A/N. Your patience is admirable. RL has just been brutal lately.
I will be imposing on your patience even more. This chapter is about the last time Hermione and Harry were in London four years ago. This is the last chapter I will write about the past (I really hope I keep my word on that). I wanted to have a version of the post DH one shot Sacrifice in Harry's POV then the chapter just grew into this long back story of how things stood between them before Hermione left London. It took so long to write because Harry always gives me such a hard time. :J If he seems to have a split personality here it was intentional lol!
Does the chapter advance the plot in any way? No. It's an entirely optional read. I know many will hate me for taking so long to post and then post something like this. My apologies for making you wait one more for the present stuff.
XXXXXXXXXX
Chapter 52 - Four Years Ago
31 July 2017
"Happy Birthday!" a blonde in a striking red dress greets me, her voice carrying over the music playing at Finnigan's.
She leans forward and gives me a kiss on the cheek, showing more of her as she does. Ron, who happens to be standing beside me, has quite a view and almost chokes on his drink. Her name is Brigid Tinkerfinkle, gossip columnist for the Prophet. I welcome her and her escort, Prophet Editor-In-Chief Lance Elliot, pointing them over in the general direction of where I last saw Ginny entertaining some guests.
"Bloody hell," my red headed friend swears, his sights following the witch off to where Ginny is, "How come nobody like that ever comes to my birthday parties? And all I get are hugs and kisses from smelly old relatives and batty neighbors."
"I'll tell Ann to invite her to your next one," I answer him.
"Fat chance she'll say yes. I don't know why that woman still doesn't trust me after five years."
"Probably because you actually want scantily clad half-Veela witches you don't know to come to your birthday party," I point out.
Ron ignores what I said, "You can't possibly see it my way. It's so bloody unfair that my sister trusts you unconditionally."
I look at the huge crowd. Most of them are from the Ministry, some from the Prophet and a handful of the Hogwarts gang. I don't like parties for myself; never have, never will. The night is still young. I can't wait for this to be over.
"Pull your face up. She's looking this way," Ron nudges me from the back with the warning.
I look across the room at Ginny with an attempt to feel more upbeat. The charade is pointless. My wife has, over time, gotten to know me better. In the last hour, tired of playing appreciative host, I've been inching my way towards my kind of crowd. She returns to her conversation with a Wizengamot neophyte, Gilderoy Quackster, or I think it's him. (I'd sooner remember a crook's face than a politician's, although Hermione had pointed out during one testy proceeding that some Wizengamot members were the worst criminals.)
I sigh. Ron slaps me a couple of times on the back to, "Cheer up, mate. It's not like she's going to give you a hard time. It's your birthday."
I nod. Ginny never does. It just makes me feel bad knowing she tries so hard. This social aspect of my job is my least favorite part of it. I'd rather do without it all together. I get it that it's necessary. I told her I'd be fine with almost anything but a big fuss birthday party. But she firmly believes that being Head Auror there is no escaping it so today, a big fuss birthday party is exactly what I'm having. It's very important to her that I do, at least more important than it is to me to not have one.
"I haven't seen Ann. Is she coming?" I ask Ron about his better half.
He motions over to the bar with a somewhat surly expression on his face. Ann is with the gir - women of the gang engaged in very animated conversation. Ernie, Neville, Seamus and Terry join us, pints in hand, with the same disapproving look Ron is wearing. Even though Ginny isn't with their wives I feel for them. With our busy lives the gang rarely meets outside of family and kid parties but when our thirty-something wives get together and let loose like tonight, things can get kind of um - out of control.
"What do you think they're talking about?" Terry asks insecurely, as Padma laughs with Jessie and Hannah.
"They're comparing notes on us, what else?" Seamus pouts.
"We should do the same thing to them, make them know how it feels, show them we can play their game too," Ron rallies the troops. We all look at him like he's gone mad. He eventually sees the futility of his suggestion, "Fine. So we can't fight their fire with fire."
"It's just not fair."
"It sucks."
"Yup."
"Big time."
We answer one after the other, bringing the comfort of ice cold ale to our mouths. Typically our pouting lasts briefly. We have very short memories and realize that no matter how good we are, our partners will always compare notes and there will always be something they will want us to work on, in plain view or otherwise. We aren't husbands if we aren't works in progress.
The women, used to us being pre-occupied with our own diversions (I.e. Quidditch), are oblivious to our scrutiny. They suddenly burst out giggling like school girls. Susan appears to be chairing the meeting and was directing their attention to the packed dance floor. We all assume the same but are too proud and maybe a tad insecure to check out who they are checking out.
"Susan in between boyfriends again?" Terry asks.
"Desperately seeking. She wants a mature, sensitive, man in his thirties, preferably someone who doesn't own a pair of tidy-whities," Neville rattles off, then adds somewhat embarrassed about his knowledge of details, "I overheard her and Hannah talking - many times."
Seamus had enough, "We should break them up before she does irreparable damage to our women."
"Good idea," Terry replies and starts walking towards the bar declaring, "I'm not giving up my right to wear white underwear."
Susan, mostly by happenstance and sometimes by choice, lives kind of a 'wild' single's life. She is an open book. Her married girlfriends experience situations vicariously through her and more often than not her tales cause some revelation to her friends that they are missing something in their marriages, which invariability would be their husband's shortcoming. It isn't all bad. Sometimes the new knowledge does spark dry dead wood in her friends' long term relationships.
I notice Ron hanging back.
"Are you coming?" I ask.
With a deep frown, his gaze is glued to a couple on the dance floor. I follow his stare and the sight jars me for a second. It has been ten years but I still get momentarily winded everytime I see her with another bloke. Logical thought usually follows, along with a deep-seated, gut wrenching reality check which almost always sets me straight.
"She looks like she's happy." Ron states matter-of-factly.
Ron sure is in some weird mood tonight. I see Hermione smiling up at her dance partner as the latter holds her in his arms. It is an irritating sight and I feel my face flush on its own accord.
Inarguably, Ron is right. Tonight she looks like she is happy. She'll be floored when she finds out Ron noticed. He breaks my train of thought.
"Josh seems a nice enough bloke."
"Uh-huh."
"What does he teach?"
"Art and music to inner city troubled youth."
At least that's how the guy advertises himself. It's quite ingenious of him actually. It's instant likeability and acceptance. I just can't think why Hermione allows him to lie about something like that.
"A pair of bleeding hearts. He's perfect for her."
Conveniently perfect. I bring my mug to my mouth and take in a large gulp.
Ron continues, "She says they're just friends."
"Maybe they are."
"He's based in New York. Seems like an awful long way to come from just to see a friend."
Ron sometimes unwittingly comes up with good insight.
"Seems like," I answer back.
"This is the fifth time they've gone out. That's kind of a record for her. Do you think he's it?"
I have to have another drink. Actually, this particular guy and Hermione have been 'going out' on and off for years. And I seriously doubt that he's it because if he were, they'd have settled down ages ago. I tell Ron what I think.
"I don't think so."
"Well, I hope he's it," Ron confesses, which coming from Ron speaks a lot about how much he's matured, until he opens his trap and says something like, "I don't like seeing her with different men. I wish she'd settle down with one. It can't be good for Rosie or Hugo, growing up, seeing their Mum like this."
"What do you mean?"
"You know," Ron stammers, "That she has been with, you know...so many...like she's..."
"If you say 'scarlet woman' I am going to deck you," I say to him such that there isn't a shred of doubt that I mean it.
"I wasn't going to but geez, you're more sensitive about it that she is."
Ron can still be such an ass when it comes to women he cares about. In my opinion there's nothing wrong with what Hermione is doing. She is free to date whoever she wants, whenever, however and for however long. Unlike Ron I recognize the lack of merit of Hermione 'settling down' and conforming to some expected norm just so people, particularly exes, wouldn't judge her. I feel the need to defend her.
"She'll settle down if and when she decides to settle down," I tell him and the part of me who needs to hear it, "Maybe she prefers being on her own. Whatever makes her happy."
"I suppose you're right," he pulls back.
I'm still a bit ticked, "And there hasn't been that many."
That was to get Ron off her case and maybe to make me feel a bit better. I don't know the exact number of men she has gone out with apart from the various versions of 'Josh' and I don't know what would qualify as 'so many'. I meant what I said about being supportive of whatever makes her happy but this particular aspect of her happiness does always elicit a Dr. Jekyll-Mr. Hyde reaction within me.
Sometimes, in spite my defence of her choice to remain unattached, I do wish that she'll settle down, but for reasons entirely different from Ron's. I want her to find someone she'll allow into her life completely. She deserves to be loved. And, as painful a thought as it is, I want her to find someone who loves her who she can love back like she once loved me.
A couple of years ago, annoyed at how Jessie kept setting her up with 'good men of faith', I overheard her rant about how she doesn't have to be with someone to be happy. She saiid that happiness does not exclusively happen within the confines of a meaningful relationship and pointed out that being in a meaningful relationship does not always translate into happiness. She was speaking from experience.
She has a good point but I have always been of the opinion that while happiness can exist outside of a meaningful relationship, there is nothing like happiness within one; and I'm speaking from experience too. She obviously does not remember the time we were together the way I do. It bugs me that she doesn't but there's not much I can do to change what she thinks.
I blame myself for her lack of interest in commitment and although it's her choice it's hard to be completely okay with it. I feel responsible that she's short changing herself on the basis of one asshole and that she'll miss something big even when it's staring her right in the face.
But there is also a part of me, the 'Mr.Hyde', who selfishly doesn't want her seeing other men at all, particularly the one she's with right now. On the one hand I understand she has physiologic necessities but on the other hand rational thinking can only take me so far. Jealousy is such an untamable beast, unmindful of my lack of right to feel so. I think it's because it grates on me that she has needs I can't fill.
It has been a decade to the day since 'us'. I still love her of course, cursed horse and all. I finally understand what she meant about that. I love her with a love that requires nothing to exist; I don't have to see her, I don't have to spend time with her, I don't have to say that I love her and I don't have to hear her say she loves me. It's a love that cares not that there isn't anything to look forward to and it's one that expects nothing in return. And although I miss being with her it's the kind that doesn't even need the intimacy one would think is necessary to keep love like this going. It defies reason; it defies common sense. My love for her is above all that. It just is, cursed because it can't ever be fully expressed to the one person I would like to express it to the most.
I have pretended I don't care about her that way. I can lie to the rest of the world but I can't lie to myself. Although I don't feel raging, primal desire every time I see her there are times when I do want her. Certain triggers, like a careless touch, an intrusive memory, or seeing her with another man, set it off.
While I realize what kind of a husband that makes me it is beyond me to change how I feel. It is my recognition of my love for her that keeps me sane through bouts of longing and keeps me steadfast about the choice that I made. The memories of those days have jaded somewhat, even some of the reasons why we are where we are but the anguish I put her through remains as potent a reminder. I swore to myself, to her and to Ginny that I would never cross that line again.
I don't think about the 'what could have been' anymore. It won't change what is and not thinking about it is the only way we can get our friendship back to where it once was. Right now we're close friends, partners in the fight against different sorts of evil. Most days I am at peace with that. And during the days I'm not, I remind myself that I have so much in my life to be thankful for.
Ron taps my shoulder and starts making his way through the crowd. I follow him, thanking other well wishers on our way to the gang. Hermione and her date are now at the bar too.
"Josh," Ron extends his hand.
The other man takes it and Ron pulls him aside to engage him in 'man' talk. He gives me a look, motions me to distract his ex-wife. I turn to Hermione.
"Drink?"
"Yes," she repllies.
I motion the bartender over. He takes her order and I ask him for another pint. We take the empty seats at the far end of the bar where we are somewhat obscured from plain view by the rest of the gang and have a bit of privacy.
"How are you holding up?" she asks, accepting the margarita from the barkeep and takes a generous sip.
"Are my gums bleeding yet?" I reply as the bartender hands me my refill.
She chuckles and says, "It's not that bad."
"I'll throw you a party in September."
She hates birthday parties for her as much as I hate them for me. She's wondering if I'm serious.
"You wouldn't dare."
"I just might," I tease her but I can't contain my grin. I wouldn't do that to her, "How was the trip back?"
She was just in Perth and still travels Muggle whenever she visits her Mum.
"Not bad."
"Kids having fun at Grandma's?"
She tells me how they've taken up surfing and how both are way much better at it that she ever will be. Her face glows as she talks about Rosie and Hugo. They mean the world to her. While I'm listening I do notice something a bit off about her but I can't place a finger on it - yet.
"All set for the Bahamas?"
She deflects our conversation over to me. She does this sometimes when something is up and she doesn't want us talking about it. I decide to give her space, for now.
"Ginny and the kids leave tomorrow. I'll be joining them Thursday, maybe Wednesday if I'm lucky."
"How long will you be gone?"
"Three weeks. Ron and Ann are coming next week with Rosie."
"I heard. Whenever she talks about Quidditch camp she talks about how this year she's going to 'kick Al's butt', her words not mine," she throws up her hands in exasperation, "Honestly, if she didn't look so much like me I'd have doubts she's mine."
"She's just psyching herself up for her Seeker rematch against Al. It's normal," I try to convince her that it's not a big deal.
It always amuses me how Rosie gets to her so easily with the littlest things when she can keep it together dealing with the worst jerks she meets on the job. Rosie is stubborn and opinionated like her, but also inherited Ron's lack of sensitivity about many important things, which drives Hermione nuts.
"Normal? At eleven?"
"She's precocious. It's her competitive nature which she gets a double dose from you and Ron."
"That doesn't give her the excuse to be rude. Promise me you'll teach her and the others proper manners at your camp."
"I always do. We came up with this pamphlet, Quidditch Etiquette. It tells Beaters to keep Bludgers off all players, Chasers to try not to score too much, Keepers to allow Quaffles to go past them once in a while and Seekers to always have a good clean chase after the Snitch. After all, the camp vision is to tell kids that Quidditch is not a contact sport."
"Charming," she replies at my attempt at humour.
She has valiantly resisted the urge to start a diatribe against wizarding worlds most favourite past time. Too bad - I miss her rants.
"Hugo is welcome to come too, you know."
"He can't. He's attending this Muggle sports summer camp his school friends are going to."
"Never played it myself but I hear cricket is awesome, and all that fun he'll have with croquet. He must be excited."
"Pardon me for what I'm about to say O most arrogant Quidditch god has-been," she smirks and makes what she firmly believes is an excellent point, "Just because the likelihood of ending up in a hospital is less in cricket or croquet, it doesn't mean they are lesser sports than Quidditch."
I chuckle; I'm getting my rant after all.
"I beg to disagree and I feel it my duty, as Quidditch god has-been, to address your ignorance. We can spend the entire night talking about all the other reasons why Quidditch rocks over any other sport in the world."
"Hmm," she grins over her drink, "I think we've actually done that."
"Yeah, you're right," I just remember the fond memory. It was some time ago, "But Hugo is going to croquet camp instead of Quidditch camp. It's obvious we have to do it again."
"Right. Well, for your information I did not force Hugo to sign up," she corrects my erroneous assumption, then continues, "He begged me to let him do this and I couldn't say 'no.' And it's not exactly cricket or croquet he wants to join. His friends are into rugby and football."
Her face scrounges up as she mentions that and I have to laugh. Hermione is rarely fazed by anything with the exception of perceived dangers to her children, however unfounded they may be.
"It's not funny," she protests, quite worried, and justifies her anxiety to me, "He's so skinny. You should see him beside his Muggle friends. He could be badly hurt. I told him he's out of there the second he gets injured."
"He'll be fine," I try to reassure her, leaving out the part that knowing that, Hugo should be smart enough not to tell her he's hurt if he can avoid it.
"That's what Ron keeps saying. Why is it that you men are so cavalier about contact sports?"
"Because we're men and we're tough," I smile as I get the very reaction I wanted from her even though she knows I'm just doing it for that, "Look at it this way. At least Hugo won't be seventy-five feet off the ground trying not to fall off a broom or crash."
"Gee, thanks. Now I'll worry about Rosie too."
"Admit it. You were going to worry anyway," I swing my arm over her shoulder and give it a brief squeeze to reassure her, "They'll be fine. And they're only young once."
"You're right," she sighs with acceptance, "They grow up so fast. I can't believe Al and Rosie are going to Hogwarts in September. Which reminds me. She now insists on being called 'Rose' and not 'Rosie'."
"Time flies," I agree, "And it will be Lily and Hugo in two years."
At my mention of our youngests I sense her tense up. I see the same conflict within her that I saw earlier and I don't let it pass this time.
"Okay. What's wrong?"
"What do you mean?"
"Something's bothering you," I reply and as she is about to deny it I add, "Don't lie to me. You're busted."
She pretends to complain, "Can you at least pretend to not know and let me lie anyway?"
I'm not falling for any of your diversionary tactics," I tell her.
"You do realize that with age you've turned into an annoying nag."
"I learned from the best. Cough it up."
"I will not let you bully me into a conversation just so you can avoid talking with other guests in your party," she is right and knows it too.
"Good one but I'm not falling for the guilt trip either," I am firm with her, "I won't stop asking until you answer. What is it?"
She looks at me as if gauging if she should tell me or not, then decides.
"Not tonight."
"Yes, tonight," I insist.
"I promise I'll tell you. Just not tonight."
She's now serious, and I can only conclude one thing.
"It's that bad?"
"It's your birthday. Not tonight," she repeats, saying as much.
Whatever it is it's probably about her kids. She said she'd tell me and I know she will so I let it go. Her attention shifts to Ron and her date, her eyes narrowing as she realizes what Ron is doing.
"For Merlin's sake!" she hisses.
I take Ron's side, "He's just concerned."
"I preferred it much more when he didn't care. This marriage to Ann is making him all soft and caring and it's so -," she tries to find the word.
"Not like him?" I help her out.
"Precisely."
"He's just looking after you."
"I'm a grown woman. I don't need looking after."
"Everybody needs looking after," I correct her.
That stumps her momentarily, maybe even annoys her a bit. She's stubborn about her independence and believes being looked after, especially by a man, impinges on her ability to fully exercise it.
"I'm not everybody," she replies, looking me straight in the eye, her way of telling me to back off.
She gets this way whenever we come close to talking about her relationships with other men or the old us. Lately, I've been tempted to push back. It is the one topic that has remained off limits between us and I want us to be able to eventually talk about it as openly as we used to.
I'm thinking about challenging her point about not needing someone to look after her. I want to remind her of the sobbing woman I held in my arms years ago, upset at the possibility of growing old without someone she'll love who'll love her back. I can't imagine that Hermione being totally gone.
But I can't summon the courage to bring up the past. I don't want to go there for fear that I might end up saying things that will make her think I haven't completely let go. And I prefer to believe that she is over me, that it's not the reason why she can't commit herself to another man.
"Right," I back off, "Let him any way. It makes him feel better."
I chug the rest of my beer and ask the barkeep for firewhiskey. I'm disappointed in myself. I'm such a coward.
A tipsy Susan interrupts us, "Hey Hermione. You don't mind if I ask Josh for a dance or two, or three, do you?"
Ernie, Seamus and Terry have joined Ron. It's a full blown interrogation.
"Not at all," Hermione assured her, "You'll be saving him from the English inquisition."
"I think 'Josh' is enjoying the challenge," I state the obvious, ignoring her glare.
We watch Susan lead the 'teacher' onto the dance floor. I shake my head in disapproval.
"What?"
"That's just not right."
"They're just dancing," she sees nothing wrong with it, "He's harmless. He knows my friends are off limits."
"He should have come as himself."
"This is too public. I have enemies he'd rather maintain working relationships with and vice versa."
"If that's his reason for the charade then he's an asshole."
That was the firewhiskey talking.
She gives me an admonishing look for the name-calling, "Actually, it's mine. And he's a kid at heart. He secretly likes playing dress-up. Besides that, Ginny gets pissed whenever he's around."
The details make my gut churn. Does she have to go on and on about him? My hand lifts the shot glass to my mouth and I tip my head back. The drink burns all the way to my stomach, quashing the unpleasantness within it. I motion the barkeep for a refill.
I can't help but say it.
"He'll always be a jerk when it comes to women."
She agrees, "Yes, he is rather consistent that way."
It bugs me how she can be okay about that. Warren is not good enough for her and she's settling because he's convenient, because like her he doesn't care about commitment. That really bothers me and it bothers me why it bothers me so much. It shouldn't because she's getting what she wants. I assume it is what she wants. Maybe I just need to hear her say it, to reassure me he's not taking advantage of her.
"If you know he's a jerk then why do you even go out with him?" I manage to ask in a neutral tone.
She thinks about it for a second then answers, choosing her words carefully, "Because he's a good friend and he's good company."
Mr. Hyde surfaces, snarks in my mind, 'A good friend. Right. Heard that one before.'
I suppose that's how she wants to see it. I didn't really expect her to admit that she and Warren are friends with fringe benefits, or maybe that's what she means by good company. My jaw tenses up. I'll continue to be a hypocrite until I can make myself be completely okay that she sleeps with someone else.. I feel braver asking the question.
"And that's what you want?"
"Yes. It's what I want."
This time she replies with no hesitation. Disappointment, jealousy and anger errupt within me. I was wrong; I didn't really need to hear that.
She feels my internal outburst and tells me calmly, "You shouldn't ask questions you don't want to hear the answers to."
I nod and apologize, "I'm sorry, I thought I did. It's really none of my business."
"Let's forget about it."
That's easier said than done.
I take another drink to swallow the lump in my throat as she empties her margarita. The bartender already has a fresh one for her. She thanks him, our awkward conversation quickly brushed aside.
"Come on," she's up on her feet, "I love Ginny's parties. There's always free press."
And she means more than freedom of the press.
We 'work' the room. Over time we, mostly Hermione, have used the press to direct public attention to ongoings at the Ministry we felt required highlighting and to divert attention away from those that had to be downplayed. In the current administration, even as our roles shifted from policy makers to policy auditors, the principles remained the same.
All of this is part of the game. But even though it is accepted practice in my line of work it doesn't come easily for me. Hermione says it's my innate moral fiber that won't let me manipulate truths to meet an end. In contrast, Hermione has no scrupples.
While many in the Wizengamot continue to think it natural for me to become Minister of Magic one day, a lot are already resigned to the fact that I have no desire or inclination for the job. It is also common knowledge that Hermione was Kingsley's understudy, current Minister included. Leo retained her in his Ministry to keep her close and to appease the opposition with the assurance that they have strong representation in his cabinet. If she stays in government, it is only a matter of time before she becomes Minister of Magic though I admit, I am somewhat biased thinking that.
In the next hour she steers a comment on the popularity of the Minister's impressive tax cuts, putting a spotlight on the savings he made by underfunding social programs and grossly underestimating budgetary shortfalls in his 5 year economic plan. She even pokes fun at Leo's financial advisers telling one reporter that collectively they would have flunked fifth grade Muggle math. I have to caution her a few times as it seems she has no filters tonight.
We also find out for the first time that there are off the record plans to expand the already gigantic Department of Mysteries. I see her doing the calculations in her head and figure, as I have, that the cost of doing so is roughly the same galleon amount reallocated just today from the Department for the Protection of Magical Beings and Creatures budget that funded Being Education to some unnamed special projects account.
Elliot gets involved in the conversation, citing a remote incident of an Unspeakable caught stealing from the Ministry through bogus projects and asks what checks and balances are currently present in the DOM. Hermione shrugs despite knowing there are new accountability processes in place. She comments that it was a very good question that she, a concerned tax paying citizen and regular Prophet reader, would love to see in an editorial.
"What was that about?" I ask her after.
"I'm banking on the internal nature of Leo's fix to raise eyebrows in the transparency obsessed Prophet."
"You think Leo will let the MLE stick its nose in DOM affairs?"
"At this point in his administration he needs the Prophet and the appearance of transparency is important to him. The Prophet won't give him a choice."
I frown, concerned about this strategy, "Leo won't be amused. He'll figure out where the idea came from."
"I'm not exactly sticking around in his minority government for his amusement."
"You don't want him to fire you either."
"That's the least of my worries."
"Hermione..."
"Don't worry. He won't," she sounds pretty sure.
Just as she answers Brigid Tinkerfinkle appears, all smiles, the kind that clearly meant she was up to no good.
"Just the two people I wanted to talk to," she announces.
"We've never met," Hermione bluntly points out.
Hermione knows who she is but I introduce them anyway.
"You're the one who writes that popular socials column in the Prophet," Hermione says after.
"You read my column," Brigid is surprised.
What Brigid writes, not that I read it much, isn't exactly the kind of reading Hermione goes for. Brigid's pieces can best be described as rumour mongering and sensationalism at its vilest. I only hope Hermione will be gentle. She knows better than to stoop to the reporter's level.
"Not really. I haven't much time to read trash fiction."
Brigid's face turns red. At least Hermione says it politely.
"What Hermione means is that she hardly has any time to read for pleasure," I interject, "Are you enjoying the party?"
"Very much so. Too bad the Minister couldn't make it."
"He sent his regrets," I reply.
"While I have you both here," Brigid starts and there is no stopping her now, "I have some questions. You've known each other since childhood, you work very closely and are always seen together. Would either of you care to comment on stories that you two are having an affair?"
Hermione laughs and I figure I should too.
"You got us there. We've been having an affair for what is it now, Harry?" Hermione turns to me and I shrug, coherent speech escaping me as I think how badly this could go. She continues, "Thirteen years?"
"Just about."
It is Ginny who answers. She stands beside me and hooks her arm around mine. Brigid's eyes light up, thinking she just hit the mother lode. But she doesn't know my wife and my ex-mistress.
"They've been having an affair and you're okay with it?!" she asks Ginny.
Ginny obliges, "Why not? He's my husband. I don't care what he does as long as at the end of the day he comes home to me."
I'm fine with it too," Hermione responds before I can think of something clever to say, "Harry works very long days."
"I am the good wife."
"And no matter what I do, I'll always be the other woman."
Shit...
"Okay, you two, stop pulling her leg, " I have enough, "Brigid is just doing her job."
But Brigid is kind of slow and will only hear what she wants to hear.
"This is great! How did it start?" is her follow-up question, looks to me for the answer.
Hermione fields the question, "Let me think. First it was Skeeter in 2004..."
Ginny adds, "...2008 and 2011, Whispery in 2007, Dufus in 2009, Shitford in 2013..."
"Then there was that Expose writer in 2015, what was her name?"
"Don't remember," Ginny shrugs, "Well, it's 2017, I guess we're due for another rumour."
I never paid much attention to gossip about us and didn't realize until now that it happened that often. I didn't think Ginny or Hermione paid attention to them either. Neither ever said anything to me to make it a concern.
"You can be part of that list," Hermione tells the now embarrassed reporter, "You may be unoriginal but you are in very distinguished, albeit now unemployed, company."
"Good luck," Ginny adds.
Realizing she is overmatched, Brigid thanks us and leaves in a hurry.
"Was that necessary?" I scold them.
"No," my wife answers, "But it was fun."
Hermione doesn't reply. I think her comment about being the other woman no matter what she does struck a raw chord. We get separated soon after and before I know it she and Warren are leaving, something about catching a late night movie. She's not the movie-going type.
I don't see her at work the following day. Her new assistant (she goes through them faster than any one else I know), knows nothing except for the obvious that she isn't in.
I am swept away by meetings upon meetings and it's now almost eight. I'm still in my office up to my eyeballs in parchment work. Authorizations, transfers, mission approvals, extensions, re-approvals, terminations; it's endless. The need for so much of this still escapes me. Surely not all of this is absolutely necessary. I do want them done now so I won't have to when I'm vacationing with the kids. Hermione says I have to learn to delegate more. I might look into that when I get back from holidays.
As I magically sign off documents the hatch above my office door opens and in comes fluttering an inter-office parcel. It lands gently on top of my mail inbox. Considering that it's so late I can only think that it's one of those packages just cleared by Auror mail security, until I recognize the writing on it.
I find myself grinning as I take it and open it. At the party last night she did say I would get my present late. She must have sent it from home. It is light, rectangular and there is a card. She wrote:
'Happy belated birthday, Harry. Here's one from a goblin friend of mine in San Salvador. His family makes them and theirs are considered to be one of the most durable and the most artistic in the world. I like this one for what it stands for and how it portrays a different future.'
I open the parcel and I see what she means. The cloak is a depiction of goblins and their struggle throughout magical history, part of it dark and full of distrust and animosity for wzards and witches, the other part full of accomplishment and hope for collaboration. I wrap it around my shoulder, my body disappearing with the silky material as I read the remainder of her greeting.
'And if you're still there, go home.'
That made me smile. I put away the cloak and card in my case and put the rest of the stuff back onto my ever growing pile of to-do's. Hopefully my assistant, Leila, will remember it was just my birthday and spare me from the scolding I deserve (and always get) for procrastination.
I don on my travelling cloak and walk down to the lifts, buoyantly pleased but thinking about nothing in particular. At the Atrium I notice Free Elf Willy beside the priority elevator chatting with Ministry security. Free Willy inadvertently reveals who Leo is having over for a late night emergency meeting. Hermione will be pleased to hear that the Minister is on the defensive. I say goodbye.
As I get to the Fountain of Hope I stop in front of the statue of the young goblin and I remember the cloak. I take my phone out, giving in to the impulsive voice within me to call her. It's ringing - two rings, three, and she answers.
"Hey," she greets over the phone, already knowing it's me
"Hey. Thanks for the cloak. It's interesting," I say, groaning internally as I realize what I just said.
She chastises me, "Didn't I tell you to go home?"
"Give me a break. It was just my birthday, yesterday."
"What are you? Twelve?"
"Precisely why you should stop telling me to go home. I'm still disappointed that you forgot to get me a present."
"I didn't forget," she answers. Of course she didn't. She repeats, "You should go home. Get started on your packing."
I sense her smirking. She knows I don't like to pack, even more so when my wife starts it for me.
"Evil witch," I say to her, then I ask, "Are you home?"
"Yes."
"Can I come over for a sec?"
There is silence on her end, a hesitation so I wonder out loud with some annoyance, "Is this a bad time?"
Her indecision and the question brings back an unpleasant memory from a long time ago, that of her saying that it was, with Warren's voice in the background asking her who was calling. Since that one time I never caught her at a 'bad time' again. I suspect that during subsequent 'bad times' she just didn't answer the phone. Was Warren still in town?
She says it isn't a bad time and that she needs to talk with me anyway. I remember her distraction last night and wonder if it is going to be about that. In a couple of minutes I Disapparate into her backyard. The wards allow me through and I'm inside her home. She greets me at her back door entrance. We are in her kitchen, making tea, and I tell her about Leo's late night meeting.
"I saw him earlier today. He was fuming over the Prophet article," I mention.
"Which one?"
Elliot came through with the editorial. We discuss how to continue to put on the pressure and how far to take it. Ultimately, we want his DOM expansion plans killed. We both feel there are more important programs resources should go into. But we also realize that getting funding back into the same social programs shut down for it is close to impossible. We'd have to get the Minister to approve something similar without knowing it or without giving him a choice.
Then there was the matter of accountability. While Leo would never allow her to personally review Department of Mystery business, he might be willing to compromise with some process through a small, confidential oversight committee. We decide Ernie should lead it if it came to that.
Throughout the conversation we are leaning against the kitchen counter, facing each other, casually sipping good, warm tea. After half an hour, our cups are empty and she sets hers on the sink, signalling that it's almost time for me to leave. Did she forget?
"You said you wanted to talk about something?" I remind her, a rarity.
"Yes, well, I did."
"And?"
"I'm not um - sure how to um - say this," she is grasping for words, quite unusual for Hermione, which means whatever it is, it isn't good.
I help her out, "Just give it to me straight."
She pauses and looks at me with a frown before she blurts out, "I've been thinking...we can't do this anymore, Harry."
This is out of the blue. We've been meeting like this since - I don't know exactly when but I think it was around the time Leo came into power almost a year ago, when Kingsley passed the baton on to us to continue transforming our part of the world. We needed private and secure time and her home was the most logical place. I know what she is trying to say but I want to make sure I'm hearing her right before I blow my top.
"We can't do what?"
"We can't meet like this."
"Like what?"
"Like this, by ourselves, in a non-public place..." her voice trails off as she assesses my reaction.
"Why not?" I challenge.
"It's hardly appropriate for a married man to be visiting another woman in her house," she answers in a tone that doesn't sound like her, like she isn't convinced of it either.
My temper flares up. Naturally I think the worse, that she has some insecure boyfriend she's trying to appease.
I let out the accusation, "Has Warren said something?"
"Of course not," her face turns red, as if it offended her.
"Is this about Leila? It's not her place to tell me who I should and shouldn't meet. I swear I'm gonna fire her..."
"I don't care about what Leila said and really, she is the best assistant you can have, even though she is somewhat judgmental."
"So where is this coming from?"
"Last week Rosie, asked Mum if we were having an affair", Hermione says gravely, "She showed Mum a Tinkerfinkle column with a blind item about two high ranking Ministry officials who have been having one for years. Mum asked her why she thought so and Rosie pointed out a few things, like how in the past, you've been coming over with Al, James and Lily but lately, you come just by yourself, when she and Hugo are supposed to be asleep. She also noticed that Ginny never comes here and that she never sees us talk."
Rosie was always very observant.
"What did your Mum say?"
"Mum told her 'no', told her that we're just very close friends and then scolded her for reading garbage and letting it influence what she should know in her heart," Hermione bites her lower lip, "Mum had a few choice words for me too."
"Tell me."
She really doesn't want to but knows I need to hear it.
"That more times than not when there's smoke there's fire," she shares, "I told her there is no fire, that we have been having an affair only in the minds of delusional rumour mongerers who have nothing better to write about."
"And?"
"She asked me 'if there is no fire, is the smoke is necessary?' She's got a point."
I don't agree at all.
"We're not doing anything wrong," I point out what I didn't think I'd have to, "We have nothing to feel guilty about."
"This is not appropriate."
"Says who?"
"Says me. You're married and not to me."
"Ginny knows I come here."
"All the more reason we should stop. She might not say it but if I were your wife I'd want it to stop."
But you're not my wife. If you were this conversation would not be happening at all.
I manage to keep the thought to myself. Ginny understands. Hermione just refuses to believe it completely true that Ginny does.
"Have you even noticed how much more we've been meeting on our own lately?"
"Not really," I admit.
"Neither have I until I heard what Rosie said. I feel like I'm the other woman again even though I'm not. You can't be here alone with me at this hour," she stops for a second then adds, "Please don't take this the wrong way. I know you think nothing of it and neither do I but this whole thing with Rosie and the Prophet made me realize that we should. Just because we're friends and you're married and off limts doesn't make you less attractive. We have a history. It will take a split second to forget who we are and I don't want it to ever get to that point."
"It won't ever get to that point," I answer even though I can see it easily happening, more so now that I know she has considered the possibility.
"Harry, please. This is hard enough as it is," the frustration in her voice is clear. She desperately wants me to be okay with what she wants to happen, "I'm not saying we can't ever see each other again. We still can, just not like this. I don't want to hurt anyone."
I am annoyed by what she is asking of me, annoyed that she makes sense and doesn't at the same time. I can't believe we're letting some lowlife writer influence us this way.
"You do realize that even if we do this we can't stop every writer from writing what they want."
"I know."
An impulsive thought comes to mind.
"We should just tell everyone we did have an affair. Get their speculation over with then it'll be old news and they'll leave us alone."
"Absolutely not!" she reacts immediately.
"Why not? It's in the past. Ginny knows, Ron has moved on, the children will understand..."
"No, no, they're not old enough," she is adamant about this, "They won't understand, not until they know what it's like to be in love. Even then it will be difficult, particularly for Lily because she will see it from her mother's point of view no matter what. I know; I was her age when I found out about my Dad's affair. And if she can't understand then she won't be able to forgive you. Losing your daughter and your sons over this is not worth it, Harry. It's all in the past. Why even bring it up?"
There was no choice.
I went home that night seething, thinking about her last question. It is very tempting to have our past out in the open. I see chaos and possibilities. I am tempted by hope. I do stop as I recognize how selfish that is, to forsake all others I care about to indulge in hope. I remind myself that I have so much already and that I can't have it all.
I don't see her the following day at work or the next. The rest of the summer is a blur. When I get back from holidays in late August I find out that things between her and the Minister have gotten from bad to worst. She got Brian Figg of the Organization of Free Elves (OFE), Grawp of the Giants and Giantesses Association (GAGA) and Jurnuk of the Brotherhood of Goblins (BOG) to go to the press and lobby at the Wizengamot for reinstatement of Being Integration funding. Hermione also had a big hand in creating the Unspeakable Oversight Committee and smote the DOM expansion plans convincingly the second the proposal went up in the executive board.
For his part Leo has been pissed at her for her lack of subtlety, threatening to fire her in front of several advisors which she dared him to. With their hostility now out in the open I can't imagine Hermione staying on with Leo still Minister.
I call her, asking rhetorically if she's intending to oust the Minister singlehandedly. We both know that the current Wizengamot is fully behind Leo Jericho and it will take gross negligence to unseat him, something Leo isn't going to do. I remind her that she doesn't have to bear all the heat for what needs to be done and she reassures me again that the Minister would never fire her.
Her boldness troubles me. I've been trying to meet with her but she hasn't been in her office for days. Her assistant says last she heard Hermione was out of the country, in meetings in Ottawa with the Canadian Minister of Magic and his MLE chief.
Then it's September. We are at Kings Cross, on Platform 9 and 3/4, sending our children off to Hogwarts. I haven't seen her since the night after my birthday. She looks well, although I sense she's a wreck inside. She's trying to put up a brave front for Rosie - Rose, who is excited.
In contrast to Rose, Al is so nervous and anxious, first year jitters exacerbated by his older brother teasing him about not being sorted into Gryffindor. I'm worried by his lack of confidence and I try my best to reassure him that things will be okay. The train pulls away from the station and Ron makes a joke about people staring. I see him holding Hermione's hand as she waves goodbye to Rose with the other, her eyes brimming with tears.
Ginny squeezes my hand and tells me Al will be fine. I nod and agree just as Lily excitedlly announces Hugo will be joining us for brunch. Ron is game. Lily invites Hermione but she has a ready excuse, something about a meeting with the Minister.
I ask if everything is okay. She says she'd tell me about it later. Then I hear the news from a couple of Unspeakables late tonight. Hermione has resigned.
So I'm just on the outside back porch of her One Pine Hill home, anxious to speak with her. I don't call her so she can't brush me off or give me a reprise of how inappropriate my being here would be. That is farthest from my mind.
I am pacing back and forth, concerned that I easily broke through her wards. I look inside her house through a window and it's empty. She's leaving. It makes me angry that not only did she resign, she's leaving without saying anything to me.
And I know why. She didn't want me talking her out of it. I should have realized from what's been happening at work this past month that she was on her way out and was choosing to go out on her own terms. She had made up her mind.
It's close to midnight. Maybe she already left. As I think that I hear a faint pop of an Apparition and see her figure walking up the path towards me. The moonlight shines on her face, and I think she is crying. Halfway she senses my presence and takes her wand out again.
"Whatever happened to constant vigilance?" I show myself, "If I were a Death Eater you'd be dead by now."
Hermione lowers her wand and quips, ""If you were a Death Eater, I'd tell you you're nineteen years too late to join the fray. Go find yourself another gang."
I meet her at the steps and we embrace, tight and snug, longer than the one we had earlier that day on Platform 9 ¾. She is the first to back off. She always is. I miss her. It's been almost a month since we last spoke in person.
"Seriously, it's not funny," I remind her, "There are people out there who'd like to get to you and Ron. Rose and Hugo could have been here."
"I'll take care of it," she says just to get me off her back.
We stand there for quite some time just looking at each other with a seriousness that reminds me of our last talk the night after my birthday. I wonder how long before she confesses.
"I've heard rumours," my impatience breaks our impasse and she doesn't deny it. "So, it is true. You finally did it."
"Yes. I did."
"When?"
"This morning," she replies, "Officially I'm around for another two weeks but I've cleared my desk and I've pissed the Minister royally I doubt he'd need me."
"I should have known you were going to do something like this," I answer back, "You've been burning quite a lot of bridges lately."
"I always wanted a fiery exit," she jokes, but I can't find it funny.
"I guess you got sick and tired of me telling you not to leave. Where are you off to?"
I am so tempted to read her mind. I'm trying to decide if her secrecy is reason enough to intrude. Within her truthful answers she is hiding something else. I can sense it.
"A trip, see interesting places, visit some friends, family, get some needed R and R," she says in succession.
Hermione is never this vague unless she's lying.
"With Hugo?"
"Yes. He's quite excited."
"How long?"
"A month, maybe longer."
"And after?" she hesitates, I can't bear to hear another half-truth, "Your house is packed. You're not staying in London after, are you?"
"I need the change, Harry."
"This is a big change, bigger than what you asked of me."
She breaks eye contact and bows her head, rubbing off tears. I feel such an ass doing this to her but I am still pissed about being lied to.
I try to think. Why would she need the change? What is so horrible about her life now that she wants to change? And she wants to change it so badly she didn't want me to know until it would be too late to stop her. I think back to the night she asked me not to see her like this anymore.
"You knew then that you were leaving," I recognize, and her silence confirms that. Even though I know she has made up her mind I have to say it anyway, "You don't have to do this. You don't have to leave."
"I need to, Harry, for myself," she replies, with firmness and resolve, "I've done what I can here and it's time to move on."
I hear what she's telling me but her reasoning lacks its usual logic. I still can't understand why her need to change means leaving. If she needs a change from working at the Ministry and it was time to move on then why leave? There is plenty for her to do in London outside of the Ministry.
Then it hits me. It's not about the job, it's about leaving. It's about leaving London. It's about moving away from what's here. Or what's not here. She's not happy where she is.
All these years I never asked. I assumed she wouldn't have agreed to work with me and Kingsley if it wasn't what she wanted and I assumed that if it was what she wanted then it would make her happy. I chose to be ignorant because I wanted her to stay.
I do see her point now. She has done all she can for others and it's now time to do something for herself. She needs to move away and I'd be a complete asshole if I keep her from finding the happiness she deserves.
"Where are you headed after your trip?"
"I'm accepting the Canadian Minister's offer to clean up their Ministry. I think I'll be in Ottawa for a long while."
"What about Hugo and Rose?"
"Hugo is coming with me," she replies, then adds, "Rose can join us during the holidays she's not with Ron and Anne."
"Ron's okay with that?"
"Yes, he is," she answers, "Look, we'll be around. It's not that we won't see each other anymore. And you and Ginny can come over and visit once we're settled."
That will never happen.
"It'll be different here without you."
"It'll be fine."
I doubt it will.
"Ottawa is so far away. Lily will lose her best friend," I pause, "I'm losing mine."
She takes my hand and squeezes it tight, "No, you're not. We'll always be best friends, Harry."
"Yeah. Always. Right."I squeeze it back, as teary eyed as she is, biting down on my lip, so I wouldn't ask her to stay.
I pull her gently into my arms and we hold each other in an embrace. I want her to stay so badly. I can't begin to imagine what it would be like without her but I have to let her go.
"I love you, Hermione. You know that, right?"
I don't care that I'm not supposed to say it. She's leaving, I have a feeling that this time it's for good. I just need to know that she knows.
She answers, "I do, Harry."
I feel pain in her reply. She doesn't believe me but wants me to think she does. She has always cared about me in that selfless way and I instantly regret telling her. It was pointless. She has no reason to believe that I love her and it only hurts more now knowing that she's going away believing that I don't.
I breathe in her familiar fragrance and kiss her on the top of her head. It is then as I'm holding her in my arms when I feel the tension within her ease away. This is the most she has been vulnerable and open with me in years, the most she has been like her old, unbroken self. It sends me back to our time, to that moment when it was just us and we had an eternity of being together to look forward to. The surge of desire to prove to her that I love her is overwhelming and I have to pull away, afraid of what else I might do if I don't. With the best smile I muster, I say goodbye and Disapparate.
The next morning I wake up with a hollowness within me. She finally did what she should have done a long time ago. She finally left me. So this is how it feels knowing in my heart that she has, without a doubt, finally let me go.
XXXXXXXX
A/N. Of course we all know Hermione didn't leave to find happiness as Harry thinks but it is what she wanted him to believe.
All present chapter coming up.