A/N. Did quite a bit of rewriting on this chapter. The original was definitely not Portkey worthy :P. Even this one would probably get razzies but the outcome had to be congruent with the other version.
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Chapter 23 - One Step Forward, Two Steps Back
Harry suddenly felt like they were in a boxing match and the bell rang to signal the start of another round. He couldn't keep track but from the bruising he felt they had to be deep into the match.
This round certainly got off on a good start.
"What?!"
If his Malfoy tirade stumped her such that she could only come up with a one word reply that was victory in itself. Hermione had an incredulous look, as if she could not comprehend how he arrived at that conclusion. Harry had also blindsided her with his sudden outburst about Malfoy and she was definitely irked that she was being goaded into an argument about the ferret.
"I can certainly understand why being with such a lowlife who is an ass beyond imagination makes you feel loads better about yourself! Your one mistake does pale in comparison to what he's done in his lifetime!"
"This isn't about him!"
"It is now."
"Who I want to be with is none of your business," she hissed, her features hardened to match his.
She was trying to not get her boyfriend involved in all this, being as protective as ever, as expected. Well, that was just too bad because he had a bone to pick about her dating him. Did she just say 'want'?!
"There's something seriously wrong with you if you can say what you just said about him and not throw up!"
Hermione had a slight crimson shade to her complexion. He actually missed seeing that.
"We haven't spoken to each other for almost a year. Do you really want us to argue about Draco right now?!"
There it was. Her calling him by his first name sent sensations of prickly needles up and down his entire being, equating it to being seen by a first-time acupuncturist schooled through distance learning; unpleasant. She had a good point that there were other better things to talk about. But he just had to get this out because it was killing him to think they were going to become more intimate than how he saw them in the Prophet if they weren't already, unless he intervened.
"Yes, lets," he dared her, "What the hell are you doing with Malfoy?"
"I'm going to assume that's a rhetorical question," her tone smouldering just like the look in her eyes, and it wasn't the hot and sexy kind.
"He is so wrong for you!"
"And I suppose you would know who's right," she scoffed, "Don't make me laugh."
"If there's any laughing that going to happen it's going to be by him sniggering about how he duped you," he retorted, "So, do share. Why him?"
"Why not?"
"Isn't that obvious? He's evil."
"He's a saint compared to you."
"If Malfoy was one, heaven would be hell. He's a Death Eater."
"Was a Death Eater," she corrected him.
"Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater."
"I disagree."
She was just saying that to win a point. They both knew that with Death Eaters it was a one time registration and death was the only reason why membership wasn't renewed.
"Do you really think his Aunt Bella would stand for such disrespect from her own family?"
"She disowned him years ago. He no longer is family."
"That should tell you a lot about the git if even his family can't stand him!"
As he expected, she had an answer for everything. Harry didn't know that Lestrange disowned Malfoy and Hermione talked as if it was for a fact. He was deep green with envy from thinking that something so personal could only come up during intimate conversation. And with jealousy showing its ugly head there was this nagging question in his mind about whether or not she had sex with him. It just had to be asked and there was no other way of asking it.
"Have you had sex with him?" he sounded like an envious ex-boyfriend.
"What do you care? It's only sex, right? We've had it with each other a couple of times and it didn't mean a thing."
"Maybe not to you."
She snorted a reply. He had a quick flashback of their first 'meaningless' night and remembered her naked body, her distinct body art, upset at his imagined image of Malfoy being privy to that.
"So, compared tattoos with him yet? The skull and snake on his arm must just make you want to get another one that's more edgy than a Snitch."
"Thanks for reminding me to have this useless reminder of you magically removed!"
Huh?
This was what he was going to look forward to; a lot of evasive answers with a splatter of hostility.
"Are you punishing yourself for Ron?"
"What?! Of course not!"
"I get it. You're doing this to feed your saviour complex."
"Where do you come up with these ideas?! Divination?!"
He carried on, ignoring her sarcasm, "You're taming the bad boy, saving one soul from hell, doing something good to atone for your sins, and maybe even raise Ron from the dead. That definitely sounds like you."
"I'm not even going to dignify that with an answer."
"Why not? Am I making too much sense? The other logical reason I can think of is that you've always fancied him and was just too ashamed to admit it until now."
"I should have known better than to stay and listen to this," she murmured under her breath.
She was looking around the living room, orienting herself, trying to find her stuff and wanting to exit. What else could he say that was sure to elicit a good long response?
"You're doing this just to be spiteful because you know that going out with Malfoy would hurt me the most."
Harry didn't really think that but he got her attention and she spat back, "Do you think that I sit down and plan my life around what would make you feel bad? This may be a shocker to you but I don't think about you night and day and nor do I have the time for such a pointless exercise!"
"Tell me then, what is the point of this Malfoy exercise? Or is it as worthless? I hope this isn't about trying to prove that a Muggle-born can be good enough for the snobbish, Pureblood aristocrat that the ferret is."
"He's no longer that. He has changed!"
"I agree. He's no longer a ferret. He's now a chameleon, a double-faced monster. That's all the more reason not to trust him. Malfoy is a mean spirited asshole. He's not even human. Admit it. This doesn't make sense to you either. Don't you remember all the things he said and did to you at Hogwarts?"
"He apologized and I forgave him!"
"He doesn't deserve forgiveness for what he did!"
"It was a sincere, heartfelt apology!"
"I seriously doubt that he even knows what those last three words mean!" her continued support of this suspect change in character was so mind numbing he went on a tirade, "How can you believe him? Alarm bells should be going off in your head! You're smart, the most intelligent woman I know! How gullible can you be?"
"I fell for 'Roy Hunt', remember? That should give you your answer."
Naturally it would be his fault that she was naïve to the point of accepting Malfoy's word and his word alone!
"What proof do you have that this change is real, that this apology is genuine? Did you just believe that he has turned his life around because of his good behaviour for ten years? His volunteer work for good causes? It's a smokescreen. That's hardly proof even if it is true!"
She had enough and while he had been cautious not to get too close to her, her impassionate support for Draco brought her closer to him, close enough to reach and grab if the need arose. And her proximity was doing just that.
"Let me ask you this. Aside from turning his life around, what does he have to do for you to believe that he has changed? Turn in Lestrange and all the other Death Eaters when he doesn't know where she is or who they are? Drop his family, friends and life to become a full time vigilante and take out some bad guys like you're doing? Or maybe you expect him to wear a cape and start playing super hero. What payment do you require?"
That dig on his quest for justice for Ron's death was definitely unwarranted. He wasn't a vigilante; it was his job to prove Floyd was a murderer. This was about Malfoy.
"Really, other than die knowingly for someone else for a purely unselfish reason, I can't think of any other thing."
"Ugh! That opportunity does come up quite frequently everyday!" she said sardonically.
"If he has trouble finding one, I'll gladly help," he offered.
"And what about you? What do you have to do for me to believe that 'Roy Hunt' was not just about you wanting casual sex? That I shouldn't think of it as a back stabbing traitorous act? What should I ask of you before I forgive you? Or do you think that because you're Harry Potter I should just take your word for it? Because right about now, I'm thinking what you did to me last year was way worse than what Draco did to me at Hogwarts. He was a bully and an enemy ten years ago. His animosity was expected. But you, you were supposed to be my friend."
Her words walloped him in the gut in rapid succession and took the wind out of him. She was nuts comparing his transgression to Malfoy's. He just couldn't answer her question right now, he had to back pedal and deflect.
"This is not about me. This is about you going out with him. He is evil to the core. He may not have cursed Professor Dumbledore to death himself but he wanted to. Should I even mention what his murderous intention did to Katie Bell and to Ron? He let Death Eaters into Hogwarts! He used Unforgivables! One doesn't change once one gets to that point!"
"And why not? Why is it so impossible to believe that even the worst person can reform? He was young and impressionable with a need to belong. He grew up with hatred and he did not know any better!"
"Is this what this is about? Proving to the rest of the world that someone like Malfoy can change? Because if it is, it will not be worth it even if this reform that you speak of were true. Think of what just being associated with him can do to you. You'll lose your family, your friends and your career. How can you risk everything that is important to you for someone like him? How can you let him touch you? How can you let him kiss you? And really, how can you even think for a second that he could be interested in you for purely normal reasons?!"
That last remark wounded her and tipped her over the edge.
"Just because you don't fancy me doesn't mean no one else does!"
Argh! What a stubborn woman! After everything she still believed that he didn't care about her that way. How could he prove to her that it wasn't about the sex, that he loved her, that he wanted her for the rest of his life?
His ears were ringing, exacerbated by the equally furious expression on Hermione's face, heat from within him craving for any outlet.
"That's not what I meant!"
"Too bad because that's exactly what I heard! And right now I would rather kiss him than kiss you!"
Really?! That was definitely a low blow. All the frustration emanating from the end result of his misdeed boiled over the surface and if there was one thing that he would prove at that very moment it was that she did not really mean what she just said. How could she rather kiss the ferret than him?!
The row of potted plants along his window exploded one after the other. He was told that having plants in the house would help him find inner peace.
His gut told him to work on bridging the vast emotional gorge between them and since verbal language seemed to be not effective, he had no choice but to resort to a more primitive form of communication. In one swift unexpected moment, Hermione's body gravitated towards him and clashed against his, narrowing the gap and obliterating physical space.
He grabbed the small of her back with one hand and pulled her slender frame against him, hard, uncompromising. Before a word of protest could come, his mouth descended upon hers as an eagle would sweep down for prey, crushed and ravaged them with a determination and certainty that he should have had sooner, refusing to acknowledge what she just said.
Her toughened mouth was pursed tight; avoiding, not surrendering, the heated protestations coming from her throat required no translation. There was justified fury within her wide open eyes. It encouraged him. Wrath towards him, he decided, was way better than indifference. Did she not just admit that she would have said 'yes' had he offered to be her last fling? He'd have to be a dunce to not know what that meant. And if he misunderstood then it serves her right for not being clear about it.
Harry pulled back an inch to let her verbally vent her ire, challenging her piercing anger with defiance.
"How dare y...hmp!"
He did not let her finish. He moved into her slightly parted lips and pried it open with his, rough, relentless, unforgiving, with the intent to force them into submission. And submit she did. He saw her eyes flutter close as her mouth softened under his. Her hands and arms stopped pushing him away. Did she just kiss him?
"Take it back," he said against her lips.
"No…" came her incongruent throaty reply.
Hermione was definitely kissing back. Harry had to be certain so he let her lead and he immediately felt her hot tender lips move on his, slowly at first, hesitant, quivering. Then she let go and gave in, and he was overwhelmed by the intense longing he felt from her as she did. For a moment the powerful sensation of her desire staggered him, this being the first time they would share a kiss as their normal selves, if he could call them that. Her fingers raked through his hair sending pleasurable impulses throughout him. The feeling of her entirety voluntarily seeking to be closer to him, straining up against him was very heartening. It was the high of knowing that she wanted him.
She opened herself up to give him access, her tongue welcoming his in a warm loving embrace, causing wondrous tugging and pulling in his gut as he immersed and lost himself in her essence. She tasted of something sweet and rich, just like the full kiss they were now mutually engaging in, her breath warm and lips affectionate, her familiar flowery scent filling his senses with a headiness that made him fleetingly forget the troubles they had.
They lost themselves to the moment; their kiss deepening by the second. She was tugging at his sweater and pulling him closer even though they were as close as they could get. Well, almost…
He freed one hand and slipped it under her fluffy sweater. The mere contact of his searching fingers on her warm bare torso was exhilarating. Expertly unclasping her brassiere, he quickly found one perky peak and stimulated it with his touch, thumbing her hardened nipple, eliciting from her a whimper which he took as a positive reaction.
Despite all that was said, he could feel that she wanted more just as he did.
Crash!
Something came off the hook and splintered into many pieces on the floor as they collided hard against the living room wall. Harry pressed his hips against hers, feeling every soft curve of hers fit into him just as perfectly as he remembered. He paused to breathe but his break was instantly interrupted by a scorching hungry kiss. It was obvious that she was searching satisfaction for the same thing he was. His hands were having their way under her sweater, stroking, finding their way down her back and past her Golden Snitch, which she said was a reminder of him, and beyond, caressing. Their united sighs of pleasure were enough to drive him insane.
Harry lifted her effortlessly and they continued to kiss as she wrapped her legs around his waist. He carried and settled her gently on his couch, under him, her brown locks splaying against the cushions. He glanced quickly at her face, reluctant but needing to meet her gaze, unsure of what emotion he would find and how she would react. The contact was brief, bittersweet, causing a dull ache in his chest and it was just as well that she was the first to look away, maybe not wanting to linger on that feeling either.
She pulled off the sweater that he had just put on, the cold draft that hit him gone the instant she wrapped her mouth tenderly on his bare neck, tracing it with her warm breath from just below his left ear to where it met his shoulder and down his chest, as her fingers dug into his firm back muscles.
Encouraged, he started undressing her. Her fluffy sweater joined his on the floor and before she could continue what he had interrupted, he hovered between, kissed, and gently grazed his day old stubble against her breasts, eliciting a pleased moan from her. Then he took one of them in his mouth, unremittingly licked and sucked until she could not take anymore.
She cupped his face with both hands, pulled him up towards her and kissed him fully on his mouth again, more needy, more wanting, more passionately, just more, naked hot skin touched and ignited as they embraced. The last time he felt this great was the last time he was with her.
And like the last time, it ended sooner than he hoped it would. There was unmistakable growing dampness on her face and he tasted tears. He felt her sob and that brought him back to the reality of their situation. Hearing it he couldn't think she was crying of happiness. It was likely about Ron. He let go with reluctance and her hurt, tear stained appearance made him pull back.
"I'm sorry," he said to her, touching her soaked cheeks with the back of his fingers, trying without success to wipe the tears off her face and kicking himself for, once again, losing it for temporal gain.
Hermione got up, pushing him off her as she did. She sat beside him, retrieved her clothes and put herself together.
Without looking she replied quietly, but hurt, "You shouldn't apologize. Pride is quite overrated anyway. I shouldn't have come. Is there anything else you'd like from me?"
The first thing that came to his mind was 'forgiveness' but knew her question was not really a question. And it would be better if she could give that to him willingly. He put his sweater back on feeling cold more than he thought he should.
"I missed you," he said to her hoping that what just happened between them meant she missed him too and that she would at least admit to it.
No such luck. And just when he didn't think things between them could get worse, they were. He could be such a bastard when his temper got the best of him.
"Are we done here?" she asked, her eyes bloodshot from the crying and indignation.
He had to do something. He thought back to the reason she came to see him.
"You don't have my answer yet."
"I thought the fact that you're finished being a poster boy was a definite 'no'."
"It wasn't."
He had to come up with something.
"So, when shall I say will we expect you?"
"I'm not saying 'yes', either."
"I'm tired of the games, Harry. I have a life to get back to. Is it yes or no?" she asked, indifferent, almost as if she really didn't care what his answer was anymore.
"I need time to think it over," he didn't.
There was something about what she said that challenged him.
You're going to be a poster boy because you will chose to be one.
She was right; it was a choice. He could be more than a poster boy if he chose to. Hermione seemed to think he would and he had a lot to prove to her and to himself.
And despite the outward hostility, her arduous response continued to burn his lips and skin. It was an encouraging indication that her heart wasn't in agreement with her mind. A part of her wanted him back in London. A part of her wanted him back in her life. He knew what his answer was but he needed time with her away from everyone else, particularly Malfoy.
"Let me think about it," he said to her.
"Fine. I'll be at the Chelsea until tomorrow night," she replied as she gathered her coat and purse.
Tomorrow night. That was all she was giving him. That was all the time he had.
He thought of her question. What indeed could he say or do to prove to her that there was more to how he felt about her than the lies and the deceit? It was true. Personally, what he did to her as a friend was more reprehensible than the verbal and emotional abuse she received from Malfoy as a teenager. Granted that his intent was less heinous and made the act more forgivable in his thinking, could he prove his intentions? And if he could, could he even assume that she would look at the mitigating circumstances surrounding his error the same way he did? Or did she expect from him some unreasonable act of sacrifice, just as he expected from Malfoy?
Like accepting that they could never go back to the way they were before; like understanding that he could no longer be a part of her life; like willingly serving his life sentence.
He needed her forgiveness for something which she considered unforgivable. It was akin to being put on death row, being next in line to get the needle, and only a pardon could save him from certain death. She did say he should stop hoping for a second chance. But if he could not hope for that what else could he hope for?
She did kiss him back. He could not give up. He could not allow her to leave without fixing this.
You have to woo her back. Regain her trust.
That's kind of hard considering she thinks I'm the lowest of the lowlifes.
Lower than Malfoy is pretty low. So, you'll need a lot of help. First, get her to spend more time with you.
Did you see that last look of loathing she left me? She can't stand me.
True. But think. There has to be something that will make her have to.
What about Ron? Ron does need to talk to her. And maybe Ron can help me out.
Maybe, but don't get your hopes up too much. Besides, you can't tell her about the Ghost, not right now.
Why not?
Imagine how much worse she would feel when she finds out Ron chose to be one. You're in the dog house. In fact you're in the dog house's flea house. Don't be the bearer of bad news on this one. Take her to Ron and let him tell her himself.
She did come to see me against her will for the Order, for the 'greater good.'
The greater good. That's the key.
Hermione was ready and almost at the door.
A sudden inspiration hit him. Hermione could help with the Floyd case. He really could use her knowledge on potions and having her work on the case would make her see for herself that what he was saying about Floyd was true. If they found proof that Greasy murdered Ron, things would be perfect. Ron should know for sure how he died and could point them to the evidence.
But he would be putting her in a lot of danger. Floyd had already cursed Andy; if Hermione stayed to help him, Harry could only imagine what despicable acts Greasy could do.
On the other hand, letting her go back to Malfoy was just as distressing. And once she left, the probability of fixing this was going to be close to zero. At least in Toronto, he'd be around to protect her.
This wasn't going to be an easy sell but he had to try.
"I need your help," he blurted out, walked hurriedly past her and blocked her path to the door so that his presence was impossible for her to ignore.
"No," she said emphatically and stepped to his left to avoid him.
He moved and persisted, "I'm on a case, about the research conference."
It was best not to say anything about this being related to Ron, not yet.
"Whatever it is, the answer is still no," she reiterated, now trying his right.
"It's something big. Healers and researchers are in danger," he knew it was underhanded but he was desperate, "You don't want anything bad to happen to them, do you?"
"I may be gullible but I'm not falling for that one," she rolled her eyes in disgust, "Get out of my way."
He took from his pants pocket the small phial containing the light purplish concoction.
"It has something to do with this potion. You know a lot about potions. I need your help."
Even she would know that was the truth. She did know a lot about potions, a hell of a lot more than most of the Ministry personnel he worked with and he could use her help.
"I just need to prove what it is and what it does. You should be back in London tomorrow in time for dinner."
Hermione paused and looked at the phial and its purple contents intently. It was a good sign that she was at least considering it. She silently asked for it with an open hand and Harry gave it to her without a second thought.
As Hermione scrutinized it with more detail, his phone rang. It was Andy.
"Hi. What did the lab say?"
She had a bit of bad news.
"No residues at all from the phial?!"
He said it so loudly that Hermione turned towards him. According to the lab, it appeared that it had never been used before.
"That's strange because I was sure it contained the potion he took just before Disapparating. What would he be doing with an unused phial?"
Andy opined that he was either wrong or the lab fouled up the test. The news wasn't that bad considering he still had the other one. Harry told her he would call her back.
He turned to Hermione to find her with a most perplexed expression.
Before Harry could ask what the matter was, with seemingly all the emotional anger and frustration he knew she felt, she hurled the glass phial hard and fast towards the concrete wall behind her. He wished he had more control of his ability for unintentional wandless magic. A sinking feeling washed over him as he saw the phial fly away beyond his reach, already thinking that the one lead he had to prove that Floyd could do magic, that Floyd killed Ron, that could possible redeem him in Hermione's eyes, was about to explode into nothingness.
Harry drew his wand out even if he knew it would be too late.
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A/N. We're going back to the past in the next 9 chapters to find out what happened after Toronto leading up to Ron's death.