Unofficial Portkey Archive

Life and Times

Rating: R

Ship: HHr (main emphasis)

The (unlovely) procedure: all rights go to JKR for previous plot and characters, Scholastic, Warner, and whoever else has their hands in HP.

Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation - Khalil Gibran

***

Chapter Fifty-Six - Numb

***

THE DAILY PROPHET

HARRY POTTER AND THE RAPID RETREAT

To say that I'm sorry to see our Potter-boy back down from the recall of Kingsley Shacklebolt would be a positively devilish lie. Many souls squealed with glee here at Prophet Media when the story crossed the wand whereas Harry Potter would crush so many eager hearts for him to be the next Minister of Magic. Suffice to say, Potter-boy wasn't cut from the cloth meant for such a high standard. Sure, he defeated He Who Must Not Be Named, but the leader of the Magical World deserves someone with merit, not luck.

Quincy Nolpho's team ought to be wickedly happy. In updated polls, his numbers have surged above any other challenger, placing him at the top with no one near him where he should be. When the general election begins in May, if I were a betting person I'd surely place all galleons on Quincy Nolpho. He is for everyone and not just for his elitist comrades. He'll stand up for you and your cause, and will help in the cleanup brought on by the Kingsley Admin. His first stop on the agenda, discussed by his interview with WNN's Morgan: the complete halt of Azkaban Prison's destruction and the re-evaluation of Ministry orders to secure our lives from the menace Kingsley Shacklebolt promised to unleash.

Our votes are for Nolpho and so should yours!

Angelica Teivel

Writer

Page 1

***

The population huddled around the Ministry's Atrium came half-man, half-machine. The congregation of news cameras couldn't compare to the assemblage of news journalists, simple patrons, Ministry workers, Ministry officers and white-cloaked Aurors. The Ministry gave no escape from security, the deluge of team members set strategically as the majority on the foldable, makeshift stage used usually by Toulson's daily press conferences stood ranking officials and other prominent figures of Wizarding society.

Faces the public knew well like Defense Secretary Eaton and the Minister's Squire, Gregory, kept to the back with others, namely those who helped control the Ministry and its environs outside of public eye. The Minister himself wasn't there, but those there waiting for the man of the hour to speak knew quite well his presence and the consequence to be given in the following minutes.

Some of those from that fateful day at Hogwarts were there to witness the momentous occasion. Predominantly, Mister Weasley's ginger hair highlighted the rather drab, dark suits and trousers of those surrounding him. Neville was there in his Ministry robes aside Mister Weasley, and Ginevra, she planted herself opposite Longbottom.

A podium with the Ministry crest, a wand positioned in the middle of a broad "M" with the phrase Ignorantia Legis Neminem Excusat encircling the black-and-gold emblem, sat centre stage. The position beside the one to speak belonged to Hermione, fitted in white-and-black business attire with a peppery coat to keep the cold out. She was there for him, for his statement that could ultimately reset the chess pieces, on this rainy of mornings.

The one to speak, of course, was Harry.

He had approached the podium to many a photography flash.

Stunned for seconds, he lowered towards the microphone to acknowledge those who loved him, and to recount all that he had ever thought for the gathered company. He had not a wink of sleep leading up to this day in January, but realised he must put himself there. With great council from Kingsley Shacklebolt's administration, Kingsley himself and his beloved Hermione, he went on to say…

"…Before I say anything else," He shouted a bit, ringing in his ears. "I must recognise the one woman who helped me process this difficult decision."

He glanced at Hermione, and she smiled.

"Many nights did I lay awake in bed trying my best to digest everything," He peered back into the vast snapshots of camera flashes. "And she kept me grounded during the trial I endured because I've always had this need to be there-for everyone. I've always found myself going out of my way, to bend over backward, for strangers, to help them however possible."

Harry placed his hand upon his suit-clad heart.

"I know here and out there," He stared without blinking into the news cameras. "People have hope for me to become the next Minister of Magic."

Some in the crowd cheered.

"But, I realised…," Harry sighed into the microphone, the sigh humbly vocal. "It took a lot of thought for me to come to the conclusion that I need what is best for me and for my future. I've come all this way, and I haven't had the best of lives; but now, now I see something I've never had before and I cannot pass that happiness up."

"To say that I won't break many hearts today…," Harry looked down at the podium stand and drew a heavy breath. "It really gives me warmth to know that so many of you would want me in that position. And, if I could-I would."

Hermione put a hand on Harry's slouching shoulder.

He had been burdened every day of his life…now was the time to lift the weight off.

"I apologise to everyone, to Camp Potter, when I say this…"

The camera flashes rose in their speed.

"But I will not be running for the office of Minister of Magic."

Alleviated gasps settled across the room.

Rumblings of chatter came with them.

"Instead, I am endorsing with every might of my being our current Minister, Kingsley Shacklebolt. He stands for us and will be there in the darkest of our hours. I've trusted Kingsley Shacklebolt with my life, our lives, and he has never let me down. A man of honesty and an honorable man-he deserves to have the Chair, again. He has done great things after the War, and he'll never let harm come to any one of us."

The shouting began when Harry finished, the British and Ministry flags behind him shifting in man-made breezes.

"Harry! Harry Potter-Patricia Bartlett from Prophet Media…"

When the barrage of questions went quiet by Press Secretary Toulson, diverting the various news organizations to other aspects of their daily conference routine with hand gestures, Hermione leaned over and gave a tired Harry a peck-kiss. She then took his hand, and supported him by her other, and slowly led her emotionally defeated fiance off-stage.

They disappeared via Auror escort and up a lift from the crowd still consuming those intimate shots of them.

***

I'd left Harry early one Sunday morning. I told him where I was going, of course, and when I'd be back. Sometimes I just wanted to get out of the flat, just away to concentrate on me, myself, and I. I had so much on my mind. Ginny and I had gone over everything about the wedding. The wedding dress was chosen, that one I'd always dreamed about, those alike princesses in Disney films: of satin and lace, the purest of white colour.

The morning was a bit chilly, but with a jumper on I kept warm. The London Library was one of my escapes, and my escape today. I loved perusing its large selection of the most intriguing titles, wandering aisle after aisle of old, musty-smelling books. I'd take a few that poked out, interesting volumes, the ancient of ancient texts. I carried them to a lonely table aside a window. I'd sit down and pour over the words, get caught up in some adventure, some other adventure than my own.

Not that I wished for another.

Sometimes I just needed to get out of my shell, experience vicariously something else than all I had witnessed. I couldn't suppress the images that I always toted whether I wanted them or not. I remembered all the suffering, the pain, and especially, the death. I don't think I'd ever lose them, and feared, really, to lose them if I could, as much as it tortured me. I wanted to remember, and remember always, those that sacrificed themselves for us-for me-to live onward, to be free, and to be happy.

No one could ever really rid of the scorched trauma.

I pulled on the yellow strings coming from the collar of my maroon jumper.

I fidgeted in my seat, adjusting my light brown corduroy trousers as I crossed and re-crossed my legs, tapping my Converse trainers on a leg of the sturdy, oak table.

I had a hand in my hair, playing, subconsciously, with a curl, hunched over a dusty old tome forgotten from everyone's view.

Hermione Granger, the know-it-all, all over again…

…In the library, same as always…

…I hadn't noticed anyone, anyone at all, especially someone so intent at watching me, boring into me, until I heard him:

"Hey."

He came in a wisp of white smoke, having pulled a chair up to mine without making a sound. He startled me, and I shook from the trance, the same trance I'd go into throughout those years at Hogwarts. I nearly toppled over in my chair, having to steady myself and the pages I crumpled, my body becoming defensive.

"Don't do that!" I said beneath a breath, scolding that Weasley-red, my life-long guardian.

"Sorry…," He smiled, and it drew me back.

I'd never seen him like…that.

Something so incredibly different.

"I had to see you."

"Don't you see me every day?" I mused, giving a grin and turning back to my book.

Ronald made a laugh, scratching the backside of his head, his Weasley-red tufts shaking forth from this white handkerchief. "You got me there."

He didn't say anything else, and for the longest time it was quiet. I thought he left it was so silent, and when I turned back to where he sat saw him staring at me. "What…?"

It wasn't so much staring, though… It was like his eyes were going right through me, in me, as if he were reading every miniscule detail, every bit of language I expressed down to the number of tiny breaths I took.

"Hermione…," he said, placing a leather-gloved hand to his face where he exaggerated his features, running his hand across his face.

"What is it?"

He was obviously troubled.

I went to coax him when he looked away.

I thought he were about to vanish from sight, but his troubles, so deep they were by the amount of anguish on his face, I needed to know. That type of response, from raw sensation, feelings, only came to fruit when something…

"Is something wrong?" My mind raced to several different conclusions, each more disastrous than the next.

"No… No!" He repented in hushes. "It's just…"

He groaned and took a hand, my hand, into his. He looked at me, gazed into my big brown irises with his crystal-clear cerulean ones and said slowly, and with certainty, "Promise you'll do this for me."

"Do what, Ron?" My eyes were searching his face. Something wanted to speak from his tongue, but he willed it back. "You're scaring me…"

"Just promise me."

"I won't promise anything until you tell me what is going on!"

Thankfully I sat in a secluded area for my voice wanted to go higher.

He stared.

"…Tell Harry that I cannot be his Best Mate for your wedding-"

"What?!" That octave rose. "Why?!"

He tensed, and I could feel it through his hands with mine. "I'm sorry, Hermione… I'm sorry I've let you down, again…"

"Tell me what the Hell is going on…!"

He watched me in silence.

He watched me turn livid.

He watched how I struck, how he, Harry-how Harry would react when he'd find out that his best mate wouldn't be there for him.

The day, our wedding-it wasn't just about me.

It was as much about me as it was for Harry.

And I wanted everything, everything to be…

Perfect.

"I don't think I've ever not loved you, Hermione."

I went numb.

"I'm sorry…"

And, Ron vanished, leaving white cloud to intertwine betwixt my fingers.

"…I'll always be there for you," I heard in echoes.

***

"Love, you don't have to do that…"

I glanced up from my bent position, standing at the dryer with a load of wet coloured clothes in my grasp.

I nudged the opened washer door with the side of my thigh and heard it shut whilst looking at my gorgeous man in the doorway. "I've got it."

Harry leaned in from the entry, his arm on the doorframe. "But-"

"Shh…," I tossed the clothes in for round two, swishing a hand back and forth at Harry. "Just run along now, run along."

He smiled that handsome smile. "You'll be over at Gin's new apartment while I'm gone?"

"Yeah," I nodded, turning the knobs on the dryer for low spin, medium heat, wrinkle-free. "To try the dress on."

Harry made a chuckle.

"What?" I smirked, leaning on the top of the now rotating machine.

"Ah, it's nothing… Just thinking…"

"Mm…," I walked on over to him and placed my hands on his stomach, and then his waist. I watched me touch him, my fingers, their pads, feeling him beneath his shirt. I gazed up at him. "She won't bite if you come over after you're little trip to the bank."

"You just can't see the dress!" I pointed at him. "It's bad luck, and we've already the best luck in the world."

He tilted his head back and laughed.

"I suppose we do…," He leaned forward and kissed me, his hand at my cheek and my cheek rubbing into him. "I suppose we do."

"Hermione."

"Mmm…?" He had me in a daze, and when my sight returned I saw him smiling at me.

"I love you."

I wrapped my arms around him and felt him cradle me to his chest.

***

"You really like the apartment? Been getting paid enough, so I told myself, `I think it's about time to get out on your own'."

Gin squatted beside me, pinning pieces of fabric together.

She wanted it just right…for me.

"Yes, it's absolutely lovely. I positively adore the contemporary-meets-Art Deco ambience. Was Cho devastated when you left her?" I went to turn towards the mirror, to see me, and she shook me back in place.

"I'm not finished!" she snipped, laughing with a pin in her teeth. "And, no, not really. I really wanted to escape Michael, anyway, the git."

I glanced down. "From here, you look like your mum."

Gradually, her eyes met mine.

"Don't you ever say that again to me… Ever!"

I laughed. "And you even sound like her!"

Ginny groaned. "Oh, shush up…," and she went back to work.

I stood, patiently, still.

I could see my backside in the mirror. The reflection gave me the direct view of the subtle, transparent fabric as my skin shone through. Down the centre, beads, dozens upon dozens of them like pearls along my spine. I'd be wearing mummy's hairclip, something old and something blue, handed down from her mother and now, to me. But at the moment, my curtain of mahogany and cinnamon cascaded loosely and swayed whenever Gin tugged.

"So, where'd Harry wander off to again?"

"He won daddy over after insisting to pay for the majority of the wedding for months on end," I watched as Gin tightened a loose thread at a seam, being very cautious and kind towards the fragile satin fabric.

Gin looked at me, the pin out of her mouth. "Well, that's awfully nice of him. Your father's about as stubborn as Harry is."

I lit in laughter. "Yeah… I'm afraid so. So, Harry's making a withdrawal from Gringott's. You know, we still haven't decided on if we want a live band for the reception."

Gin nodded in acknowledgement, her eyes keenly on the seam she'd sewn up.

"There we are!" She went to stand up, pushing from the floor with her hands and dusted off.

"May I look in the mirror now?" I asked if I were talking to my own mummy.

Gin smirked. "I mean, if you really want to…"

I gasped when I saw…me.

I didn't look real.

Everything was so…

I had to touch, to feel, the elegant fabric at my sides, on my stomach…the intricately patterned lace on my back. I felt every niche, every rise and fall of delicate material. I felt the silkiness of my sleeves, the cuff, till I… I felt the engagement ring on my finger.

I quickly drew in a breath, and held a shaking hand over my quivering lips.

To actually have it on…

I could feel the flood of tears building at their ducts.

I felt Gin put her hand on my back and come into the reflection.

"You're beautiful, Mi," She smiled and rubbed my back. She put her head on my shoulder and smiled some more. "Harry's certainly being given a gift…"

Her smile then changed to her more normal features.

She pointed sternly at my reflection. "…And, if he ever does anything!"

I laughed into my hand, tears having stained my cheeks.

I enveloped Gin in an embrace and she held me.

I couldn't hide it any longer.

My excitement.

My worries.

My fears.

The happiness.

All at once, mixed, and poured forth as I wept on Ginny's shoulder.

"Aww…," she patted my back, and resumed her rub. "I know, I know…"

It hit me.

And, it was so, very…

Real.

When I finally released her, she took a tissue and wiped my cheeks, dabbed my eyes of their tears of…joy.

I stuttered a breath, and made it into a laugh.

"I apologise for being so…," I fanned my face. "Gushy all of a sudden. I don't know what's become of me. I'm an emotional wreck."

Gin laughed. "There's nothing wrong with being gushy… It's your wedding, Mi!"

She took my arms, in which she held, and embraced me once more.

I hugged her, too.

"You're just so beautiful…," she whispered into my ear.

I smiled.

After all this…after everything…

The time was finally here.

***

I remembered looking out across the River Thames, at the water, the view from Ginny's flat. The sky was overcast. A chill hung in the air. Another average day in London… But, within me, it was everything but average. I smiled when the wind picked up, and I could smell the sea. I could hear Ginny somewhere from her bedroom, where I was. I was sure she was finding something for us to eat. I'd given word, of course, that Harry might be joining us soon. And, knowing her, she wanted to be prepared, to make everything special.

I sighed, contently, into a breeze.

My back was leaned against the windowsill as I sat inside it.

I ran the picture of me, of me in my stunning, simply stunning wedding dress in my mind over, and over, and over again.

I put myself there, with my family, my friends, with…Harry, at the wedding.

I couldn't get enough of the feeling.

I couldn't keep from smiling.

I tilted my head back against the wooden frame and watched some toddlers in the streets below with their parents; so innocent, so carefree.

A bit of that, now, within me.

I gazed back over the river, along the banks at the other side, to see Britain's Parliament building, and Big Ben.

Another breeze blew those strands of hair away from my eyes, that part of me that always seemed to be hidden…

…And, I never felt more alive than what I felt right at that moment.

Right when I saw them, my eyes fixed on the face of Big Ben…an explosion rocked main street London.

I had to steady myself on the sill, the room trembling.

A trail of black smoke collided with him, and then Parliament, fire and plumes of smoke billowing now from a gaping hole.

With great fright, my head twisted toward terrifying snapping noises filling the air. The supports for the Tower Bridge were coming apart, long cries from cut steel cables, and down went the two monoliths as if they were made of matchsticks.

Buildings at random were set aflame, that smoke now cluttering the skyline in a bat of an eye.

I heard the screams from the children, their parents below.

People had stopped; one car after the next, climbing out of their seats to see the chaos and commotion beyond us-coming closer.

I heard the Muggle police, explosion after explosion striking the horror-filled environment.

Gin's apartment building shuttered after each successive blow, pictures of her family, friends, of me, and Harry, and Neville and-everyone-falling off her walls.

The atmosphere groaned as parts of buildings tumbled to the streets.

The public on the streets began to run.

I went to run, to run and get Gin, only to smack straight into her.

"We've got to go!" she shouted through the world's wails. I was blank. This couldn't be happening. This couldn't be real. What I had been feeling-that was real.

She shook me. "We've got to get out of here!"

I was stuck.

She took my hand…

…And…

…When I looked back, from where I had been sitting seconds ago, mere seconds, a breath's time, so innocent, so carefree…

…I saw, not one, but several dozen Dark Marks churning in the cloudy skies above London.

Sirens and car alarms were all I could hear.

No talking.

No laughing.

Not a breath.

Happiness ceased.

A picture of Harry raced through my mind…

…And, I was numb again.

Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7

-->