The First Day - Part 4
Harry watched them walk the length of the infirmary, shuffling quietly past Lavender's bed. Her parents were gone and she had already fallen asleep. He turned back to Hermione.
"So what's this about then? Why didn't you say anything? And what happened to you this morning?"
"Well today's been a bit busy, don't you think?" Hermione replied. "And it's not bad-it doesn't hurt at all."
"But you still haven't said: what happened to you this morning? Why would the wound reopen after all this time?" Harry was desperate to know, although he was beginning to be afraid of the answers.
Hermione spoke quietly. "Well, for one thing, Bellatrix died."
"Yes, but shouldn't that make things better? Her spells and curses should all die with her, shouldn't they?" Harry asked.
"You would think so." Hermione gazed across the room at the wall of windows overlooking the lawn that led to the lake. "Listen Harry. I don't need to stay in bed like an invalid. Can we sit over there next to the window, by the fire?"
"Sure," Harry replied. He gave her his hand as she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and slipped her feet into a pair of well-worn slippers.
Two straightback chairs and a long, low chesterfield framed the huge stone fireplace in the back corner of the infirmary. Hermione chose one end of the chesterfield, facing the fire, and Harry sat beside her. She was wearing her hair down, and the soft brown curls partly hid her face as she leaned forward, kneading her hands and staring at the floor.
"They've been asking me about all the times I've had contact with Death Eaters or Dark Magic or even just ordinary Slytherins," Hermione said. "It's quite a long list."
"The Slytherin cat in Second Year-does that count?" Harry asked.
"I don't know. Maybe. Then there was the Death Eater curse at the Department of Mysteries. And then this year…."
"Being Crucioed and cut by Bellatrix," Harry said bitterly. "And then you Polyjuiced as Bellatrix, even used her wand. Maybe that wasn't such a good idea." Harry tapped his fingers nervously on the arm of the sofa.
"There was no other way, Harry," Hermione said firmly. "It had to be done. Don't beat yourself up about it. In any case, while I was posing as Bellatrix the cut was healing fine. So I don't think it was that. But then last night-or early this morning, I'm not sure--Ron and I went to the Chamber of Secrets."
"Salazar Slytherin's personal chamber of horrors," Harry flinched and shook his head as he remember his own encounter with evil there five years before. "I wouldn't be surprised if there is still some trace of him there."
Hermione gasped in alarm, so Harry quickly changed the subject. "And how amazing was it that Ron was able to use Parseltongue to get in!"
Hermione stood up suddenly and took a step toward to the fire, stretching out her arms to warm her hands. "Actually it wasn't Ron."
"What?" Harry wondered how many more surprises this day could hold.
Hermione leaned closer to the fire. "Ron did say something; he mimicked what he'd heard you say, as he told you. In fact he tried several times, with different pitches and intonations. But it was no good. He was just a person imitating a sound. He's not a Parselmouth-or possessed by the Heir of Slytherin, like Ginny was."
"But it worked," Harry insisted. "You got in and destroyed the Horcrux."
"Yes, we did." Hermione paused. "I don't know how it happened, but I was standing behind Ron and thinking "Open" as hard as I could-and it opened."
"Well that's it then. You are the Heir of Slytherin, Hermione," Harry slapped his hand on the arm of the sofa. "Hey-why not? It doesn't have to be a bloke."
Hermione chuckled. "That would have solved a lot of our problems, wouldn't it? No, remember that Dumbledore said the Gaunts were the last descendants of Slytherin. I know Dumbledore was wrong about a lot of things, but not this one."
"Well what then? How could you be a Parselmouth-or even better, a Parselmind, since all you did was communicate with your thoughts?" Harry said.
"I don't know, Harry. Professor Slughorn thinks it may be linked to my being Petrified by the basilisk in Second Year-that there was some lingering connection or influence. But Harry, your must promise me. Don't tell Ron. He was so happy and proud. And maybe it was him after all, we can't be sure."
"Don't worry, Hermione. I won't say anything. So you're not mad at him then?"
"Why would I be mad at him?" Hermione asked.
"Ron told me that you, that he, that the two of you…"
"That we're not together?" Hermione finished his thought.
"But you kissed him-right in front of me!" Harry said indignantly.
"I know, I know. I was genuinely proud of him. And it confirmed that he fancied me. Besides, when you're around someone that long, you get curious." Hermione looked away.
"Curious?" Harry asked.
"Yes. About what is would be like, you know, to kiss them." Hermione turned a light shade of pink.
"So you satisfied your curiosity and that was it?" Harry asked.
"Not exactly." Hermione turned back to look at him. "Ron and I had a long talk earlier today, while you were taking your nap actually. We cleared up a lot of things. About time too. For the longest time I thought he fancied me. And he thought I fancied him. And we did. I love Ron. I do. He is the brother I never had," Hermione said. Harry startled at her too familiar choice of words.
"But, Harry, surely you of all people must see we have little in common, especially now that he'll be leaving school for good. What would we talk about? How would we spend time together? You know what we're like."
"Yeah. I know. Especially this year."
"Being with someone has to be more than just snogging, Harry," Hermione said pointedly.
"Oh I know. You don't need to tell me that," Harry said. "In fact, even if Ron hadn't said anything to me I would have figured it out."
"Really?" Hermione said, surprised. "How?"
"Your Patronus tonight. The unicorn, remember? If Ron was…if you were…together, your Patronus would have changed to match his. That's how it worked with my parents. And Tonks. And Snape, apparently. There's no way anyone could mistake that unicorn for a little terrier," Harry said with a grin.
"Oh, I see. I hadn't thought of that. But then who…" Hermione's voice tailed off.
"Well that's the thing. I've been wracking my brains and I can't think of anyone else with a unicorn, as a Patronus I mean. I know the centaurs have unicorn herds in the Forbidden Forest."
"I can assure you that I am not in love with Bane." Hermione struggled to keep a straight face but soon gave way to a girlish giggle.
"Ah yes, but perhaps Firenze has taken your fancy. It seems to me that the girls were all swooning over him in Sixth Year," Harry teased.
"No, no. No centaurs for me, please, Harry. How is Firenze anyway?" she asked.
"He survived. I saw him in the Great Hall this morning." Harry looked down at his hands, clasped together on his lap, as the events of the day broke through all his efforts to keep them at bay. "We lost so many," he said quietly. "I still can't take it in. It's not real to me. Remus and Tonks. Both of them. It's not possible. And Fred. I could have borne almost anyone else but Fred."
Hermione's breath caught in her throat and she turned back to him, her eyes glistening. "Harry, is it terrible of me to be thankful that it wasn't Ron--or you? I couldn't bear it if anything happened to you."
She looked directly into his eyes, with a look of relief and sadness and yearning so strong that Harry stood up, reached out to lift her up, and drew her into his arms. She buried her face in his shoulder and pressed her hands flat against his chest. Harry could feel her body shake with silent sobs, the crackling of the fire the only sound in the room. A log in the grate shifted, sending red and gold sparks into the air. Hermione flinched, but Harry tightened his grip and held her close, until he felt the tension flow out of her body and she relaxed into his embrace.
Harry felt at peace, a sense of fulfillment and completeness he had never known. When Hermione lifted her head slightly he leaned forward to rest the side of his face against hers. Her cheek was wet and soon his own tears flowed, mingling with hers, as they took comfort from each other.
Harry felt something push against his ankles and he recognized a familiar low hum. Crookshanks was rubbing against their legs, walking in a slow circle around them, purring his feline welcome. At first Hermione seemed oblivious to the arrival of her beloved friend, but suddenly she drew back from Harry, squealed in delight, and bent down to pick up her squashed faced cat.
Harry felt the loss of Hermione in his arms as strongly as if one of his own limbs had been ripped away. He knew now-he finally knew-that he was inextricably bound to her, that he wanted to be near her always, to be allowed to love her. He loved Hermione, loved her as a man loves a woman. If she loved him only as a brother, that would have to be enough. He would learn to accept it. But if--
"Crookshanks, you're here!" Hermione said happily, holding him tightly and stroking the fur between his ears. "Professor McGonagall kept him for me, Harry. She told me she'd send him down to stay with me tonight." Hermione buried her face in his fur. "Oh Crookshanks. I'm so glad to see you. I missed you so much," she murmured, kissing him lightly on the forehead. Harry felt a sharp pang, as he remembered that Hedwig was lost to him forever.
Harry reached out to pet Crookshanks, who was nestled contentedly in Hermione's arms, but their reunion was interrupted by the sound of muffled voices outside the infirmary. The far door opened to reveal Professor Slughorn, as well as
the last person Harry expected to see-Draco Malfoy. Slughorn turned and walked back down the hall, but Draco remained standing in the doorway, hesitant. The old bravado was gone, the insolent sneer replaced by deep sadness.
"Malfoy," Harry said, as Draco walked toward them. "What are you doing here?"
"Professor Slughorn sent me," Draco replied. "I may be able to help with the knife." He turned to Hermione. "I hope you're feeling better . . . Hermione." It was the first time he had ever used her Christian name.
"Thank you Draco," she replied cautiously. "I'm feeling perfectly fine actually. Madam Pomfrey is just being a worrywart as always."
"Oh, that's great then." Draco forced a wan smile. "Listen, I won't disturb you but Professor Slughorn wants me to show Harry some illustrations of knives in the Malfoy collection. Maybe we can identify it from the book and save some time."
"There's a book about Malfoy stuff," Harry said in astonishment.
"Of course," Draco said. "Dark Arts. It's in the Restricted Section."
"Well what are we waiting for?" Harry said impatiently. "Let's go have a look." He turned back to Hermione. "I'll be back as soon as I can."
Harry heard the squeak of rubber soles as Madam Pomfrey reappeared from her office. "Oh no you won't," she said. "Miss Granger has to sleep now. The potion works best when the patient is flat on her back and sound asleep." She crossed her arms and gave Harry her sternest expression.
"All right. All right," Harry replied. He turned to Hermione. "Good night, Hermione. I'll see you tomorrow." He reached out to take her hand but Hermione stepped forward and placed her arms around his neck. Harry held her as tightly as he could, shutting his eyes to memorize the feeling of holding her closely in his arms. He released her slightly, their eyes met for a moment, then he kissed her goodbye on the cheek, which was still glistening from their moisture of their tears.
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