(A/N: I could whine and kvetch about how busy my Real Life has been recently, or I could thank my readers for their patience. So: I'm sorry this chapter took so long - many thanks for your patience. Extra thanks to MirielleGrey, my Beleaguered Beta.
And besides, I think you'll mostly enjoy this chapter.)
(Disclaimer: "Fair use," he chanted, "fair use, fair use, fair use.")
*
"Coming Back Late"
by Paracelsus
*
XXII: Declarations and Discoveries
*
The rhythm of Hermione's breathing, the warmth of her body at his back, the sheltering darkness of the room, should have lulled Harry into sleep, if anything could.
Evidently, even those weren't enough.
It was sometime after midnight, he guessed. He was keeping very still, so as to not disturb the sleeping woman whose arm was draped over him. Harry had been playing a sort of game, drawing on what he'd learned about wild magic through his mastery of the Elder Wand: eyes closed, he tried to sense the flow of magic through Hermione's body, gently in and out, like breathing. He wondered if it was something all wizards and witches did while they slept. Harry wouldn't know.
After all, this was the first time since mastering the Wand that he'd slept with someone magical. A witch, to boot. A beautiful witch. A brilliant witch.
A witch, he'd come to realize just hours before, whom he loved very, very much.
He didn't know why it should have been such a surprise, when he did realize it. Beauty, brains, and loyalty. How extraordinarily lucky he was to have found all three - in her. How incredibly blind he'd been not to have seen them in her years before. And what kind of fool would he have to be, to risk losing her now.
Even though, strictly speaking, she wasn't his to lose. No matter: he would find a way to be with her. Notwithstanding that he still had to remain isolated from the wizarding world… or that they could never share affection more physical than a hug or a chaste kiss… that their time together might be a series of exquisitely uncomfortable nights, like tonight. No matter.
I love Hermione. The rest… the rest is noise.
Harry's reverie was broken abruptly by a needle-like prickling at the base of his skull. Carefully he shifted, trying to move without awakening Hermione. He froze when he felt her arm tighten. "What is it?" she whispered… as much to tell him she was awake, judging by her tone, as to gain information.
"Someone outside is testing the wards," Harry replied. Now that he knew she was awake, he moved more decisively: sitting up in bed, he slipped the Elder Wand out from its bindings on his left forearm. He held it at the ready, its tip faintly glowing in the darkness, and cocked his head as though listening - probing.
Almost immediately, he lowered his wand. "They're gone. Whoever it was, they didn't want to hang around: a quick try at the wards, just once, then they left. Afraid they might be caught if they stayed in one place, I suppose." He smiled grimly as he slid the Elder Wand back into its sheath. "And they'd be right."
"I'm surprised it's taken them so long to come for me," Hermione said quietly.
He shrugged. "They may have been making more subtle probes all week," he admitted. "There're always minor brushes against the outer layer, random magic for the most part. I didn't pay them any mind. This, though… this was the first concerted effort. Gee, it's almost like they're afraid you're about to catch them or something."
"Imagine that." There was dry humor in her voice. She started to settle back into the mattress, then paused as he failed to follow her.
"Lumos," he said, and soft light gathered around them. "Um, Hermione, this may be a good time to give you your birthday present." He saw her blink in confusion, and added, "Well, technically, it is your birthday."
"I thought you were going to cook me dinner?" Hermione sat up next to him, as always waking up promptly.
"I was… am. And I was going to give you this with the pudding - but now I think you should have it right away." A silent Accio brought the gift box to his waiting hand. Harry handed it to her with a slight flourish. "Happy Birthday, Hermione."
Hermione carefully unwrapped her gift without tearing the paper. That, at least, hasn't changed, thought Harry in amusement. The paper came away to reveal a long, flat velvet box - very obviously a jewellery box. She flipped the cover open, and gasped. Inside was a necklace, comprising a solitary star sapphire as large as her thumb, set in ornate silver and hanging from a simple silver chain.
"You like sapphire, right?" Harry asked, a bit anxiously. "I mean, you always favored blue, and it's your birthstone and all…"
"It's lovely, Harry! Thank you!" She flung her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. He put his arms around in return, and they embraced for a long minute.
When they broke apart, Harry took the box from her hands. "I'd like you to wear it now," he said, extracting the necklace from its box.
"Now? You mean, tonight?"
"And tomorrow, and the next day," he said, hesitant to break her happy mood with the explanation. "See, I charmed the stone to act as a… well, as an anchor point for my special wards, the ones I put on your house. When you wear this, you'll be as protected as you'd be here in Enthalpy House."
"Ah," Hermione murmured. "I see. And our anonymous would-be intruder just now… he reminded you of this? You think he's a harbinger, and that I might need this extra protection?"
He nodded. She didn't seem displeased by his concern, thank Merlin; she made no protest about how she could protect herself, as he'd half-expected. Instead, she put her hands behind her head and lifted her hair off her neck. It was a clear suggestion that he fasten the necklace's chain around her neck.
Which he lost no time in doing. Harry leaned towards her as his hands fumbled behind her neck… his cheek brushed hers, ever so delicately, and he had to suppress a shiver as the warmth of her skin touched his.
Hermione looked down at the star sapphire nestled just above her breasts. She lifted it, bringing it closer to her face so that she could examine it more closely. "Harry… did you personalize this in some other way? Because I know it sounds odd, but I could swear I feel… well, you, your presence, here in the jewel."
"Really?" he said, slightly surprised. He took the jewel from her fingers, the chain still around her neck, and peered at it. "Huh… I assure you it wasn't intentional. Something to do with when I keyed you to the wards, a few days ago?" Smiling gently at her, he gave the stone a quick kiss before handing it back to her. "Happy accident, I guess."
She let the sapphire fall into place against her chest as she nodded to him in thanks. Protectively, she covered the gem with her hand, pressing it to her - then went wide-eyed in surprise. "I felt that!" she exclaimed, touching the point where the sapphire lay. "Your kiss - I felt it here!" A smile spread over Hermione's face: clearly, she was seeing possibilities open with this new discovery. She raised the jewel again and offered it to him.
It took Harry a moment to catch on. When he did, his smile matched hers. It's not quite the same as kissing her myself, but a piece of sapphire's not likely to run up against her vows. He took the jewel in his fingers and gave it another kiss… a softer kiss, more tender than his first quick peck. He returned the sapphire to her…
…and watched, gobsmacked, as she loosened a button on her pajama top, slipped the sapphire inside and pressed it to her left nipple. She sucked in a deep breath, then released it slowly as her face melted into a happy smile.
"Um… ummmm…" Speechless, he watched as Hermione withdrew the jewel, leaving her top unbuttoned. Harry couldn't have pulled his eyes away from her even if Voldemort and Grindelwald together had reincarnated at that moment and begun singing Ode to a Hippogriff in two-part harmony.
"Another?" Her smile now impish, Hermione offered him the sapphire again.
"I… uh, I…" he sputtered.
"Biiiiirthdaaay," she sang.
Somehow, he managed to reassemble his wits. "Birthday. Your birthday. Right. But only once more. We… we have a lot to do tomorrow." She nodded in agreement.
Harry took the sapphire in his fingers, looked it over carefully… still puzzled how he could've imbued the stone with such an oddly personal affect. Deciding it was a problem for another day, he brought the stone to his lips. He closed his eyes, imagined himself kissing Hermione - as he now wanted to kiss her - and gave that kiss to the sapphire: a slow, lingering, sensual kiss. If it was to be the last one that evening, he wanted to make it count.
He released the stone to let it dangle from its chain in her hands. Harry was a little surprised to be the one drawing the line with Hermione like this - traditionally, that had been her role! - but it was the right thing to do, he felt. One more birthday "kiss", as it were, for the night… though he would happily have given her a thousand, if he'd been free to do so…
Hermione watched the sapphire swing from its chain for a moment, as though hypnotized. Then, with that impish grin, she drew the necklace over her head, freeing the gem. Meeting Harry's gaze boldly, she hooked a thumb around her elastic waistband, pulled it from her body, and thrust the gem into her pajama bottoms and between her legs.
With a flaming crimson face and an inarticulate gurgle, Harry clamped his eyes shut and rolled away from Hermione. The very thought of what Hermione was doing was enough to cause his loins to ache… and her deep, throbbing, just-shy-of-orgasmic moan didn't help matters at all. Not. At. All.
He felt, rather than saw, her arm snake around his torso again - he opened his eyes a crack to see the star sapphire beseeching another kiss. "Nox," he managed to croak, and blessed darkness descended to hide his red face.
"Oh, dear," came Hermione's voice, gentle and contrite. "I'm sorry, Harry, I was just playing. I didn't mean anything… that is, I assumed you were familiar with this sort of teasing, that you'd be comfortable with it…"
"Given my vast experience with women?" he asked tiredly. "Hermione, you've been dropping hints about my love life for a week now. Is it that important?" To you, he didn't add, but the words were clear in his tone.
Her hand withdrew from his torso. After a moment, it began to stroke his upper arm, trying to reassure him. She no longer held the sapphire… presumably she'd dropped it somewhere behind her where it wouldn't bother him further.
"Your private life is none of anybody else's business," she said hesitantly after a moment. "But… when it comes to us…"
His heart leapt at her use of the word us. And though he didn't interrupt her, something must have shown in his body language. "When it comes to us," she repeated with more confidence, "well, there are limits to how, er, demonstrative we can be with each other. My stupid, stupid vows make certain of that. But…" Hermione's voice faltered an instant, then continued, "but you have no limits on you, Harry. I'm sure, over the years, there were times you… that is, I know men have needs, and I understand, Harry…"
"Um… Hermione? Do you really think I'm desperately in need of going out and picking up some bimbo for a one-night shag?" Thankful as he was for the darkness hiding his face, Harry wished for that moment that there was enough light to see Hermione's face.
"Well, no, I'm certainly not suggesting you go out and…"
"I mean, I'm pretty sure that's the sort of carte blanche Ron wishes he was able to have." Oh, to blazes with caution, Harry decided, and rolled over until he was facing Hermione. He could make out her shape, but not her expression… which was probably just as well. It would have been nice to see what she was thinking, but that would have made it impossible for him to continue this discussion. "Granting permission implies I need it."
Hermione was silent for a few seconds. "Perhaps I assumed…" she began stiffly.
"Well, yes," Harry interrupted, before she could work herself into a snit. "Justifiably, I think, but yes. So let's not make assumptions." His hand reached out to find hers. "Let me say it right out. Y'see, I'm very dense in a lot of ways, but I did realize something last night."
"Oh?" Her voice was no longer stiff - if anything, it was a little breathless.
"Uh huh. I realized that I am in love with one Hermione J. Granger. Who's been my best friend since I was eleven. Who's stayed true, even when I abandoned her - and who thwapped me repeatedly until I saw the light." He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it tenderly. "No matter how much it hurt."
"Ah." She made no move to draw closer to him… but she made no attempt to pull her hand away, either.
"So even though circumstances have arranged that I can't rip off her clothes and make passionate love to her, I think she does indeed have the right to grant me permission to play the field." He pressed her hand to his mouth again, not to kiss it, but so that she could feel his grin. "Which I have no intention of using."
Of all the responses she might have given, Harry didn't expect her to start sniffling.
Oh crap, I've bollixed it up again. Again! What did I say wrong? Hastily he put out his other hand, found her face, felt the wetness of tears. "No! Hermione, I'm…"
"Don't you dare apologize, Harry Potter!" she scolded him through her tears. "I'm crying because I'm happy, dammit!"
"Ah… right. Of course you are." Harry released her hand so that he could stretch his arms around her. They ended up with her head against his chest and his chin atop her head. Harry was careful to cant his lower body slightly away from her; certain parts of his anatomy didn't need any more encouragement.
Her exasperated snort, so characteristically Hermione, told him she knew perfectly well what he was doing. She seemed to be steeling herself to continue, determined to get the words out before her nerve failed her. "But I'm serious, Harry. Just because I can't engage in sex doesn't mean you can't… or, or shouldn't. I won't think the less of you if you, er, pursue other venues."
Harry didn't immediately reply. He'd been extremely reluctant to share his sexual experiences with her… but he saw now that nothing less would reassure her. "Twice," he finally said, almost inaudibly.
"Twice?" she repeated, puzzled, before she realized what he was talking about. "Oh! Twice. But… you mean, in fifteen…?" Hermione paused a second, then nodded, accepting the information. "All right. Once with Ginny, and…"
"No," he interrupted harshly. "What made you think Ginny and I did it?"
"She… ah. I see. She allowed us to assume that." Hermione fell silent; Harry could sense she was straining not to ask questions. Not quite what I expected, considering the interrogation I got after my first kiss with Cho. Well, we've all grown…
"It was a day seminar - hosted by Le Cordon Bleu." His voice was low again, slow and measured… confessorial. "I met her at lunch, and we seemed to hit it off… so we met again at dinner, and then in her hotel room. She was a bit older than me, more experienced. She expected me to be more experienced, too. When it became clear I didn't much know what I was doing, she…"
Hermione waited for him to continue. "She?" she prompted.
He hadn't realized how much it still hurt. "She laughed."
She nodded, but didn't say anything. When it became clear she wouldn't say anything, Harry felt a surge of gratitude such as he'd seldom felt before. He tried to joke past his hurt. "I was about ready to become a monk after that."
He broke off. Hermione nodded again… he realized it was her way of showing she was listening, of encouraging him. "Then a few years later," he continued, "one of the waitresses at the Idée Fixe set me up with her younger sister. Uni student, bright and fresh, no expectations. We got along pretty well, really."
Again he broke off, and she couldn't contain herself. "And?"
Harry shrugged. "And she was a Muggle, and I was a wizard, and I was living under a false identity to boot. I couldn't share my life with her, couldn't share my self. The excuses just kept getting clumsier and clumsier… Anyway, after a few months she got a scholarship to some American school, and we both considered it time to end the relationship."
"Oh, Harry. I'm sorry…"
"It's okay." Gently he began to stroke her hair, as he had several evenings earlier… reasoning that if the magic of her vows permitted it then, it should permit it now. Of course, then he'd only thought he "cared for" her. He hadn't yet figured out that he loved her.
Which, of course, shows how much of an idiot I've been.
"It's okay," he repeated. "I can now say that I've known sex, and I've known love - and of the two, I much prefer love."
"A sentiment with which I totally agree. Frustrating though it may be," Hermione murmured, resting her head against his chest. He continued to stroke her hair… his hand didn't seem able to stop. "Do you know," she continued after a pause, "there've been times when I had to hug my pillow like this - I thought, because I needed physical contact so much. But then, I could've had physical contact any time I wanted… if I were willing to put up with Ron. I needed you, Harry." She snuggled closer. "And you're much better than a pillow, I must say."
Harry sighed slightly, and she immediately picked up his thought. "I know we can't do this every night. It is frustrating… and if we keep tempting my vows' magic, sooner or later we'll be burned. But if… if we could just do this, every now and then…"
"Happy Birthday, Hermione," he said softly.
Her breathing lengthened… she was growing sleepy again. "And for the record, Mr. Potter," she mumbled to his heart, "I love you too."
He nodded, ever so slightly, as though to say I know. His patient hair-stroking didn't stop. When a gentle snore issued forth, Harry smiled to himself. One hand continued to stroke the bushy mane of hair… the other felt around on the mattress behind her until it found the star sapphire necklace.
One last birthday kiss, as much for him as for her - to be a surprise, when she discovered it - and he dropped the gem back onto the mattress.
*
Hermione awoke again, just before dawn, to the distant sound of someone calling her name. She came to full alert almost immediately, and turned her head to greet Harry.
Only to discover that Harry had rolled over onto his side again, facing away from her.
"Um, good morning," she greeted him. "Did you hear something…?"
He tilted his head without rolling back. "Hear…?" He was interrupted by someone calling Hermione's name again. "It sounds like it's from your Floo fireplace."
"It sounds like Dennis Creevey!" Hermione was instantly out of bed and throwing on a robe. She strode to the door, and paused as she canceled the security charms on it. "I'd better talk to him," she said, looking over her shoulder, "a call this early can't be good news. Do you…" She quickly turned her head again to face the door, but not before she'd seen why Harry had rolled away from her during the night. A morning riser in more ways than one, she thought with amusement. I wonder if sleeping in the Cloak was damping that reaction, as well as other emotions. Probably, judging by his embarrassment now.
"You're already keyed to the wards," Harry said hastily. "I'll just, um, make myself scarce."
"Can you wait for me in my rooms at the Ministry? I want to coordinate our efforts today - see if we can get you to the Arch while everyone's busy with the Conference." Barely waiting for Harry's agreement, Hermione flung open the door and rushed to the fireplace. "I'm here, Dennis," she told the flames, kneeling before them.
Dennis's head appeared. "Hermione, we have bad news here. Peasegood and the Legilimens have spent all night checking Lovinett's memory…"
"Don't tell me his memory's been Obliviated?!"
"Not quite. His memory's been sequestered. Peasegood says there's a set of memories that's been blocked, walled away by an outside Occlumens. Lovinett himself can't access those memories without someone telling him a code word. And if we try to access them, there's a failsafe in place that will wipe Lovinett's mind. Maybe completely, according to Peasegood."
"Damn!" Hermione pounded the floor with her fist in frustration. "Does Peasegood have any ideas for how to get past the blocks?"
Dennis waggled his head. "He wants to keep working at it - I assume he wouldn't do that unless he had some hope. But if he guesses wrong, Lovinett ends up in Vegetable City."
Hermione remained motionless for a moment, thinking frantically. "These… mental blocks," she said slowly, "these blocks surely wouldn't have been put in place without Lovinett's knowledge or permission. His conscious memories might match the story he tells, but he must be aware those memories are false. Play on that, Dennis. Emphasize what we can prove: that his memories have been tampered with, and that that he did cast the Imperius Curse on Swivingham. We can convict him of that, if nothing else, whether he remembers it or not!"
She jabbed a finger at Dennis as he nodded his understanding. "Maybe then he'll remember a few random details that weren't blocked - like, say, accepting a payment from our dear Mr. Zabini. Oh, and be sure to remind him that client-attorney privilege can't be invoked on an agreement he claims never happened!"
"Hermione - what are you doing?" Ginny had emerged from Rose's bedroom, ashen-facing and gaping.
"Wait one, Ginny," Hermione said, not taking her eyes off Dennis's face. "Dennis, you understand?"
Dennis grimly smiled. "Apply pressure until something crystallizes. Got it, boss. I'll contact you at the Ministry the moment we have anything." With a swirl of green flame, his head disappeared from the Floo.
Hermione barely had time to get off his knees and to her feet when Ginny was in front of her. "What is this? Did I hear you say something about Blaise? Hermione, I thought we decided he was innocent!"
"Ginny, you showed up here Monday night because you were scared of Zabini! Remember? You were afraid, because you thought he might be involved in Swivingham's death!"
"I was overreacting! And besides, that was before you looked at my Pensieve memory. You said Blaise didn't have anything to do with it, based on what I saw!"
"No," sighed Hermione in exasperation, "that's what you said. I said a clever lawyer would argue that your memory didn't implicate Zabini. Not iron-clad, anyway." She started for her bedroom. "Look, I have to go straight to the Ministry, and I need to shower and dress…"
Ginny surprised Hermione by following her into the bedroom, still arguing. Hermione was relieved to not see Harry: either he was under the Cloak, or (more likely) he'd already Disapparated. Probably to Clayman's flat for his own shower and change of clothes, before meeting her in her office.
"If my memory can't implicate Blaise, it's because he's not involved! He'd have no reason to want Swivingham dead, anyway - the man was about to be sent to Azkaban, for Merlin's sake, which is punishment enough. You can't just go around and accuse a high-ranking Ministry official of ordering a murder, simply because you don't like him!"
Hermione whirled angrily to confront Ginny. "Is that what you think of me, Ginny Weasley? After over twenty years, do you really think so little of my integrity!?"
Ginny flinched only slightly. "You just told Dennis that you wanted a connection with Blaise… I'm sorry, Hermione, but it does sound like you're trying to dig up dirt on him! You're almost as bad as Ron, you won't even consider that he's reformed - that he's trying to make our world a better place!" She caught Hermione's gaze and held it. "Lay off him, won't you?" she pleaded softly.
Their gazes stayed locked for several moments. Hermione took that time to review everything Ginny might have seen or heard at Zabini Manor. Either she's the most accomplished liar and actress ever born, Hermione concluded, or she really doesn't know about the Cartel Lords.
"Ginny," Hermione finally said, "try to believe this, because I'll only say it once. If Blaise Zabini hasn't done anything illegal, I will never trump up charges against him just because I disagree with his politics." She saw Ginny begin to relax in satisfaction, and hardened her voice as she continued, "And if Blaise Zabini has done something illegal, I will never fail to bring charges against him just because you're sleeping with him."
Into Ginny's shocked silence, Hermione added, "Now, since you were planning on returning to your flat today, or possibly attending your Quidditch practice, perhaps you should get ready to leave, since I need to do likewise." She watched as Ginny backed away with something like a sob, and turned to her wardrobe to pull out the clothes she'd be wearing to the Ministry that day.
She heard Ginny stumble against the bookshelves on her way out of the bedroom. Hermione gave no more thought to her sister-in-law… but if she'd turned her head, she would have seen that Ginny had removed one of the books from the bookshelf as she left.
*
It wasn't a lie, Ginny told herself. I was worried about my safety when I showed up at Hermione's home, truly. But that's only because I'd panicked - Blaise would never hurt me, I'm far too useful to him. As I'm about to prove.
Extremely rare was the wizarding business that stayed open twenty-four hours a day. In that respect, the Muggle world was a hell of a lot more convenient. She waited now at the photography counter at an all-night pharmacy, as they developed her roll of ultra-sensitive high-speed film.
When Dad first brought that old gadget home, years ago, he didn't even know exactly what it was, Ginny recalled. I'm the one who recognized it as a camera, and who took it to a Muggle shop… where they fixed it and told me what it was. And what it was, was perfect.
An old camera indeed, no larger than her two fingers together, but a precision optical instrument for that. Predating transistors, powered by a wound spring, virtually silent, it was made to go unnoticed by Muggles. The fact that it had no magic to be detected - and no electronics to be affected - made it equally unobtrusive in the wizarding world. Ginny had taken to carrying it everywhere with her, in her Extended overnight bag - just to Be Ready.
A quick Transfiguration in the midst of my party preparations - did Hermione think I didn't know about all the monitoring wards on her house? - and one of her books was able to hold my camera until I needed it. Last night. Snapping one picture of her bedroom every half hour until the roll of film ended.
One of those pictures should show the face of Hermione's lover.
Let's face it, Blaise is brilliant, but he's such a male. He can't see the most obvious things, sometimes. When he told me at our last Fire Party about the recent upswing in Hermione's mood - how she was being friendlier to Ministry workers, and they to her - he had no clue to the reason. Sweet Circe, once I arrived at Hermione's home, it was plain as day! Suddenly upbeat? Extra blankets and pillows? Bedroom door made Imperturbable every night? She's been getting laid!
I mean, if Ron could find a way around their marriage vows, Hermione certainly could.
As soon as I have the photos, I'll know who she's been shagging. And that might just be the lever I need to get her to drop this pointless investigation of Blaise. It's obvious she's trying to discredit him, before today's International Conference secures his position as heir apparent. After all, that's why I suggested to him that his department chair it.
No, I've been far too valuable to Blaise. And by the end of today, it will be clear to him, too, beyond doubt. I think I'll enjoy being the wife of the next Minister of Magic.