Chapter 5
A Cottage By The Sea
Whatever their private thoughts about Hermione's recovery and Harry's determination to cure her, Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey managed yet another small miracle for the young man who had risked so much for the wizarding world.
Two days after Harry pronouncement that he and Hermione needed to leave the confines of Hogwarts, they had apparated away and appeared in the slightly overgrown garden of a small house that the two older witches had secured for them. It was somewhat akin to Bill and Fleur's Shell Cottage, although it was smaller and it looked out over a different sea.
Their house, an old fisherman's cottage really, was fashioned in dark grey stone each block separated from but bonded to its neighbour with brilliant white mortar. The slate roof was mottled with multicoloured patches of moss and lichens, which broke up the flat dark surface with joyous abandon. The whole effect was finished off with bright yellow paint that adorned the window frames and the low back door. It looked quite cosy, and Harry, still gripping Hermione's hand from the side along apparition, led her down to the back door and touched it with his wand. The lock gave a click and the door swung open revealing the entrance to a small kitchen. It was brightly lit by the light streaming in through the window and the couple could see that all the essentials were present. Harry wondered who had lived here before but as the house possessed electric lights and sockets, he reasoned it probably had not been another witch or wizard.
They crossed the threshold and entered their home, which they explored with excitement more suited to children half their age. They found a small dining room, next to the kitchen and to the front of the cottage a sitting room that took up the rest of the space on the ground floor. It was well furnished with comfortable looking chairs and a small sofa all arranged around a cast iron fireplace, which was topped off with a small wooden mantle. Two windows, twins of the ones at the back of the house, looked out over a very small patch of grass that formed the front garden and the low stone made wall that enclosed it. They could see a rickety looking gate in this wall, which gave access to a narrow path that led down to a small road that separated the cottage from a rocky beach and the restless North Sea beyond.
The front door, painted in the same bright yellow paint, opened directly into the sitting room, and in the opposite corner was a steep set of stairs, almost a ladder that led to the two bedrooms and bathroom on the first floor.
"Well," said Harry as he threw himself down in one of the arm chairs, "just what the doctor ordered, we should get along fine here."
Hermione who had shown as much interest in their new surrounding as he had sat on the sofa and stared into the unlit grate, deep in thought, the smile slipped from her face and she drew a deep breath.
"I'm not going to get better am I Harry?" she turned to look him full in the face and saw the shock at her statement and then the denial of it in his expression. She gave him a sad little smile understanding his unwillingness to accept the truth. "You shouldn't have given me so many books to read," she said quietly. "Standard Book of Spells grade five, there is a chapter on obliviation, and I know what the effects are I know what I've become." Harry made to move to her side, hesitated because he knew she was trying to be brave and hide her feelings and then he did it anyway.
He sat next to her and slipped a comforting arm about her shoulders. "Its ok Harry, it really is, I can accept it now," she said clearly, trying again to raise a smile but despite her words of reassurance, glistening tears gathered in her eyes. She settled into his embrace and took pleasure in their closeness. "I think you are wonderful for trying to help me, and I don't even know why." She paused, now was not the time to hide anything from him.... "Well that's not true," she felt him stiffen slightly but he didn't relax his hold on her. "I'm not stupid Harry, you have shown me all your memories, I have watched you, Ron and I grow up together, and I understand what we meant to each other. But that was 'then' and I have to accept that whatever made me feel in a certain way 'then' is gone. I want to start again; I want to learn to live with what I have now." Her eyes searched his, brown locked onto emerald green; she found what she was looking for and pressed on. "If we were to do it that way would you still stay with me?"
"Yes of course," there was no hesitation in his voice, "there is nothing I want more but I don't want you to make any decisions without knowing as much as you can. Please let me finish what we started, if you still feel the same way then, we'll take it from there."
She wondered what she would have to do to get Harry to admit that he was in love with her as much as she had grown to love him over the last few months. She had as good as thrown herself at him and yet Harry was doggedly trying to stick to his plan. "What happens if at the end I decided on Ron," she taunted him with the thought.
Harry swallowed, "I would accept your decision." He sighed, "Don't you understand Hermione, all I want is for you to be happy, for you to make the right decision, for you, whatever it is."
"All right Harry we'll do it your way, but I think you are daft," she took his hand in hers and drew lazy little circles in his palm with her fingertip. "I am happy right now."
Harry's memories continued to flow into the pensive and Hermione unwilling to upset him studied them all. The competition for the Triwizard Cup she found quite fascinating, although she was a little miffed that it was Ron chosen, as the thing Harry would miss the most and not her, partly now because she suspected it wasn't the case. Poor Harry nothing appeared to be easy for him. The interplay between the three of them at Yule Ball was interesting. She was especially tickled by Harry's reaction to the change in her appearance and, thank goodness, the teeth of her younger self had receded to what she now considered normal. Harry's memories of the death of Cedric Diggory and the rest of that night when Voldemort returned were traumatic to say the least. She knew that the first time around she could never have grasped the enormity of what Harry had experienced but standing next to him, living them and watching those awful events play out she understood better now than any save Harry himself. To her it spoke volumes about the character of the young man at her side.
They interspersed their trips down Harry's memory lane with explorations of the little town, of which their house proved to be the northern most dwelling. At one time, a fishing village that industry had long since vanished, the town that had grown up relied on holidaymakers for the locals to make a living. The very end of August was a busy time for the town and suitably dressed in muggle attire Harry and Hermione were able to blend in and find the anonymity they desired. A sandy stretch of beach near the old harbour appeared to be the greatest attraction, in fact apart from a Punch and Judy man and a rather rundown amusement arcade, it was all there was. But a spell of warm sunny weather and calm seas ensured that everyone was having a good time.
One sunny afternoon Hermione was lying out in the back garden. She and Harry had cleared a small patch and found a serviceable lawn under all the vegetation, sheltered from the persistent sea breeze it was quite a suntrap. Hermione was dressed in a scanty bikini she had found in one of the shops in town and was lying on her stomach soaking up the warmth from the sun. Harry was watching her; it was hard not to stare. He found that to save himself, he was continuously forced to turn his eyes away from her perfect form and in this instance, they wandered to the roof of the house. Perched on the ridge was a owl, it was a large bird with ear tufts and bright orange eyes, Harry had only seen one like this before and it had belonged to Draco Malfoy. He could not imagine that this particular bird was his but it did look very out of place and Harry held out his arm, just has he had used to do for Hedwig. The bird seeing him swooped down and landed on Harry's proffered arm its sudden appearance in the garden causing Crookshanks, who had been curled on the blanket next to Hermione, to run for cover in the bushes. Harry winced as the bird's talons bit through the material of the light shirt he was wearing and into his arm, he quickly transferred the owl to a more insensitive perch, the back of the old chair he had been sitting in and examined the bird's leg to see if it was carrying a message. It was and much to Harry's astonishment the message was from Ron.
Dear Harry
How do you like our new house owl? His name is Titus, poor old Errol fell foul of the Death Eaters when they paid us a visit last year. My main reason for writing is to ask you when you will be coming back. Kingsley Shacklebolt is very keen to have you on our team, he has already recruited Neville and me on a short term assignment to help hunt down some of the DE's that got away and feels that you would be a great asset (so do I). Luna has been staying at the Burrow, well there's not much left of her own house and we've started seeing each other (if you know what I mean). Things just sort of happened and I had no reason to hide my feelings, you were right she is a very special girl. We have to be a bit discrete here, it's not easy with mum around, but I've been asked to go and trial for The Cannons (be lucky if I make the reserves). Luna is coming with me, so we'll have a bit of time on our own before she goes back to school, she had already told them she would be returning late.
Funny but I thought once Voldemort was put in his box for good, things would go back to the way they were but losing Fred and Hermione not to mention Remus and Tonks has really shaken things up around here. The motto everywhere seems to be 'pick up and move on' not easy for some I'll bet but ...well it's working for me. Sorry if I am rambling Harry but you know letters are not my strong point. Oh, by the way Ginny has asked after you.
Keep it real mate
Ron.
Harry had slipped into the kitchen to read the note, he wasn't cross, the contents of the note just filled him with sadness, it was clear that in Ron's mind Hermione was as dead as his brother was. Harry looked out into the garden someone less dead it was impossible to imagine. Hermione turned over onto her back and stretched her arms; the sun reflecting off her skin made it glow with health, she was so very much alive. For a moment, Harry wondered if he was being a fool. He knew the new Hermione could be his and Ron was certainly not interested, but as much as he loved the girl lying out there, if there was a chance, even if it was minute, he still wanted to try to get his old Hermione back. Now it was not for Ron, it was for him and most of all it was for her.
Harry did reply to Ron but he wasted no words...
Dear Ron
Sorry but I'm still busy! Kingsley will have to wait, when and if I am ready, I will let him know.
Harry.
As the month of September wore on Harry continued his laborious and now self-imposed task to tell Hermione all that he knew and despite his knowledge of Ron's feelings, he left nothing out.
There was the ridicule and the pain Harry suffered at the hands of Delores Umbridge and the pleasure that Harry showed for the ingenuity of Hermione and her lead in the formation of the DA. The flight of Fred and George, the defeat of the toad and the inquisitorial squad were all wonderful but then came the disaster of the battle at the ministry. The loss of Sirius was devastating but as Harry watched the tableau unfold, he now knew there was nothing he could have done to prevent it, his godfather had already accepted his fate. However, his actions had nearly caused Hermione's death and that troubled him even more. Standing by his side, feeling Harry tremble and hold onto her for comfort as the memory unwound Hermione could not help but realise that too.
Through the last days of September and all of October they worked, not every day but most. Harry showed her the failings of an old man that ultimately led to his untimely, or was it a timely death, Harry was not so sure now. His success at potions was nothing although it had seemed important at the time. His relationship with Ginny was scrutinised by Hermione, Harry looking on in embarrassment, but he needn't have worried, she knew the reason he had turned to the red haired witch and she was pleased he had at least found some comfort after the old man's death.
Hermione often wished these memories were more than unalterable events because there were several incidences when she would like to have taken her old self off for a very serious chat, but the course of history was relentless and ploughed on regardless. Hermione also noticed that Harry was very careful to be as clear as possible, when he retold his impressions of the feelings she had for Ron. Hermione loved him even more for that and she began to understand his compulsion to tell her all he could.
It was the beginning of November and the weather on this part of the coast was taking on a decidedly wintery feel but they were on the last leg now. The memories were fresher in Harry's mind now but harder for him to retell. With the tale came the fear and the knowledge that the time for him to fight Voldemort was getting closer and that, as yet, he had no idea how he was to survive to do it, let alone win. They followed the hunt for the horcruxes and the incidental discovery that the deathly hallows were going to be just as important. Then the hardest part for Harry, not the sacrifice of death, the loss of friends and family, but the fact that Hermione had fallen in love with Ron. However, Hermione regarded that part with indifference; that Hermione didn't exist anymore. The new girl was far more interested in the magic involved and the way Harry used it to defeat Voldemort. She began to understand that Dumbledore for all his imperfections had steered events, even that of his own death, to ensure that Harry arrived armed with the correct weapons to cause Voldemort's downfall.
It was over, they had reached the end of the battle and Harry stopped his memory flow. Their consciousness returned to the parlour and Harry flopped back in his chair exhausted with the effort of the days work and the beginnings of a headache.
"There that's all of it, well most anyway there's just the bit where I found you after you were attacked but not tonight I'm too tired," he said, running his hand through his hair. There was a rumble of thunder from outside and a whistle of the wind at the front door. "Looks like it might be a rough night," he said. "I'll make sure all the windows are closed." He pulled himself to his feet and went about his self-imposed chore.
Hermione followed him with her eyes, she had all the information Harry could give her and yet as far as she could tell it had not brought anything else back. It was sad in a way but she did not mind, she, the Hermione that was here, now, was in love with the young man that had tried to give her back her life. That was gone, into the past and perhaps that is where it belonged. She knew that now Harry's task was finished they could start again, he would keep his word, he would stay with her where he belonged and that was the greatest comfort of all. They would have to come to terms with the new situation but that was for tomorrow, 'sleep on it girl' she told herself it will work itself out.
They both slept restlessly that night, the thunderstorm had worked itself up into a real frenzy. The wind howled and the thunder and lightning crashed and flashed around the house making sleep nearly impossible. Harry's mind was filled with the story he had told to Hermione, brief excerpts flashed across his mind in time with the lightning. It was all there, as much and more than he could remember, as honestly as he could retell it, he had finished the story. As that thought ripped through one of his incoherent dreams a wand, nestling in the dead arms of one of its former masters, responded to its current and hopefully its final master. Although Harry had returned the Elder wand to Dumbledore's tomb the day before they had left Hogwarts and assumed that its part in his life was over, they were still very much connected. Harry had held that wand and had cast a spell many weeks ago but now the terms of that enchantment were met and the magic was released.
Hermione had slept only briefly; dreams were more common for her now. With Harry's memories of the past and some new ones of her own, there was beginning to be more for her to dream about. But the dream she had tonight was about something for which she had no conscious memory. There was Harry and a strange wizard casting a spell and she was the target of that spell. She could feel the spell in her dream, invading her mind, pushing its way through Harry's story, Harry's memories, until it reached a wall. Hermione awoke with a start the dream was very fresh in her mind, no the dream was still in her mind, the wall was there she could imagine it, see it, so big, so solid then the spell was at the barrier and it touched it. The touch was so light, like a butterfly's wing but at that touch the wall dissolved and everything that was Hermione, the Hermione that Harry had searched so long for that somehow he had protected, was released. The realisation and shock were too much for the young witch and in self-preservation Hermione's mind called it a night and she passed out.
When she her consciousness returned it was still dark, the fog slowly cleared from her mind and she remembered. She remembered her mother and father and all the little incidences from her childhood that had meant so much to her and some that had hurt her deeply. She remembered the arrival of that letter, written in green ink, delivered by an owl of all things that had changed her life completely. She remembered the train, Neville and his toad and she remembered Ron and everything he had meant to her, but most of all she remembered Harry. For alongside her own memories there were his, still there, his hopes, his feelings and she wished she had known them before, because it would have made all the difference.
She lay there a long time analysing everything until, through her bedroom window the pale, weak, early morning sunlight began to make an appearance. The storm must have blown itself out during the night and in the strengthening light Hermione slipped out of bed padding across the floor in her bare feet. The door to Harry's room was slightly ajar and it moved silently on its hinges as she pushed it open. Harry was lying on his back, she noticed that his hair was in even more of a mess when he was asleep and it was bad enough when he was awake.
He was still dead to the world, catching up on the hours missed while the storm had raged. It seemed a shame to wake him and for a while, she resisted the temptation. She crossed over to his bed and looked down at the sleeping wizard. Perhaps for the first time she actually saw him at peace his features relaxed and his breathing calm, perhaps for the first time she was looking at the Harry she really wanted to get to know. She could not resist it; she reached out and with her fingertips gently traced the scar that wound its jagged way across his forehead. He stirred and mumbled something she didn't catch then he spoke again and her heart caught in her throat, it was her name.
"Hermione." Just a sleepy whisper, perhaps something from a dream.
"I'm here Harry," she replied quietly, as she knelt by the side of his bed.
"I should have told you a long time ago," his voice trailed off into mumbling again.
"What should you have told me Harry?" she enquired in the same soft tone.
"Umm... oh... that I love you."
"Really?"
"Yes for a long time now... a long time... but I could never let you know, not for real... in a dream like this it's ok... Maybe... maybe one day I will be able to tell you, when you're better... yes when you're better." Harry sighed deeply and reached out to take his phantom Hermione in his arms. When he clasped her to him she felt far more real than she had in any of his dreams before, she was warm and solid and carried a fragrance that meant just one thing to him, Hermione. This was a dream he would be happy never to wake from, but unkindly sleep began to leave, but the girl of his dreams did not.
Harry opened his eyes to find his arms full of Hermione, her face mere inches from his own with a tiny trace of dampness in her eyes. He wondered if he should release her but then he realised that she was holding on to him just as tightly.
"Hermione?"
"Umm... yes it's me," she wiggled up onto the bed to lie beside him and rested her head on his chest. She could hear his heart beating through the thin material of his tee shirt; it seemed to be a little fast. She lifted her head to stare at his face again, his expression was priceless, but she couldn't laugh. "Harry it's really me, all of me... I remember everything."
"What!" Harry sat blot upright nearly tipping Hermione back onto the floor. He grabbed her shoulders and drew her back towards him holding her tightly, he felt her slip her arms around him to return the embrace. There was such a confusion of thoughts tripping through his brain that nothing coherent gained access to his mouth, it was all he could do to hang on to her and rock her gently. He could feel the dampness as her tears soaked through his tee shirt, but the tears he knew were of happiness, for the same ones were falling from his own eyes.
"You... you... can remember everything?" he managed to sob out.
"Yes, oh yes, I can, your spell it worked! You and that strange wizard Harry, you did it."
"But you never met Cervelet, you were asleep, how could you know?"
"I don't know Harry," Hermione was laughing and crying at the same time, "Tonight I saw you both in a dream, you cast the spell and it broke the wall. Oh! Harry it's all back, it's so wonderful."
Then some of the delight drained from Harry as a heartbreaking thought seeped into his mind. "You remember Ron as well?" he hated himself the moment he said it.
Hermione drew back from him a little, reached over to the bedside table and picked up Harry's glasses. She opened them up and carefully put them on him, now he could see her and the reproachful expression on her face. "Of course I remember Ron."
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't..." he shut up as she placed a finger against his lips.
"I remember the way I used to feel about Ron, and even now I am very fond of him," she gave a little sigh. "But things change, I love him but I am not in love with him, I have fallen in love with someone else." She gave Harry a very pointed stare.
"I love you, you know," he said simply, and took her hand in his.
"Yes I do, you said so before," she replied softly.
"But that was in a dream, I've never said it to you properly,"
"Well say it now," she whispered.
He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. "I love you Hermione, you mean the world to me."
Hermione lifted her eyes from the hand he had kissed and looked full into the face of the young man who had risked everything to save the wizarding world and then at the moment of success was prepared to sacrifice his future for her. She threw her arms around his neck pulling him to her and as their lips met in a passionate kiss she was murmuring, "I love you too... I love you too."
Much later that morning Harry and Hermione were sitting together on the sofa contemplating their future. The bond between the pair had changed beyond either of their expectations, it had taken them both a little by surprise but neither had any reservations or regrets about what had happened. The acknowledgment of their love for each other and its release had overwhelmed them, the desperation with which they had clung to one another had stimulated them both and neither had the desire to prevent what followed. It was a first for them both; the exquisite pleasure of a union that was so perfect and so fulfilling, left them exhausted. There was no embarrassment in the aftermath of their lovemaking, only happiness, which filled both their hearts to overflowing.
Now there was nothing but the future to consider and of course, what they were going to do with it. Hermione knew that she had to look for her parents, happy and unaware of their previous lives they might be but Hermione had now a rather unique insight into the value of memories and there was no way she could deny them theirs. Harry agreed but asked if they might make a small detour to Hogwarts as he felt he owed it to Madam Pomfrey to tell her the news of Hermione's recovery. He also broached the subject of Ron but instantly wished he hadn't.
"Why should we tell him?" Hermione retorted, "He hasn't been that concerned about us, we haven't seen him and he hasn't written."
"Actually he did come to see you but Madam Pomfrey had put you into a deep sleep," Harry told her. "After that because of the treatment we were trying on you, he wasn't allowed." Then Harry produced the parchment that Titus had brought him. "And he did write, but I think you will find the contents of the letter even more disturbing than the thought that he hadn't written at all." He passed the parchment over and watched as she read it and saw the pain in her face.
"He talks about me as if I was dead, like the others, how could he?" her voice full of disbelief.
"You have to understand," Harry said gently, "that he wasn't the only one who doubted that you would ever come back; remember it has never happened before. Only Pomfrey, Cervelet and..."
"You, Harry," Hermione interrupted, "You never gave up on me."
"No I didn't, but I had to believe, I couldn't afford to lose you."
"And Ron could?" she exclaimed.
"I don't know love," he replied softly, "but I'll bet there was no one to tell him you would be fine, he would have had no hope to hang on to."
"It's alright Harry you don't have to keep making excuses for him." She gave a big sigh, "I'm not really sure why I'm bothered, perhaps it's because it shows how mistaken I was in my first choice for a boyfriend." She put an arm around his neck pulling him close and kissing him soundly. "So glad that I had the chance to put that right," she whispered.
* * *
Just one more to finish it off.
Solomon Aegis.