A/N. I am grateful to those who take their time to review - I cannot write what I write without you.
Same rule applies in this chapter - the angsty past is italicized and 'skippable'. We pick up the past 3 weeks after Hermione finds out Harry and Ginny are married.
We see a bit more of Ted and his wife, Rosie, Hugo, and Professor Dumbledore.
Happy Easter!
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Chapter 40 - New Beginnings
Early July 2003 - Australia
I am in Perth. I have lost track of time but I think I've been here for about three weeks. My Mum is letting me stay with her. She's great even though I can't tell her much. She doesn't crowd me but she's there for me just the same and I know that someone cares.
I couldn't stay at St.Mungo's. I couldn't stand the waiting to get better. Every minute in my hospital room was a minute that he chose to be with someone else. I couldn't stand thinking this. It was quite obvious the wounds I had were of the kind the Healers couldn't heal and I wasn't going to get better any time soon so I discharged myself against Healer advice the day after I spoke with Harry.
I thought I could but I couldn't stay at Grimmauld either. When I got there I spent the entire night crying in bed, clutching his pillow and the little stuffed toy dragon with Harry's apology. It felt empty there as it had felt in the days before we were together and the vastness and hollowness of my world was magnified a hundredfold. I surrendered to the inevitable, allowing my memories of him to fill me but the absolute silence was a reminder that our baby was gone; that the Harry I knew was gone. The house was still and there was only me, weeping soundlessly. I cried until I was raw, until my tears were all spent and I couldn't anymore.
When I woke up the following day I started crying again. It was then when I realized that to stay there was inviting insanity. I picked up the phone, called my Mum and I asked to come.
So here I am three weeks later. It is sunset and I am walking on the beach. The sand crumbles under my feet and the cool waves lap up against my ankles. For the first time since coming here I notice this and for the first time I see that it is beautiful here.
The scenery reminds me of my Dad and what he loved about the place. I remember what he said about losing myself because of how much I love Harry. And while I know a part of me died the night he and our daughter were taken away, I am proud that I am still me.
In some ways I am better and in some ways I am not. I still cry about what happened in my solitude. But I didn't when Ron came last week and I didn't while Harry and Ginny came to see me a few days ago. The one person I've cried with is Luna and that happened the few times we reminisced about Dean.
Luna lives in Adelaide now. I saw her yesterday and she told me of this story that Dean made up as they watched a couple of really naughty Seven Legged Jumparoos...Dean was funny, so full of life, his entire life before him...
Anyway, Luna said something that rang true for me.
"Things happen, sometimes for no good reason, and we move on because it is the right thing to do."
I think about this in terms of what happened between me and Harry. I have no choice really. I move on because to not to is not an option. As hard as it is to imagine life without him, it is impossible to imagine giving up.
And thinking that has done wonders for me. I can feel the air again, smell the roses, see reasons behind the smiles on the strangers I meet during my daily walks on the beach. It isn't all about me. It isn't all about him. There is more to me than us. Well, slightly more…
I am fine with this...I am fine...
A tall, blonde man is walking along the shore and is heading in my direction, his gait and his features familiar. I have to smile as I see he still has his leather shoes on and he is cursing each time the waves fill them with water.
"Fuck Granger," he greets her nary a grin, "You just had to be on a beach."
I read his mind. He hates the feel of sand on his feet and he hates the beach.
"Stop swearing. I'll get you arrested for disturbing the peace," I tell him, "What are you doing here anyway?"
"What does it look like? I hear you've been moping so I thought I'd expose you for the fraud that you are. The Granger I know wouldn't mope."
This is a blatant lie and he knows that I know. He laughs, amused then peers into my eyes and tries to read me.
He exclaims as he is unable to, "Holy fuck! Hallelujah! You've read the book!"
I wasn't totally unproductive. I turned to my books for comfort and read the one he gave me a few times.
"Proves I'm not moping," I reply simply, "And you've since become religious."
"Vampire encounters can make you see the light."
"I don't see the vamp marks," I say and I pretend to examine areas just above his collar. I heard he reported back last week with a hyperbole of a story claiming vampire bondage and torture, "Did they really turn you or was that just your usual Canadian hogwash?"
He doesn't show me his memories either. I like the practice and I can tell he likes being tested too.
"When you start seeing fangs make a run for it," he warns; the glint in his eye tells me he is joking. He redirects our conversation, "But enough about me."
He stops and looks at me seriously. I waver as I read the questions he has on his mind. And although he is absolutely the last person in the world I would imagine talking with right now, the answers to his queries come easily, maybe because he was there, he knows, and he is the only one who knows who asked.
We don't speak, thankfully we don't have to. But it gets overwhelming anyway that I have to look away. I fight off the urge to cry and I fail miserably. He swears under his breath and as I brush away the tears streaming down my cheeks, he awkwardly swings his arm over my shoulder.
That did it. I sob harder, more than I've had in recent days and I bury my face into his chest. Then I remember how different Harry's embrace was, how it was more tender, more reassuring, just more.
I pull away as soon as I realize this, gritting my teeth and willing the ache in my heart to get over it, to stop wanting Harry. Warren swears again. He doesn't care for this unwelcome contact either and I really shouldn't impose it on him. He is somewhat embarrassed. I have no secrets from him.
He tells me, "You know I'm no good for shit like this."
"Yeah, you're rubbish at it," I agree with him, "But thanks anyway."
I mean it. The fact that someone else knows how I really feel and why I feel the way I do helps. There's nothing like a listening ear to encourage self pity. He nods while he laughs at that last thought and follows me silently as I find my sandals and walk back to the boardwalk. He has left my mind and like me prefers the disconnect. As the street to where my Mum lives is coming up he breaks his silence with his usual bluntness.
"Snap the fuck out of it. The way I see it you have absolutely nothing to feel guilty about," he said, "If it wasn't for you Gaunt would still be alive today and who knows how many others he would have killed. You did the right thing."
I frown, thinking how that thought devalued the lives of those who died that night. I still think less lives would have been lost had we done it differently. We should have known he would know.
"And you should tell Harry the truth."
I've thought about this over and over again when the selfish side of me shakes me and screams at me, reminding me of what we had, what we lost, and what he didn't remember that I would never experience with anyone else. All the lost memories I could easily replenish through many means and yet I don't because it would feel so wrong.
"What is he supposed to do after? Believe me?"
"You have no reason to lie."
"Even if he believes me do you think he'll leave his wife who he loves for me who he doesn't? I can totally see him doing that."
"Take him to Grimmauld. He might remember."
"And if he doesn't what would that make me? The crazy obsessed friend who is ruining his happiness?"
There was that and the fact that restoring his memory was a violation of the deal. Death was clear about it; his life for his memories. If he regains his memories I shudder at the thought of what Death would do to him. Warren sees this.
"Fuck Death."
"What?"
"You heard me. Aren't you supposed to be its Mistress? Why is It calling the shots?"
"You do raise a good point."
He has given me ideas about my next conversation with Death.
Warren wastes no time moving on to a thought the evil side of me has skirted around once or twice before, "You do realize that you are letting her get away with it."
I tell him, "She doesn't know."
Warren went off on a logical tirade, "How can she not? How can she not remember he turned down her advance just the night before? He told her he was seeing someone. Didn't she even wonder why no one came for Harry at the hospital?"
"Death must have tampered with her memory too."
"You're not even sure..."
"I'm sure," I say firmly.
"Did you ask Death?"
"I don't have to. I'm sure," I repeat.
I know Ginny doesn't know. I looked into her mind. And besides, I know Ginny. Ginny would never marry Harry under the conditions Warren so aptly highlighted.
Warren lets it go reluctantly and moves on to his next unsolicited comment.
"Personally I'd rather play selfish shit-raiser to selfless martyr but that's just me. So, are you ever going to pick yourself up from this and do something with your life, or what?"
"I can't work for that git Humptail."
I called Kingsley the other day and told him I needed more time. It's not only Humptail, it's the Ministry and being around everything that reminds me of him.
"How about spending some time at the IMP?" Warren probed, "New beginnings, new team?"
I pick up that this is the real reason for his visit. He is recruiting.
"What kind of work?"
"Special teams for special criminals," he replied, "Somewhere you can put this invincibility of yours into good use, not that anyone else would need to know; a place away from London that could use someone like you "
He knows exactly what words to use. The second he mentions 'away from London' I am sold.
"Tell me more."
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Present time - Auror designated rendezvous point in Southeast Asia
Ted Lupin hung up the phone.
"Well?" an anxious Auror asked him.
"Harry has Hugo," he relayed to the eleven others, sighs of relief heard all around, "He says they're fine. He doesn't have Gates yet but he's close. We're to leave for London, do our caseloads as usual and await instructions."
The men and women in the room exchanged confused looks. One of them spoke up.
"But if he doesn't have Gates, then maybe we should stick around and trace him from the church."
"Maybe these brats can help us find him," said another, looking at the blond-haired boy with an evil eye.
There were a couple who nodded.
"The orders are to go back to London," Ted had to repeat Harry's instructions, "We all know he will have his reasons."
The reminder was enough.
"And these two?"
Hugo's non-magical friends were looking on with interest.
"We'll take them back to the IMAN, unharmed," he shot the boy werewolf a warning, "But only if they don't give us any more trouble."
"I can't believe you've never been in a werefight before," the boy taunted, "And you were born half werewolf?"
Ted ignored him but was crimson red from embarrassment. The boy almost escaped with the girl as he surprised everyone with his beastly transformation and beat five human Aurors including his werewolf form before being subdued by the others. He loosened the bindings on the two.
"Try it again, dog," Ted threatened, "I'll transfigure you into a shitzu for a week and we'll see if you'll be as smug after."
"I wouldn't mind if he was a shitzu forever," the girl found his threat amusing, "But only if you neuter him first and make him mute in the process."
"You're supposed to be on my side!" the boy protested.
"We agreed! We said we weren't going to try to escape! But you just had to show off!" the girl scolded.
"So, did you like the show? Was I awesome or what?! Wait till I tell Hugo about this."
The girl rolled her eyes up in exasperation as Ted told them to shut up.
They dropped off the wolf and the Martinez girl with their Headmaster and headed back to London. It was still night time when they got home and as he snuck into their bedroom his wife woke up.
"Is everything alright, Teddy?"
He slid into bed beside her and held her close.
"Everything is fine," he lied, then kissed her longingly.
"What's going on? I know something is going on."
"You know I can't tell you," he said apologetically, hoping she wouldn't insist.
But she did, "No one will have to know that you told me."
It was an old recurring argument.
"I'll know. Just let it go, will you?" he pleaded.
"Fine," she replied though it obviously wasn't.
Tory turned on her side away from him. He wanted to ask how her day went and what the Healer said about their baby. He knew his wife would not be pleasant about it so instead, he reached towards the bedside lamp and shut the lights off, looking forward to what craziness work would bring him tomorrow.
The crazier and the longer it would keep him away from here the better. Work he could handle; Tory on hormones he couldn't. He couldn't wait for things to be normal with her once their baby was born.
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Present time - The Pitch
Rosie couldn't sleep. She was livid at herself. She correctly deduced that Hugo was going to make a run for it but she should have expected he would do everything to prevent her from leaving. Really, she just wanted to help find her Mum's killers.
No matter. She was going to track Hugo down and she had a good plan on how to do so. Taking a clean piece of parchment from Lily's drawer, she scribbled a note.
Dad,
I want to help find Mum's murderers. I hope you understand. Please don't worry and don't get mad.
Love always,
Rose
P.S. I know that you'll still worry and totally freak at what would possess your fifteen year old daughter to think she can help find hardened criminals. I hope you remember all the crazy things you and Mum got into when you were fifteen and find it in your heart to be as understanding as Granma and Granpa were. Had they not given you the freedom, I can only imagine how badly things would have turned out. I will be okay.
She read it twice and folded it, placing it neatly on her pillow. It was obvious and rough around the edges but it would have to do. Tiptoeing out into the hallway with a rucksack of essentials, she snuck past James' bedroom and past the door to Al's quarters. It cracked ajar and she saw Al's face emerge from the darkness within.
He had been avoiding her all night which was understandable, she thought. Hugo and this thing between their parents were just a lot to handle.
Al looked at her with a gravity he never did before and said, "I'm coming with you."
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Present time - Undisclosed location - Southeast Asia
Hugo was excited and worried at the same time. It was not the time to ask questions even though he had a lot. The details of how his Mum survived the attack was unimportant and just like his father, he just wanted to see her. He'd feel much better if he just saw her.
Warren had been silent all this time he is leading them through an underground man made tunnel that connected Grace's restaurant to where his Mum was. His father has been very quiet too. They arrive at the old hospital through an opening under a gurney in an examination room.
Hugo could barely contain the pounding in his chest. Grace had been telling them how Muggle rebels used the tunnel network to get their wounded medical attention and to get into and out of town for supplies and information without detection.
They walked through near empty corridors and arrived in front of old wooden doors. Warren turned to him.
"She's not well."
Hugo nodded, steadying himself, focussing on how anything was far better than her being gone. Hugo caught his father's concerned gaze and for the first time in a long while felt something other than revulsion.
Warren pushed the door in and his eyes instantly fell on the figure lying still on a rickety old hospital bed. His feet brought him by her side without prompt and as he took her cold, unresponsive, soft hand into his he could not help the tears from blurring his vision. He sat on the chair beside her and the rest of the world disappeared behind him.
He whispered to her, "Mum..."
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Jessie watched on as Warren arrived with Harry, Hugo and the pale local woman who brought her meals since she came. For a moment she had thought it was Al sitting beside Hermione. She had not seen Hugo this way since that day he was born. She'd seen pictures of Harry as a young boy and the likeness was uncanny., she had goose bumps.
To her surprise Harry stayed back, his eyes transfixed on his son and Hermione, with a mix of concern and sadness. Her eyes welled up for him as she imagined what must be going through his mind. She had been so used to seeing Hermione carry on with the life she chose for her and her son without complaint or regret that Jessie did not appreciate until now how hard it could be for him. Hermione made an executive decision; he wasn't given a choice.
"Stop feeling sorry for him," Warren scolded, annoyed at her as he saw how sympathetic she was.
"I can't help it," she explained though she didn't really think she had to explain herself to him, "If you were Harry..."
Warren cut her off, "If I were Harry I would have left the bitch I was married to a long time ago and I would have seen Hermione doing what she did even before she did it. He made his own bed. No sympathy here."
She drew a breath in to calm herself down. There was no point continuing this conversation with him.
"Can you call off your mini-Dementors?" she referred to the trio of robe-clad wand carrying elves he had assigned to watch her and make sure she didn't escape, "I want to go back home."
"The deal was you wake her up, you get to go home."
"I'll come back. Seamus is probably worried..."
Warren snorted.
"What?!"
"Nothing," he replied, "Call home, leave a message and tell him you're still with your sick sister but you're fine. Your sister's name is Mildred."
"I have a sister named Mildred," she repeated blandly.
"From your mother's first marriage. You've been estranged and you never told him because there was no need to," Warren explained.
"Why are we doing this? Nobody will care if I have a sister or not!"
He snapped back, "I told you. His being here and seeing her alive complicates things unnecessarily. But you just had to drag him in here, didn't you? You just had to get him involved."
"You're out of control," she spat back, "Get the fucking chip off your shoulder and tell him what this thing is all about. He can help."
"Sure, he can help get her killed," his words dripped with sarcasm, "Then after that, he'll make me break my promise to her not to get him killed. I don't like breaking my promises."
It was her turn to snort. Integrity was not a word one would associate with him. She was busy arguing with Warren she just noticed that Harry had approached them.
"How is she?" Harry asked.
Jessie didn't quite know what to tell him. On the one hand the Muggle supportive devices were no longer needed to keep her alive but on the other hand, there was no real scientific explanation why she still had not woken up.
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Present time - Somewhere neither here nor there, inside a leaky boat
Hermione blushed at the Professor's last remark as she remembered the humbling experience. Yes, she did have all three Hallows at some point and was a very involved Mistress of Death for a couple of years.
"It was arrogant of me to think I could control the powerful magic they wielded."
"You had noble intentions," the professor said kindly.
"I kept telling myself that. The Hallows changed me into someone I didn't like," Hermione paused and tried to shrug off unsavoury memories of that part of her life, "I had to give them up. I realized I didn't deserve to be its Mistress."
"If it makes you feel better, at your age I would not have passed up on the challenge either," Professor Dumbledore admitted, "And you had a dire need to focus on something else."
She did. Being Mistress of Death gave her a purpose at a time when she felt like she didn't have one. She often wondered what would have happened if she didn't spend those two years making North America a Dark Wizard and Dark Witch free zone. She probably would have stayed in London, worked for Kingsley and agonized over seeing the love of her life be somebody else's.
"Professor, you know that Malvado wants the Hallows to preserve his immortality," Hermione waited as he nodded, "And only someone as immortal can challenge him and survive."
"You are wondering how does one kill someone immortal like him?"
"Actually I know the answer to that. One can't," she replied, "I was wondering if you have any ideas on how to make him mortal."
"But you should know the answer to that one too. You have more experience on the matter compared to any other living magical being, not including Harry, of course," Professor Dumbledore answered back, "And I'd rather not insult your intelligence."
She understood that to mean that she was on the right track.
"Have you decided what to do when you get back?" the old man asked.
"I know what I have to do."
She just didn't know if she could do it. The reunification of the Hallows was a big if. The first time she had them all it was more a coincidence and she wasn't sure if she could do it all over again. And Death still recognizing her as Its mistress even if she brought them back together was not a given either.
Letting the Hallows out into the open before it was time to do so was a risk she was still reluctant to take. Doing so would exponentially increase the chances of Malvado succeeding in his attempt to possess all three.
"And the Prophecy?" Professor Dumbledore asked.
"I don't care about the prophecy," she answered honestly. "I need to go back."
Dumbledore merely smiled at her inability to let 'fate' take its course. A broomstick appeared beside her from out of nowhere just as a whooshing sound descended upon them from the sky.
She had to groan inwardly as she recognized the flyer. Of all the dead people...
"Wulfric," the rider greeted.
"Chastity."
'Chastity?'
"I see you're looking as gay and merry as always."
"You know me, Chastity," the professor replied good-naturedly, "The afterlife is too short to be gazing into crystal balls and looking at tarot cards, fretting over what I cannot change."
"I wasn't. If you must know I was spending a lovely day in bed with a couple of lovers. I hope this is important," the witch complained bitterly, "Who do I know is resisting the inevitable?"
Professor Dumbledore motioned over to her.
"Ms. Granger needs an escort and could use a chat."
Hermione didn't think so but what did she know.
"Waterloo! I should have known it was you."
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A/N. Up next - a conversation with the Hag. I'm hoping to wake Hermione up and more about Malvado.