A/N: This one is a little short, but it answers many questions. Enjoy.
Lavatory Talk
Flying came as second nature to Harry, though he preferred a broom above and beyond muggle's pathetic means of flight. He hadn't always felt this way, naturally, and had been rather envious as he watched the planes take off down at the airport. He thought only rich people could afford to fly. Harry shook his head. At the price of this ticket, and the risk he put himself in confounding the guys in customs, this flight was one for a rich person.
Harry stored his one carry-on under the seat to the thirty person plane. He looked around for Mrs. Jordan and Quinn, her great grand niece. He hoped that he hadn't come off as insistent last night, and they cancelled their flight. He needed to talk to Quinn, and what better way than on a very long transatlantic flight? Harry wasn't disappointed as the blonde-haired person and Mrs. Jordan walked onto the plane.
"Dearie, these are our seats, no?" Mrs. Jordan had asked Quinn. Quinn had glanced back towards the bathroom to see Harry staring at her. Quinn had nodded at Mrs. Jordan, but the two women seemed to wait a minute before taking their seats, leaving the seat closest to the window free. Harry didn't move to join them, just remained in his seat. He could wait.
The take off from Chlorine was uneventful, and the flight was rather full, if you took into account it held over half of its allotted passengers. Harry read an Autotrader while occasionally glimpsing up at Quinn. Mrs. Jordan had taken out her wooden knitting needles. She was working on a maroon and gold scarf. Quinn looked back at him as her wrist watch beeped.
Harry watched her stand and head towards the back of the plane in a hurry, and Harry rose and followed her. Quinn ducked behind the curtain and into the first lavatory, closing the door on Harry's foot. She looked at him in surprise and horror as her eyes met his.
"Brit, what are you doing?" Quinn demanded as she went to close the door to the closet sized room.
"I need to talk to you," Harry said. Quinn struggled with the door.
"Please, Brit, I need to take my medicine, then we can talk," Quinn implored as she tried to push him back.
"No, I think I need to talk to you now," Harry said. He looked at her. She was sweating, as if in pain or over heated. "We know each other, don't we?"
"Of course, we both had dinner at the Kings' on Sunday," Quinn said as she continued to struggle against Harry's foot. He refused to move it.
"I mean before that," Harry pressed.
"Well, of course! I helped straighten your flat after the robbery!" Quinn screeched as she slammed Harry's foot with the door again. She was slamming it as hard as she could over and over again in a panic.
"I mean before that," Harry said quietly, ignoring the pain that was forming in his foot from her assault on it with the lavatory door.
"Of course not, Harry," Quinn snapped. Harry jerked his foot back in shock, and Quinn slammed the door.
"You know, you were never very good at lying to me," Harry said through the door. His voice was even and calm. The door remained closed. "Why didn't you tell me sooner? Why didn't you tell me at all?"
"I don't know what you mean," Quinn said through the door.
"Polyjuice potion, Hermione," Harry said. "It has to be taken every hour so that you stay in your unnatural state. Remember our second year? I may not be as smart as you, but I do know some things about you. I wasn't born yesterday."
"I don't know what you are talking about," Quinn said through the door.
"Please, Hermione, I haven't seen you in six years," Harry said in an almost pleading voice. "Don't turn away from me again. Please."
The silence from the lavatory was deafening, and Harry waited. He would wait the entire way to Strattford-upon-Avon, if he had to, even with a potentially broken foot. He hoped to hell he wouldn't have to, but should he need to, he would. The lock clicked open and the door slid open slightly.
"Get in here," she told him and Harry never once thought of not complying. He had to get to the bottom of this. He slipped into the cramped lavatory, her back to him. Her hair was no longer blond instead it was that warm honey and chestnut, cascading in delightfully springy curls.
"Hermione," Harry said, unable to keep his hands off her curls. It had been six years since he had buried his hands in them.
"No, before we go any further, you have to know, a lot has changed in six years," Hermione said, her back still to him. "I have changed, and not for the better."
"Hermione, I don't care," Harry said as he touched her shoulder. She turned to face him, and he had to touch her, to make sure she was really there before him. She looked different, older and wearier, but still beautiful. His eyes went to a small scar at her hairline, straight and thin. His fingers went to it and she brushed his hand away like a vexing fly.
"You can thank Drake for that when we see him," Hermione said. Harry felt his anger boiling up inside him and she touched his face tenderly. "No, Harry, it isn't worth getting worked up about now. I don't have a lot of time to explain."
"Hermione, what the hell happened after I left?" Harry asked as he wound one of her curls around his finger.
"The thing is… you should have never left. Do you know how hard it has been to find you?" Hermione asked impatiently. Harry shook his head.
"I am where the ministry put me six years ago," Harry said. "Where did you go? You married Ron, right?"
"Yes, I married Ron," Hermione said. She looked pained for a moment. "What happened to me after you left has little to do with why you need to go back. Mrs. Jordan worked for the ministry. She went AWOL a few years ago, and the ministry was never able to figure out where she went to, where you were. She was assigned to keep an eye on you."
"You know, she is blind, right?" Harry asked. Hermione cracked a smile.
"She has a double set of Mad-Eye Moody eyes," Hermione said. "Actually, her sight is not her asset to the ministry, it was always you. She has always known everything about you, and when she contacted Neville, she knew he could never be turned against you."
"Why not you?" Harry asked. Hermione frowned, biting her lip.
"Look, Harry, I have done things that I am not proud of," Hermione said. "I am not going to sugar coat anything and pretend I have been innocent while you have been gone. I haven't."
"I know, you have a child, with Ron," Harry said quickly. Hermione narrowed her eyes.
"No, I don't Harry," Hermione said quickly.
"My book said Ron was dead and your child was taken, three years ago," Harry said quickly. The door to the lavatory opened but no one was standing there. Harry gaped as a disembodied fist appeared out of no where and collided with the side of Harry's jaw.
"Ron, what the hell!" Hermione shouted at the disembodied hand. She reached up and snatched Harry's invisibility cloak from Ron's head. Harry looked confused.
"Why in the hell did you hit me?" Harry asked as he rubbed the side of his face.
"For the same reason I hit you in your flat, mate. You kissed my wife," Ron said as Hermione grabbed Ron by the shirt and pulled him into the already tight lavatory quarters.
"Ex-wife, Ron. Ex-wife," Hermione reminded him gently. She turned to Harry. "I was in the process of putting a spell on you to knock you out and Ronald decided to hit you right there and then."
"Explains why the hit didn't hurt," Harry lied. He looked to Ron and Hermione, wondering if he looked as different to them as they looked to Harry. "Why are you both here, and why aren't you dead?"
"Now you fancy me dead?" Ron asked through gritted teeth. "Was enough that you went and disappeared on us, or haunted my marriage, no. Now you fancy me dead."
"No," Harry said as he looked at them. "It's just the book said…"
"Book? What book?" Hermione asked in her usual over-reacting way. Harry smiled and Ron frowned at him.
"The fairy tales book you picked up in my apartment," Harry said. He looked at her. "I know that my wand was not there before you came in, you put it there. Wait my cloak was in the safe. You broke into my apartment?"
"Well, see, Harry," Hermione said slowly. "I had to. We needed the cloak, and we couldn't just ask for it."
"Why not?" Harry asked.
"Because we are bound that we would not tell you," Ron said.
"Tell me what?"
"That you are the only one that was sent away," Hermione said. She tried to smile but failed. "The new minister sent you away with no intention on sending anyone else away, or ever bringing you back home."
"Why?" Harry asked.
"We don't know. He was murdered the week after you left and no one knew where you were," Hermione said quietly. The lavatory seemed too close for comfort and Ron shifted uncomfortable, which cause Harry and Hermione to shift.
"Is this really the only way we can talk?" Ron complained as he felt the handle of the door digging into his back. "We aren't as small as we used to be and fitting into tight spaces isn't as fun as it used to be."
"We don't know who is watching," Hermione chastised Ron. He made a face at her, complete with what would have been a rude hand gesture had his arms not been so tight.
"I don't understand. Who would be watching?" Harry asked.
"Look, Neville was supposed to get a message to you," Hermione said frustrated. "He and Luna have been working for the Quibbler for about five years together. Mrs. Jordan must have been in contact with them."
"The book!" Harry exclaimed.
"The fairy tale book?" Hermione asked. "The one you have been reading?"
"Great, now you and she have books in common," Ron growled jealously.
"Shut it, Ron," Harry warned. He turned to his friend. "I admit it. I really liked her, a lot, but that was six years ago."
"And now?" Ron asked.
"Now, I just need to find out what the hell is going on," Harry said. Hermione nodded in agreement. "Anyways, the book. Mrs. Jordan gave it to me and it was authored by J. Longlove."
"I see where you are going with this," Hermione said thoughtfully.
"Do you? Because I don't," Ron said crossly.
"Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood…Long and Love… LongLove," Harry explained. Ron made a face.
"I don't think so," Ron said. "I don't think that Neville or Luna would be that smart to think of something like that."
"You don't give them enough credit, Ron," Hermione chastised. Harry rolled his eyes, and for a moment the two were bickering like they had back when they were all in school.
"Anyways," Harry said finally, loud enough to stop them from talking. "Everything that they have written in this book has been fairly on the mark. Granted Mrs. Jordan was a book store owner and not a gypsy fortuneteller, and you're not dead Ron, nor is there a kid involved…"
"That's not entirely true," Hermione said. She looked embarrassed.
"What?" Harry asked.
"See, and don't hate me," Hermione said. "We, Ron and I, took custody of Teddy while you were gone. Andromeda had fallen ill and she needed someone to care for him. So we had him. Well, it got out that he was the son of Remus, a known werewolf, and things spiraled out of hand."
"What happened?" Harry demanded. This wasn't just some kid. This was his god son, after all.
"What happened doesn't matter," Ron covered quickly. "All that matters is that Malfoy has Teddy and won't give him back until you and he duel to the death."
"What?" Harry exclaimed. The were so many questions that Harry had for Hermione, but they would have to wait. A knock came to the door and Hermione pressed her fingers to her lips.
"Be right out," Hermione called. She threw cloak over Ron the best that she could and then drank some polyjuice potion. She lowered her voice. "It is the only way right now. Too much is at stake."
Hermione now back to looking like Quinn Rouse, the great grandniece of Mrs. Jordan opened the door. A woman was standing clear of the door and Ron slipped by unnoticed under the cloak. The woman watched as Hermione straightened her shirt as she headed out of the lavatory, followed by a very flustered looking Harry.
"The indencentcy of some people," the woman quipped as Harry headed back to his seat. Quinn turned back to him.
"Things are different now, Brit," Quinn said. She glanced around. "Nothing can change."
"Ok," Harry said. He sat in his seat and pulled out his book before sitting down and buckling back up. He watched as Quinn sat down next to Mrs. Jordan, who had nodded off with her knitting needles in her hand. Harry opened the book:
The prince, meeting with in private chambers, was debriefed of the situation occurring in his kingdom, but not all information was as true as it could have been. After six years, the princes' closest confidants had returned but shells of the people they had once been. The prince knew he must be cautious, cautious with these people and with the old feelings that were drawn up upon their return into his life.
For James, barely a man, had decided he had to find a way to save his kingdom, to save the child who held a cure within him, and to one day make Jane his Queen. Therefore, upon the ride to his kingdom, James plotted to find a way to be alone with Jane, for now her husband was dead… her marriage in shambles and dead.
`I guess they didn't mean Ron was dead in a literal sense,' Harry thought as he settled back against the seat. He closed the book and closed his eyes, wondering what the hell Neville and Luna had been thinking by sending him this book with cryptic messages. His godson was at the mercy of Malfoy's hands, and while they were distantly blood relatives, Teddy belonged anywhere the hands of the Malfoy. Andromeda surely missed the child.
`I have to get him back,' Harry though sleepily. `For Remus and for Tonks.'
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