Harry and Hermione spent the rest of the night greeting the rest of the guests, as they were clearly the two soberest ones around, and helped to get them settled into various rooms around the manor. By four that morning, the house hosted the two Weasley twins, Angelina Johnson and Katie Bell (who had apparently been their "escorts" - Hermione offered the use of air quotes while regaling the conversation she'd had with Fred back to Harry), Ginny Weasley, Molly and Arthur - who weren't very drunk, but wanted to be sure that their kids arrived home safe, Lupin and Tonks, Neville Longbottom - in a giddy state that neither Hermione nor Harry had ever seen before, which awoke great amusement within the pair, and sometime around five or so, Ron must have woken up from the common room at Hogwarts and traipsed in the kitchen, eyes alight once he spotted the feast before him, although much of it had been devoured by his siblings beforehand.
By one that afternoon, Harry and Hermione were exhausted. They'd caught only minutes of sleep on the couch, just waiting for the next group to collapse in the door. They both decided that sleep was useless; the adrenaline and happiness they felt now, in strong contrast to the sadness they felt before, kept them from sleeping peacefully, combined with the guests of the house.
Seems George and his "escort" had forgotten a silencing charm, not that anyone besides the sober couple would remember, and this left room for even more laughter.
"Oh Merlin!" Hermione gasped, clutching her side as a stitch formed from her laughter.
Harry's face was red, and he was uncomfortably shifting around in his seat on the couch, which, to be honest, was more the cause of Hermione's laughter than the actual acts that were occurring upstairs.
"It's not funny!" Harry protested. "I don't know how you're okay with this!"
"Oh Harry, they're adults." Hermione giggled. "They can do what they please, and - "
"Not in my house!" He interrupted loudly.
"Oh really?" Hermione chuckled, raising a brow. "And I suppose you're just going to waltz up to their room and tell them so?"
Harry blushed again, and was - thankfully, he thought - saved from having to respond because Mrs. Weasley was quietly creeping down the steps.
"Oh! Harry, Hermione, have you been to sleep at all?" Mrs. Weasley jumped. Obviously she hadn't expected anyone else to be awake and was surprised to see them up and about.
It only took Hermione a moment to note that Mrs. Weasley was looking quite uncomfortable as well, avoiding making eye contact with either of them.
"Not much, Mrs. Weasley." Hermione regained her composure, attempting to save her surrogate mother the embarrassment of acknowledging what her son - and likely more than one of them - was doing upstairs.
Harry, however, lacked the perception to notice that she was discomforted by the situation. "How could we sleep with that racket upstairs?" He jested, although his face still appeared rather pale. "They've been at it for hours! Haven't they got hangovers yet?"
Hermione elbowed him harshly, and he rubbed his side, scowling at her. "What was that for?" He whispered.
"Mrs. Weasley," she ignored Harry's complaints, "would you like us to help you with lunch?"
Mrs. Weasley was obviously appreciative for Hermione's topic change and gratefully accepted their offer to help in the kitchen. Hermione whispered strictly to Harry what he'd done, and took care to point out his lack of tact while they lagged behind Mrs. Weasley.
"I didn't mean to." He shrugged, grinning. "But I'm glad she's taking it in a similar fashion to myself."
Hermione rolled her eyes and set about pulling out the crisps and condiments to go along with the sandwiches. Luckily for those upstairs, she'd had enough sympathy to brew a hangover drought sometime during the night while Harry was dozing on the couch. It wasn't very strong, considering how much she'd made of it, and how few ingredients she'd had, but it was better than nothing and mixed with a bout of coffee and a shower should do the trick well enough.
Harry heard light sniffles from beside him and looked up in alarm to see Mrs. Weasley was crying. He exchanged a panicked look with Hermione, who nudged him with her eyes to talk to her. He shook his head almost imperceptibly, mouthing, `I don't know what to do!' and she sighed exasperatedly before conjuring a pot of tea, setting it on the table, and giving Harry another look, that clearly said, `Do it, or you'll deal with me', and Harry liked to think of himself as a lot smarter than to put himself in that sort of compromising position.
"Erm… Mrs. Weasley would you er… would you like some tea?" Harry hesitated, glancing behind him for Hermione's nod of approval, and watched with a marginal degree of apprehension as she slipped out the door and left Harry alone with the softly crying older woman.
"Oh Harry, dear, I'm just so glad you're all right!" She wept, and enveloped him in a hug that he could feel in the very depths of his heart. "And all my children." She cradled his face gently, and Harry couldn't help but note that it felt much different when Hermione had done the same thing the night before.
"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley." Harry said uncertainly. He'd never been good at dealing with crying women, no matter the age. "I er… I don't know what to say. Sorry." He said bashfully.
"Modest, as always." She chided softly. "Now then, let's get lunch finished, shall we?"
Harry could only be thankful that she was much better at reading people's emotions than he was, and that she had noticed his uneasiness with the situation. A few moments later Hermione reentered and he offered her a small smile, letting her know it had gone alright. The tea, however, remained untouched.
They set about preparing the coffee and finishing up the plates, and once they'd finished they were urged by Mrs. Weasley to wake up the others. Harry frowned, hoping that didn't mean that he'd have to go anywhere within ten feet of George and Angelina's room. Hermione laughed at his pitifully helpless expression.
"I'll get them, Harry. You just get Ron, Ginny, Neville, and Mr. Weasley, and I'll deal with those who were - or presently are occupied."
"Thanks Hermione." Harry grinned, rubbing his neck. "You're a lifesaver."
"Don't I know it." She tossed over her shoulder, smiling charmingly at him, intimating that she was teasing. Harry pointed out to himself that, while he'd said it in jest to fit the situation, she'd really saved his life more times than he could count, and would ever care attempt. And for the first time Harry wondered if Hermione actually knew how many times she'd saved his arse and just how thankful he was for it.
Shrugging off the unsettling thought, he trudged up the stairs and opened the door to he and Ron's old bedroom. It was, of course, just Ron's now, as Harry had taken up residence in the master bedroom next to Sirius' old room.
"Ron." He said loudly, shaking his shoulder harshly. "Ron, get up."
Ron's response was a series of strangled grunts, and shoving a pillow over his head in a futile attempt to block out the noise.
Harry grinned cheerfully, pulling his wand away from his pocket. He twirled it in his hand for a moment before his grin widened, and he pointed the tip of his wand into Ron's face. Ron, of course, was none the wiser, considering he'd never opened his eyes despite the disruption Harry caused. "Aguamenti."
After a brief but effective choking fit on Ron's behalf, and several heated death glares that surely would have caused Harry death by laughter, had Hermione not just ambled into the hallway with a similar grin on her face, reminding him that he still had two others to urge downstairs.
He wondered succinctly what Hermione had done to get the others downstairs, but suspected he'd hear about it once he was settled in for lunch.
And so it was, ten minutes later, that a few very disgruntled witches and wizards were gathered around the table. Harry and Hermione, however, were feeling quite benevolent and were clearly pleased with themselves.
"So, Ron, how was your night?" Harry nudged his ribs to encourage a response.
"Oh, like I'd bloody well remember."
"Ronald, watch your language." Hermione and Mrs. Weasley reprimanded simultaneously. Harry grinned, a sight that caused Hermione to bite her lip curiously in response to the beat her heart had just jumped over and missed.
Harry wondered if this was how it was going to be. He didn't want to think about the day before; he and Hermione had spent enough time talking about it yesterday and he wasn't keen on taking a do-over pass on that particular event. However it felt strange that they had all avoided talking about it at all, barring Mrs. Weasley's tearful thanks an hour previous.
"Oi!" Fred - it could have been George, but Harry had purposely pleaded with Hermione to set Fred across the table from him instead of George, so that he could avoid eye contact with him - exclaimed, leaning up over the table to peer into the large pitcher of something at the middle. "There's a hangover draught!"
"Oh, bless Merlin!" George continued, making a grab for the pitcher. Hermione flicked a finger and levitated it just out of his grasp.
"Not so fast." Hermione was seemingly taking great pleasure out of daunting not only the twins, but nearly all of his house guests. And Harry was only too happy to let the mirth continue. "If I give you this," Hermione motioned to the pitcher, "you lot get to clear up this mess, and escort Harry to the Ministry today."
Now hang on just a second! What was mirthful about that? "What - Hermione! Why have I got to - "
"Later Harry." Hermione effectively silenced him with a sharp look that caused Ginny to snigger between bites of her crisps.
He scowled at his plate, his good mood obviously tempered. He couldn't help but feel a slight surge of discontent toward Hermione for lowering his spirits, but he sighed nevertheless, accepting her promise to inform him `later'.
"Poor bloke doesn't even want to go." Fred argued. "And who are we to force him?"
"Precisely, dear brother." George nodded in firm agreement. "But that's a hard bargain you drive there, Granger."
Angelina rolled her eyes. "If you think that's going to get you out of making the deal, you're probably way off the mark."
"Especially if Hermione's past negotiations are anything to go by." Katie chimed, glancing longingly at the pitcher full of - at the moment - happiness.
"I'll go with him, Hermione." Neville volunteered eagerly, reaching toward the pitcher. "My head is pounding so hard right now I think I'd do just about anything for some of this stuff."
Hermione smiled at him and surrendered the carafe, but she quickly took hold of it again as soon as Fred and George made an attempt at commandeering it. She held it just out of their grasps until they agreed.
Lunch finished not long after, each making claims on the showers, and Harry tugged Hermione into the sitting room for the discussion and explanation that she'd promised to him.
"What's this about the Ministry, Hermione?" He was upset about the fact that she hadn't thought to ask him, but he was sure he was more disappointed that she hadn't known he wouldn't want to set foot within a twenty mile radius of the building. "I don't want - "
"Harry, how many Aurors do you reckon were at the battle last night?" Hermione asked innocently.
Harry knew that voice. That was the voice she always took on before doing something evil, underhanded, and decidedly Slytherin, and the thought of the idea having something to do with the Ministry arose a sudden flash of eagerness in Harry.
"About ten or so, I suppose." He estimated. "What's that got to do with - "
"You don't guess any of those Aurors were assigned to that area by the Ministry?" Hermione pressed.
"No, I don't guess they were." Hermione's tone indicated that he would be pleased with her plan, as soon as he could wrap his head around the idea of what it was.
"Curious, that, don't you think?" Hermione ploughed onward, grinning. "Out of all the Aurors under the Ministry's control - and there's got to be at least five hundred of them, I'm sure - not a single one was legally aiding you?"
Harry listened with interest, watching her pace the floor in front of the couch he sat on. She had a very cute face when she was pleased with herself, he noted. It wasn't smug, just innocently happy, and it suited her just fine. He shook his head to hone in on what she was trying to say.
"How do you suppose the Minister plans to cover up that?" Hermione raised a brow, and before giving him the chance to sort out a reply, she answered her own question. "I'm betting on the Prophet, considering it's a Ministry owned and operated paper. And they're going to attempt to cover it up by posting wonderful pictures of you, of course, and writing excellent stories regarding your bravery and cavalier behavior.
"I'm sure there'll be all sorts of press tracking your every movement." She surmised, and Harry wondered what she was getting at. "If those other publications happened to see you entering the Ministry in a huff with a fair few amount of wizards and witches bound and determined to make a statement, and you just so happened to make an off-handed comment about the Ministry's lack of support in your triumphs, I'd wager that'd raise a great load of questions regarding Fudge's competency as a Minister, don't you Harry?"
"Hermione," he started, exuberance dripping off his words as he stood up and wrapped her in a hug that made her toes tingle, "you've outdone yourself. Forget everyone who prattles on about you being the smartest witch of your generation; you're the smartest bloody witch ever!"
Hermione blushed again, and squeaked when he lifted her off the ground and placed a kiss on her flaming cheek. She feebly managed a thank you, before Harry hurdled up the stairs two at a time to get ready for what, he was now sure, was going to be a spectacular day.
A moment later the fireplace flared green, and Hermione jumped back in shock, instinctively reaching for her wand, and lowering it only when she met eyes with the Hogwarts headmaster and his deputy headmistress.
"I trust you had a good night, Miss Granger?" McGonagall raised a brow. Hermione took a moment to notice that her mentor seemed much more relaxed now than she had ever seen before, and her thoughts flickered to Harry shortly, thankful again for everything he'd done, not just for her but for everyone.
"I did, Professor." Hermione flashed a smile back. "I think Harry's upstairs, if you're looking for him."
"Oh no, Hermione," Dumbledore chortled lightly, lifting a pocket in his robes and removing a lemon drop, "we were looking for you, dear."
"Sir?" Hermione's brow shot upward. She instantly started to wonder if she'd done something that would warrant any small or large amount of trouble, but barring the use of bribery that morning, she couldn't imagine anything she'd done wrong.
"Have a seat, Miss Granger." McGonagall motioned toward the couch with a graceful motion. "It seems we've got a lot to discuss."
☺-☺-☺-☺
Harry donned his most formidable cloak - the cloak Hermione had given to him the day of their Hogwarts graduation two months prior - and did his best to look intimidating on all his outward appearances. He practiced a voice that would sound like he was attempting to be even-tempered, but would be ineffective in masking the fact that he was very displeased with the situation. If he were going to put on a show for the press, he'd best do it right.
He marveled again at Hermione's wonderful logic. Was there ever a time when her mind wasn't working at the speed of light? He very much doubted it, and - unlike Ron - he wouldn't change it for anything. It was such a distinctly Hermione trait that represented every part of who she was; he wouldn't dream of taking that away.
Satisfied with his appearance and his voice, he bounded toward Ron's room to get a feel for when they would be leaving. Ron shrugged, and shook his head, splashing droplets of water on the floor. "Ask Hermione, mate. She's the one who's gotten us to go, anyway. Did she tell you why?"
Harry explained the situation to Ron, whose eyes widened with pleasure. "Brilliant! She's bloody brilliant!"
"You lot have got to be convincing, too. Make yourselves look really ticked off." Harry reminded him.
"Won't be too difficult." Ron chuckled. "We are cheesed off about it, remember?"
Harry tried to remind himself of that, and while he was angry about that fact at some point, and had wished for offered assistance many times - particularly in the past few days - he had never really banked on the fact that the Ministry would send out teams to help him.
But even still, it wasn't hard to find it within him to be upset with the Ministry anyways, after accusing him of being a liar among a variety of other things. And he intended to point that out to the press as well. He asked Ron to relay the plan to his siblings, their "escorts", and Neville, and made his way back to the sitting room to find Hermione.
Hermione was sitting on the couch, and from what he could muster from her expression and posture, she was shocked but pleased at whatever she was discussing with his two former professors. He thought for a moment about scrounging up a pair of extendable ears from Fred and George, but he decided against risking the possibility of intruding on something. He also hoped that Hermione would be telling him about it later, without any prodding on his end.
He cleared his throat, to make it obvious that he had not been eavesdropping, but to indicate that he did need Hermione's attention.
"Oh right." She smiled at him, and a certain radiance extended across the space from Harry to Hermione. "Is everyone ready to go, then? We'd best leave soon."
Harry's eyes flickered toward McGonagall and Dumbledore, and he noticed that Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling, and - for the first time in all of his years of knowing her - so were McGonagall's. He wondered what they possibly could have been talking about, but Hermione snapped his attention away from that particular train of thought by nudging his shoulder lightly.
"Oh er… they're not ready yet, but they will be soon, I'd imagine."
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