Chapter XXVII: Of Happiness
--
Four months later…
"How was court?" Buckley asked as Harry let himself into the office.
"Insanity plea, as expected," Harry told him and he carelessly fell into the couch. "Hermione presented the details of the case, I gave my testimony, defense showed the taping of the questioning, and questioned her doctor at the asylum."
"Hmmm," Buckley hummed. "Waiting on a decision then?"
Harry nodded. "We'll be called back in tomorrow with a decision. I'm guessing a life sentence to a sanitarium… probably another one since this one released her."
"Makes sense, she should be in one anyway," Buckley sighed. "How's St. Augustine dealing with the fallout of all of this?"
Harry shrugged. "Deny, deny, deny."
"Really?" Buckley asked, cocking a brow in surprise.
"Yep, the board is doing damage control. Browning, their head, is being pinned for it all."
"Cut the symbolic head of the dragon off… good move, I suppose."
"Yeah, except for the fact that he wasn't the only one to blame, there was Natalia's therapist as well… and every other person who treated her."
"Yeah," Buckley admitted with a sigh. "But the public doesn't know that and that's all that really matters, you know that, Harry."
"I do," he confirmed, "but it doesn't mean that it won't bother me regardless."
Buckley let out a bitter chuckle. "Yeah, but you work for the ministry, kid, get used to it."
Harry laughed. "Thank you for your undying sympathy."
"No problem, now get up from over there and sit across from me. I need to talk to you about something important," Buckley ordered him, impatiently snapping his fingers in hopes of pushing Harry along.
Regrettably, it proved to be ineffectual since Harry still moved at a snail's pace when heaving his body up off of the couch and moving himself to the chair. Frowning, Harry let out a heavy and pained sigh. "You're really retiring then, huh?" he asked.
Buckley's eyes bulged a bit in an unattractive fishlike manner. "How'd you know?!"
Harry smirked as he admitted, "Your wife told me you were considering it when Hermione and I were over for your thirtieth anniversary dinner."
"Blasted kids," Buckley sneered at the recollection. "As if we really wanted to spend our anniversary with a bunch of people we know… regardless of how much we might like them. It's our fucking anniversary!" he complained, just as he always did whenever reminded of the evening.
Harry grinned. "Terrible, I know. But, yeah, she was warning me… wanted me to be prepared, I guess."
Buckley smiled. "Good woman… and she was right. As you're kind enough to remind me on a daily basis, I'm old, Harry. I can't keep on doing this job, I've been at this post for years now and I love it, but at times I hate it, too. I need to go."
Harry nodded. "I know, doesn't mean I like it… but I do understand."
"Good," Buckley nodded, expression relieved. "Harry, I meet with the Minister tomorrow to discuss my replacement. I know you're young, but with the whole savior of the world tag… well you'd have a good chance at the position. I think you should consider having me recommend you for it."
Harry shook his head. "Come on, Buckster… you know I'd hate that. I would be terrible at this job, I'd just yell and argue. I hate the ministry and your job is just bureaucrats and paperwork. It's ridiculous, I'd never put myself up for such a boring and political post."
"Thanks," Buckley sarcastically quipped. "Very kind description there, expecially given that I've wasted away at this post for years now…"
Harry beamed at him, chirping, "No problem."
"Well," Buckley sighed. "Can't say that I'm surprised, but it's a shame. How's Müller?"
Harry shrugged. "Hates me because, apparently, I'm annoying as fuck."
Buckley nodded. "So yes then?"
Harry shrugged, again. "He's respectable enough, and let's me do whatever I want if it means I'll leave him alone."
"Good then," Buckley nodded, resolute. "I think he'd make for a fantastic replacement, too. He's a great auror and public speaker. Of course, you can have my couch for future naps, since I don't think Müller would be all too willing to share his office with you whenever you decide you want it."
Harry laughed. "Thanks, appreciate the sentiment."
"Well I don't want this whole department to go to hell just because you're large enough of an arse to possibly send Müller to an early grave."
"I'm not that bad."
"To Müller you are," Buckley simply retorted. "I still remember those horrific counseling sessions I had to hold between the two of you when you were working on the Brighton case," he said, wincing a bit at the thought.
"Well then, for your sake, I promise to try to be nicer to the priss… even if he does seem to have a stick perpetually lodged up his arse," Harry begrudgingly obliged.
"Thank you," Buckley said, smartly choosing to ignore the latter part of Harry's comment. "…And any chance you're hungry? I'm dying for some lunch."
"Sounds good, let's go."
--
"I can't believe he's really retired," Hermione murmured as they approached the front door.
"I know," Harry agreed shifting the bottle of wine from one hand to another as he rang the doorbell. "It's so weird… first I learned about Buckley and then later that day Andersen called me, completely out of the blue, to invite me to this. It just seems kind of surreal," he admitted with a helpless look sent Hermione's way.
"I know," she smiled. "For me, too, but you said that he sounded ecstatic and that's all that really matters, right?"
"Well of course he is, he's moving to some Greek Island with his wife, doesn't get much more-"
"Harry, dear!" Mrs. Andersen whipped the door open with a gleaming smile sent his way. "Oh I'm so glad you could make it!"
"Mrs. Andersen, I think you get more beautiful every time I see you," Harry said with a charming grin as he moved to kiss both her cheeks. "You're absolutely stunning… it must be something like with Helen Mirren, Julie Andrews, or Meryl Streep where you just get hotter with age," he playfully winked at her causing a deep rouge to settle into her face.
"Oh you're terrible, feeding on my love for films to manipulate me like that. Absolutely conniving, Harry!" she chastised him as she ushered them into the house. "And you," she turned towards Hermione, "you must be the famously fantastic Hermione Granger."
Hermione blushed in reply. "Yes, but I think the praise is a bit too high," she admitted, nervously rubbing her neck.
"Nonsense, my husband is an incredible judge of character and he holds you in quite high regard so I must trust him. Harry, however…" she conspiratorially winked at Hermione, a warm smile gracing her features. "Now," she turned to Harry, "tell me why you brought me a bottle of wine. That's highly inappropriate, I'll have you know!" she chastised him. "We're hosting, not you."
"That made no sense whatsoever, in my opinion," Harry admitted with an amused smile. "But it's just a small congratulatory gift. I was never much of a connoisseur when it came to wine, but my mate is and he says that this one will make the heavens sing to you… you'll be able to speak to God, if you'd like."
"Well… sounds utterly deific. I'll just go place this in our private collection then," she accepted it when Harry handed it to her. "You've been here before for dinners, Harry, you can show Hermione to the dining room, you'll also find my husband there."
"She's nice," Hermione noted as Harry placed his hand on the small of her back and led her, as directed.
"She is," he nodded. "She's one of the most welcoming women I've ever met."
"I like her."
"Good," he grinned at Hermione before returning his gaze to the path before them, eyes searching for Andersen as soon as they entered the dining room.
"Harry!" a rumbling voice bellowed from his left, causing Harry to turn with a wide smile.
"Andersen!" Harry smiled as the man pulled him into a hug, excitedly clapping him on the back.
He scoffed as he released Harry. "Oh hell, I've told you to call me Michael, you're hardly my patient any more."
"Can't," Harry admitted with a sheepish look. "It'd feel too unnatural."
Andersen rolled his eyes at Harry before allowing his gaze to rest upon Hermione. "And Ms. Granger, what a pleasure to see you again."
Hermione ducked her head as another flush of pink took over her face. "You, too, sir," she replied as she shyly raised her head.
"Oh please, none of those formalities. I'm not even a bloody doctor anymore," he shook his head.
"Okay, if you say so," she smiled. "You two probably have some catching up to do, can I get you both a drink?" she offered.
"None for me, already have one," Andersen shook his head as he raised a half-full glass of scotch.
"You?" she turned to Harry.
"Whatever you think I'd like."
"Okay, deal," she smiled before heading off.
"So," Andersen drawled, raising an inquisitive brow. "Last week when I invited you and you mentioned bringing her… I didn't realize it was like that."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Harry replied, choosing to feign ignorance.
"Of course," Andersen's grin widened. "She didn't even have to say anything, Harry… it was that obvious. Someone only has to look at the two of you and they know," he informed Harry. "Congratulations, Harry. I know how much you wanted this… and you look happy, you look really happy with her. I'm proud of you."
Harry ducked his head as a small smile made its way across his face. "Thanks," he murmured. "That means a lot, doc," he admitted as he turned to face Andersen.
"I'm glad. You deserve this; you know that, right?"
"I think I might be starting to believe it…" Harry admitted. "I think-"
"Fanta lemon, hope I chose well," Hermione interrupted.
Harry chuckled. "Always."
Hermione giggled, shaking her head as she looked at Andersen. "He'll say anything to get in my good graces. He's terribly manipulative… shame that even you were unable to take care of that one…"
Andersen sighed, shrugging helplessly. "We all have to have our fallacies, I suppose."
"But such a shame…"
"Thanks," Harry muttered as he took a sip of his drink.
Hermione kissed his cheek. "No problem!"
--
"I had fun tonight," Hermione admitted as she and Harry made their way into her flat. "I had a lot of fun."
"I'm glad… and tomorrow you can look forward to meeting Callum, too."
"Are you-"
"Hey," Ron greeted them as he entered the living room, on his way to the kitchen. "How was the dinner?"
"I had a lot of fun!" Hermione smiled. "How was your date?" she asked as she began slipping off her shoes to put them away in the hallway's closet.
"Eh," he shrugged. "She didn't like quidditch."
"Neither did I," Hermione pointed out with a befuddled look.
"And look at how well your relationship turned out," Harry pointed out. "Just saying… you may have lasted years, but they were tumultuous ones."
"My point exactly!" Ron agreed, passionately nodding his head.
"Stop that, you're starting to look like your Krum bobble head," Hermione rolled her eyes. "If that was your only problem with her, Ron, you may want to at least try going on one more date with her before making a final decision."
"I'd just recommend not mentioning that you live with your ex, I think I'm the only person kinky enough to be unfazed by that one," Harry noted with an amused expression as Hermione sent him a dirty look, his smile widening as he noted her fuming. "Don't look at me like that," he chastised her. "You know I'm right, you'll ruin his chances with any girl he might bring home if they realize the truth…. Or they might just assume that the three of us have some sort of depraved threesome," he added on second thought.
"I…I…" Ron stuttered, his face marred by stupefaction. "You… you two just scare me," he admitted with a shake of his head as he turned around and completed his journey to the kitchen.
"You scared him," Hermione blamed, poking him in the chest to punctuate her words before heading off to her bedroom.
Harry snorted, following her. "Oh come on, Hermione, you share an apartment with him, that's intimidating for someone new. Not everyone can understand your friendship."
"Well… too bad then," Hermione retorted as she unzipped her dress and stepped out of it, moving to the closet to throw it into the hamper.
"Well… what if it doesn't have to be?"
"What? You want Ron to lie to them then? I'm sure they've seen reports about us in the news, Harry; you know what the Prophet's like."
"Yeah, I do," Harry replied, watching Hermione as she slipped off her tights. "I do, but… well, what if you didn't live here? What if… what if you moved in with your boyfriend?"
Hermione whipped her body around to face him, her eyes wide with shock, brows raised as far as they could go, jaw dropped. She was the picture of shock.
"I know this is kind of out of nowhere for you," Harry admitted. "But I've been thinking about it for a while now and I think it could be good for us. I mean, we're always with one another, really just alternating between apartments and it's not as if you won't be able to see Ron or as if he can't easily pay this rent on his own…" Harry continued, refusing to look at Hermione as he went off on a tangent. "I just… I think it could be good for us, and you aren't making any move to say anything so I have to admit that I'm kind of scared right now…" he rambled.
"You-you're serious…" Hermione stuttered, awe struck. "You're actually serious?"
"Yeah," Harry nodded. "But if you don't want to or are unsure, I mean… you don't have to move in with me. No pressure-"
"No," Hermione shook her head, barely breathing. "I-I want to. I really do."
"You do?" Harry asked, too scared to smile right away for fear that he might be hearing things.
"Yes," Hermione bit her lip as she smiled. "Yeah, I do."
"Well… good then," Harry nodded once, resolutely.
Hermione released her lip, letting her grin spread across her face. "So, do you… do you think we should celebrate then?"
Harry laughed, stepping forward and wrapping his arms around her lower waist as Hermione pushed her body towards his, letting their bodies meld. "I think it'd be better if we do it at my place then… a christening of sorts."
"Oh," Hermione gasped. "Well then… we should get on that right away I suppose, lots of ground to cover and all," she winked.
--
"Should I be worried?" Hermione asked, squeezing his hand so hard that he felt the blood flowing to it be effectively cut off.
"Hate to admit it, but yeah… Cal's really protective of me and he's a bit bitter about the fact that it took so long for you to reciprocate my feelings," Harry sheepishly admitted as he opened the door to the pub for her.
"Great," Hermione drawled. "Fantastic… he hates me already. Your best friend hates me! I honestly don't know how you can be so calm and… and blasé about this," she frowned.
"You never know," a voice joined their conversation and Hermione turned around in surprise, her face paling at the sight of the burly man before her. "I might grow to like you one day, but you do get credit for acknowledging me as his best friend. Callum," he offered his hand to her.
Hermione, so shocked that her body had frozen, had to be pushed by Harry who raised her hand for her. "H… hi…" she breathlessly stuttered.
"Hi," Callum shook her hand with an amused smile when he felt the limp hand helplessly lie within his as he moved it up and down. "Come on," he motioned to an empty booth with his head before guiding them to the table. "So you're the infamous Hermione Granger, huh?
"Cal…" Harry warningly growled.
"Oh piss off, Potter, this isn't between the three of us, but just Hermione and me. It's okay if I call you Hermione, right? Or would you prefer Ms. Granger?"
"In… infamous?" she stuttered, shocked as she tightened her grip on Harry's hand, and effectively cutting off circulation to it.
Callum laughed, tilting his head to the side as he assessed the sight before him. Wrinkling his brow, he asked, "You're really scared, aren't you?"
"Petrified," she replied, gnawing on her lip once the admission left her lips.
"Well… good then," Callum nodded.
"Cal, don't be a prat!" Harry chastised him.
"Oh do shut up, Potter," Callum rolled his eyes. "It is good, it means she cares about you."
"I… I do," Hermione cut in. "I love him," she added.
Callum grinned. "Good," he nodded. "Good," he repeated emphasizing his approval. "Harry deserves that."
--
"Mr. Potter," Andersen called after Harry as he began to exit his office.
Harry stilled for a moment, his hand hovering over the doorknob. He stood frozen for a good minute before he finally turned around, slowly asking, "Yes?"
"I know that this whole ordeal isn't exactly your choice, but Hermione brought you here and you seem intent upon fulfilling her wishes. You did well today, but I can't help you if this first session is any indication of how things'll progress. I won't waste my time here, I need to know that there's at least some goal in mind here," Andersen bluntly admitted, a frown marring his face as he spoke. With a heaving sigh he asked, "What is it that you want, Harry? What is it that you need most?"
"I… I don't know," Harry admitted, shrugging as he let his body lean against the door behind him, placing most of his weight upon it.
Andersen sighed, disappointment etched onto his face. "I don't know what to tell you then, Harry. This whole therapy is pointless if you're just doing it to appease her. You need to have some driving force, too… and, honestly, I'm not for wasting my time with a hopeless case. If there's no point to this, tell me, Harry."
Harry ran a hand through his hair, slowly tugging at the ends of the strands as he composed himself. Clucking his tongue he waited. "I…"
"Yes?" Andersen goaded when Harry cut himself off at just one syllable into a reply.
"I want to be happy, that's all."
The corners of Andersen's mouth tipped upwards at those words. He nodded, "okay then."
Fin.
--
Author's Note: Just around this time a year ago I began this story and since then I've seen my prose progress and this story has actually changed a lot, in terms of plot and story line. Some things have been added, some removed… but I've had a lot of fun.
Thank you for reading! Additionally, thanks so much to my amazing beta, Searcy!
Cosmo
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