A/N. An all about the past chapter to fulfill some plot requirements. I didn't think it would be this long but I went with the flow and this is where it took me.
Ginny-Hermione conversation as promised. Be gentle :)
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Chapter 48 - A Not So Olive Branch
January 2008
It is midnight when I get out of the Ministry. Seamus just called to say he was on his way home and had to see me right away. I miss him. He was away on a week-long trip to Moscow. I don't know the details but there was a Russian businessman who apparently saw Finnigan's and loved the concept of it so much that he wanted to bring it closer to home, paying Seamus to consult how to set it all up.
I'm glad he called. It gives me good reason to go home. With the Christmas holidays over work has ramped up but there has been so much turnover at Forensics we can't train and hire wizards and witches fast enough. The good news is with five years experience I am now a senior investigator and a team leader, with more cases under my belt than I thought I would have at this point. The bad news is until we replace the retired my team of five is a team of two, and that includes me. It's been crazy busy at work.
I don't mind crazy busy. I love working and hence the reason for my skepticism about being bonded for life to someone. I figured I would die a happy spinster until the flirtation with Seamus turned out into something much more than mere flirtation. I fell hard for him and since both of us have one devout Catholic parent marriage was inevitable.
So far being married to each other is how we expected it would be. He is just like me when it comes to work and we recognize that about each other. Our hours are terrible. We work, work , work then when we get away we party hard (kind of). We have an understanding of what we want and we both have what we want, at least for now.
It is definitely not the kind of relationship my parents had and not what I know most couples strive for. I cannot imagine us in a house with the white picket fence, with 2.5 kids, everyone in pyjamas in bed and lights out at nine. We are in it for the intimate companionship and for the commitment to be partners. As for love; well I hope what I feel for him is IT. I can't pretend to know what true love is but how I feel when I am with him feels better than how I've felt with anyone else so it must be, and I love him until - I guess until I don't. I try not to get too hung up on that possibility. Life is too short and I figure I'll cross the bridge if and when I get there.
I Apparate to the small magical village of Whimsy located east of London and walk the short distance from the Apparition point to where we live. It is completely dark out front so I conclude Seamus must not be home yet. I come in and I turn the lights on, thinking of a warm bath and of him eventually joining me, when I suddenly lose my footing. Thankfully I right myself in time to prevent a face plant.
"What in the...?"
I freeze. A red pool of thick liquid is on my foyer floor and I have to blink my eyes twice to confirm I'm not hallucinating what I've been seeing at work. Based on physical properties I am almost certain it's blood, likely human.
Fighting against instinct to touch it to confirm, I am also fully aware that I am daft to follow the trail of rouge specks. But it seems silly to call the infantry in unless it leads to a dead body, or at least a severely injured one. I do have the presence of mind to bring my wand and my phone, just in case.
I tip toe down the corridor to the back and as I turn the corner I trip over Seamus' broom and other Quidditch gear. I cringe. So much for stealth. I love him dearly but Seamus is such a slob. I must really get on his case about putting his stuff away. I pause for a bit and as nothing seems to have moved in the house I continue on. I reach the stairs and hear voices on the second level. From the bottom step I can see that our guest room door is slightly ajar. Seamus is up there and he sounds panicked.
"You're going to die! And the baby!"
"Don't be so dramatic. She's not going to die," a woman with a foreign accent dismissed, "And don't waste your breath trying to convince her. She's, how do you say in English, thick-headed."
"Maria, just go, I'll be all right," another woman's voice replied, weak but insistent, "You can't get the IMP involved."
"Who says I'm involved? I'm just spending my shift break with an old amiga."
"What about a Healer? Let me get a Healer," Seamus is suggesting as I make my way up the steps.
"Jessie will be here soon."
The woman knows me. Do I know her?
He answers, "I don't think this is something she can handle!"
The one called Maria retorts dryly, "I would lose it too if someone was bleeding all over my furniture."
The other woman laughs and then reassures, "It'll be fine, Seamus. It'll stop bleeding."
"Yes it will, when you run out of blood, then you will really freak everyone out."
I finally get to the door and push it in. Three pairs of eyes are on me as my jaw drops. I see my distressed husband with blood on his hands, the ashen look on his face contrasting with the serene one belonging to the brown skinned foreigner leaning against the window frame. And on the bed is Hermione, a dark red stain is seeping through her robes just beneath her ribs on her left. She is as pale as a ghost.
"Hermione! Oh my God!"
I rush to her side and try to figure out where all the blood is coming from.
"Good," Hermione greets me weakly, "You're finally here."
Seamus is in near tears as he shows me where the wound is.
"Help her, please!"
"What happened?"
"She was stabbed with an Exanguine-laced ice pick," explains Maria.
Exanguine is a rare, expensive poison that prevents blood clotting used by assassins to have someone experience slow death. There is no known antidote.
"Who...?"
"Not important," Hermione dismissed hastily. "How bad is it?"
She knows I've examined her already.
"Your spleen is severely injured! You're bleeding out!" I say with urgency and then I glare at Seamus and ask, "Why didn't you take her to St. Mungo's?"
My husband is too confused to understand the question and it is the other woman who addresses it, "She doesn't want to go there."
"And you are?"
"Maria Ortega, IMP," she motions over to Hermione, "We worked together years ago, long before she decided to go back to the light and um... domesticate."
Her comment made Hermione chuckle. Yes, a domesticated Hermione was quite funny to imagine but this was not the time for jokes.
"Then you know this is a serious injury! Hex her with a restraining spell!"
"I've tried and sadly her wand work isn't half as impaired as her judgment is," was the IMP's annoyingly unconcerned reply, "Not to worry. It will be much easier to get her to proper care when she passes out."
"You wouldn't dare," Hermione threatens.
"You're a pussy not a tigre, Jean," Maria calls Hermione by her middle name, "So, Jessica, how did a smart girl like you end up with Finnigan?"
I ignore her jibe. Their nonchalance to the situation is is disturbing. I try to infuse a sense of urgency again.
"We can't wait for her to pass out! It might be too late!" Maria just looks at me blankly so I turn to Hermione, "This is just plain stupidity! Your spleen needs to be taken out!"
"Then take it out."
"I can't do that!"
"But you've taken out dozens of spleens before," Hermione argues.
"Off of dead beings!"
"Should be the same then."
Argh! Does she not comprehend the big difference?!
Seamus excuses himself and starts vomiting inside the guest bathroom. I take over pressing down on Hermione's wound, not because it helps but because it feels strange just to watch her bleed without doing something.
Hermione encourages me again, "You can do this."
"I could kill you! And the baby! He's still alive but the more blood you lose...!"
Her face lights up.
"I'm having a boy?"
"Yes, you're having a boy," I confirm as she grabs me by the shoulders and pulls me down for a bone crushing hug. I'm thinking, first of all, I'm not a hug person, this is uncomfortable and secondly, my math is shoddy because it seems she is further along her pregnancy than I thought she was. But those weren't important. I repeat, "We have to get you to St. Mungo's!"
Hermione is ecstatic, misty eyed. I don't think she heard that last part.
She turns to Maria and tells her, "I'm having a boy!"
"I heard," Maria replies, "Congratulations. First a girl and now a boy Your husband will be very happy."
Hermione is still smiling, "I'm divorcing him."
"Even better. If you ask me, after procreation, men are more trouble keeping than they're worth. Perhaps Warren will finally get over his little temper tantrum and actually talk to..."
"Enough chit-chat! This is serious!"
Maria rolls her eyes and defends herself, "I was merely trying to make conversation. We haven't talked to each other in a while."
I tell her off, "Can you do that after she's out of mortal danger?"
There is more retching coming from the guest bathroom.
Hermione tries to calm me down, "Relax, I'm not going to die. Just do what you have to do to make the bleeding stop. I'll be fine and the baby will be fine too."
I have to ask, "Why risk your life and your baby's? Why not go to a Healer? Why me, really, and not some other quack in the Alley who could probably do it better than I ever would?"
"Because I know I can trust you."
Hermione is looking at me, pleading but determined to get what she wants. She is certain I can pull this off. I don't know how she knows I'm not going to kill her but she is not going to let this go.
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It is quite late. I just put Rosie to bed and I'm feeling rather tired. Considering it has been only been two weeks since I was stupid enough to get stabbed by someone I trusted, I think I'm recovering okay. Jessie did a marvelous job fixing me up. It is quite unfortunate though that she now knows about my lie and has the burden of my secret.
Rasputin is an idiot. His continued experimentation to communicate with his family has caused so many mishaps and I've just about had it with his obsession with death portals. I still can't believe he accidentally brought back Morpheus Gaunt's spirit from the dead, let him possess a some crook's mind and body for days and then have the nerve to get me to take care of his problem. I didn't buy his 'I didn't know it was him' nonsense for a moment.
I just feel sorry for Seamus, being at the wrong place at the wrong time. He paid more than he bargained for when he thought he was purchasing contraband alcoholic beverages from a long time supplier at a fraction of the market price. The Gaunt-possessed bootlegger recognized an opportunity to blindside me and cowardly used Seamus just like he used Dean. It took a lot out of me to send him back to hell.
The Russian Healer promised to be careful the next time. Unlike my immortality his is not optional but his past human existence was filled with so much regret that he wants to re-live it with his family and he cannot move on until he does. As much as I disagree with how he is using his 'gift' I do feel sorry for him that he considers it a curse. In a way, I see his point and do relate. I do not want immortality either. But after almost a hundred years of trying to perfect this portal, I can't think that he will stop soon.
The bell rings. I'm not expecting anyone and least of all not the person I see at my doorstep. It is Ginny. I wonder what she wants. Maybe I should pretend I'm not home.
She rings the bell again, a bit more hurriedly.
I decide that I might as well have this conversation with her. I can't avoid it forever. I'll just do what I've planned to do; admit I am wrong and admit it with remorse. If I have to say I'm sorry I probably will and hopefully my apology will sound sincere. I swing the door open just as she is about to ring it again, prepared for almost anything.
Her eyes are unreadable but the hard line along her jaw betrays the disgust she is trying to hide.
"May I come in?" Ginny asks.
I don't really want her in my house but I did open the door. I'm hoping whatever it is she came for would be short and sweet. Stepping aside, I open the door as wide as I can to make room for the both of us. She walks in looking perfect, her green robes curving gently over her bulging belly, her red hair neatly tied back without a stray strand. She is about eight months on the way and I feel like a Raggedy Ann beside pregnant Barbie. Once in the sitting room I offer her a seat and a drink and she declines both as I figured she would.
"This is nice," she comments, feigning interest in the stuff around us.
I hate small talk, we both did. It just hit me then just how much I missed my friend, I missed the candidness, the openness to say just whatever and think out loud. It has been five years since we were that and I feel bad for losing it. Sadly things cannot go back to the way they were. I slept with her husband. I would never forgive me if I were her, especially now months later when I haven't apologized. I bite back my tears and cut through the chase before nostalgia hits me again. I blame the hormones.
"Why are you here, Gin?"
"You know."
Her eyes flit down to my belly. It is about the baby. She wants proof or some reassurance that it isn't Harry's. I expected this, that she was going to be the hardest sell, and I've practiced this in front of the mirror a few times.
"It's not Harry's."
"We both know it's not Ron's."
I bring my arms across my chest.
"It's not Harry's," I repeat.
"I saw Jessie today. No, she didn't tell me but she slipped and mentioned your accident in St.Petersburg. Why didn't you see a Healer?"
"None of your business."
"How did you convince my brother?" she is fishing, "He obviously wouldn't agree if he knew the truth."
"You should leave now."
"Tell him."
"The baby is not his. And even if it were what would telling him achieve? Do you want him to leave you?"
I figure a threat, as empty as it is, is in order but I'm not scaring her.
"He may or he may not. He needs to know the truth just like he needed to know the truth when you woke up from that coma years ago. You should have said something. You never learn. If you love him then you should fight for his love."
I don't need to fight for his love. It is mine. It's just that who we are prevents us from being together. I didn't think Ginny would want to hear that so I tell her what she wants to hear.
"He loves you. He chose to stay with you. I've learned my lesson. If my baby were his, it won't change anything," I bring up some truths, "And it's not his."
Finally I frustrate her and she lets me have a taste of how she really feels about me, "Fine. Suit yourself. Play the martyr. Just don't change your mind and come asking for him again."
She leaves that vile insinuation hanging, obviously baiting me to correct her or to bite back. The thing is I was prepared for much worse. I was prepared for her to berate my character and quash my self-respect. This is nothing. When I don't respond she moves towards the door and pauses in front of me. Ginny looks into my eyes and for the first time I see pain mixed with anger and hatred in them.
In a purposely vindictive tone she tells me, "I knew about you and Harry when I asked you to be my maid of honour."
"What?"
"You heard me."
I feel as if my chest and my head are about to explode. Thoughts gush out all at the same time. I think of Harry, I think of what we both went through, I think of Ginny, in her perfect white wedding dress, all smiles, marrying Harry while knowing all along that I lost him by default. She knowingly stole our life away. And here I was feeling bad for her.
"Why are you telling me this now?"
"I want you to stop feeling sorry for me. I want to be fair," she replies now with calmness that I took as arrogance, "In case you were wondering, I told Harry that morning he ended things with you. Harry knows and he forgives me."
That hurt, because he knew and still he stayed with her and also because he didn't tell me. I had the right to know and while I understand that he was protecting her all this time I don't understand how he could forgive her so easily. All this was unexpected.
I glare at Ginny who stares back unruffled, daring me to say something. She is a piece of work. All this time she knew; all the opportunities to tell me and she didn't and she is without remorse. If she wasn't pregnant I would have...
"Get out!"
But she isn't done. She wants to inflict more pain, to share hers no doubt and to see me lose it.
"I'm not sorry. Unlike you I didn't do anything wrong. We were already married when I found out about you and you gave your blessing."
"You're pathetic but I guess you have to think that so you can live with yourself," I hurl hurtful words back at her, "Well I'm not sorry about sleeping with him either."
That strips off some of her composure.
"Good! That makes us even!"
"No, no -" I shake my head as the rest of me trembles from anger, "We're not nearly even! You have no fucking idea what it was like losing him and watching you take him away!"
"Oh, yes I do! He was mine first and twice you did the same to me!"
"Check your facts! I didn't take him from you! Both times your husband came to me!"
I can feel hot tears falling down my face. I can feel the burning sensation of wrath coursing through my veins. I can feel the evil side in me about to take over. I recognize it for I felt it once before. I must make her leave before I do something I will regret. With a wave of my hand the front door swings wide open.
"Get out of my house! Get out of my house now!"
She is wise to listen! The door slams shut the second she steps out! I hear her Disapparate. Anger, frustration, revenge fills every part of me! I want to hurt her so badly! I want her to go through what I went through! I want to take her baby away, then Harry, then whatever else she has left after! Then she'll know exactly how it was like and we can be even!
She wants me to tell him?! I'll call her bluff! I'll tell him! I grab my phone and forcibly enter Harry's number in! It's ringing!
"Hey," he answers.
The sound of his voice slows down the turmoil within me. Our future flashes before my eyes and extinguishes all my vindictiveness for the wife he has decided to give another chance. This despicable taste, this rage, it is poison. Destroying Ginny's life will destroy his and destroying his will destroy our children's and what's left of mine. I realize that as satisfying and sweet revenge will be I will be sending all of us to hell.
My one hand is on the bulge on my belly and I am back in control of my emotions. Yes, Ginny is a bitch. I no longer feel inferior to her or harbour any guilt about the affair but I will not sink down to her level. It isn't about her or about me. It's about Harry and the children. I choke back what I wanted to say.
"Hey," I reply, trying to be casual but he senses the edge in my voice.
"What's wrong?"
I'm hurt enough that I think about not telling him but I have to get this out of my system. I have to hear his side of things.
"Ginny was just here..."
"I'm coming over," he's worried.
"It's okay," I don't want him to come, I don't want to see him, I don't want to see him explain why he forgave her so easily, "We just talked. She told me that she knew about us for a while."
"Let me come over," he becomes more worried.
"No, really. She's fine. I lost it for a bit but she left in one piece," I chuckle at my little joke, hoping it wouldn't sound as serious as it was.
He didn't find it funny, "Hermione..."
"It's fine. She's fine. I hate her, I've lost all respect for her and I almost killed her but she's fine."
"And you?"
"I'm not fine but I'm getting there," I tell him.
He appears at my doorstep despite my telling him not to come. I complain that his listening to me has always been optional.
We talk some more. He listens as I vent my frustration. I still can't believe she did that. I tell him what I almost did to her and he shares what happened between them that morning they ended up in St. Mungo's, how sorry Ginny was and how he came to decide to give them another chance. Thankfully he doesn't try to defend Ginny too much because I would have lost it again had he done that.
As he is telling me I want to tell him Ginny isn't as remorseful as he believes her to be but I am somewhat biased against her and I have a lot to gain if he leaves her. Before today as an outsider I saw the improvement in how they are with each other but after her visit it is more painful to watch him with Ginny now. It was hard before but it is harder to see someone you care about with someone so undeserving.
Had things not been complicated between us and if only things were exactly as they were before I would not hesitate to bring the point up. In the end, him being here, I lost my nerve to ask him why he forgave her so easily. Whatever his reason was it wouldn't make me feel better, potentially make me feel worse and it wouldn't change anything. The fact is he forgives her and I cannot tell him not to.
Maybe it is cowardice that I don't want to hear his answer, maybe it's my attempt at trying to stay out of his and his wife's business or maybe a part of me wants him to be burned by his decision to forgive her for what she did to us. He is so invested in his marriage and his family and though I am angry I can't tell him his wife could be toying with him. I figure that he made his own bed and he needs to sleep in it; her sincerity is something he will have to sort out for himself. For his sake I hope I am wrong about Ginny and he is right.
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May 2010
Hugo turned two a month ago but today is his official birthday. We are at the London Ministry Atrium for festivities. It is coincidentally the 12th anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts and about a thousand beings have gathered here beside the recently completed fountain centrepiece to mark the day Voldemort's reign of terror ended.
It seemed like a good idea at the time to make Hugo's fake birthday be on such a memorable day and while I am not so sure about that anymore it's too late to change it. I gaze down. The proceedings have worn him out and he has fallen asleep in my arms. His sister is sitting on her Dad's lap, wide-eyed, listening attentively to everything. Ron gives me a warm smile. I smile back. He has been the best ex-husband anyone could ever hope for.
Time really flies. I can't believe it has been this long since Voldemort. I had mixed feelings about attending today but I think it is important for Rosie and Hugo to be a part of this and to remember when we are no longer here to do so. I owe it to those who sacrificed their lives years ago.
Kingsley does a speech, as does some of the magical being leaders. Post Voldemort and under Kingsley's leadership we have made some progress in being rights but we have a long way to go. Jurnuk the Goblin is a warrior and has been battling some members of the Wizengamot who are dead-set against the push for being equality. It was good to see Grawp, Hagrid's brother, coming into his own as spokesperson for giants and I was in tears from pride when Winky took the stand and shared what it has been like for her since Dobby died and how the new laws on elfin rights and organizations like the OFE have been instrumental in getting her to where she is now.
Winky is an entepreneur. She owns a company that offers services on anything that has to do with homemaking, from house cleaning, to cooking, to gardening, to repairing, to designing. While her employees are mostly free elves she has opened up work opportunities for other magical beings. She is no longer the distraught Winky, the drunk who thought her life was over after she was given clothes. She has a new sense of purpose to help her fellow beings, she says, inspired by her friend Dobby. I am just so happy for her.
Harry is introduced as the next speaker. I heard he was going to talk today and that surprised me considering he has declined to do this year after year. I wonder what made him change his mind. He looks well. I see he has brought his entire family here too. Al, four, sitting on a seat beside his dad's, his bright eyes following his father to the stage while his older brother James is mischievously tickling the back of his ear. James gets a reprimand from his grandmother Molly who has two year old, Lily, on her lap. And Ginny of course. She hasn't said a word to me since coming to the hospital to confirm her suspicion and telling me to tell Harry about Hugo. Ginny is respecting my wishes and has kept her word about staying out of my and Harry's business, probably for her own good.
Save for Christmas Eve dinners at the Burrow I've managed to stay clear of the Potters for the past two years. In August 2008, after turning over my remaining projects to a capable replacement, I left Kingsley's staff to work with Brian Figg at the Organization of Free Elves. In a span of about a year and a half, we have established charters in six major cities and ten magical towns. We have also been in talks with the Brotherhood of Goblins and the Giant community leaders to look into customizing the OFE programs for their needs.
My thinking about my life and where I stand vis-a-vis Harry changed dramatically once I had Hugo. I think it is with both pride and fear that I am staying away from him. Pride because each day I stay away I prove to myself that I can have a life without him and fear that if I am around him long enough I'll lose my resolve and tell him about Hugo. All I want is for Hugo to have a happy childhood. I believe in my heart that what I'm doing is best for my son.
The crowd has gone silent. Everyone is watching Harry and he scans the audience. He sees me a few rows down and holds my gaze for a second before folding up the parchment he had intended to read from and puts that in his robes pocket. He's going to wing it. This is going to be interesting.
He speaks clearly, "As Kingsley, Jurnuk, Grawp and Winky were speaking I looked at your happy and satisfied faces. It is great to see progress and we are here to celebrate the gains we made. We should celebrate the gains that we made.
"But it is so easy in moments like today to sit back, pat ourselves on the back and be lulled into complacency. So I would like to take a moment to remind us all that there is still so much work to be done.
"The enemy remains, lurking within the shadows of our contentment and ready to pounce on every opportunity it sees. How quickly we forget that the fight against Voldemort was not only a fight against evil but one against prejudice, bigotry, discrimination and intolerance.
"Last week two free elves were refused service in a restaurant in Diagon Alley citing the restaurant had a wizard and witch only policy. Two days after, a similar incident in Glasgow involving a Muggleborn was in the news. And we all heard about the goblin who is currently on trial for disarming a wizard after being maliciously hexed and using the wand on its owner."
Harry waved his wand and a white tarp materialized in our midst. Slowly, one by one, images of those who suffered and died fighting against Voldemort and the Death Eaters passed across the screen, ordinary lives interrupted by something so senseless; James and Lily Potter, Professor Dumbledore and his brother Aberforth, Sirius and Regulus Black, Cedric Diggory, Fred Weasley, Colin Creevey, Professor Lupin, Ted and Nymphadora Tonks, Dobby, Hedwig, Professor Snape, Professor Moody, the Longbottoms, the Prewetts, the Weasleys, the Bones, the Abbotts, followed by countless other wizarding families who fought against Voldemort. Then amongst the collage I see my parents, unknown to most people in the room but they are up there on the screen too. There are so many more pictures that follow but my eyes can't see through the tears anymore. I don't have to look around to know that there is not one being in the room who isn't crying. Even Harry is.
"I want you to look at all these faces, remember their lives, remember their sacrifice, remember them because if not for them we will not live the way we live right now. It has been years since most of them were last with us. Let us not do them a disservice by letting our memories of them fade away. Let us not forget what they suffered for. Let us not forget and stay the course."
Harry is finished with his speech but his message hangs in the air. In all this time Hugo has woken up and begins clapping his tiny hands, breaking the silence. Others follow suit and in time everyone is on their feet and the Atrium is filled with applause. Ron sees me struggling and takes Hugo from my arms as I try to compose myself.
The ovation eventually dies down and after Kingsley's dedication of the Fountain of Hope to the heroes of the war he invites everybody to the event reception. Ron has gone on with Rosie to the Great Hall and as I am getting Hugo ready I feel a familiar touch on the small of my back.
"Hey."
I turn. It is Harry.
"Hey."
"Where's Ron?"
I motion over to the buffet tables and joke, "Merlin forbid he's not first in line."
He laughs then notices who I'm with.
"Hey, Hughie."
I hate it when people call him that but somehow I don't mind so much when Harry does it.
"Say, hi."
Hugo waves his hand.
"May I?"
He lifts Hugo up before I can even answer.
"Wow, you've grown. I hope you're not giving your Mum trouble."
"No he hasn't. He's a sweet kid."
Harry frowns and quips, "Somehow I can't picture either you or Ron as being sweet kids. Must have skipped a generation or two."
I feign being insulted but he laughs that I can't keep a straight face.
Hugo finds the parchment from his pocket and is playing with it. Harry let him.
"How are you?" he asks.
"Okay. And you?"
"I'm fine."
I have to tell him, and it takes a lot not to cry again as I do, "That, what you just said up there, and my parents, thank you."
He shrugs, "No. Thank you. It was long overdue."
"You should have warned me you were going to do that."
"Sorry. It was kind of last minute," Harry looks past me and smiles and waves at Kingsley's speech writer who is not too happy. He says through his teeth, "I'm sure I'm going to hear about it from Kingsley. I was told to be more upbeat."
He transfigures the parchment into a toy airplane and charms it for Hugo's entertainment.
"It was perfect," I assured him.
"Thanks. But that should teach them not to make me do something like this again."
The toy airplane zooms between us and I follow it with my eyes.
"Or not trust you to read a speech off a parchment."
"Well, it definitely had a lot of hot air in it. Makes a good airplane."
We have a chuckle and soon the Minister is beside us.
"Just the two people I wanted to speak with," Kingsley announced and upon noticing Hugo in Harry's arms added, "The little man can join us too."
I notice Harry's discomfort as Kingsley says to me, "I've been meaning to talk to you about the OFE. Brian says only wonderful things about you. He mentioned that things have settled down and that you aren't as busy as you were before."
Kingsley knows that I have quite a lot on my plate but he wants something from me, "Let's cut to the chase, Minister. What is it that you want me to do?"
The Minister rolls his eyes, "Hermione, you spoil all my fun."
He pauses and looks around. I feel an Impertubatus sphere come around us and Kingsley begins to speak.
"I need you back here, in London."
"Why?"
"To help me fight politics."
"That's hardly an attractive recruitment incentive," I comment.
Kingsley laughs, "You did say to cut to the chase."
"What's going on?"
The Minister explains. He needs someone who knows the magical law system very well, someone he can trust. As Harry alluded to, many are going back to the old ways, particularly within the Ministry and the opposition, sensing waning support for Kingsley, is eating away at the gains of past years, most notably the changes in laws regarding rights and equality.
"The deputy head MLE spot is currently open. You'll need to apply for the job and go through the selection committee," Kingsley is annoyed that he is not as free to create and fill positions without Wizengamot approval anymore. "I'll be honest. Some of what I'm asking you to do isn't part of the Deputy's job."
"Let me get this straight," I summarize, "You want me back to play politics and not get paid doing it?"
"Precisely."
I hesitate, thinking of what excuse to give Kingsley, "You know it's not the money or the work."
"Harry," Kingsley prompts him.
He looks at me. He wants me to do it but senses my lack of eagerness and understands. When I told him I had taken the OFE job he didn't ask any questions. He leaves it up to me.
"It's your call."
Kingsley is not pleased at Harry's lukewarm persuasion and tells me to take a week to decide. The rest of the day I think of who else can be the Minister's eyes and ears in the MLE and do a good job of it. I really think I can help without necessarily being at the London Ministry. Really, I don't want to change my life again, not if it means complicating things.
Then I have an odd conversation with Ginny at the Burrow during Hugo's birthday party later that afternoon. I am watching the kids play games in the backyard when she walks up beside me and starts talking.
"You should take the MLE job."
Odd first words considering we haven't spoken since the day Hugo was born. Over the past two years I've taken a less unkind view of her. I pity her that she did what did to be with the man she loved. I could certainly relate to crossing lines I never thought I could to be with mine. And even though she never said she was sorry I think she is paying dearly for the mistake she made.
On some twisted level, I forgive her even though she hasn't asked for forgiveness. All that anger was just difficult to live with and I had to let it go. But I haven't forgotten what she made me go through and her abrupt out-of-the-blue meddling annoys me.
"I don't recall asking you for advice."
"They need you," she presses on.
Somehow, the more she pushes for it the less I am inclined to accept. Why she thinks telling me to take the job on her say-so will make me take the job is befuddling.
"I'm not indispensible. They can find someone else."
I take a few steps away hoping she will go away but she is persistent.
"Harry needs you. You're indispensible to him."
I lose patience with her mind games and without raising my voice say to her, "What the fuck does that mean?"
"It means he needs his best friend to help him continue what he was talking about today. He needs someone to watch his back," she answers still without emotion, "And you still need to tell him about his son."
I am speechless. Who does she think she is? I don't want to get into a shouting match with her in front of family and not during my son's birthday party. Maybe this is what she is counting on.
She continues, "Don't think for a moment that it is easy for me to talk you into coming back and I know that while you don't care that it isn't easy you care about him and you care about Kingsley's Ministry."
"I already have a job that I care about."
I move once again. She follows me and makes a more earnest attempt to make me listen.
"Look, I know why you don't want to come back. I understand. Pride is a bitter pill to swallow. I'm just saying that if you care about him and about equal rights a fraction of how much you lead him to believe then you will do this."
I finally look straight at her, trying to figure out where the knife will come from and when. Or maybe this will be the knife; swallowing my pride every day for a front row seat to the life I wanted for myself knowing that I will never have it. Thanks but no thanks.
"I don't have to prove anything, especially not to you," I tell her.
What she says next is something I don't expect.
"Why do you think it took twelve years for him to finally talk to that crowd? He sees it happening, he feels that it is slipping away and he senses the urgency," she confirms what I suspect, "You're the best person for the job. Everybody knows that. He wants you to take it but he doesn't have the heart to ask it of you. So I'm asking for him."
"You don't know that."
"Please, give me the benefit of at least knowing him as well as you do."
"Does he know you're doing this?"
Ginny is amused by my question, "Do you think if he did he'd let me?"
"What if it happens again?" I challenge her.
"I trust you," she answers like she means it.
"That's just stupid," I tell her frankly, "You shouldn't."
"Okay," she pauses for a moment then says to me, "I trust him. He came back to me once before so I wouldn't keep my hopes up if I were you."
As she says this I don't detect a hint of malice. She knows how things stand and like me she is calling it as it is. I ask myself why she's doing this. What could she possibly gain by having me come back to work with Harry? She guesses my confusion.
"I'm doing this because this has nothing to do with what happened, because this is more important. And don't you think it's about time we moved on?"
"I am moving on."
"So stop running away," she chastises my behaviour with frankness that I've always known her to have, "Not everything is about you and Harry. Do what you know is right."
She has made her points and is about to go back to the house but not before one last parting shot, "You do know we will never be friends again."
I answer, "I'm glad we're clear about that"
Later on that night, I lie in bed thinking about Kingsley's proposal and Ginny's not so olive branch. What Ginny said was spot on. This has nothing to do with what happened, not everything is about me and Harry and there are things that are above us. I have to do this to live with myself.
Coming back could complicate matters. I still feel very strongly about not having Hugo grow up as Harry's illegitimate child. I am sticking with my plan to wait, to tell Hugo and his father once I think he is old enough to understand what it means and strong enough to endure what is to come. And when that time comes I plan not to be needed at the Ministry because nothing, not even this, is above my children. Nothing is above my son.
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A/N. Two conversations for the price of one.
Harry and Hugo and more of the present next.