Chapter 26 - A Moment of Sobriety
Hermione was in her St. Mungo office later that afternoon getting set for work, sensing the beginnings of a very bad headache. She acquired some much needed sobriety a couple of hours after her Roy Hunt discovery.
You're a scientist. You don't have any proof.
Your gut feeling could be wrong.
Harry would never knowingly do something to hurt you.
There is a logical explanation for this.
Roy may have not been Harry.
Roy may have been Roy and Roy in jail was an impostor.
Or the bloke you met may have been someone else posing as Roy. That means you could have been duped by some stranger posing as a con man. And you thought you couldn't feel more stupid than you already do.
Whoever it was it was someone who knows a lot about you and who is very much like Harry.
Talk to Harry. Ask him about his assignment. He'll sort this out.
There is a rational explanation for this.
He'll say it wasn't him.
It wasn't him.
And in the end she sat there, feeling calmer but not better. It was now clear to her why she instantly jumped to the conclusion she did.
A mad part of her wanted it to be him.
Harry had been calling and leaving her messages. She just could not get herself to pick up, afraid she would start accusing him over the phone and making a much bigger fool of herself.
Looking at the hospital Timeteller, she still could go and visit, get this confusion and delusion over with. It was then that a couple of owls dropped a rather large parcel on her desk and saved her from further pathetic internal ramblings. It was a package from the Toronto Hospital. More legal disclaimers to sign?
Hermione opened and peered into the box; her heart started to race once again. A wallet, two cell phones, a wand, loose Canadian change, a hotel card key, a receipt, a note, and a bottle of Advil regular strength liquigels spilled onto her desk as she emptied its contents gently.
The note read 'Personal Effects - H Potter'.
Weren't you looking for proof?
The wand was definitely Harry's, she'd recognize it anywhere. One of the phones was his too but access to it was magically locked so only the owner could use it. The other phone was unfamiliar, one of those common, uncomplicated, generic ones altered such that the batteries never went dead. Haphazardly written on the back of it in black permanent ink were the initials 'RH'.
She perused the wallet, prepared to see Roy Hunt's picture and she did on a singular ID card buried within bills of Canadian dollars and British pounds. The receipt was from the Amor Ninho. It listed what she and Roy had for dinner and was date and time stamped just before she and Roy left.
Hermione didn't know what to think anymore. The supporting yet circumstantial evidence, her initial gut feeling and her continuing delusion were conspiring against her battle to stay sane. Theories swarmed her mind, relentlessly pitting one thought versus the other.
Her now splitting headache screamed for respite. Without even thinking, she grabbed the bottle of painkillers, unscrewed the cap and tipped a couple on the palm of her hand. Strange. Two different color fluid capsules, red and orange, not quite the over the counter Advils she was familiar with.
An idea came to her naturally. Taking both pods to her potion work counter, she put one color pill in each of her two smallest cauldrons and dissolved them into amplifying solutions. It did not take long for her to confirm what they were as she used revealing spells. The red one was in essence Polyjuice with a strand of a budgerigar's vocal chord, the added component that made possible voice transformation, and the orange one contained anti-Polyjuice which she had helped a Ministry Unspeakable create just recently.
It was Harry.
Exhausted from the internal conflict she had been through the entire afternoon, she finally got to some questions she knew she should answer. What was the big deal if it was Harry? Didn't she just admit that she wanted it to be him?
Didn't she contrive that elaborate plan, in which use of magic was considered, to convince him to be her last fling before Roy showed up? Just sex, one time, and not to talk about it outside Toronto? Didn't she get what she would have asked for? It felt kind of hypocritical that she would be livid at him for something she wanted because he did it in a different way.
Harry would never mean to hurt her. He did dissuade her from having a fling but maybe when he realized that she was going to go through with it, he thought better him than some other guy who would not do a proper job of it, a noble act to spare her from an unpleasant experience. And like her, he didn't want the awkwardness after and found another means of doing that.
Not that she thought her anger was unreasonable; what he did was sneaky and she would have preferred knowing it was him she was spending the night with, particularly during the more intimate moments. But Hermione suspected that the fiery emotions she had earlier had a lot more to do with the fact that she was hurt because of the way he chose to do it, which only belaboured the point that he was not interested in her the way she would have wished. She decided it was downright childish to be furious at him for not being in love with her.
Hermione sighed, aching but tranquil, now fully accepting what happened for what it was. It was a fling, a one time thing, and she enjoyed it. It was never meant to last, whether it was with Harry, Roy or someone else. And as intended, she should let it go. She remembered their ridiculous pact, to not discuss it with anyone else and not if not in Toronto. The promise wasn't so silly after all and it made sense to start keeping it.
She gathered his stuff together and put it back in the box, planning to drop it off at the private ward's assistant desk before her night shift started. As she sealed it and removed any trace of it being sent to her, she did not notice that Roy's phone had vibrated and a message flashed across its screen.
Quid pro quo.
XXXXXXXXXX
Sometime later within the private ward, Harry was looking out the window and could tell it was getting late. He had been stuck in his room all day taking as much muscle strengthening potion as he could but still could barely muster getting himself out of bed.
Dean and Kingsley had dropped by earlier and gave him an update on the case. As he knew from before he lost consciousness at the Ghoul, the deep-pocketed financier witch was a no-show. Waxball was arrested and charged based on the evidence found with him. His vault at the Ghoul was searched and in it were some of Helga Braun's private items and research papers. Murder charges were about to be laid upon him when he died of an apparent suicide his first night in jail. Tom Floyd was nowhere to be found and there was not enough evidence to arrest him anyway even if he did show up.
Harry told them about the boxful of mysterious purple potion and what he suspected the potion was. From what they gathered, there was nothing like that found at the Ghoul but they would ask the Toronto MLE. Investigations were still in progress and gag orders were in effect for both the Toronto and London MLEs. All the press knew was there was an altercation post Valentine's Day and the conflict resulted in five dead and fifteen wounded. There would be no mention of Squibs; Canadians were a conscious lot about profiling and the International Healers Association with the World Research Council immediately issued a request to not mention that it involved research, which was peculiar.
And with the case in Toronto ongoing, the MLE decided to use Roy as bait for a while, just in case somebody wanted to tie up loose ends. Roy Hunt's file was released through Ministry records and another Polyjuiced impostor was going to be transferred to a minimum-security facility.
He had been calling Hermione all afternoon to ask if she could visit but she wasn't picking up and had yet to return his call. One of the Healers did say she was working tonight and Emerg was packed with patients from a massive potion factory accident.
Seated in bed, the last visitors long gone, stacks of well wishers' cards and notes on one of those adjustable patient tables in front of him, Harry was trying to pass the time away. He wanted to leave his room to find Hermione but he knew she was busy.
Harry crumpled one of the parchments and sent an arching shot through a magically contrived Quidditch goal, straight into a rubbish bin at the far corner of his room, finding its bottom and amongst several other death threats. He read the next one, grabbed a parchment and, with a quill, wrote a letter of thanks. It went on the pile that would go out via Owl post in the morning. The one that followed was familiar. Some anonymous lunatic sent him numerous notes with the words 'Quid pro quo' on them. The more the merrier, he thought. He'd have more paper Quaffles.
Crushing this one with his hand and aiming for the hoop, it sailed a couple of inches to the left and landed on the floor.
"You were always a shoddy Chaser, Harry," a recognizable female voice said from the entrance.
He turned and smiled as Ginny crossed the room. They kissed each other on the cheek.
"Yes, I was," he agreed, staring at the obvious indication of more missed versus made shots. "Aren't visiting hours over?"
"Who said I was visiting?" she replied jokingly, pulling a seat closer. "I used my press badge and told them I was interviewing you. It's a circus out there with that factory accident. Staff, patients, family. Hermione barely recognized me when I bumped into her in the hallway."
Hermione was busy.
"How are you?" Ginny asked.
She took out a couple of green bottles from a brown bag, unscrewed one and handed it to him. It looked like it was something from a liquor store. She wouldn't dare get them both in trouble with Hermione but he could never guess when that mischievous Fred and George side of hers would make an appearance.
After the challenge of getting him fully sober, Hermione could not make herself any clearer about her thoughts on him drinking again. And while he had his addiction totally under control, the rare glass of wine he took at dinner was not known to her.
"I've been worse. I could be better," he replied, taking it and reading the label. "NABB?"
"Non-alcoholic Butterbeer. It's new, always meant to try it, gross Muggle trademark rip-off," she explained, as she opened the other one for herself, and toasted, "Congratulations."
He gave her a puzzled look as their bottles chinked.
"On making Auror."
"Oh, yeah, thanks."
They took swigs. He forgot that it was a 'promotion'. It seemed so long ago when he accepted Kingsley's offer so he could go to Toronto but he knew for a fact that that the Auror office did not make such personnel changes public. It was actually quite the opposite.
"How did you know?" he asked.
"The Toronto press," Ginny replied, "The Toronto MLE is refusing to comment on what that incident at the bar was about but some writer got wind you were a sort of Brit hero and it was easy enough to dig up your story. Someone from the Ministry Human Resources blabbed about your recent promotion; got a mere slap on the hand. You were a Toronto headliner alongside the mysterious events that happened. The Prophet put you on page two the day after."
"Only page two? I'm deeply offended," he said poker-faced.
"I'm sure you are," she replied, knowing he was being facetious, "Be thankful or you'd have to go through twice as much mail as you are now. What was the assignment in Toronto about? "
"You know I can't tell you," Harry answered, thankful of the Auror guidelines for non-disclosure, "Can you stop working for a few minutes?"
"Nobody wants to talk about it, so everybody wants to know," she laughed.
Her work frequently required sensitive information and despite knowing MLE were on strict rules not to talk to press, she asked the people she knew anyway. None of them would ever admit to violating Ministry rules.
After breaking up years ago, he and Ginny remained friends. Hermione had tried to get them back together when they both became available and they dated once to get her off their backs. What they had before they acknowledged as puppy love. And besides, they were now different people, with different experiences and baggage, both jaded and cynics. Neither of them was looking for something lasting, neither of them wanted long term commitments for somewhat different reasons and they were mature enough to admit that. They said no because they did not want to hurt each other.
"The Toronto article was a work of fiction, sketchy at best. Was Hermione involved in any of this?"
While it seemed that Ginny was just fishing, Harry was concerned about giving her any more ideas. She was very good at what she did.
"I can't tell you," he answered truthfully.
"You don't have to. I know she was."
Dean. He wouldn't.
"Having fun tricking old boyfriends for information?" he accused her playfully.
She laughed.
"Why else would you finally accept the Auror post Kingsley's been offering you all these years?"
She had a good point.
"A more exciting job? A pay raise? A different partner?" One who could keep his mouth shut?
"I find it hard to believe that your epiphany was merely coincidental with being assigned to a case in Toronto where she just happened to be."
"Sometimes truth is stranger than fiction."
If Ginny knew then Hermione would, too, and if not yet, eventually. Hermione's interrogation of what his exact assignment in Toronto was was going to be a very interesting one.
"Dean caved about Hermione being involved a while back, though that was all he would say about the case. I'll tell him you win," Ginny said with finality, ending his speculation and quashing his hopes.
"It's so obvious I can't believe she hasn't come to that conclusion yet."
She hasn't?
"And a good thing, too."
Definitely a good thing.
"Why is it a good thing?"
"She's distraught enough as it is. Her leaving a job she loves, getting married, her Mum's affair, Ron. The last thing she needs is guilt over how she almost got you killed in Toronto."
"It wasn't her fault. Why would she feel guilty?"
"I'm not saying she will but she's so stressed right now she just might. You know how she gets sometimes about feeling responsible," then Ginny mentioned something he was unaware of, "Remember that time after your accident? She felt guilty about that."
"Why?"
"She felt she could have done something to prevent it like helped you pick a better team or stood up to the owner to tell him to stop taking advantage of you or spent more time with you," Ginny explained.
Really?
"So, now is really not a good time to risk her thinking crazy like that again."
He felt relieved. At least Ginny was not inclined to tell Hermione about why he took the Toronto assignment. But what was the point of this conversation? Ginny wanted something and like most women he knew, she was taking her time getting to the point.
"She said you were working and she never saw you in Toronto until that morning you were in the hospital. Is that right?"
Somebody, please, stop her from asking all these questions.
"I can't tell you anything about the case," he repeated.
"I'm not talking about your case," she replied, "You were there because of her. I assume that either you or some other Ministry official was watching her all the time. You know what she did in Toronto."
"She attended a conference."
Ginny knew he knew and he was contemplating what to do.
"We both know she did more than that. She called me that night."
He just had to bite, hook, line and sinker.
"Why did she call you?"
"She wanted me to stop her."
An unpleasant sensation washed over him, now knowing for a fact the Hermione, at one point, wanted to back out. When she called him, she wanted him to do the same.
"You didn't."
He didn't either.
"Why would I? I suggested it to her in the first place."
"A really bad idea."
Ginny's and his.
"Maybe so, but it did make her realize one important thing," she paused, and looked at him seriously, "You know what I'm talking about."
He did and he did not have to say it.
Ginny continued, "I love Ron but he doesn't have a clue and it's her call if she doesn't want to tell him. They'll both be miserable for the rest of their lives. She shouldn't be marrying him."
"You're worried that she's going to," Harry realized she wouldn't have mentioned it if she wasn't.
"It's so obvious what she should do but she's thinking about this too much. There's something important she's not telling me and she won't talk to me anymore," Ginny was rarely wrong about things like this, "I'm fine with that. I'm just concerned and kind of hoping she will tell you and you can talk about it."
Harry wasn't so sure about that. If Hermione wouldn't tell Ginny then chances were she wouldn't tell him. She told Ginny to back off and he was wondering if she would do the same to him.
"You will talk to her about this, right?"
"I will."
It wasn't before long when Harry's veteran Healer assistant ushered Ginny out, insisting that he needed rest. He was able to convince the tyrant that he had to finish writing thank you notes. It took another hour or so before he was done.
He couldn't sleep. So, she was going to try and make things work out, try to fall in love with Ron again as she said she would. He imagined him telling her again she shouldn't go ahead with the marriage and asked himself just how prepared was he to tell her how he felt? Could he take it if he professed his love for her and she told him the feeling was not mutual? He probably could, though not very well.
Someone rapped on his door. Odd.
"You never knock," he smiled as Ron joined him.
"Which just goes to prove anyone can change," Ron joked back. "How are you?"
"I could be better," Harry answered as the Healer's assistant waved to Ron who waved back, "How'd you get past her?"
"Matilde's husband is a huge Cannon fan," he explained, "I gave her a couple of tickets to the game against Toronto."
"I heard you had a great game against the Harpies."
"You should have seen me, I was in the zone," Ron always looked like a little kid when he talked about Quidditch, "You are going to come to the Finals. I won't take no for an answer."
He had never gone to a live game since his 'accident' but this was a must.
"Of course, I will," he figured a long time has-been like him being there wouldn't take away from the attention the game and Ron deserved, "What are you doing here so late?"
"I brought her dinner," that was nice of him, "I heard about the factory accident over the news and figured she would never take a break unless someone was around to remind her to. She finally did when things quieted down half an hour ago."
"She loves what she does here," Harry said to him, hoping Ron would pick up on what that meant.
Ron hesitated and then asked, "Can we take a walk?"
Harry had wanted to since he woke up and Ron had this rare look that he wanted to talk about something serious.
"Sure. But I am going to need your help."
He took his wand out, conjured a wheelchair and levitated himself into it. Uncharacteristically, without a word or jibe, Ron pushed him out his room, down the corridor, into the lift and down to the second floor. Harry had been there a few times before. It was a restricted staff only area but there was no one around and Ron seemed to know his way. He took him into this long alcove with glass windows overlooking down below to a still busy St. Mungo Emergency Room, summoned a wooden stool tucked away in the corner and sat beside him. They both spotted her at the same time.
They just sat and watched her for a while as she checked up on the patients, talked with the families and guided the younger Healers. It was like déjà vu. When he was a long term resident in the hospital years ago, Hermione sometimes took him here. She watched and learned, and talked about healing, why she loved it, and how the place had so much potential to be chaotic, and on appearance, it was. But she found order in it because when faced with something emergent as a Healer you had no other recourse but to save the patients' lives first. There was no room to think about other things. As he watched the frenzy around her, he knew that to her, being in the midst of it was calming.
"I've been watching her all night," Ron broke the silence, "She's great at what she does."
"Yeah, she is."
"The London Flamers have asked me to join their team next year. Nothing's official yet but today, I said yes."
This was a total surprise. Ron had always expressed his desire to be a Cannon lifer. Harry looked at him and he was still looking at Hermione. He was doing it for her.
"She can stay here. That's going to make her happy," Harry stated the obvious.
"I thought so, too, when I told her," Ron replied. "She said she was but she wasn't quite as happy as I thought that would make her. It was almost as if she actually wanted to leave this place."
Harry recalled what Hermione said about how she could love Ron again.
"She's must think if she stayed here she'd still be too busy and not have time with you."
"I wish it were that but, lately, I can't seem to figure her out. There's something different," Ron said to him.
"Do you think whatever it is will go away?" he felt sorry for him.
Ron shook his head.
"And I can't ask her what the matter is. Not with the Finals coming up," Ron admitted honestly, "I have a bad feeling about this, Harry. It's distracting but I'd rather not know for sure what it is than know what it is and have to deal with it right now."
"I understand."
Harry did. It wasn't because Hermione and their relationship weren't important. This just couldn't have come at a worst time for Ron. The Cup Finals was a big thing for many professional athletes and it was rare to get the opportunity to be in it more than once.
Had he not been too wrapped up in his needs and his wants, he would not have trivialized how what he did and what he was about to do would affect his best friend. When did he start being so selfish?
He imagined that if he told Hermione about how he truly felt about her, Ron would eventually know. He couldn't think of doing that, not to Ron, and not after what he had already done. As hard as it was for him to wait, he would. He would wait and hope that Hermione would do the right thing.