcher said that I could head on up and use the restroom. It has been a long trip."
"You and Draco back already from you holiday?" Harry said surprised. She hadn't been gone but a day or so, if even. She nodded but didn't elaborate. Harry's heart soared. Perhaps she and Malfoy were having a fight. He pushed, "Is everything ok between you guys?"
"We are fine," Hermione said with an almost breathless way about it. Harry found himself annoyed with her response. He had been hoping a bit of anger from her or even a tear or two. She sounded tired, but nothing more, as she turned her back to him to study the picture a bit more.
"I don't like you dating him," Harry said in a not so much angry way. It was more of a possessive statement. Hermione turned to him, a look on her face. She was biting the inside of her lip, the way she always did when she was thinking hard.
He rushed her, before he knew what he was doing. His mouth crushed down on Hermione's, his tongue touching hers ever so gently. He couldn't stop and he couldn't control himself. He knew she was going to smack him, and it was going to be well worth it. He felt his body urge her to release to him, and Harry held Hermione tight against him. She felt warmer than he ever remembered; her hands touched his face, diving into the wild hair as he felt the urge to consume her there in his bedroom.
He pulled away after a minute, dropping his arms from around her. He backed away, giving her a little space. Hermione looked up at him, her fingers to her mouth. She was shaking. Harry stepped closer, watching her with his eyes. She wasn't angry or upset, not that he could tell. He had never seen the look she had on her face. She bit her lip, and he thought that maybe she was going to cry.
"Harry," Hermione said. It was then that he realized that she was breathing as hard as he was. She looked a little bit like a starved woman, in need of a substance she knew only Harry could provide. She stepped forward a second, then stepped back.
"Oh, Mione, sorry," Harry said as he turned his back to her. He could see her in the reflection; she was looking at him with that same damn look. He let her make eye contact first, her hand to her mouth, not in shock but perhaps admiration. He knew that look, and she had a look similar to that look.
"No, Harry," Hermione said shaking her head. Her face went from a look of awe to one of quiet sadness, her eyes closed. It was nearly in slow motion, the lost of lust that was written on her face.
"Mione, listen," Harry said as he turned to her. He took her wrist in his hand and he looked right into her eyes.
"No, Harry," Hermione cried. She twisted away from him roughly, though he would have let her go without the movement.
"I love you," Harry said. She looked like she was going to cry.
"I love you, too," Hermione said. She looked like she was wrestling with herself on the inside. She closed her eyes and sobbed.
"No, no, don't cry," Harry exclaimed. He rushed to her, held her against his chest while he smoothed down her hair with his hand. "No, Mione, it's ok. I understand. You are with Draco. I know that. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have kissed you. It was wrong."
"But I wanted you too!" Hermione wailed as she brought her had to her face. She wiped her eyes. "I kissed you back!"
"But, you are with Draco, Mione," Harry said softly. "You aren't that kind of girl."
"When I am with you, even if just for a moment, I want to be that kind of girl," Hermione said wearily as Harry pushed a handkerchief into her hand. "Thanks."
Harry held her against him, thinking if this was all he could have; it would have to be enough. He loved her too much to lose her because he got greedy. There were unanswered questions, yes, but none of that mattered at the moment. She had been family to him since he was eleven. He had always had a family, whether he chose to see it or not.
"It's getting late," Harry murmured as his hair smoothing had turned to patting on the back. "Draco will be wondering where you are."
"Yes, of course," Hermione said as she wiped her eyes again. She pocked the handkerchief. "I'll wash it and bring it back to you."
"Don't worry about it," Harry said smiling at her as she gathered her belongings of his bed: her purse, her laptop bag, and her gym bag. He couldn't help but hope that she would one day be in that bed with him. He silently shook the thought from his head. It would do no good to think of her in such ways.
"Thanks for being such a good guy, Harry," Hermione said as they stood on Harry's front door step.
"You make me want to be," Harry confessed as he adjusted her scarf. Hermione nodded once.
"I do love you very much," Hermione said as she forced a tearful smile. He brushed the rogue tear from her cheek with his thumb.
"I know," Harry said. He leaned toward her and brushed his lips across hers. "Take care and I will see you at work."
Hermione's departure made for a very tense Harry Potter. He thought about a shower or a pick up game of basketball in the park. That is what the other early twenty-something year olds did. Harry pressed his lips together, still able to taste her cherry lip-gloss. She was always so sensible, that Hermione, to let her natural beauty to shine through, where, as other girls would hide behind all of that make up. Harry knew he was uncomfortable, but the thought of relieving his discomfort himself, alone, was unappealing, even with his imagination and with having just kissed Hermione.
"Master, dinner?" Kreatcher asked. Harry nodded and joined his house elf in the kitchen. He watched Kreatcher serve him, thinking of Dobby. Had Dobby lived, he would have sat down at the table with Harry as his equal and eaten. He knew it would insult Kreatcher to even suggest it. Dobby would have had some advice, even if only foolish advice.
Everyone he loved seemed to slip from his life one by one. Harry wished that he didn't love Hermione so much, and he felt worse confessing it to her when she was already in a relationship with the man that had, as a boy, been his arch nemesis. Harry rolled his eyes at his own pathetic self-pity. Hermione had always supported him and he should do the same.
Harry went to bed contemplating what had done, now and three years ago. He couldn't imagine just falling into bed with Hermione. Well, he could, but she was too sensible to just sleep with him, even if he was the great Harry Potter. He laughed at himself for that one. His name had gotten him a few one night stands over the years, but no one relationship worth holding on to. Imagined a relationship with Hermione would have been one really worth fighting for.
"Why can't I remember?" He asked no one in particular. He was alone in his bed, and he knew that there would no answers there in his bedroom. He sat up right, suddenly. He had an idea, a brilliant one that bordered on Hermione's genius. He threw his blanket back and climbed out of bed. Dressing quickly in the jeans and shirt off of the floor of his bedroom, he opened his closet and pulled out his Cloak of Invisibility.
Harry found himself standing outside of the Hall of Records minutes later, completely invisible. If they wouldn't let him see the records, let him have the information, he would just go in there and get the information himself after hours. He pressed the door open; thankful it did not creak and alert the night watch men. He stepped into the room quickly and shut the door, all undetected.
Where the Hall of Records was bright during the day, it was darker than the night without the daylight. Harry felt a chill run the length of his spine as he stood in the eerie darkness of the room. Harry removed his cloak and lit his wand, looking at the room. It occurred to him, he had no idea where to even start looking. He walked along the wall of the room, looking at the tablet-sized books that were tucked neatly in each row. They seemed to be in year order, and Harry went to the year Ava would have been born, not certain of her exact date of birth. She looked two, so he started at the front of the book and found her entry about a third of the way in:
Ava Jean D'Agostino- March 3, 2003- 3.5 kilograms- 50.8 centimeters long-alert and healthy in appearance-no known complications- brown hair- green eyes- mother: [see file 14734] father: [see file 13723] Place of birth: Sydney, Australia. Resides with: Angela D'Agostino at 133 Bevier Commons- Likely magically gifted: Highly Probably and strongly expected due to parental levels of magic. Evaluate at age 3,6, and 7. Number of obliverations/dates: 1- 03-03-03: parental erase [see file 82347].
Harry touched the words with his fingers. While answer few of the questions he had (if any), it answered questions he had not thought to ask. His daughter had been a healthy baby. He scratched the three file numbers down on a slip of parchment and placed her book back where he had retrieved it.
Curious, he retrieved his own book. He found his entry quickly, finding that his parents were listed in his book, unlike in Ava's where his and Hermione's names were not listed. Most of the information was new to him. He looked down toward the end and read the lines several times, letting the information seep into his mind:
Number of obliverations/dates: 8- 01/03/02 Per Ministry to be Undisclosed, memory modified; 02/03/02 Per Ministry to be Undisclosed, memory modified; 03/03/02 Per Ministry to be Undisclosed, memory modified; 03/23/02 Per Ministry to be Undisclosed, memory modified; 05/03/02 Per Ministry to be Undisclosed, memory modified; 06/10/02 Per Ministry to be Undisclosed, memory modified; 09/11/02 Per Ministry to be Undisclosed, memory modified; 03/03/03 Per Ministry to be Undisclosed, memory modified.
Harry was in shock, to say the least. The ministry had modified his mind eight times between January 2002 and March 2003. The last day was his daughter's birth. That couldn't have been an accident or coincidence that he had his memory modified on the same day that Ava was born. He contemplated looking it, looking the information up, to see if it matched his dates, on Hermione's page but found that her page had been ripped from the book, it's tattered edging the only thing that hinted that her page had ever been there.
"I hate working early morning," a voice said from behind Harry. He spun around to see the witch from the other day coming in to the Hall of Records. She was backing in, obviously talking to someone. Harry panicked, shoving the book harshly back into it's slot and summoning his cloak. He slipped it on just at the witch turned around. She glanced in Harry's direction but didn't say anything. She sat down as an owl soared into the room through the owl chute.
"What does Shacklebolt want so damn early?" She snapped crossly as she pulled the rolled parchment free of
the bird. She read it and puffed angrily. "What does he think I am? Stupid? I know I can't let him see those
damn files!"
She was scribbling an angry response as Harry crept closer to the door, wanting to escape without being caught. She
pulled her wand, and for a second Harry thought that he was in for it. Instead she drew the box in the air, like she
had done previous. She flipped ahead and made a noise of satisfaction as she had found the page she had been looking
for. She made a wiping motion from the invisible book and wrote something new on the page.
"Sorry, Harry, but you have just banned from the Hall of Records for life," She said aloud, cackling in a wheezy sort of way. Her laughing made it easy for Harry to slip from the hall, but not for him to loose that lead feeling he had gotten when she walked into the room. Shacklebolt had requested Harry be banned for life! Harry could help but feel outraged at this. Not remembering he had the cloak on, Harry ran over Neville as he was stepping on to the elevator.
"Ahh!" Neville shouted as he mashed the buttons.
"Neville, it's me!" Harry shouted over Neville's shouts. Remembering the cloak, Harry pulled it off and stored it in his bag. Neville looked a little pale.
"I hate when you do that!" Neville said as he caught his breath. He peered at Harry. "Why are you sneaking in, anyways? It's like seven in the morning."
"Oh, I wasn't," Harry said. "Not really, anyways."
"Um, ok," Neville said. He looked at how rough Harry seemed to look these days. It was evident he wasn't sleeping well, and Harry looked like he had slept in his clothes and didn't bother to shave that morning. "Come and eat dinner with us tonight. Luna and I are having a few people over and while I am sure your house elf makes some great food, Luna's been dying to have you over. Some of the old DA is going to be there, and you'll have a great time. Bring a date, if you want."
"Sure, Neville," Harry said distracted as he reached into his pocket and felt the slips of paper in there. "Hey Neville?"
"Yeah?" Neville said looking at Harry's reflection in the elevator mirrors. Harry pulled the slips out and held them to Neville.
"I have been banned from the Hall of Records and I need to know this information," Harry said slowly. "It is very important that no one finds out about it. Do you think you can help me?"
"I can see what I can do, Harry," Neville said slowly as he took the papers from Harry and stored them in his own pocket. The elevator came to Harry's floor and Harry got off.
"Thanks so much," Harry said waving at him. Harry walked to his office; thankfully it was empty for the moment. He looked down at his clothes and realized that he really did look a little like hell. His jeans were fine, but his shirt was wrinkled and he had stubbly growth on his chin and face. He pulled out his wand and unwrinkled his shirt the best that he could. He couldn't do anything about the face, and figured that right now was a great time to claim to be growing a beard.
"Hey, what are you doing here so early?" A familiar voice said from behind him. Harry turned to see Hermione walking into the office and glancing at the mess that Ginny had left all over her desk. Hermione made a face, picked up the trashcan, and swept Ginny's refuse into the metal cylinder.
"Are you back?" Harry asked as she sat her purse in the drawer. She threw him a smile over her shoulder.
"You didn't really believe you had gotten rid of me that easily, did you?" Hermione asked. Harry laughed.
"No, of course not," Harry said as he sat in his own chair and turned it to her. "Ron will be happy to have you back, as am I. Ginny's not going to take it well. I guess she will go back to the Hall of Records?" Hermione frowned at Harry.
"But, Harry… Ginny doesn't work for the Hall," Hermione said as she closed her drawer. "She works for Shacklebolt."
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