A/N: Longer chapter, much more to like or hate. The style has actually changed a bit, but partially because it was written in a much more… child-like viewpoint. In an odd way. This one took me much longer to write because I never found myself completely satisfied with how it ended. Let me know what you think, and I hope you enjoy!
Chapter Twenty-Two
Rain always made the children rather miserable. Not only did it severely limit their options for play; it had a way of making everything seem gray and unhappy.
On this particular June afternoon, the rain hadn't stopped all day. The grass in the backyard was flooded with water, and thunder and lightening had become quite regular.
That day, all of the children were in Yasmine's room, listening to her read one of her books out loud.
"'…I say, Peter, can you really fly?' Instead of troubling to answer him, Peter flew about the room, taking the mantelpiece on the way. `How topping!' said James and Michael. `How sweet!' cried Wendy-"
At this point, a rather grumpy Jack found it necessary to interrupt.
"I can't see anything so special about it. Wizards fly all the time."
Which of course stirred up all kinds of argument among the seven of them. Yasmine, highly irritated, said rather snippily that wizards used brooms, and anyway Jack wouldn't know, since he was afraid of heights. To which Jack retorted that Yasmine wouldn't know either, and besides that she hadn't any right to act so smart just because she was reading the book, which he found very stupid. Katy, ever the peacemaker, timidly suggested that since they hadn't gotten very far, mightn't Jack give it a few more pages, to see if it really was? Jack, who was normally very kind to Katy, said icily that he didn't need to listen any further, because this wasn't how magic worked at all. Wizards flew and so there was nothing exciting about this at all, and he was dying of boredom, and they ought to start reading something exciting, like Treasure Island (and everyone knew they'd read Treasure Island three times and never wanted to hear about Jim and Long John Silver again, or at least until Christmas).
"As if you would know how magic works!" said Yasmine scornfully, and she proceeded to shut the book with a loud snap. The others, who had very much been enjoying the story, immediately began arguing with Jack.
"Wizards need brooms to fly, so it is special, since Peter can fly without one," Adrian said, who had grown up as a Muggle anyway, and thought it was special to be able to fly at all.
"And anyway, these are Muggles, and they're flying without airplanes or helicopters or balloons, that's special." Ben said, who felt the same as Adrian. "Keep reading, Yasmine. No one wants to read Treasure Island except Jack."
"Well, it's heaps better than Peter Pan," said Jack sourly, who had really been enjoying the story, but was tired of being inside, and when a boy is tired of being inside, he finds it very easy to find something to complain about, and usually settles for something that everyone else seems to be liking.
`"If you want to read Treasure Island so much, why don't you go and read it by yourself?" said Yasmine, who was tired of being inside as well, and also tired of constantly being interrupted.
And of course, Jack couldn't argue with that logic, but determined to have the last word, he fumed, "Fine! I will! And when your brains start oozing out of your heads from boredom, don't come complaining to me!'
But Yasmine also liked to have the last word.
"At least we have brains to lose!"
Furious, Jack yanked Treasure Island off the Shelf (which was where Yasmine had put all of the favorites), went to his room, and slammed the door shut with a bang.
To make everything worse, this woke Jackie, who had been napping, and as she always did when woken prematurely from a nap, she began wailing.
"… twelve clockwise turns and-oh, dear..." Hermione was in the middle of brewing a very complicated potion that if brewed improperly, would burn right through the cauldron and potentially set the house of fire. And there were exactly two hundred and four steps that she was performing by memory. So of course she was already on edge, since this was more or less an examination, and Healer Pruitt's full attention was focused on her process. And right as she added the salamander tails-a crucial step that had to be timed exactly-Jack slammed the door, and Jackie had begun wailing.
Hearing this, and hearing the two children bicker even through the walls, Hermione went scarlet and nearly stopped in the middle of her eighth clockwise turn, but of course Healer Pruitt reached out and helped her to continue stirring.
Jackie's wails grew even louder, and Hermione's face grew redder, and Healer Pruitt, who despite his strict appearance was a very understanding person, said, "Perhaps you'd best go… deal with things. I'll watch this."
Hermione murmured a hasty apology, but Healer Pruitt waved her away. As Jackie let out a piercing shriek and continued to cry, he cringed and was reminded of why he had avoided the Children's Ward, even though they did offer him an extremely high-paying job.
Hermione hurried up the stairs and went directly into Jackie's room, who, like everyone else in the house (except for perhaps Healer Pruitt), was in a dreadful mood.
"Jackie, dear, do please hush…" she pleaded through gritted teeth, mentally adding the Essence of Groban as she did, "Shh… there's a good girl…"
After a good ten minutes of this, Jackie finally quieted down, and then there was another two minutes where she refused to let Hermione leave the room until she rocked Oats to sleep too (Hermione, whose patience was wearing thin, desperately wanted to point out that the bear's eyes would always remain open) and then the red-haired doll (whose eyes were painted closed), and when Hermione finally shut the door on Jackie's room, she was having one of those times where she wasn't sure if she wanted to cry or yell or do both at once, and what made things worse is she knew she shouldn't do either of them.
So she merely hurried back downstairs, and when she returned to the cauldron, Healer Pruitt had taken her to the very last four steps. This meant that Hermione would (at a later time, the Healer assured her) have to brew the potion for him again. Hermione forced a smile and set a date for that to happen, and was extremely glad when the Healer had gone, though she was furious at the same time, for she had just barely managed to remember the first one hundred and two, and it was a miracle that she had executed them properly.
A telltale crack sounded in the living room, and Harry found himself confronting a very upset Hermione.
"What are you doing here?" she snapped, and he stared at her, taken aback. He held up several grocery bags.
"I thought you'd be too busy to do the grocery shopping, and so I did it on my way back from work."
Hermione went very still, and she silently took the bags from him and wandered into the kitchen. He followed her. The very jerky, very unsteady way she was handling the groceries worried him, and he said cautiously, "Hermione?"
She turned around, closing the fridge.
"Are you all right?"
"Oh, I'm fine," she said very calmly, and she promptly dropped the eggs to the floor and burst into tears.
"Hermione!" he said, hastily stepping over the mess to wrap his arms around her quivering frame, "Hermione-what in Merlin's name…?"
She sobbed into his shirt.
"I've ruined the eggs," she said miserably.
He rubbed her back.
"It's okay-I can get more," he said soothingly, and she hiccupped, scrubbing her eyes on his shirt and wrapping her arms around his waist. "What happened?"
"Nothing, and that's just it," she said rather wretchedly, "I was in the middle of the exam, and then the children started fighting again, and Jack woke Jackie, and I was so terribly embarrassed, and I went up to quiet Jackie down, and the moment I was back the exam was over, and I had to reschedule, and I only just barely managed to do it the first time!"
"That's not `nothing'," he said softly, stroking her hair gently, "it's just been a rainy day for you."
As if to further prove his point, thunder boomed, causing the windowpanes to rattle. Hermione hid her face in Harry's chest-and Harry gallantly attempted to ignore how pleasant it felt to have her in his arms, because it really wasn't anything to celebrate.
"And then I snapped at you, and you were being so sweet-and I was rude and inconsiderate, and now I've probably made you late for something, and I've gotten your shirt all wet…"
"That's all right," he said softly, and it was.
She scrubbed her eyes.
"Thank you for the groceries, Harry."
He smiled, happily aware that her arms were still looped around his waist. "You're welcome. I can go get you more eggs, if you like."
"Oh, I couldn't make you do that," she said, and she leaned against him. His heart thumped contentedly.
"I'd like to. You've got enough on your plate as it is." He rested his chin in her hair, closing his eyes. The kitchen was quiet except for the rain pattering against the window, and she felt so warm and comfortable in his arms. "Your Healer's training is a lot by itself, and you're watching the kids, and you're doing all the paperwork for the Children's Ward at St. Mungo's. The least I can do is help with the groceries."
She raised a rather watery smile to him, and even though his day had been frustratingly unproductive, Harry suddenly felt extremely accomplished. With his thumb, he wiped the remainder of her tears off her face. He then bent and (with as much bravery as he could manage) kissed her cheek, perhaps a bit too closely to her mouth, but sufficiently far away to still be considered a kiss on the cheek.
At least that's what he hoped.
"Thank you," she said again, and he smiled.
"You're welcome, Hermione."
She beamed, then said, "Do you have plans for dinner, Harry?"
"Actually, I do." He said, and when her face fell, he laughed and said, "I said I'd come for dinner tonight, remember?"
Her eyes lit up, and she blushed sheepishly.
"I forgot."
"I think I can forgive you this once," he quipped, making her laugh.
~*~
Of course, Jack and Yasmine and all the older children got a proper lecture from Hermione, and Jack and Yasmine were both rather frosty toward each other and Hermione that afternoon. But then, both felt rather guilty, as they were meant to, and by the time dinnertime came, they had apologized to Hermione, and though they never outright apologized to each other, they did exchange small smiles and played a game of checkers, and that was enough for them (though Hermione did make them apologize to each other verbally later, which both found rather pointless, as they had already made up.)
Healer Pruitt received an invitation to dinner that night, and though he regarded the children-especially Jackie-rather warily at first, he soon warmed up to the group, and entertained the entire table with his tales of the strange maladies and accidents he had ended up curing himself.
"Top notch organization your Mr. Potter is running, Miss Granger," he said to her as she cleaned up the dishes. Hermione turned very pink and murmured something under her breath.
"What's that?"
"He's… not my Mr. Potter," she said, though with less conviction than Healer Pruitt had expected.
"Oh, isn't he?" was all her mentor said, rather pointedly. "Let the poor lad know, will you? He wouldn't stop looking at you all evening."
He hid a smile of amusement as Hermione looked up at him sharply, and for a moment, he could catch the mingled doubt and pleasure in her face.
"Well," he said, "thank you very much for dinner. You have a splendid family and a lovely home."
She didn't appear to hear him for a moment; she was gazing rather confusedly in front of her, and when he repeated his thanks, she started.
"Oh… you're very welcome. Please feel free to visit anytime."
He shook his head, stifling a chuckle. The girl didn't appear to know exactly where she was.
He patted her shoulder and said quietly, "Feelings aren't usually half as complicated as we like to make them. I hope you know that."
He took his cloak from off the table and Apparated, leaving a very quiet Hermione in the kitchen.
She stood there for a long while, the faucet still running clear, steaming water over the dish. She gazed in front of her, the Healer's remark echoing in her mind.
Suddenly, someone's arms slipped around her shoulders, and she jumped, dropping the plate into the sink. It shattered immediately upon hitting the bottom of the sink, showering glass into the soapy dishwater.
"Oh, dear," she said, feeling extremely embarrassed and very confused. "Clumsy of me-"
"Here," he said kindly, and mended the plate with a wave of his wand. Hermione was strangely grateful that he had released her to do so, for her heart was fluttering rather madly within her and she wasn't sure why. Until she was, however, she wasn't keen on letting it continue.
"Thanks."
"I didn't mean to scare you," he said, coming around and standing in front of her. She smiled weakly.
"That's all right."
He tilted his head to the side in concern, his glasses sliding slightly down the bridge of his nose.
"Well," he said after a pause, "I just wanted to let you know that I had to leave."
"Oh-of course," she said, after a long silence. "I'm sorry; I just…thank you so much for… everything."
He quirked a grin.
"You say that as if you didn't deserve it."
"Well, the way I treated you this afternoon-"
"Hermione, you were having a bad day. But even then, getting to see you… it was worth it, and I…" he trailed off, and he looked up. For a moment, his gaze locked on hers intently, and Hermione caught her breath at the warmth and earnestness with which he gazed at her-in fact, Hermione realized, she had stopped breathing- he licked his lips, and with an embarrassed half-smile, he blurted out, "I just wanted to see you."
She felt herself blush as he laughed, nervously rubbing the back of his neck and looking away.
"I… I dunno where… I'm having the strangest night, Hermione-I dunno where that came from-" he cleared his throat and swallowed visibly. "I… I really ought to go. I-Hermione. I… Look, I'm sorry that I-I really… normally I'd-I-"
Before she could say or do anything, he'd bent and kissed her on the forehead, soft and hasty and nervous.
"G'night. I'll… I'll see you tomorrow!"
"Harry!"
But he had Apparated already with a crack. She stood frozen by the sink, dishes forgotten and feeling strangely giddy.
She let out a breath, making every effort to suppress the warm tingles flooding her body. But even then, she still felt rather dazed, pleasantly so, but dazed all the same.
"Hermione?"
She turned around, and saw a sleepy Yasmine standing in the kitchen doorway. "Yasmine, you should be in bed."
"Yes, I know," Yasmine said with a yawn, "only I was wondering if Harry had gone yet."
Even in her drowsy state, Yasmine could see her turn pink.
"He just left."
"Oh," Yasmine said, rubbing her eyes, "I forgot to tell him something. Will he come back tomorrow?"
Hermione didn't know, and said so.
She glanced at the clock: nearly ten thirty.
"Yasmine, you really should go to bed."
"Yes, well, I was," Yasmine said, dragging a toe across the floor and hanging her head, "only I've just gotten to a good part in Half Magic and I really can't sleep until I know what happens."
Hermione hesitated as Yasmine looked up at her hopefully. She knew she should make Yasmine go to bed, but she couldn't help but remember all the nights she had hidden under the covers with a flashlight, desperate to finish a book she really couldn't put down.
So then, with a quiet smile, she relented.
"All right, then," and when Yasmine's face brightened, she added, "but only this once."
"Yes, all right!" she said happily, and she turned, clearly about to race upstairs. Then she paused.
"Would you read it to me? I read to the others all afternoon."
Hermione paused, then smiled again.
"All right. Go get your book, and make sure you don't wake the others."
Yasmine beamed, then turned and slipped quickly out of the kitchen. Hermione shook her head, still smiling.
When Yasmine returned, she and Hermione went to the living room and sat on the couch together. Hermione began reading: Jane and Mark and Katherine and Martha had just wished themselves and their cat Carrie to the Sahara Desert.
Every time they finished a chapter, Hermione would lower the book, look at Yasmine, and whisper that she really should go to bed now, and Yasmine would say that they couldn't stop now. She would then snuggle closer to Hermione and Hermione would laugh quietly and start the next chapter.
Soon, the book was finished, and Hermione closed it, placing it on her lap. "And now it really is time for you to go to bed, Yaz."
"There's a sequel," came the hopeful answer, and Hermione laughed.
"Maybe another time," she said, "You're off to bed."
She bent and kissed Yasmine's dark hair.
"Sleep tight."
But Yasmine didn't move. She looked up with excited dark eyes, and she whispered, "Imagine having your wishes granted; wouldn't it be just splendid?"
"Yes, I suppose it would," Hermione said carefully, "But you do see that Jane and Mark and Katherine and Martha really had all they wanted to be happy, already. All the charm did was set up the right circumstances."
"I suppose so," Yasmine agreed thoughtfully. She leaned her head against Hermione's shoulder.
"What would you wish for?"
Hermione looked out at the gray stones of the empty fireplace, considering the question carefully. Yasmine's dark eyes were watching her face expectantly, and at last, Hermione said, "I'm not sure."
"Really?" Yasmine's voice sounded disappointed. "You haven't thought about it at all?"
"Well…"
"What about Harry? What do you think he would wish for?"
Hermione paused.
"He's always wanted a family of his own," Hermione said after another pause, and Yasmine looked at her with wide eyes, "Children, and… and someone to love who loves him back."
She hoped very much that Yasmine didn't notice her hesitation, but she could see Yasmine thinking hard.
"But… suppose," Yasmine said after another pause, "Just suppose… he already has all that, like you said? Suppose he does? And all he needs is to… realize that he wants them, and that maybe that other someone wants them too?"
And then she looked up at Hermione with bright, dark eyes, and she said in a secretive whisper, "Because you do, don't you?"
With those soft, innocent eyes looking at her, Hermione felt as though something within her had broken, as if some sort of barrier had shattered, and she felt strangely free to whisper an answer back.
"Yes."
Yasmine's face transformed into a brilliant smile.
"I thought so. I knew you loved him!" she whispered excitedly. Then she frowned.
"Haven't you told him?"
Hermione shook her head mutely. Her heart was beating unusually quickly. It felt odd to hear it said out loud: I knew you loved him.
I love him.
But wait, a voice in her head protested, isn't this all rather sudden? And loving Harry…that way?
She brought her knees up to her chest and stared mutely at the fireplace. Yasmine stared at her curiously, surprised at the rather blank look on Hermione's face.
"Haven't you?" she repeated, putting her hands on Hermione's arm. "You must have."
"What?" Hermione started and looked over at her. Yasmine stared back. "Oh-Yasmine, you should be off to bed-it's nearly midnight."
"But…"
"Bed, Yaz," she said, and Yasmine knew then that the conversation had ended. She glanced at the grandfather clock and smiled.
Two minutes to midnight-midnight. She slid off the couch and tiptoed out of the living room, chancing a glance backwards once more. Hermione was still staring at the fireplace, looking puzzled and thoughtful.
She giggled and hurried up the stairs, glancing out the front door. The stars seemed to twinkle, sharing a secret giggle with her.
When the clock strikes twelve, things happen. Yasmine had read enough to understand that. And not just anything-magical things happen, usually the end of an enchantment. She wondered what would happen for Hermione, and resolved to stay awake in bed, waiting for the spell to end.
Hermione curled up on the couch, listening to the soft, amiable tick of the old grandfather clock. Harry had found it in an old antique shop.
Harry.
I just wanted to see you.
As the first bell chimed, Hermione realized how much she missed him. Even if he had been in her kitchen only an hour ago, she somehow longed for his company, if only for a few more minutes.
Getting to see you… it was worth it.
She could almost feel his arms circling around her, warm and strong and gentle-and as she closed her eyes, she could almost hear the soft sound of his breath in her ear. And there was that third bell, echoing softly in her ear.
Are you all right?
In the darkness behind her eyelids, her mind suddenly constructed a vision of a brilliant flash of green. Harry's gaze, intense, earnest, and kind…
That must have been the fourth chime… it was late…
I didn't mean to scare you.
And suddenly she was reliving the memories of Harry's anger in the tent-of the dark shadows beneath those green eyes, of the beginnings of a beard darkening his chin-and that worry weighing down the corners of his mouth-and the way he looked at her with that doggedly determined look, behind which she could almost see fear… the fear that she would leave, and the fear that he would have to be brave alone… and how angry he was that Dumbledore had seemingly abandoned them, at how his only weapon had snapped… and how miserable she was when she realized that it was her fault…
Fifth chime. Nearer to midnight, now.
I think I can forgive you, this once.
So many times she had refused to believe him, believe what he said and trust him… Malfoy's treachery, the Deathly Hallows…
But he had never brought it up again, after everything had been resolved.
Six… that was six. Almost midnight.
Almost tomorrow.
What happened?
He was always concerned about others… about her. It was in his nature, that naturally concerned and sincere look that he had when he held her.
Seven.
That's not `nothing'.
And he wouldn't give up. She smiled, remembering how he had refused to let Fleur's sister remain in what he thought was mortal danger-the mortified look on his face when he realized his mistake… but she had always thought it a very brave, very noble thing to do.
That was the eighth bell, wasn't it?
That's all right.
She smiled. Things did seem all right. And she felt herself blush as her mind finished for her-things seem all right when we're together.
And Hermione was mortified to realize that she'd read that before, in those cheap romance novels that sat in waiting rooms at offices.
Three more bells until midnight.
I'm having the strangest night, Hermione.
She wet her lips and sighed. She could still see Yasmine's excited smile- "I knew you loved him!"
Hermione wasn't used to being the last to know things.
Two more strikes of the bell, and the night would be officially over.
G'night, Hermione!
She touched her forehead, remembering the soft, hasty kiss that had brushed over it only hours before.
One more strike.
I'll see you tomorrow.
She closed her eyes and felt herself smile, perhaps more brilliantly and more happily than she could have ever imagined… and suddenly, she wished she could whisper something in Harry's ear.
The clock struck twelve, and the night turned to morning, and her eyes suddenly felt very wet, as though the morning dew had crept there early.
As the gentle echo of the bell died away, Hermione tentatively whispered something, as if to let her words catch the tail of the fleeing night.
"I love him."
It was morning, and Hermione finally slipped off to sleep on the couch.
A/N (2): I do hope you know a good dentist after reading this one. I hope it's not too cliché, though I know it does seem to reek of it, I hope I injected it with enough originality to keep you interested. Oh, and the book Hermione and Yasmine were reading is titled Half Magic and was written by Edward Eager. Excellent book, and it's still one of my favorites. And yes, there is a sequel.
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