A/N. This took a while. Thanks for your patience. Hope you enjoy. Hermione loses it in this one.
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Chapter 23 - Breaks in the Norm and More of the Usual
Hermione passed a plate of sugar free brownies to Ron who was sitting beside her. This Weasley dinner seating arrangement was not by her choice.
"Both look delicious," said an upbeat voice two places from where she sat, "Which do you think I'll like best?"
That was Jill, Ron's happy perky Pollyanna girlfriend, soliciting his opinion.
"I think you'll like the pie better, honey," Ron answered, handing her the home made blackberry pastry.
"Do you really think so?" Jill sought confirmation, hanging onto Ron's every word.
"I know so," was Ron's cheerful reply which led to his girlfriend's giggling.
Hermione was going to puke. This had been going on all throughout dinner and she had to hear every blasted word of it. She caught Ginny's eye who had witnessed the entire exchange, giving her the signal. They got up simultaneously each with near empty dessert trays and headed for the kitchen.
"Is she for real?" she asked Ginny.
"I'm afraid so."
Ginny filled her tray with more tarts and put more brownies on Hermione's.
"You're right. This is so yummy. I'm thinking about having seconds. What do you think?" Jill's annoying voice grated.
"Does she ever decide anything on her own?" Hermione still found it hard to believe.
"I don't think she's allowed yet," they both sniggered at Ginny's quip, trying not to distract the other guests. As their laughter died down her friend enquired seriously, "How are you holding up?"
Hermione shook her head, trying not to think about it and attempting her best to keep the lid on emotions she had been hiding since meeting her ex's girlfriend. She thought she had timed it perfectly, coming just before dinner was announced and hoping to stay until after dessert. And it wasn't the first time she had seen Ron with another woman. She anticipated awkwardness but she didn't imagine it would make her feel this insecure. Maybe it was because Jill was Ron's first serious relationship since they broke up and the fact that they were 'happy' right in her face resulted in quite a few ugly conclusions about herself. They heard Jill chortle at one of Ron's jokes.
"My jaws ache from smiling."
Parts of her that had not hurt in a while did and tears pooled in her eyes. Ginny understood not to let her elaborate further. To do so would be catastrophic.
Get a grip. You're not even in love with him anymore.
Hermione composed herself, "I'm sorry. I'm gonna have to bail on you."
"I shouldn't have insisted you come," her best friend said to her remorsefully, concerned, "Are you gonna be okay? I can leave now..."
"Don't be ridiculous. This party is for you, remember? And I should be fine," she was hopeful she would be once she got away from the Burrow. She volleyed the question back, "Are you?"
Hermione followed Ginny's gaze over to the end of the long dining table where Harry was talking with Bill and Fleur, sharing his funny stories about being godfather to a five year old.
Ginny replied with restrained hopefulness, "It's not as bad as I thought it would be."
"Good," Hermione said encouragingly, "I want details."
"My flat, tomorrow, help me pack," Ginny reminded her and then went back to the table with the dessert trays.
As Ginny took her place beside Harry, Hermione snuck a peak to gauge how he was doing. He was definitely not as tense as he was when they spoke about the Burrow this morning. It seemed like he was genuinely enjoying himself, cheering Bill and Fleur's adorable three year old daughter on as she sang songs she learned from mini-witch's school. In the midst of the impromptu concert he looked up and caught her watching him, worry on his face.
"Are you okay?" he mouthed.
She nodded and without even thinking inaudibly replied "I'm fine". She waited for Victoire to finish, approached Mrs. Weasley and told the older woman she had to leave.
"But it's early," Mrs. Weasley pointed out, loud enough that half the family heard.
"I'm really sorry but Mum asked me to ring her and Dad tonight," she reasoned, knowing daughterly duty was about the only excuse Mrs. Weasley wouldn't find rude or offensive.
It was kind of true. Her Mum, who was in Australia enjoying semi-retirement with her Dad, did leave messages for her to call. Hopefully Mrs. Weasley wouldn't realize it was five a.m. in Perth.
"Well, I hope you had a good time," the older woman said, disappointment in her voice.
Mrs. Weasley was probably the only person left on earth rooting for her and Ron's reconciliation. And she had been absolutely devastated by Harry's and Ginny's break up. The family gathering was an attempt to, in her words, 'right the wrong'.
Hermione couldn't really fault her for trying. With all her own children grown and out of the Burrow and Mr. Weasley busier than ever in charge of a growing Department at the Ministry, she had lots of time in her hands than she knew what to do with. Her hobby was doting on grandchildren (she didn't have enough) and she was partial to who her children had children with. Considering she wasn't consulted in the selection of her present crop of daughters in law, there was considerable pressure on Charlie, Ron and Ginny to make the right choices. Jill was clueless and that was a good thing.
Hermione tried reassuring her, "Of course I did. Thank you for inviting me."
"Say hello to your Mum and Dad for me," Mrs. Weasley hugged her and then whispered tearfully, "You're always welcome here."
"I know," she answered hugging back, feeling awful about the fact that while she may have been welcome, now that she was no longer Ron's girlfriend, she felt like she didn't belong.
She thanked Mrs. Weasley again and bade goodbye to Mr. Weasley, Bill and Fleur, Charlie (who thankfully came alone and shared fascinating stories about dragons with her), Percy and Audrey, George and Angelina, Ron and Jill (with whom she made an effort to be more upbeat), and Ginny and Harry. To go home to her rented flat straightaway would mean spending the rest of the night crying over some silly thing so she Disapparated to one of two places she could completely loose herself in - the Ministry.
It was eight p.m. There were very few people still at work and she found their squad room deserted. Weaving through the aisles she got to her neat and organized desk at the far corner of the room, put her cup of coffee down and stowed her purse away. With a wave of her wand her things-to-do arranged themselves in the order she had prioritized them. She then took the first item on top, a parcel she had not seen before.
Unmarked except for her name written in a familiar scribble she unwrapped it, her curiosity piqued at why he would even dare mess with her stuff. There was a note.
Chivalry is not dead. Don't give up on us.
He signed it CB.
CB, she laughed inwardly and read it again, the use of the lame nickname a testament to how over time he developed this playfulness. While still basically a brooder, the death of Voldemort with the influence of the Weasleys occasionally brought out this lighter side to him, a side they all were relieved to see. She was about to put the note away when the parchment began to unravel and transform; stems, leaves, buds and finally, light orange reddish petals. Tulips, a dozen of them, the sight of which lifted her up from the doldrums.
This was unexpected. Harry was not normally thoughtful, a minor 'flaw' that Ginny, at one stretch earlier in their relationship, had been somewhat frustrated about. Hermione conjured a vase for the flowers and set it on her desk, enjoying the unusual addition to her workspace for some time. It had been a while since someone gave her flowers. With a smile on her face, she grabbed the next item on her list with a bit more enthusiasm - the Morpheus Gaunt-Thomas Park file.
Reviewing her closed cases was something she always did. It was to ensure she didn't miss anything and it also made her more solidly cast them in memory. Flipping to the case summary page she read through Gates' final notes.
The Canadian Auror wrote that the legally-insane convict admitted to using the Imperius to influence others to work for him, choosing unwary and unlikely subjects. That explained the paucity of criminal records amongst those who were arrested and killed. It was Park himself who murdered his underlings at Knockturn Alley to prevent the MLE from finding out who Morpheus Gaunt really was.
What wasn't clear was why go through all the trouble of assuming another identity? If he was using the Gaunt disguise to hide, why commit high profile crimes as a Dark Wizard relative? That didn't make sense.
Hermione was also disappointed that nobody asked Park why he chose to be 'Morpheus Gaunt' and that Gates was vague about the arrest method he and Harry used. She wasn't so sure if it was the Imperius, the only Unforgivable the MLE, with prior permission, was allowed to use in the line of duty. From notes she read that Park was known to be resistant to it and it made her wonder. She had heard of a recently developed spell in the DOM lab, the Superius, or what others were calling the fourth Unforgivable. It was similar to the Imperius with two important exceptions; one, it was very difficult to master so that not many could do it which was a good thing because two, it was more effective than the Imperius. There was no individual who could block it. Maybe Harry could tell her exactly what it was.
Making note to inform the victims' families in the morning and hopefully give them some closure, she put the file away with a festering thought that it was lacking something and went on to the next item on her list. Percy had mentioned over dinner that Legal had finally looked at her proposal to shorten the MLE case documentation process, a project borne of the necessity to decrease the profanity count in the Squad room during reporting . She reviewed Legal's suggestions and did more editing, then some more, and then some more.
Time passed quickly. Hours later she had gone through the rest of her to-do's (including a call to her Mum and Dad in Perth) and was at Finnigan's having a drink, chatting business with Seamus as he tended the bar.
"Hey," Seamus greeted a newcomer behind her, "The usual?"
She glimpsed back and was glad to see who it was.
"Yeah, thanks," Harry answered, took the empty seat beside her and teased, "Brilliant escape. Did you at least attempt to call your Mum before coming here?"
"Spoke with them a few minutes ago," she replied.
"How are they?"
"Fine. Mum's busy finding a new partner for the clinic. She and Dad are taking up surfing; they were in a rush to catch the morning waves," she couldn't hide her concern about that.
"They'll be fine," Harry picked up on it, "I hear its fun."
"They're sixty, Harry. Surfing is not a sport to be taking up at sixty," she pointed out.
"I think it's great that they're trying something new."
He would. She was still unconvinced and would visit them at the first real opportunity to get away. Seamus set Harry's drink on the counter and went off to serve a group of clients who just arrived. Harry downed the shot in one motion and summoned a half filled bottle on display, filling his glass and hers.
"Trussel and Humptail are quite pissed about the Bat Cave," he said to her, a warning about some sort of a consequence to insubordination.
"Any word on what it's gonna be?"
"A week's suspension," he watched her reaction and was surprised, "You think that's fair."
"I probably deserve more. And Dean?"
She was more concerned for her partner.
"A stern warning."
Hermione nodded, relieved, and took a sip of her drink. Harry was still puzzled by her reaction to the whole suspension thing. There was a time in the not so remote past when that would have upset her, when punishment from superiors would drive her insane. But she felt no remorse for her actions and would do the same thing she did without even thinking twice. She did the crime so she would do the time. This was good; the unexpected break would give her the time to visit her parents.
Harry was kind of amused, "You might want to at least appear more upset when you find out officially. Just to make them feel better."
"Belligerent or remorseful upset?"
"I think the former will be more in keeping with character. I don't think you can act well enough to pull remorse off," Harry said chuckling then seriously added, "So what's behind this?"
"This?" she was stalling knowing perfectly well what he wanted to know.
"This intolerance for bosses and impatience for working within rules."
She lifted her brows, "Do I really have to answer that?"
Of all people Harry should understand this. Despite being a part of the new Ministry they never really reformed from all the rule breaking they did at Hogwarts. And from that War they learned that not everyone in authority could be fully trusted.
Harry admitted, "Fine. I'm just worried that you're not as cautious about it as you have been in the past. It's as if you're daring them to do something about you."
"Why would I do something stupid like that?"
He asked again, this time the question wasn't rhetorical, "Do you want to get fired?"
"Of course not."
She didn't, really.
"Well antagonizing the bosses won't earn you Squad leader either."
That was the logical next step. Middle management. She had no desire to go through that but she wanted to make a difference, influence policy, effect lasting change. To do that she had to play politics, the thought of which wasn't appealing. The third option was to stay a field Auror and continue pushing limits to get the job done correctly.
"Maybe the Hag was right. Maybe I'm not cut out for this," she blurted out, filters off.
"It doesn't matter what the Hag thinks. If you want to stay an Auror, I strongly recommend behaving for next little while. If you don't, hand in your resignation and try not to burn the place on your way out."
She nodded in response to the unsolicited sound advice. Another rarity, maybe even a first. In the past she was the one who dished out recommendations.
"What? Did I say something wrong?" he enquired, probably curious about the frown on her face.
Hermione replied in the negative kind of wondering if this version of Harry was temporary or permanent. She guessed she'd have to wait and see.
They seem to have drifted off to their own little worlds after. Before Harry arrived she had already worked herself up to a perfect, relaxed buzz just enough so that sleep would come quickly when she got home. She didn't plan on having more but now that Harry was there she did want to stay for a bit. She could no longer feel the burn of alcohol as she swallowed that last one - that was usually not a good sign.
"The flowers were lovely," she said to him not looking but grinning up to her ears as she remembered what he wrote.
She could hear the smile in his voice too, "I wasn't sure if you liked tulips."
"Dandelions would have made my day. I'm easy."
That made him laugh, "Best keep that to yourself in a place like this."
She chuckled and blushed, thinking how she was impartial to tulips before but definitely thought them special now. That was the firewhiskey doing its thing.
"So, how did the rest of dinner go?"
"It was okay."
"Just okay?"
"It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be."
She took another mouthful and swallowed, "Ginny said the same thing."
"Yeah, she told me."
Harry swigged. His tone was pensive and filled with cautious optimism just as Ginny's had been.
Hermione was happy for them, fully and truly, but uninhibited and depressed by alcohol she couldn't keep certain harmful feelings from surfacing. In plain and simple reality, she was jealous. She was jealous of what they had before and jealous of what they had now. She was jealous and she felt horrible on so many levels.
Would she ever find what they had? Would she ever find somebody to love and for that same somebody to love her back?
These were questions she had asked not a few times before. There was usually a calm reassuring voice telling her that there was someone. At one time that voice even told her that somebody was Ron. Was she ever wrong about that. But at times that voice with brutal honesty told her 'of course not'. Like today.
Hermione believed in true everlasting love; she had to growing up and seeing what that looked like with her parents. But unconditional and forever were tough acts to keep up and experience and realism had long ago grounded her that while her vision of true love existed, it was rare, rarely mutual and quite hard to find. She had to face it; the chance of an unattractive, opinionated, uncompromising know-it-all finding true mutual love was slimmest to none.
There was no one out there for her; no one to be herself with, share her innermost thoughts with, laugh with and cry with. There was no one waiting at home for her and for her to wait at home for. There was no one to even want to be home for or to care if she was or wasn't in the first place. She would grow old alone and have no one to share her life with…
Then it came suddenly.
She had no one to hold her if she felt down like she did now and no one to tell her that everything was going to be okay.
This was the rest of her life…an eternity of convincing herself that it was going to be okay…
The ache of loneliness hit her hard, gnawing her insides and clamping on her throat that she couldn't properly breathe. Chastising herself for indulging in the useless self piteous behaviour, Hermione fought a losing battle to keep the brimming tears from falling. It was best to leave before she caused a scene. She shoved the shot glass away from her, left a couple of galleons beside it and put her coat on.
"I have to get going," Hermione managed to croak as she got up from the stool, "I'll see you tomorrow."
Hermione left so quickly Harry didn't have a chance to respond. She Disapparated, barely making it inside her flat before the dam broke and she gave in to it.
She sobbed openly in the dark, not the first time in her life, clutching the centre of her chest with both hands in an effort to make the throbbing pain better and the emptiness to go away.
It's going to be okay. You have friends and you have your work (if you don't get yourself fired). It's going to be okay.
It would be. A good cry always made her feel better and brought back some much needed common sense.
Knock! Knock!
"Hermione?"
It was Harry. Maybe he'll leave if she didn't answer.
"I know you're in there. Open up."
So much for wishful thinking.
"Now's not a good time, Harry," she sniffed in between words, brushing tears off her cheeks and hoped he would understand.
"Why not?" he tested.
"Because...just go away."
"I could break the door down," he was annoyingly tenacious.
"What's going on out there?!" the wizard renting next door asked angrily.
Harry explained.
"My friend lives here. She's having a bad day and she won't let me in..." she immediately turned the lights on and opened the door, glaring at him as he faced her, motioning him to come in, "Oh, she's changed her mind. Have a good night."
She yanked him by the arm into her flat while he was still waving to her neighbor and shut the door. Did he really just say all that to a stranger?!
"What are you doing?!"
"I was trying not to get arrested for trespassing," he explained matter-of-factly, offering her a hanky, one he had just conjured. "You left in a hurry."
For good reason.
"You shouldn't have come," she took his offering and wiped the wetness off her face, her eyes.
"Why are you crying?"
"What makes you think I'm crying?"
Okay. So maybe the scrounged up face, the breaking voice and the tears on her cheeks were dead giveaways. She broke down again, burying her face in the piece of cloth in her hands, the fact that he asked made her all soft and achy she remembered what she was sobbing about.
"My mistake," he said softly as he walked to where she stood, put an arm around her shoulder and gently pulled her closer to him.
At that point she was past feeling embarrassed. She clung on to his sweater, buried her face in his chest and bawled. Pathetic as they were her emotions were egged on by Harry's warm, gentle and soothing embrace. Having him there holding her in his arms, softly breathing on her hair and whispering reassuring words was way better than crying in the dark by herself.
She was feeling okay until her thoughts ran carelessly beyond her control. She could get used to this, depend on it, rely on it, and wish for it.
Why can't someone like you love me?
That thought made her cry again and made Harry attempt to comfort her even more which made things better and worse at the same time. This was getting to be ridiculous!
With difficulty she pulled back from Harry's tear drenched sweater and walked away, sniffling and fighting off the residual sobbing. She made for the washroom, leaving the door ajar and turning the tap on. Splashing cool water on her face, Harry stood silently close by and handed her a clean towel after she shut the water off.
Hermione felt better although now she became acutely aware of Harry's presence, feeling the warmth of his caring emerald eyes on her.
"Stop staring."
"Okay," he obeyed, "I'll make tea."
"I'll be fine," she bravely declared, not wanting to be a bother, "You don't have to stay."
Nobody will ever want to stay so get used to it.
Her heart stung for a couple of beats and she couldn't check her expression in time. Harry tugged her by the hand, led her to the small round table in the kitchen and pulled a chair for her.
"Sit," he ordered, "I'm staying and I'm making tea."
Emotionally drained she gave in, having no real fight left in her at the time. Moments later they were sitting in silence in her faintly lit kitchen, steaming cups in their hands. He wasn't going to say anything until she did. He seemed content just to have tea whereas she couldn't stand the quiet
"I'm sorry."
"What for?"
"For this," she gestured vaguely, waving the damp hanky in the air, "For making you stay."
"And here I am thinking I'm here by choice," he was trying for funny.
"You know what I mean."
"Actually, I don't," he answered earnestly.
"You stayed because I cried."
"I guess that's true."
"You feel pressured to stay and be a comfort."
Out of pity because I have no one else.
He seemed perplexed, "You say that as if it's a bad thing."
"You shouldn't have seen me like this," she was embarrassed, "You don't have to stay."
"I believe you said that already and I'm choosing to ignore it a second time," he took a sip of tea, his eyes on hers still worried, waiting for her reply.
This wasn't Harry. The Harry she knew would gladly leave her alone in this awkward moment and/or turf her over to Ginny.
Her forehead creased as she asked, "What's wrong with you?"
"Me? Nothing. I'm not the one who's having an emotional breakdown."
What?! Did he just say…?!
"I am not having an emotional breakdown! This is nothing! This is normal!"
"This is normal?" he calmly replied.
She defended herself, "Shit happens…people cry…"
"True."
"It will pass."
"I'm sure it will."
"I'm not telling you why I was crying."
"If you don't want to I can't force you."
Okay…she was tipsy, depressed and lonely. This out-of-the-norm Harry was saying all the right things and she could not help but steal glances at his mouth as he talked, the same red soft lips (yes, they were surprisingly so) that took hers just last night and kissed her, hungrily, passionately, okay, in pretense but still the memory or more appropriately, the 'fantasy', would come in handy in desperate times, like right now. And he gave her flowers…tulips for Merlin's sake, and wondered if she liked them or not.
That made her wonder what would happen if...she dropped the thought, knowing that line of thinking was one that was going nowhere, at least nowhere good. She had been down that path a few times a lifetime ago.
"Are you just going to sit there? All night?" she was almost panicked.
"Maybe."
"Go home Harry."
"What if I refuse?" he challenged.
"Kicking you out would be an interesting first."
"Is it about Ron?" he seemed to have already concluded it was. He said frustrated, "I told him to not be so demonstrative..."
"It's not about Ron," a voice, her own, reflexively responded, "Okay, yes, being around all the gooeyness kind of beat up my ego and started all this but it's not really about Ron and Pollyanna Jill."
That sounded harsher than she meant it to be. Maybe there was more to that than she was willing to acknowledge.
"I'm listening."
"It's too embarrassing, Harry," she blushed, not used to baring her guts to him that she couldn't.
"I won't tell a soul," he promised and when she continued to hesitate he came to an incorrect conclusion, "You don't trust me."
"Don't be ridiculous," she quickly dispelled his theory, "Of course I trust you."
"So, why are you pushing me away?" he asked, momentarily stumping her she couldn't come up with an answer. She wasn't, at least not consciously. He took her hand in his and squeezed it lightly as he held her perplexed gaze with his warm, worried eyes, "Look, I know I haven't been much of a friend in the past and I kind of understand why you're not keen on having me here…"
"Harry…" he was getting this all wrong.
"I just want you to know I'm here. I'm here for you and I really wish you wouldn't shut me out even if I deserve it," his voice trailed off, wincing as he said that last part, "I hope this isn't too little too late."
"Oh Harry," she sighed, squeezing his hand back to reassure, her earlier worries all but vanished and replaced with this concern for what he had erroneously concluded, "What am I gonna do with you?"
"What?"
"You're getting this all wrong, as usual," she was kind of amused now.
"So educate me, as usual," he shrugged, flushed somewhat and half grinned.
She reclaimed her hand from his and grabbed his empty cup as she stood and walked to her kitchen counter, "We're gonna need more tea."
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