A/N. No Harry or Hugo here.
Many had questions and observations about Ginny's behaviour and Harry's behaviour in the past that I felt the need to clarify. Much of this chapter is in italics - I hear the collective groan already : ) The official wedding - a conversation with Ginny - then Warren.
The Hag conversation turned out to be more serious that I thought. Then there's the Minister.
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Chapter 41 - Intentions
I've managed to stay away from London for six months. I've been extremely busy with work. I really have been. After all I am holding two jobs; one I get paid for and one I need to fill the rest of my day.
My official job is challenging enough. When Warren said I am joining a special team he used the word 'team' rather loosely. We are a group of five, four of us former Aurors and one I believe was once a criminal (I don't think this is advertised). I haven't seen any of my teammates in six months. We work as individuals in different parts of the world with minimal accountability and supervision, as long as we get the job done. The job is to investigate and eliminate Dark Wizardry threat in every way possible. It is mercenary work.
Being Mistress of Death is a lot of work too because Death doesn't want to work for anybody, particularly not one with rules. I've made quite a few, particularly around transitioning souls in between worlds, with the expectation that they are followed. I've also learned what I can and cannot do and found complimentary ways to use my new found powers in my day job. But that's an entirely different story I prefer not to delve into at the moment. I have reservations that what I've been doing with them is not entirely ethical.
I surprise even myself that it is easy not to be in London. It helps that I have no real reason to come, not the Ministry, not my second family and not my friends. Most of the gang have actually retreated into the busyness of their lives just as I have. At first I thought, or maybe 'hoped' is a better word, that I could disappear unnoticed. It is something I strongly considered doing but I can't make a clean break. I speak with some of them occasionally on the phone. Ginny a few times, Harry too. They call and I cannot ignore their messages. I also make it a point to see my Mum at least once a month and usually find time to meet with Luna. She is doing well in her new job too.
From my talks with Harry I know he doesn't remember anything. He asked me mostly about work, things that he doesn't recall and where documentation is unclear. I tell him about them as much as I can. Officially we only worked the one case, the Jollyweather robbery which wasn't that exciting, and I tell him details of his other ones that I know of. He asked about what happened at the Bat Cave and I tell him exactly what our reports said, that we hid in the coffin in the hopes of searching the place without detection but Warren tripped off the alarms and all hell break loose. He seemed satisfied with my answer.
With the money I inherited from my father, the signing bonus from my new job and a loan I got with a goblin acquaintance of mine I paid up the Grimmauld balance a short while back. I don't know what to do with it but I tell him I'm renting it out. It is untouched since I left it months ago.
One time he asked me a question I should have been more prepared for.
"Was I seeing someone seriously?"
I tried not to get my hopes up.
"Do you remember seeing anyone?"
"No."
"Then why are you asking?"
He tells me about this conversation he has with Ginny, about how women could conceivably claim something like that and he would have no clue if it was true or not.
"Has somebody come forward?"
"No, but it doesn't hurt to know someone could."
So maybe I am insulted that our relationship was not only forgotten but relegated as an FYI.
"Your question is kind of stupid. If you were seeing someone seriously and she wanted to reclaim you and your defective memory she would have done so already, wouldn't you think? What possible reason could she have for not coming out in the open about it?"
"Is this the beginnings of a rant?" he teased.
I ignore his attempt to keep our conversation light-hearted, "if you did have someone then that someone doesn't want you back probably because she's deeply hurt that you forgot about her or she thinks you're a git and that you're faking your memory loss so you won't have to break up with her, in which case you'd rather not know about her..."
"It is a rant."
"Or she could be dead or...has been abducted by black robed aliens and unable to communicate with you..."
"Abducted by black robed aliens?"
"Or she knows that it's pointless to remind you about the three months you spent together because you're obviously no longer serious about her and in love with someone else."
I stop, I can feel that my face is flushed and I am upset. Thankfully we are only talking on the phone.
"And the answer to my question is?"
Men are so clueless.
"Have you asked anyone else?"
"Yes. Nobody seems to think so," he answered, "And Ron makes a good point that if that were the case then the gang would have known."
Thanks Ron.
"So why are you asking me?"
"Because if there was anyone who would know for sure it would be you."
I take another big breath in to steady myself. I'm feeling like a yo-yo again. His question is like a glimmer of hope and although I knew it would just be more painful I ask the question anyway.
"Is everything okay?"
"Everything is fine. Well -except for my Healer telling me the memory loss appears permanent."
"Are you happy with Ginny?"
"I'm happy beyond imagin…"
"Then why the fuck does it matter if you were seeing someone else before you married her? Are you going to divorce Ginny if there was someone?"
"No, but I could apologize."
"I'm sure that if there was someone else, your apology would make everything better for her."
"Okay - I get your point..." obviously not, "...but is the language and sarcasm really necessary?"
He was being an ass and he didn't even know it. That was just before I got the invite.
Today I am back in London. I arrive at the Ministry somewhat later than planned and follow the witches, wizards and beings in dress robes heading for the Great Hall. Unfortunately only my death would be an excuse not to come. My best friends are getting married, again, and I have to be here. I am actually part of the ceremony and I am uncharacteristically late, banking on the off chance that they would decide to have it without me.
Ginny asked me to be her maid of honour but I had to decline as images of me wrestling Harry away from her during the ceremony came to mind. I can't trust myself to behave, especially not with so much advanced notice. That and I think it would have been an unreasonable expectation on myself to be intimately involved in the planning of their second wedding.
We negotiate, so I will be one of the bridesmaids. I ditch rehearsal, really, how hard can it be to walk down the aisle and smile all the time? I told her it would be an insult to my intelligence if she forced me to practice. She laughed and I let her think I was joking.
I get to the prep room hoping to see Ginny. She isn't there. My fellow bridesmaids are all ready and before I can even say hi I instantly am attacked by magical groomers who have apparently been waiting anxiously for me. They whisk me away and talk about me like I'm not even there, how I am so late, how I am arrogant not to attend rehearsal, and how I am selfish not to think to get enough sleep so I could look half decent today. Did I not know everyone who was important in the wizarding word was going to be there?
I am riled up as they gang up on me to make me more presentable and I slip into this blue dress that is a couple of sizes too big for me. So I've lost weight in the last couple of months. They argue about how to fix this. Apparently shrinking it would ruin what the dress was meant to look like so they would have to pad me up.
I refuse and now I am being difficult. I am unsure about how much more of this abuse I can take when Mrs. Weasley shows up. She says hullo but I can tell she is stressed. There is some last minute crisis and Ginny wants to talk to me.
When I get to Ginny she is standing in front of a huge mirror, as stunning as any bride should be. The intricately woven white fabric she is wearing flows down her body immaculately with a perfection that one had to see to believe. She is glad to see me, it has been months since we've seen each other, and we hug in the midst of a collective vocal displeasure from the magical groomers as our dresses are ruined between us.
Ginny sends everyone away and once we are alone she looks at me through the mirror with worry in her eyes and admits nervously what isn't obvious, "I can't believe I'm doing this."
I know she means the big crowd and the big production.
"You're about to marry him for the second time. Don't you think it's a bit too late for cold feet?" I joke dryly and she laughs as she agrees.
After a while she tells me, "I love him so much. And I know he loves me."
And because she is waiting for a response I nod and tell her, "I know. You have nothing to worry about."
"Are you happy for us?"
"Of course I am," I answer without even thinking and she seems relieved, "Why are you asking?"
"You haven't said much about us marrying each other."
"I congratulated you," and I think to myself, fuck, isn't that more than enough?
"I guess I was kind of expecting more."
"Like what?"
"I don't know - just more. You were never one to be at a loss for words before," she pointedly tells me. I am at a loss for words now so she continues, "You've drifted and I feel as if you're pushing us away. Harry says it's because of what happened that night, that you still blame yourself - I think it's because you're mad at us for marrying while you were in a coma. Is that the real reason why you refuse to be my maid of honour?"
I have to think about how to answer this. It was a consolation to know that at least they were concerned about her.
"I've had a tough time but I am much better now," I say honestly; I am here and to me that means I am better, "And I'm not pushing you away."
I am trying to stay away - big difference.
"You weren't mad at us for...?"
"Mad, no... I understand, really I do," I tell her sincerely, although it took me a while to get around to doing so, "The Healers had no idea if or when I would wake up. If you were in a coma, would you resent it if I went on with my life?"
"Maybe a tad," she admitted.
I cut through the chase. She has something else on her mind.
"What's going on? This seems hardly the time or place to be having this conversation."
I am right. There was something else.
"Druhilda can't make it; some family emergency," she rolls her eyes to signify just how much she believed her Quidditch team mate. The Seeker wasn't a very dependable person from what I've heard, "I can have the wedding without one and I'll understand if you don't want to, but since you're here anyway, will you be my maid of honour?"
I hear myself saying 'yes' and before I realize what I've gotten myself into I am walking down the aisle hoping I won't trip in front of the close to five hundred 'close family and friends' in attendance. Not that it's any of my business but I had a feeling this isn't the marriage Harry had in mind. Ginny preferred a smaller wedding too but I guess it's a challenge to insist on a small wedding when you're a Quidditch goddess and you're marrying the Boy who saved the world.
The walk takes agonizingly longer than I figure and even more so as I approach the altar. Harry is in a tux looking handsome and composed. Our eyes meet. He frowns at first before he recognizes me and then he smiles.
And for a moment the music slows down for us, it feels like we're alone and I am the bride he is waiting for, as it would have been had things turned out differently. I remember what it was like. It seemed so long ago but I can take myself back easily and feel the warmth of his embrace, sense the tenderness of his touch and taste the sweetness of his kiss. And the best part of it all was that he was my best friend.
The Bridal March echoes through the Great Hall to herald the real bride and his eyes shift past me. I am brought back to reality. My evil self reminds me that he hasn't touched me or kissed me that way for quite some time and he never will. And I don't know if we can have the unquestioning and open friendship we once had ever again. I walk on to my designated spot, dying from this gnawing sensation in my chest.
This hurts. Why I decide to be here to witness this is now mindboggling. I try and comfort myself with the thought that this is part of my healing but I know that's a load of rubbish. Hearing them exchange vows is absolute torture. She tells him her love for him is boundless. I can't listen to his.
I am in tears, which is okay because all the bridesmaids and half the women in the front row are too. It is almost over. The magical cleric is asking if there is someone who knows of any reason why they shouldn't be bound in holy matrimony, to speak now or forever hold their peace. It is tempting, not so much to change the outcome, but to set the record straight.
I look at Harry, his eyes on Ginny's. He is happy. I can't ruin this.
I hold my peace.
Much later, the reception is over and my jaws are sore and stretched to a permanent happy pose. The gang is extending the party at Finnigan's and they insist that I come. I change my earlier plan to leave early and decide to join them, choosing that over dissecting what just happened. I am glad I get to catch up with my friends.
As the couples of the gang depart I end up talking with Ron, about Harry and Ginny for a bit then about his work. I talk about mine. He has to leave too because of some meeting but we promise to be in touch, which knowing Ron, I won't hold my breath. I look around and am thinking about leaving too when the barkeep hands me another margarita.
I look at the man sitting at the very end of the bar who is buying the drink and raise the glass up to him in thanks. I take a sip, he joins me.
"You made it to the wedding after all," I tell him as he sits where Ron was seated earlier, "I thought you were on the bride's veto list."
"Harry wears the pants in the house," he replied simply and I give him a disapproving look which he ignores, "With that many guests crashing the party was child's play. Sorely disappointed though. I was hoping for a catfight or something to break out."
"Sorry," I reply, "I did briefly consider it."
"I didn't think you'd come."
"I did."
"Regrets?"
"None."
"You're a glutton for punishment, you know that?"
"Had to be here. I needed a funeral," I say and I can't look at him because I know that if I do I'd cry.
"Are you okay?"
"I was perfectly fine until you showed up," I quip and he laughs. "You should have stayed in the corner and left me alone."
We laugh about this together, amused at the situation. I find out he has been there for a while.
"Why didn't you join us earlier?"
"Your crowd is intimidating."
I read 'boring' in his mind.
"Shut up."
"And Ronnie wanted to take you home. I didn't want to interrupt."
I think he wants me to say I would have never gone home with Ron. I don't know the answer to that. I change the topic.
"Haven't seen you in a while. Is it that busy out in Southeast Asia?"
He nodded, "I may need some help with a case. How's your load?"
"Light."
"I'll send you specifics when I get back."
We talk shop a bit more. He asks me how my 'slave' is coping and I tell him the more interesting parts. Then after that we don't speak for a while and drink our drinks.
My thoughts wander. The wedding has opened up wounds as fresh and as deep as before and the short ceremony quickly undid the six months I nursed myself to relative wellness. It hurts worse now that it is official that Harry is with someone else and that the permanence of what happened has set in. It frustrates me. I just want to feel better already.
My frustration turns into anger. I am angry at myself for making the deal with Death and I am angry at Harry for not having a strong enough love to overcome it. I am angry at him for making me believe it possible and then marrying someone else. I am angry at him although the reasons I find are not justified. I find being angry with him makes the pain tolerable.
Then I hear music in the background. I don't know what it is but it's slow and sad and drags a dull knife across my chest. My eyes are burning.
"I want to dance," I say out of the blue.
He turns towards me and tells me firmly, "I don't."
"Well, I do, so stop being a prick," I answer with a freedom that I know I can get away with, "What good are you if you're not going to dance with me."
"I'm not a nice guy."
"Pretend."
He reluctantly takes me by the hand. We dance and sway to the music as I listen to the dirge. I don't cry. I refuse to.
It's not going to be like this forever, I tell myself, it has to get better.
He pulls me in closer and we dance more intimately. The closeness hurts because it the closeness I can no longer have with Harry. I bite back the tears as he moves back and swears in his head. I look up, my jaws clenched to keep myself from crying openly and I see him briefly looking down upon me with a tenderness I longed so much to see. It didn't matter that his eyes weren't green but that they were someone's who cared.
I reach for the moment not knowing when or if the moment would ever come again. I only know that I need the moment and I need it now.
He is shaking his head. He doesn't think it's a good idea.
He tells me wordlessly, 'You know what kind of a person I am. You won't handle this well in the morning.'
I reply, 'I can hold my own. What are you afraid of?'
It was a question he asked me once before. He doesn't answer but he is thinking about it. Then something he said before comes to mind. He stays away from damaged goods.
I don't wait. I don't want to wait and hear his rejection. That would just kill me.
I leave and head to my hotel. When I arrive Warren is there by my door in his normal appearance. I let myself in and he follows me into my room.
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Hermione hadn't seen the Hag since the Gaunt case. She didn't even know the Hag had died.
The Hag picked up on her curiosity, "Thought I would live forever, didn't you?"
"Close to forever. Don't evil people have a habit of sticking around?"
"Hah! That's a good one," she complimented.
"How did you die?"
"Peacefully, in my sleep."
"How most unfortunate."
"I didn't suffer."
"That's what I meant about being unfortunate."
"Waterloo, you have certainly gotten better with age. And even in death you're still causing me grief," the Hag said as she hovered a couple of feet from the boat deck.
Hermione smirked, "I don't think I've repaid you nearly enough for the grief you've caused me."
"True," she replied laughing. "Well, what are you waiting for?"
Hermione thanked the Professor, got on the broomstick and kicked off. She flew beside the Hag for a while wondering what they were supposed to talk about.
The Hag spoke, "Ask me the question about Harry."
She did as she was told, "When you came to help us with Gaunt and foretold I would lose our baby even before I knew I was pregnant, did you see I was going to lose him too?"
"Of course."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Would it have changed your decision to go to the Jugular that night to arrest a very dangerous criminal?"
She answered, "I would have thought about it twice."
"You can lie to yourself but you cannot lie to me. You don't believe in predictions, never have and never will. You would have chosen to do what you knew in your heart was right. And you did right. If you had not gone, Gaunt would not have been there, and who knows how many others he would have killed and tortured before someone caught up to him. You would not have forgiven yourself as you still haven't forgiven yourself for the ten who died that night. Just multiply that ten times over," the Hag explained calmly, "Had I told you what else you were going to lose because of the choice you were going to make you would have felt more terrible after, if that is even imaginable. And you would not have become mistress of death."
She found that amusing, "I guess I should thank you."
"You should," the Hag replied admonished, "But you won't because you hate me to my core and don't believe for a moment I was doing you any favours."
"The training? Was that to prepare me to become Death's mistress?"
"Yes. And to understand who Harry is to you and how painful it can be that he will belong to someone else."
"You should have just told me."
"You would have quit sooner than you did. I had to keep you interested."
"Had I not insisted to go ahead with the Gaunt case, Harry and I would have gotten married and we would have had our baby."
"You were at a crossroad and you chose one path over the other. It is quite easy to believe that things would have been better had you done that. But I saw a totally different vision of how things would have gone down. You were harder on yourself then and difficult to bend in so many ways. The guilt of Gaunt still being alive would have killed you, you would have resented Harry for influencing your decision and every other decision he would influence from then on. You would have been unhappy."
"We loved each other. We would have worked things out."
"I wouldn't dwell on that what-if if I were you. Understand this. It was not destined to be. You cannot fight destiny. You were destined to be Death's Mistress but you gave up the Hallows," she scolded.
"It wasn't for me."
"You spurned destiny."
"Your vision of my destiny changed me into someone I didn't want to be," she challenged, "I chose to alter its course because I could."
"You chose to go back and work for the Ministry. Was it your intention to stir up trouble? To make him remember?"
"Of course not. It had been years and I didn't think he would ever remember. I had to find myself, regain my bearings and I am myself the most when I am around him. Everything was fine until he found out about our past."
"Then you ran away from the truth again."
"It was for the best."
"That is a matter of wide opinion. You did realize quite belatedly that there were others you should have considered. And what you've done with the Hallows I would have never guessed. So maybe there is hope for that stubbornness and arrogance of yours. Tell me though," the Hag said in her up to no good tone, "How can you trust the Chameleon to do as you've asked him to do? I called him the Chameleon for good reason."
"He will choose what's right when the time comes," Hermione defended Warren.
"You know what he did with his life after you married," the Hag brought up a very good point, "The Chameleon was the best complement to your Mistress of Death, not Heartbreak, and not your ex-husband. He has powerful and evil tainted blood yes but your choice not to go with the flow affected him rather unkindly. I don't believe you're so naive to think that his backslide wasn't borne partly because of his loss. Are you certain what you feel for him isn't guilt or gratitude disguised as trust?"
"I know him."
"Such certainty is folly when he is not letting you read his entire mind anymore."
"He's back with the Light."
"He may be but for how long?"
"You're the fortune-teller; you tell me."
"Seer."
"Whatever."
"I can't see his future. Of my students he is the one I have mostly foggy visions of, except for the times he was connected with you," the Hag explained, "You have this flaw trusting people you shouldn't and not trusting people you should. Not that I know for sure he would not do as you expect, I'm just not clear why you would have Hugo look up to him more than Heartbreak, who we all can predict will always do the right thing. And it is not surprising that no matter what you do your boy doesn't look up to Heartbreak seeing that you continue to castrate his father right before his very eyes."
"I beg your fucking pardon?"
"You heard me. You have emasculated Heartbreak by continuously excluding him not only from information about what's going on around him but most importantly from having the opportunity to do the decent thing."
"That wasn't my intention!"
"Oh well, we all have good intentions. Between Wulfric, you and that wife of his I'm sure he's fed up with good intentions already," the witch scoffed, "And this from people who supposedly care about him."
The Hag left the conversation at that, leaving Hermione to digest what they just talked about. She hated to admit it but the witch brought up good points.
As if the Hag perfectly timed their trip to end just as their conversation did they touched down on moist grass next to a most unusual waterfall. It was about two hundred feet high, water cascading noiselessly in the opposite direction. Save for the pool before them, they were surrounded by lush trees and plants of varying hues of green. The air was perfectly cool and the silence in it was one she had never experienced before.
"This is where I leave you," the Hag told her and pointed to the pond, "Walk into the water. It will take you back. It was invigorating talking with you as always."
She would never say it was the same for her.
"Hag," she called out just before she stepped into the water.
"Yes, Waterloo?"
"No dreadful parting predictions this time around?"
The Hag laughed, "What does it matter? You wouldn't believe me anyway."
In the blink of an eye the Hag was gone. She walked deeper into the pool and then all of a sudden, an invisible tide swept her in and effortlessly took her upstream. Dry and weightless she felt the rush of freedom as she reached where the water met the sky. At the pinnacle, just as images of the scene began to blur she caught a glimpse of the raging river beside the tranquil lake she was in. Someone familiar was in it. Someone she wished she could talk with.
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The Minister usually woke up 4 am to get a head start. His personal elf usually woke him up. So when Leonidas Jericho woke up and saw it was past 6 he was livid. He shot up from his bed to unexpectedly find that he wasn't alone.
"Good morning, Minister," greeted the wizard coldly.
It was Salazar Malvado's right hand man.
"W-what are you d-doing here?" he stammered, looking around, wondering what happened to his Auror guard.
"They are busy at the moment," the man answered his unannounced question, "Salazar sends his regrets."
He got out of bed and approached warily.
"I want to talk to him," the Minister made it clear, "Not you - him."
"He's busy. He sent me."
"I want him to call off his men. We had a deal."
"The deal was you'd turn over the Hallows quietly and he will spare your precious London."
"I already gave him two of the three!"
"No cloak, no deal."
"I was working on it! But his assassins...!"
"Did as they were told to do," the man showed no remorse, "We thought the POTH was behind the robberies, their means of alerting the Aurors that something was up. And that was a lame idea on your part. Did you really think you'd find the cloak this way?"
"I was given a deadline. I was exhausting all avenues to re-aquire the cloak. You should have asked me first before killing the people I hired."
The wizard's gaze pierced through his thoughts like a knife and he frowned.
"Potter knows you are responsible for the robberies?"
"I told him."
"That wasn't very smart."
"I had no choice. I had it all under control but with the deaths he was bound to find out," he defended his decision, "And I told Salazar to leave the POTH alone."
"They know where cloak is, just as they knew where the stone and the wand were."
"They are bound by the Fidelus. They will not tell. There is no way around that."
"One of them must be the Keeper."
"Granger was smart. If she was not the Keeper then I am beginning to think the Keeper is not one of them. It will be stupid to kill all of them. The cloak will be lost forever."
"Acquiring the cloak has become secondary. It is in our best interest that the POTH be eliminated," the man told him what he already knew, "What are you going to do about Potter? He will expose you."
"Not until he finds out more about what this is all about. I must speak with Salazar. I want his men out of my jurisdiction. And if he cannot promise to finish Potter off then I must act now to protect myself."
"I will relay your message."
The wizard made a move to leave.
"Wait."
"Yes, Minister?"
"I told Potter you sold her out. Potter is going after you."
"Thanks for the late warning. I already know."
Malvado's right hand man left. The Minister breathed a sigh of relief. Things were progressing as expected and all he had to do was sit back and wait. Hopefully Malvado would pay for the grave error he made when he killed Hermione Granger. He thought that it would be the other way around. It was indeed a tall order to rid the world of someone invincible but if there was anyone who could kill the Master of Death it would be Potter. Of course he would have deal with Potter after if he survived.
The Minister was confident that Potter would not make the same lethal mistake Granger made. Potter would know never to trust the man who just left his bedchamber. The Minister could never understand why Granger insisted on trusting Warren Gates.
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A/N. Hope that was clear.
Will skip next few years of the past. The affair is next.