Unofficial Portkey Archive

Shadow Walker

Your love is like a shadow on me all of the time.

-Bonnie Tyler, "Total Eclipse of the Heart"

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Feels like I travel, but I never arrive. I want to thrive, not just survive.

-Switchfoot, "Thrive"

Chapter Eleven:

Hermione was awakened by the curious sensation of something apparently walking across her face. She remained quite still, allowing her senses to provide feedback to her now conscious mind. There was the clatter and rustle of meal preparation in the kitchen, accompanied by the murmur of low voices from a Wireless. Low light filtered through the windows and glowed beyond her eyelids at an early morning angle. She could smell bacon. And her feet were cold.

"Jeannie!" came Harry's voice, an equal mixture of amused and chastising. Hermione's eyes shot open at the responding stream of toddler babble issued right next to her head. "You're disturbing Miss Granger." The little girl's adorably round face, so close as to be almost out of focus, immediately became contrite, and the exploring fingers straightened and gentled to softly pat her cheek in apology. There was another incomprehensible parade of syllables, culminating in a repeated goo-nite, goo-nite, evidently an invitation to return to sleep.

"Well, it's too late for that, Miss Jean," Harry responded, light and loving, appearing to understand every scrap of gibberish his daughter said. "You've already awakened her now, so why don't we invite her to breakfast?"

The little patting hand drummed a rhythm on her cheek, and Hermione struggled with the myriad of feelings that unfurled because of those baby fingers.

"Bik-fus?" Jeannie asked. "Bik-fus?" She pointed a finger toward the kitchen, and looked back at Hermione with a questioning smile. The expression on the little girl's face suddenly looked so much like the framed pictures that had once been in her parents' home - minus the dated clothing and the somewhat prominent teeth - that Hermione felt wetness on her cheeks before she even realized that she was crying. When Jeannie's little eyes grew somber with empathy, and her lower lip started to protrude, Hermione sat up decisively, dashing away the stubborn, sneaky tears.

"I'm okay, Jeannie. It's all right. I would love to have breakfast with you."

Harry stood at the hob, managing a skillet full of eggs with one hand and directing bacon onto a plate with his wand, shirt tail out and hair still damp from his shower. His too-casual stance meant that he was pretending to ignore the exchange between herself and Jeannie, but was actually all too aware of it.

"Have a seat," he nodded toward the table brusquely, as he dished up the food, and sent toast arcing over from the toaster to the rack. She chose a chair that was not one of the ones Susan and Harry had been using the night before, and watched with bemusement as Jeannie chose the most difficult way to sit down, climbing up and over the arm of her wooden high chair, before sitting in it and reaching for the tray, which rested behind the chair on two hinged arms.

Hermione assisted by lifting the tray up and over, until it was within reach of the toddler's dimpled arms, a move that brought a remonstrating and indignant,

"I do it," from the little girl, as she settled the tray into place. Harry sighed.

"She's getting very independent. Doesn't ever want anyone to help her - "

" - even if that means it takes three times as long," Susan finished for her husband upon entering the kitchen, pressed Ministry robes unfurling behind her. She was still fastening the catch on one of her hoop earrings.

"Good morning, love," Harry smiled and bussed her lightly on the mouth. "Have time for breakfast?" Susan shook her head apologetically, even as he pressed toast into her hand.

"I have a meeting first thing. But I should be done by nine. So if you bring her by then, I'll available to help out… if there are any problems." Harry's eyes flitted from Hermione to Susan, and he nodded, handing a plastic plate of eggs and toast to Jeannie, while Susan tucked a stray tendril back into her upswept hair.

"Bye, Jeannie-bean," she sang, leaning down for a hug, utterly unmindful of the messy hands that dribbled crumbs on her robes. She nuzzled into the little girl's neck, until Jeannie giggled, pushing her away with a laughingly reproving,

"Mum-ma!"

The three adults in the room all seemed to freeze for a moment, with Susan pausing infinitesimally, and then faking cheeriness for Jeannie's sake. Harry's hands stilled on the spatula, and was so determinedly not looking at either one of them that he might as well have been staring. Hermione knotted her fingers into her lap, wondering if one could take oneself to another universe merely by wishing.

"I will see you later on, angel," she said to the toddler. "We'll see you at the Ministry, yeah?" Her eyes were almost apologetic, as the question included both Harry and Hermione. The latter nodded absently, wondering how it could feel so much like an elbow to the solar plexus for a little girl that wasn't really hers to begin with to call someone else `mother'.

Harry twined his hand with Susan's, and walked her around the corner to the fireplace. Hermione heard a murmured exchange, another kiss, and then the familiar rush of flames. She caught a glimpse of Jeannie, studiously using her fingers to situate bites of egg on her fork prior to actually using the utensil, before lowering her gaze to the placemat in front of her, which blurred with her dazed and fatigued tears. She didn't even notice Harry reenter the room, until he set a plate in front of her and joined her at the table, which caused her to jolt visibly.

"You're too thin. You really should eat something." Harry remarked blandly, pulling the marmalade toward him and spooning some onto his bread. Hermione felt herself flush as she caught sight of the bony wrists that hung out of her fraying, much Reparoed sleeves.

"Food's not always been easy to come by."

"How's your head feeling this morning?"

"It's fine."

"Any nausea?"

"Damn it, Harry! Don't you dare try to Heal me!" Tears clogged her voice, and she wasn't even sure that she understood why: only that she felt like she knew him, and he was treating her like some random patient, and their little girl was sitting in a high chair eating breakfast, and she was going to have to leave… Her outburst was unjust, and he would have been within his rights to say so, but he was just looking so sorrowfully at her that it made her heart constrict.

I am Hermione Granger.

She thought of those words, the ones he had given her, the last thing she had thought before falling asleep. She clung to them, to that knowledge, that one thing that lasted when everything else - Harry, Ron, Ginny, Mum, Dad, Luna - even her very universe, had been ripped away.

She jerked her chin up, her gaze violently colliding with his, as he reached out and took her hand. He seemed to read her as easily as he - or any version of him - always had.

"She was always one of the strongest people I'd ever known," he said softly. "I stand by what I said last night. I think you're more like her than you know. I'm going to do whatever it takes to help you however I can." She managed to force an audible expression of thanks through her clogged throat, as he squeezed her hand, his thumb skidding across her knuckles, and finished eating his breakfast.

"I'm going to take Jeannie over to the Burrow. Molly usually watches her during my shifts, if Susan's at work. You're welcome to use the shower upstairs. I'll be back in a bit, and we'll head over and see Luna." The last part of his speech was almost a question; he looked inquiringly at her, as he wiped off Jeannie's face and hands. "Would you - would you want to see Ron? He and Charlotte - his wife - have a little house in Ottery St. Catchpole."

The image of Ron, breaking through the Auror lines, in a steep dive that was a long shot effort to save his sister, flashed through her mind like it had occurred yesterday. She remembered the warmth of his hand atop hers, as she saw in his eyes feelings to which he would never give voice. She wondered for the thousandth time what had happened to him.

"No," she replied apologetically, shaking her head in a jerky, uneven way. "This - this is hard enough. He doesn't need to know. And you - I don't want to hurt you anymore, if I can possibly help it. I'm - I'm incredibly sorry for all this."

"Don't be," he almost whispered. "I miss her every day, like there is part of me that is permanently gone. I didn't get to tell her good-bye… at least, not where she was aware of it. And we never got to share in the joy that is Jeannie. Getting to see you see her, and talk to her - that's a gift, Hermione." He spoke her name carefully, reverently.

"I didn't get to say good-bye either… not until the - the other Harry came, looking for his Hermione."

"Did it help?"

"Yeah…" she said, tentatively at first, and then with more certainty. "Yeah, it did. And I certainly never would have even known to try this, if he hadn't come. I wonder if he ever found her."

"My falling hopelessly in love with you seems to be a recurring theme across universes," he remarked with a melancholy smile, humor briefly brightening his olivine eyes. "Surely not all of them end tragically." Her voice echoed his faintly, as a faint furrow appeared between her brows.

"Surely not…"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The generous folds of the nondescript gray cloak that swathed her head and body also muffled her hearing and cut off her peripheral vision. She kept her chin angled down, and tried to keep Harry in her line of sight, while walking several strides behind him. It was not easy, as he was stopped equally as often by people who knew him and by those who knew of him and just wanted to shake his hand. He was dressed unassumingly in Muggle street clothes, with his Healer's robes tucked into a leather messenger bag slung across his shoulders. Even so, he attracted attention without even trying. The fifth time he was greeted and she changed her trajectory so that she had stopped her progress without really stopping her motion, she wondered if perhaps Ministry security would detain her, thinking she was stalking the Boy Who Lived.

It wasn't until they arrived at the Department of Mysteries that she understood the two-fold purpose of her cloak. The Unspeakables wore a grey robe and hood not unlike the one she had donned. It appeared they remained hooded any time they left their department. As they approached the door that she still sometimes saw in dreams, she saw Susan waiting for them, a long slender bag in her hands.

"You made it." There was more than slight relief in the other woman's voice. She held out the DMLE Shield-Charmed Evidence Pouch that contained Hermione's wand, safely getting it past the checkpoint at the entry, and Hermione took it gratefully.

Together, the three of them stepped through the nondescript doorway at the corridor's end, and Susan had barked out, "Reception," almost before the Entrance Chamber had begun to spin. The door that flung itself open in response led them into a very innocuous looking waiting room, complete with ugly floral-upholstered furniture, where Susan showed her wand and her MLE badge, and asked for Luna Lovegood.

A moment later, the elfin blonde appeared from the Entrance Chamber, the gray cloak giving her an even stronger appearance of gliding.

"Susan! And Harry! Whatever are you doing here? Did the wrackspurt infestation expand beyond level Eight? I don't see how - the interns painted everything yellow."

"We need to consult with you about something." Almost imperceptibly, Susan's eyes flickered over to Hermione's shadow-shrouded form. Luna noticed the glance, but gave only the barest of outward signs.

"Of course. My office is this way on Tuesdays." The former Ravenclaw led them to a nondescript door just beyond the reception desk, gestured them into a neglected-looking corridor, and clapped her hands three times. A door materialized in the wall, L. Lovegood, engraved in a brass plaque to one side.

"Looks like the wrackspurts left something on your hand," Harry pointed out cheekily, his eyes drawn to the spot when she clapped.

"Don't be silly, Harry. Wrackspurt droppings are usually lilac in color. Rolf gave this to me." She colored faintly as she looked at the quirkily fashioned diamond in a setting of what looked like metallic vines, on the fourth finger of her left hand. "He promised me a Snorkack expedition if I would marry him… so I said yes."

"Seems like a fair exchange," Harry said seriously.

"He put his foot down at taking my name though."

"What's wrong with Scamander? `Snot such a bad handle."

"You wouldn't say that if it were your last name. Harry Scamander?" The ease of their conversation struck Hermione as both unusual and enviable.

"You're right," her best friend mused. "Sounds like some sort of awful sexually transmitted disease."

Susan snorted, and muttered a mildly reproving, "Harry!" As Luna opened her door and ushered them in, Hermione tugged on Harry's sleeve surreptitiously.

"You speak Luna quite well."

"It took years of study," he affirmed softly, though it seemed harder for him to pull off a light-hearted tone with her than with Luna, to whom he heartily directed what he said next. "Well, congratulations to my favorite Eagle." His fondness was evident in his voice.

"And give our regards to Rolf," Susan added, moving to hug the smaller woman. Luna returned the gesture, and made as if to hug Harry as well, but she stopped short and coughed, waving her hand in front of her face as if to clear the air. "Your aura wants shampooing, Harry. I know you don't cleanse it as often as you should."

"I've had some things come up."

"I suppose those things have to do with the shade of Hermione that you brought with you?" The other three occupants of her office looked at each other with baffled surprise. Hermione pulled her hood back with one thin hand.

"I'm not a shade, Luna." The Unspeakable regarded Hermione carefully, as if taking her measure.

"Well, then that makes you a bigamist, Harry Potter. Unless you've just figured out how to solidify the ethereal, in which case I think Burney Oglethorpe is going to want to talk to you. He hasn't been able to do it in the seventeen years he's been down here."

"I'm Hermione Granger, but I'm from another universe. And it's really good to see you again, Luna." She tried not to think of the gruesome last image she had of her friend, wanting to imprint instead the one she saw before her today: a serene, contented Luna, happily engaged.

"So, I'm dead in your universe then?" She seemed to assume its truth with amazing equanimity, while Hermione was busy being shocked at her perceptiveness. "I do hope you didn't have to witness it. That kind of shock makes one susceptible to colonies of Insidious Reaverfangs, you know."

"Could you get us into the room? I mean, do you have access?"

"Yes, I can get you in. Not that you couldn't get Stubby Boardman to let you in, if I couldn't." She first inclined her head at Harry as she spoke, and then she shook it, a few strands of her hair that had escaped her clip swishing behind her like wind-blown wheat. "I still don't understand how a rock star gets elected Minister."

"It'd be easier if we involved as few people as possible," Harry answered for Hermione, who was trying not to look as flummoxed as she felt, on hearing of "Stubby Boardman's" position in the Wizarding Government. "Considering how quiet your department enjoys keeping things, I would think that having to explain to the Wizarding public how Hermione is suddenly back with us would be … potentially problematic."

"Not to mention the bigamy," Luna added matter-of-factly.

"That too." Harry shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

"So, Hermione, what is it you are trying to accomplish here?"

"Life in my universe has become… untenable for me. Everyone I know is dead. Harry killed Voldemort, but his followers still managed to come into power. I - I tried… but it wasn't enough… I wasn't enough. I'm trying to find a new home. In a world where… someone's… circumstances might be different." She felt the heat climb from her neck into her face, and she kept her gaze on the scrolled edge of Luna's desk.

"You have a crystal, don't you?" At Hermione's nod, Luna continued. "Then you don't really need me - or the Multiverse Room - at all. You would be at the mercy of the multiversal tide, but you would be able to move through universes without hindrance. You could stay in a universe indefinitely, if your crystal is deactivated, but not removed. Unless you're completing a thesis on the mating habits of Heliopaths, I'm not sure how much help I could be."

"It's not good enough - having to depend on a necklace is not good enough! I've had everything taken from me. When I find the universe that needs me, I want to stay there, make it permanent."

"There is no known way to - "

"I want to change my Constant," Hermione blurted, before Luna could finish. There was a long pause, a rather startled blink of Luna's strikingly light eyes the only outward sign of a response.

"That isn't possible."

"I never would have thought I'd hear that come out of your mouth," Hermione snorted bitterly.

"You could be right. Shall I rephrase? It's highly unlikely and has never been successfully accomplished… in this universe, anyway." Harry and Susan exchanged somewhat befuddled glances, completely at sea.

"So it's been attempted?" Hermione had a sly expression, as she tried to pin Luna down within the constraints of her wording.

"There was a series of experiments…" Luna drew out slowly. Her hand trembled slightly on her desktop; she was having difficulty getting words out, and her brow crinkled up with strain. "I - " Harry was out of his seat in the next moment, checking her pulse and her pupils, and casting a subtle Diagnostic spell on her with his wand, even as she tried to wave him away. "It's nothing, Harry… just - "

"The enchantments are working, aren't they?" he asked grimly. "You're not supposed to be talking about this."

"One of the hazards of being an Unspeakable. Although it's not quite as bad as drawing a shift with the Sanguinary Lepidopterae." She took a deep breath, in an effort to recover herself, and then said, "It's usually quite painful… can be torturous even. There is a more than even chance that one's magic can be lost entirely." At first, Hermione thought Luna was referring to the consequences of Unspeakables broaching confidential topics, but then she realized that the vagueness was intentional, a way to circumvent the restrictions. "Nothing has ever gone beyond creature testing. It was deemed too dangerous."

"Creature testing?" Hermione wanted to work up some righteous indignation about that, but her idealism was much faded in the face of the struggle for survival.

"Mostly knarls or murtlaps. It had to be a creature with a magical signature, or it - " Luna stopped again, and drew air in through her teeth to suppress pain. "The signature of a magical beast - the ones we experiment with, at least - is much weaker than the signature of a magical being. The results aren't conclusive, but - the animals were in so much pain that it only stands to reason that - "

" - it would be worse for witches or wizards," Hermione finished dully.

"It wasn't ever done successfully." Luna rushed the words out, and then closed her eyes as she took a deep, steadying breath. Harry was watching her with prodigious concern.

"Perhaps that's because it's only ever been tried on creatures indigenous to this universe…rather than something or someone transient."

"Conjecture."

"When has that ever stopped you?"

The ghost of a smile danced across Luna's face. "Touche."

Hermione pulled out the book and the notes that she and the other Harry had acquired on their covert operation into the Ministry. "I have some information from my universe. There could be something new in there. I tried to alter mine myself, but I couldn't do it. Maybe it was because I remained in my home universe… or maybe I had the magical theory wrong… or - "

"Wait a minute," Harry interrupted, leaning forward, one elbow propped on the narrow arm of his chair. "You already tried it? I've seen cases of magical accidents that temporarily nullified one of the lesser runes - it makes your magic go all wonky. I don't think you'd be able to remove a Constant, unless you had another rune ready to replace it - that is, if it could be done at all. It would have to be a - a transplant, really - an almost instantaneous swap."

Hermione felt her blood run like ice through her veins, and she shivered. Had she been so bent on her course of action that she could have made such a potentially lethal mistake?

"What - what do you think would happen, if you ripped out a Constant?" She asked. Luna was flipping through the leather-bound portfolio, having donned a pair of reading glasses that were blindingly green, lenses and all.

"There is no way to know for sure. But it could be almost anything - removal of the Constant could be the key to completely dismantling one's ability to perform magic. It could kill you. It could transform you into something else altogether."

There was a moment of dense silence in the little office. Harry was watching her with a measured look, a look that she definitely recognized, even in a different time, a different universe. There was some comfort in the things that did remain the same.

"I want to know how you did it. I want to know everything I can know about the theory of transplanting a Constant. I won't try it until I find a place that I want to stay, but if I only get one chance, I want to be as informed as possible."

"That should be possible…" Luna allowed. "Before you go, may I make a record of your magical signature? We can catalog your Constant, and map your universe." Neither woman noticed Harry straighten in his chair, as though he'd just been hit with unexpected inspiration, although Susan shot him a wary glance.

"Be sure you put warning labels on it," Hermione muttered, not really joking, as she submitted to the spell. "Lucius Malfoy is Minister, and is intent on subjugating anyone who isn't a Pureblood."

"Naturally," Luna said absently, Accioing a bit of parchment from a sheaf on her bookshelf and making several notations with the quill that she pulled from from her updo. Hermione wondered if she knew that a segment of her pale hair had been stained with ink.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Less than fifteen minutes later, Luna was escorting them back through the waiting area, pressing Hermione's portfolio back into her hands. It had been duplicated back in Luna's office, and several sheets of parchment had also been added to the original. Hermione tucked it away carefully, pulling her hood back over her curls.

"Thank you for everything," she told the Unspeakable sincerely. Luna smiled equably in return, as she ushered them into the Entrance.

"What are multiversally alternate equivalents of previously deceased friends for?" A laugh, like a measure of silvery melody, escaped Hermione's lips unbidden. "The Chamber of the Veil," Luna added, addressing the spinning doors in an authoritative voice. Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but the Ravenclaw forestalled her. "This will give you an open enough area that is sufficiently private to change universes." A faintly nostalgic smile had drifted across Harry's face as Hermione had laughed, but at Luna's last words, it vanished as though it had been hexed off.

"Exit," Susan called out abruptly, causing her husband's brow to furrow in concerned query. "I've got to get back to work," she said, almost apologetically. "And I think you need," she pressed his hand, "to say good-bye to Hermione without your anxious and slightly jealous wife hovering over your shoulder." She laughed a bit at herself, but her eyes were soft with genuine emotion and soon mirrored in Harry's.

"Merlin's beard, I love you," he whispered, as he pressed a kiss into her hair. "I'll head straight to work after this, so I'll see you at home tonight, yeah?" Susan gave his hand a parting squeeze, as she nodded, and then strode out of the second door that had opened, into the black-tiled Ministry corridor.

Luna led them into the vast empty room, the only features the stone stadia seating and the archway, its curtain undulating slightly with unfelt wind. Hermione's thoughts grew troubled as she remembered this place: remembered the purple flare that was one of the last things she'd seen, remembered the feeling of her blood roaring in her ears as they'd dueled Death Eaters, dueled Lucius Malfoy… Harry was gawping at every corner of the vast room in amazement. Luna was evidently trying to give them some privacy; she had moved over to the arch, and was taking a reading with her wand.

"Is that the Veil?" he said, with undisguised incredulity. "I thought it might be one of those outlandish stories you hear. Luna's fancies are fairly tame compared to some of the rumors you hear about this place - I never thought - " he broke off suddenly at the shadowed look in Hermione's eyes, and grew somber. "You've been here before."

"Yes. Harry led us here. He'd been… misinformed about something. It was a trap; there was a battle. I was hit by a purple flame curse… nearly died. And Harry lost - "

"Lost what?" But Hermione shook her head, forcing herself out of her reverie. Stubby Boardman is the Minister for Magic.

"It doesn't matter now. Thank you for everything you've done. I hope I - I haven't made things too awful for you." She pressed her lips together tightly, willing herself not to cry.

"How could you make things awful, when you light up everything you touch? You always have." She wanted to point out the absurdity in thinking that anyone as gloomy and damaged as she was could light up anything. But he took her hands in his, turned them palms up, and lifted them to his lips. She closed her eyes to weather the force of the emotion that buffeted her, and when she looked down, she saw that he'd closed his eyes too. Slowly, he pulled on her trapped hands and drew her into an embrace. "I'm glad I got to meet you," he whispered with careful emphasis into her ear.

"Take care of Jeannie… for - for both of us. And love Susan." She swallowed the clog of tears in her throat, and slowly backed away from him, holding onto his hands for as long as she could. He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. When his arms had fallen back to his sides, she withdrew the chain from under her cloak, and sighed a broken, barely audible, "Adjicio Universum," as she tapped the crystal with her wand.

She did not break her gaze from his, as the corners of her mouth tipped upward in the faintest of smiles. She started to move one arm, raising her hand in farewell…

…and then she was gone.

The curtain in the archway snapped suddenly, but as quickly as Harry looked up, had resumed its placid billowing. Luna was still in front of it, but was watching him with clear sympathy, and not a little respect.

"You are a good person, Harry Potter."

"So they tell me," he said sardonically, unable to keep his shoulders from slumping under the weight of the emotional turmoil and dredged-up grief.

"Do you have a date in mind for your trip?" she asked placidly. He could not keep his gaze from jerking up to meet hers, his surprised guilt clear in his blazing green eyes.

"How do you - " Instead of finishing his question, he sighed. "Why do I even ask?" She tilted her head to blink calmly at him, causing the feathered end of her quill to dangle haphazardly over one ear. She tapped one foot on the stone chamber floor, the very picture of patient waiting. "I'll go as soon as you have one of those crystals set to her universe. And as soon as you can explain to me the proper procedure…"

"To do what?" There was a gleam in her sky eyes that suggested that she already knew, but wanted to make him say it out loud.

"I want to relieve Minister Lucius Malfoy of his Constant. For her."

Luna smiled back at him, her demeanor decidedly neither vague nor outlandish.

"I'll Owl you first thing in the morning."

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