Sleeping Together
The landing in Strattford-upon-Avon went without a hitch, and Harry moved to gather his bag and head off the plane. Quinn grabbed his hand a moment, squeezing before turning back to assist Mrs. Jordan off the plane. Harry continued walking; squeezing tight the piece of paper she had snuck into his hand. Finding the first bathroom, he ducked behind the door, ignoring the rank smell of vomit and urine that seemed to permeate from every piece of the porcelain thrones.
"God," Harry breathed, ready to vomit from the stench as he ducked into the first stall, locking it behind him. He hooked his bag up on the metal hook and carefully opened the small square of paper before him.
I am the secret keeper for 28414 West Minster on the Abbey, Strattford-upon-Avon, United Kingdom. Remember this address and destroy this piece of paper. I will be by to explain.
Harry memorized the address and pulled out his wand. He looked at the paper blankly then at his wand, uncertain which spell to used on the very small square of paper. Someone entered the bathroom, grumbling and tried to push open Harry's stall.
"Occupied," Harry shouted as he nearly dropped the paper.
"Sorry," the voice grumbled as he continued on to the next stall. Harry could see a set of feet shuffling as a pair of trousers slid to the floor. Harry almost gagged at the sound of splashing in the loo. The stench was too much and Harry hurriedly exited the bathroom, just to have to go back and retrieve his bag from the hook.
The poor man was still in the stall next to the one Harry had been in and seemed to be in labor, the way he was moaning and groaning. It nearly made Harry sick to hear the man carrying on that way. Harry grabbed his bag and headed quickly out of the restroom with the paper still in his hand. He glanced down at his hand, and frowned.
"Shit, where'd I drop it?" Harry growled. He headed back into the bathroom and retraced his steps but was unable to find the slip of paper. Harry ran his hand through his hair. "Maybe I flushed it by accident."
Harry doubted it, but he couldn't fathom where the small slip of paper had ended up. He didn't want to go back into that bathroom for a fourth time and Harry decided that he must have flushed it after all. Harry hailed a cab to West Minster on the Abbey and paid the driver after he pulled his bag free of the yellow and black cab. The driver left Harry standing alone on the street. Harry headed up the street, glancing at the numbers until he came to 28413. He knew the next one was the right building, and sure enough it lay there looking as decrepit as the others around it did.
"For such a fancy sounding name, this neighbor is the pits," Harry muttered at he climbed the steps of 28414. The door had no handle, no window. It was just a solid looking metal patch on the crumbling bricks. Harry took out his wand and tapped on the metal slab.
"Friend or foe?" The metal seemed to ask. Harry looked around incredulously, looking for the source of the voice.
"Excuse me?" Harry asked.
"Friend," a voice said quickly, coming up behind Harry. Hermione was back in her natural state.
"Very good," the metal moaned. "In your fourth year, who gave you your first real, honest kiss?"
"Viktor Krum," Hermione said hurriedly.
"Enter," the metal allowed. It dissolved, allowing Hermione passage into the depths of the building. She took Harry's hand and pulled him inside the entry hall. The door reestablished itself, looking ever more solid than it did before it dissolved.
"What was that?" Harry asked incredulously as he touched the cold metal.
"Protection," Hermione said. She looked at him, her wand drawn and pointed at him. "Where was I when you found the chamber?"
"What?" Harry asked as he looked at the wand.
"Where was I when you found the chamber?" Hermione asked again.
"You were in the hospital wing. You had been petrified," Harry said confused. Hermione's expression didn't relax but she put her wand away. "What was that about?"
"You can never be too certain who is using polyjuice potion these days, Harry," Hermione said as she headed toward the back of the house. Harry looked around.
Where as the house he now owned at 12 Grimuld Place hadn't exactly been cheery, it was right near Disney compared to the funeral parlor turned abandoned transient hobo magnet that he was standing in at the moment. A rat, as large as a cat, ran past them without as much as a pause. Hermione didn't even seem to register the enormous monstrosity. Harry was lead to a small room with a table and a stove.
"Where are we?" Harry asked. Hermione jumped, as if startled. Harry frowned, thinking she was far too young to have forgotten he was there.
"Sorry," Hermione muttered. "I was deep in thought and I didn't expect you to talk. Not much talking goes on in this house."
"And whose house is this?" Harry asked. Hermione reached for a dusty kettle and flicked the water on with her wand, letting the brackish water run out and turn clear before she filled the kettle.
"This would be my house," Hermione said as she absent-mindedly watched a huge cockroach crawl across the counter boldly, its antennas wiggling madly. Harry shivered involuntarily, but Hermione seemed unaffected by the sight of it.
"Yours?" Harry asked. Hermione nodded.
"I know it isn't clean or whatever, but I have been busy," Hermione said as she sent the kettle to the small potbellied stove. Harry couldn't believe that Hermione would live in such filth. His Aunt Petunia would roll over in her grave to see any house in such a disgraceful state.
"Hermione, what happened?" Harry asked. He watched as Hermione set two cups of tea on the table. He wasn't the squeamish type but he was unable to think that he could eat or drink anything in this house.
"A lot more than I could ever go into at this point," Hermione said quietly as she sipped her tea. Harry wondered if Ron's place was cleaner. Granted he and Ron seemed to be on the outs, but Harry would mend that in a heart beat just to not have to stay in this dump. Hermione saw his hesitation to drink and became annoyed. "It's not like I like living in this dump. It was convenient to my lab."
"What did you do in your lab? Malfoy and you were partners?" Harry asked. Hermione nodded.
"We were working together for werewolf rights, and we found a cure," Hermione said as she sipped her tea. "It was completely by accident."
"You found the cure for werewolfism?" Harry asked unable to hide his surprise. He smiled, but the smile faded when he saw that Hermione wasn't smiling. "What happened? How did you guys discover the cure?"
"Well, it was four years ago, when Andromeda fell ill. You had been gone two years, and Ron and I were struggling in our marriage. We thought that a child might help, but Ron was unable to have children. Something about a Quidditch accident," Hermione said squinting at Harry a moment. "Well, we offered to take Teddy into our care until Andromeda was better. We had a sitter come in to watch him while we were at work, but she was sick one day and I brought him to work with me."
"To the lab?" Harry asked for clarification. Hermione nodded.
"Well, he was two years old and two year olds get into everything," Hermione said. She smiled slightly. "Draco was a real sport about it and didn't even get upset when Teddy colored all over his research notes."
"How nice," Harry said sarcastically.
"No, actually he was a great assistant, really," Hermione defended. Harry made a face, displeased that Hermione was defending Malfoy to him. He wondered if this was how Ron felt when she defended him to Ron. "Anyways, Teddy cut himself on some slides, just a little slice on his hand. Well, I cleaned Teddy up and dried his tears and it was then that Malfoy asked the little boy if he would like to see what his blood looked like in the research microscope."
"Ok," Harry murmured as he watched a pair of large cockroaches start nudging his cup of tea toward the edge of the table.
"Well, it was evident that something was different about his blood compared to the sample of control blood, normal blood of non-werewolf types. The sequences in the DNA were all funny," Hermione said as she absentmindedly picked Harry's cup up and placed it back in front of him. "Draco and I compared it to the images of the control blood and the tainted blood, and it seemed that with Teddy's variation, it neutralized the effects of werewolfism, but just on a molecular level."
"So Teddy is the cure?" Harry asked looking away from the cup-hijacking cockroaches to Hermione.
"Well, not exactly, but roughly, yes," Hermione said. She sighed and looked away from Harry. "At first, I didn't want to tell Ron and I didn't want to do anything with the knowledge. Draco and I were already so close on our own. Nevertheless, Draco insisted that it was for the best interest of all if we explored the new information that was brought to light. I started lying to Ron and bringing Teddy into the lab for experiments."
"You were experimenting on my god son?" Harry asked angrily. Hermione looked at him, slightly fearful, and shook her head.
"No, no, of course not," Hermione said quickly. "We just took a little of his blood. Nothing more than if a doctor was running tests. We learned so much about werewolfism from him. With Nymphadora's metamorphism and Remus' werewolfism, Teddy became the perfect little cure. The only downside was that we were unable to isolate the variations and repeat them."
"Ok," Harry said annoyed. The thought of his god son being used, even for the greater interest of all felt all too familiar; hadn't the wizard community used him to kill Lord Voldemort? It felt all too familiar, in deed.
"Well, I was lying a lot to Ron, and I think he was catching on to my lies," Hermione said.
"You were never good at lying," Harry agreed. Hermione agreed.
"Teddy would cry whenever he thought he would have to go to work with me, it was killing me, and Ron noticed," Hermione said sadly. "I told Draco that last day that Teddy was not coming back. Cure or no cure, I couldn't do this to him any more. At the time, Draco admitted that he was disappointed but he agreed. I thought things were fine, but then Draco took Teddy from my apartment. By then, Ron and I were living separately. Our marriage was in shambles."
"Oh," Harry murmured. Hermione pushed her hair back enough to show him the scar.
"This was an accident, a window blew a framed picture of you, Ron, and me off Teddy's nursery wall," Hermione said. She let the hair fall back into place. "When I came to, Teddy was gone and Draco had left me a note saying that he and you would have to duel to the death, and that until then Teddy would remain his prisoner."
"How could you let him take Teddy?" Harry implored.
"I never thought that he would," Hermione cried. "I thought that he had changed. He was so different after the whole war thing, and he was a good listener when Ron and I were having a row. You don't know what it has been like for the past six years, Harry. While you were out there playing coal miner, we were here, picking up the pieces of a shattered wizarding world."
"You seem to think I was away on holiday," Harry charged. "Trust me, it was no picnic. At least you had each other. Whom did I have? No one, that's who, I worked manual labor in a mine and lived alone. I would have rather been here, taking care of my god son or being with you all."
"Harry," Hermione said stiffly after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence. She rose and placed their cups in the rust-stained sink. "I am going to show you were you will be sleeping."
Harry dreaded this part, but knew she must have thought that he would understand about the house and Teddy. He was understanding about the house, as Hermione was a brilliant mind and most were too busy to think about things like home, but he could never understand why Hermione would have allowed Teddy to be subjected to a single blood draw, much less multiple. He was angry.
Harry found himself four flights up from the ground floor. Hermione opened the door and the two walked into an immaculately clean bedroom with a large four poster bed, rich thick drapes hanging from the ornately clean rails. The room was as clean and fresh as if it had just been built. Hermione gestured to the bed.
"You sleep there and I am going to take the cot set up in the sitting area through there," Hermione said. Harry glanced at the cot that was set up between the plush chair and the bookshelves of books. "You needn't worry about the critters up here. I have spoken to their kings and they reside only on the first two floors. Rarely do they venture to the third floor, and they are forbidden in my bed chambers."
"You want to share a room with me?" Harry asked slowly. Hermione felt heat rising to her cheeks.
"I still like you Harry, even after all these years," Hermione confessed. She didn't smile. "Ron wasn't lying to you or exaggerating when he said that you haunted our marriage, Harry. I was never able to erase my feelings for you, and I was never able to fully give myself to Ron."
"What does that mean for us, Hermione?" Harry asked quietly. He hadn't moved closer to her, just stood there looking at her standing a few feet away.
"Right now? Nothing. Our main focus is to get Teddy back from Draco," Hermione said quietly. She fought back a sob. "I really messed up."
"Yeah, you did, Hermione," Harry agreed as he placed his bag on the chair by the bed. The cot looked dreadfully uncomfortable, and Harry almost offered to switch, but then the thought of Hermione sticking his god son with needles erased all guilt for making Hermione take the old camping cot. Harry gathered his pajama pants and his toiletries, heading through to the wash room. He could hear Hermione moving around out side of the room and he frowned. His body seemed aware of the closeness of a perfectly good woman, on that he had feelings for, just with in reach.
Dressed, Harry crossed the room and busied himself in his bag. He tried to ignore the sound of Hermione in the shower, trying to keep the thoughts of Hermione naked with just a door between them. Harry groaned and climbed into her sheets, placing the large book in his lap. He hoped that it concealed his delicate condition. He frowned, not liking the tell of his body.
The prince couldn't believe the horrors that had prevailed while his kingdom was absent of their golden leader. Still, try as he may, he couldn't completely blame Jane. He understood the sacrifices that one makes for the love of a country or for the love of his people. He knew she only did what she thought was best. So, he remained, fighting the poverty that had seemed to plague her. She couldn't fight for a better when she felt the guilt or the lack of love.
James remained in her bedchamber, tucked between the only luxury she allowed herself, and for a moment, he contemplated the implications of a relationship started now in such a trying time in both of their lives. Love waits for no one, and it was already too late for the prince and his future Queen. The years may have passed without a word or touch, but James knew. Nothing had changed between them, though they had changed. The next steps James would have to take on his own.
Meanwhile, the White Serpent's agents had been alerted of James' arrival. They had obtained half of the location for the princes' fortress, carelessly left behind by the prince in the chapel of the porcelain thrones. Though incomplete, the White Serpent drew closer to obtaining all the information. He need only get the remainder, then there would be a challenge for the throne of all James's people.
"What are you reading?" Hermione asked as she stood there, watching him. Harry looked up to see her drying her hair with a towel, the damp locks clinging to her shoulders and neck in an alluring way. She was wearing a small shirt and a pair of boy shorts, her legs more shapely than he had ever remembered, but then again, he never remembered seeing quite as much of her as he did now, even when they on the run from Lord Voldemort. She had been shier then.
"Just my fairy tale book," Harry said. He watched her cross the room and climb onto the bed next to him. For the first time ever, Harry wished he had a shirt on his body, preferably an itchy one that could distract Harry from the tumultuous feelings that swirled and churned inside him.
"This is the book Luna and Neville sent you?" Hermione asked as she slid her hands around the book. It slammed shut, startling her, and refused to open. She didn't seem surprised, and instead turned the book over and over in her hands. He fingers traced the embossing. "Wow, they have done a marvelous job on this. Leave it to Luna to charm it so that only you could read it. She was always so fond of you."
"Are they married?" Harry asked as he leaned back to look at her better, propping himself up on his arm. Hermione nodded.
"They married a year or so ago, but only because her father got tired of them living together," Hermione said quietly as she traced the words on the front tenderly. She smiled. "You should have seen the ceremony. It was so typical Luna Lovegood. I wish you could have been there."
"Me too," Harry said quietly. Hermione handed Harry back the book.
"I should head to bed. We have a lot we need to do in the morning," Hermione said quietly. Hermione went to get out of the bed, hesitating for a moment, perhaps in hope that Harry would ask her to stay with him. Hermione pulled free of the bed and stoked the fire before she retired to her cot. Harry watched her for a few minutes before storing the book on the night table and turning out the light.
Harry struggled for a while, trying to decide what would be less dangerous to his well being: listening to her sleep from across the room, the sound of skin and rough canvas as she audibly tossed and turned or to have her at his finger tips, the smell of her clinging to him as she clung to her? Harry groaned at the prospects, but he had been so alone for so long. He promised himself he would just offer. She was sure to reject his offer.
"Hermione?" Harry called out quietly in the dark. "Are you awake?"
"Yes," Hermione said as she shifted again noisily. "Are you cold? Do you need another blanket?"
"No, I am fine, really," Harry said. He hesitated. Once he said what he had to say, there was no going back. He didn't know if he would be able really to sleep with her in the bed with him, but he wasn't able to sleep as it was, anyways. "Listen, Hermione, why don't you take the bed?"
"You won't fit on the cot," Hermione said quietly.
"I know, I wasn't intending on sleeping on the cot," Harry said. The room was silent for what seemed like eons, but perhaps only a few minutes passed. "Hermione?"
"Are you sure?" Hermione asked. She was already standing and stretching the tightness out of her muscles.
"Its only sleeping, Hermione," Harry said gently. "We are adults. We can simply share a bed."
Harry felt the bed covers shift slightly as she light climbed into bed. Where as before it seemed like Hermione's bed was perfectly large enough for them to sleep without touching, it seemed to have shrunk. Harry wondered if she hadn't charmed it smaller, not remember her needing to be so close to him when she was trying to check out his book. Her arm touched his light and he could feel his skin tingled.
"Thanks Harry," Hermione murmured as she turned to her side, her back to him. For a moment, Harry desired nothing more than to fit his body against hers. He knew it would be a perfect fit. Sighing, Harry turned his back to her and closed his eyes. He started drifting off when the touch of her icy feet touched the back of his leg, causing him to jump.
"Sorry," Harry said. Hermione laughed.
"Sorry, Harry. I forgot that most people don't like for feet to seek out the warmth from them. Sometimes cold things have a mind of their own," Hermione said half asleep. She sleepily draped her arm across his chest and mumbled something, already back to sleep.
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