Magic and Misperceptions
Part three: Pemberley
Chapter 17: Return to Hogwarts
Disclaimer: The following story is based on situations and characters owned by J.K. Rowling, Jane Austen, and their publishers.
By: addisonj
Beta: DeeMichelle
A big thank you to my beta, DeeMichelle, for completing this chapter this week in time for me to post today, Christmas 2010. Merry merry, everyone!
A/N: Finally.
*********
"Hermione, you're not packing enough!"
"I'm only gone a couple of days."
"I'd ask you to take photos, but Hogwarts never changes," Lavender giggles. "It's been the same way for about a thousand years, so the few years we've been gone, it won't have changed."
Hermione grabbed some clothes and shrunk them to fit into her shoulder bag. She grabbed some paperwork as well and some books for leisure reading.
"Aren't you going to be a bit of a threesome?" Parvati asked. "And I don't know why Padma didn't invite me."
"Because you spent seven years at Hogwarts. I haven't. I've always wanted to see it," Hermione responded in her usual, matter-of-fact voice. "I'm sure you're welcome to join us if you'd like."
Parvati jumped back from the bed, as if it might Apparate her directly to Hogsmeade. "Oh, no. The Heidelberg Harriers are in town. They're rarely in London, we must stay."
"Gunther should be there. I'm sure he remembers us from their last road trip here!" exclaimed Lavender.
"Please give Gunther my regards and sorry I won't meet him this trip," Hermione replied, hoping she didn't sound as sarcastic as she felt. Seeing no reaction from her housemates, she felt safe until Luna answered from the other room.
"Apologise, Hermione," Luna called out. "I heard that."
"What?" Hermione feigned innocence.
Luna walked in, giving her as severe a look as was possible for Luna Lovegood. Hermione acquiesced. "Fine, sorry. I was not entirely truthful there."
"About what?" asked Parvati as she looked through Hermione's shoe collection, shaking her head at all the sensible heels.
"You say something?" Lavender asked at the same time, looking over the sparse makeup collection Hermione had on her dresser.
Hermione raised an eyebrow at Luna who just shook her head and gave her a look that a mother gives a disapproving child.
Padma and Neville had invited Hermione to Hogwarts for the weekend. Neville was interviewing for a job assisting Professor Sprout in Herbology, and, knowing Hermione did not attend Hogwarts like the rest of the group, she was invited to join them. Hermione readily agreed. They did not plan to stay the night, but advised Hermione to bring a change of clothes just in case. It was easy with the minimizing spell to shrink everything to fit in a small carry-on bag.
They Apparated first to Hogsmeade, where Padma and Hermione spent an hour walking along the shops, Hermione was quite interested in Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop. The Weasley brothers were taking over Zonko's Joke Shop, and Hermione stifled a laugh at Madam Puddifoot's.
"Oh my goodness, it's all so … frilly!" she laughed.
Padma shook her head. "It was quite popular with the girls at Hogwarts. Had to reserve a spot weeks in advance for Valentine's Day."
"Oh, I don't mean to be rude, it's just not my style."
"No harm done. Many of the blokes felt the same way you do."
After some more walking around, Padma suggested they head for the castle. "Headmistress McGonagall wanted to meet us at 1pm, and she's quite prompt."
"Oh! We'd better not be late then. Can she still give demerits?"
"May cost my husband from getting his dream job, and that's a bit more important. Come along," answered Padma.
Hermione had read Hogwarts: A History, but she was still overwhelmed seeing the huge castle complex in front of her. It was massive, dominating the hillside and the local environment.
They took a carriage from Hogsmeade around the lake thru the gates (Padma had to request entrance). She noted the look of awe on her friend's face.
"It's actually most impressive when you arrive as a first year. You're scared to death; you're eleven years old and leaving home for the first time. Then his huge man named Hagrid takes you into these boats and you float across the lake to the castle. Then McGonagall takes you to the Great Hall and the Sorting Hat determines where you'll be for the next seven years. Amazing. Overwhelming."
"Beauxbatons is more of a French chateau, not nearly as big. There's a lake, but not this forest. It does look forbidding!"
"Yes, Dumbledore would always remind us: `The Forbidden Forest is forbidden.' Quite funny, really."
"Sometimes I really do wish I had gone here," said Hermione wistfully.
"But you may not have survived. The War-it was awful for Muggle-born. Awful."
The light mood had turned dark. Padma looked away and Hermione did not want to reopen old wounds. She tried not to think about the Final Battle and how this Castle barely survived. Many people did not survive.
Hermione shuddered. A ghost passed over her grave, that was the Muggle expression. She decided instead to focus on the architecture of the complex and match the actual building with what she had read in the Hogwarts history so many years ago.
It was summer, so they did not encounter any students as Padma gave Hermione a quick tour of the Great Hall, the library ("You would have spent all your time in here, I dare say" Padma teased), the Ravenclaw tour ("I'm sure you would have been sorted into Ravenclaw, no doubt about it. We would have been dormmates and Luna the year behind us."). Before they would be too late, they made their way to the Headmistress's offices.
McGonagall met them by the large gargoyle entrance. "Mrs. Longbottom! Miss Granger! Welcome." She said the password and they entered the offices.
After some customary greetings and tea, the three witches settled in, and while two of them chatted about their former classmates, Hermione took the opportunity to walk about the office, observing the portraits of past headmasters (all asleep) and the mix of magical devices.
When there was a lull in the conversation, Hermione finally asked the question that had been bothering her for years.
"Headmistress, whatever happened with those puzzles I would do? For Headmaster Dumbledore?"
The effect was immediate. Conversation stopped and Padma looked confused, McGonagall seemed to literally rise to the occasion. "I think before I answer that, let's wait for our other guest."
"Hermione, you knew Dumbledore?" asked Padma.
Before Hermione could answer, a chime sounded and McGonagall rose to answer the door.
"Yes, he visited my parents and me after I refused to attend. My grandparents were in France and ill, so I asked to attend Beauxbatons instead," Hermione answered Padma's question with care.
"But Dumbledore never visited anyone, I thought. We only got a letter." Padma's curiosity was rising.
"I had no idea. I had just found out I was a witch and my grandparents were quite ill; it was all rather much to take in."
"Ladies, you know Harry Potter."
McGonagall entered with Harry beside her, looking as surprised to see them as they were to see him.
"Harry?" Hermione and Padma nearly spoke at the same time.
"Hello?" Harry said, equally confused. He turned to McGonagall for answers. "Minerva?"
"Padma, I just heard from Professor Sprout that your husband should be free in a few minutes. Why don't you go to the greenhouses and meet him? I'll make sure Miss Granger finds her way back." McGonagall all but shoved Padma out the door.
"Hermione?" said Harry in a questioning tone.
"Harry? What are you doing here?" Hermione asked.
"I'd ask the same of you. Minerva invited me and she was quite firm about attending, and the time. And you? Have you even been here before? Do you even know McGonagall?"
"Neville's interviewing to be Professor Sprout's assistant and they invited me along. Since I didn't go here. I've always wanted to see it in daylight," Hermione answered carefully.
The wording of Hermione's response alerted Harry's Auror sensibilities, but he held his tongue. He had a feeling McGonagall arranged all this to provide answers all around.
"Harry! Wonderful, have some tea?"
"Yes, Minerva, thank you."
"Hermione, a top up?"
"Yes, thank you, Headmistress, I think I'm going to need it," Hermione answered.
"Or something stronger," Harry said under his breath. Hermione stifled a laugh.
Once everyone had settled and pleasantries again exchanged, McGonagall turned to Hermione.
"You asked me a question earlier, Hermione. I think it's finally time we addressed it."
The room once again felt full of tension and anticipation.
Harry was confused. McGonagall had sent him instructions a few days prior that he simply had to be at her office today at 145pm. Sharp. She even confirmed with Montgomery that Harry would not be working that day; he wouldn't have been surprised if she checked with Ron to make sure his schedule was free as well. Then, to see Hermione and Padma here … He heard through the grapevine that Neville was a shoe-in for the Herbology position, but did not expect Hermione to be here. He wasn't sure what to think other than his usual `gods-she's-just-amazing-and-I-want-to-embrace-her'.
But, years of being nearly killed heightened his Auror senses. Something was about to change forever.
Hermione sat there looking perplexed and very serious. He could see her choosing her words carefully. She turned to look at Harry.
"I had just asked the Headmistress whatever happened with those puzzles I would do for Dumbledore."
"Puzzles?" Harry was baffled; the statementitself was a puzzle.
"Miss Granger, I suggest you tell Mr. Potter about your Hogwarts and Dumbledore experience," said McGonagall.
"You know Hogwarts? Don't tell me the two of you know each other, too? Were you secretly attending Hogwarts? As a spy or something?" Harry voice was edging on frantic. He was concerned that the girl he had fallen for was hiding something, and everything that he knew about her was to be a lie.
"No!" Hermione could see the emotions passing over Harry's face and raced to stop them. "No! I haven't been lying to you. I'm not a spy! I-I got the Hogwarts letter like the rest of you. Only, I declined. I told you all this in Linnet. It's true.
"Grand-mère et Grand-père-my French grandparents-one with cancer and the other Alzheimer's. My mother is an only child and grew up in the South of France. We had just decided to move back there when the letter arrived.
"It was a very difficult time. I was learning that I'm a witch, my mother dealing with aging parents, my dad with closing the business and moving. Well, the idea of me suddenly moving to Scotland to go to a wizard school was all a bit much, so I wrote a nice note declining."
"You already know all this?" Harry asked McGonagall. She nodded.
"Let the girl continue," she urged.
Hermione rubbed her head, memories pressing back. "So, I got a visitor. Dumbledore himself came to my home. I had no idea until recently that it was quite unprecedented. He really urged me to reconsider and attend Hogwarts. He was pressuring my parents as well."
McGonagall decided now would be a good time to enter the conversation. "Albus kept me in his confidence when it came to Miss Granger. You see, Harry, he knew that you would be attending Hogwarts and he had a very strong feeling that Miss Granger could balance your brashness." Harry hung his head slightly and smiled at those words. "Was he not correct, Mr. Potter?" the headmistress asked with a small smile. Harry nodded and she continued.
"Albus tried. He promised an International Portkey would always be available to Hermione in case of family emergency where she would need to go to France immediately. He offered his Floo network anytime, day or night. But it was not to be."
"Honestly, we had no idea what he was talking about! Floo? Portkey? Apparate?" Hermione added with a small laugh. "We just learned that magic really exists, so all these other words were so foreign. All we knew is that it would take a couple hours by plane plus all the wait at customs and security, so we declined."
"So, when Albus realised that Hermione would not attend Hogwarts, he arranged that she attend Beauxbatons and he gave her a gift."
"My owl! A huge, strong owl I named Fort, it means `strong' in French. Dumbledore said it could carry large loads long distances. He asked if we could be pen pals. I mean, I was eleven, I agreed. I know, I know," she noticed Harry's raised eyebrow. "But he'd send me these puzzles. I thought it was extra school work and Madame Maxime approved."
"You actually agreed to take on more homework? And from a school hundreds of miles away?"
`I know! I'm rather silly that way."
"You're a nutter that way, and I mean it in a loving way," Harry joked.
Hermione laughed. "I know! It all sounds so silly now, so unbelievable, but I was eleven years old. I'm being exposed to this magical world. I'm assuming this is normal, that this would be my new normal."
"So, the puzzles?" Harry asked, once again getting that ominous feeling that everything was about to change.
"Oh, some of them I sorted out! I mean, during fourth year when he asked me about how to approach a dragon and how to breathe underwater. I knew that was for the Triwizard Tournament. I just assumed it was extra credit. So he'd send me a puzzle, and I'd do research and send back my response."
Harry startled. "What do you mean, research? Tell me about the dragon research."
"Dumbledore asked me about the Hungarian Horntail, and how would one approach it. So I researched various vulnerabilities and attacks, and mentioned the summoning spell-"
"Summoning?!" Harry's interruption stopped Hermione. "Sorry! Continue! Did you handwrite these responses to Dumbledore?"
"Yes," answered Hermione carefully, unsure of where Harry was headed.
"Okay, what other types of puzzles?" he asked quickly.
"Well, there was the potion puzzle first year. That was really fun! It was a riddle actually-"
"Danger lies before you while safety lies behind-" they quoted at the same time. Hermione stopped, her mouth agape.
"Go on, tell me more," Harry urged, his impatience growing.
Hermione took a breath, started speaking not to the headmistress, but only to Harry from then on.
"He sent me that riddle and I sent a note with my response. I thought it was like those brain teasers you find in a puzzle book. It was fun."
"How did you respond?"
"What do you mean? I wrote it down and sent it back owl post to Dumbledore."
"Did you write in English or French?"
"English"
"Cursive?"
Hermione stared at Harry. His questions made no sense. Since when did he care about minutiae like this? "No, I printed. Well, later on the research got more intense, but Dumbledore sent me a Fast Writing Quill which helped. The Horcrux research took forever-it was like a doctoral thesis!"
"Horcruxes!" Harry nearly leapt out of his seat. "You researched Horcruxes? When was this?"
"Sixth year," Hermione answered slowly. "It was very peculiar, because Dumbledore was killed soon thereafter, but then I received a note from Professor McGonagall saying she knew all about this pen pal relationship I had with Dumbledore and asked me to continue, to continue researching Horcruxes." Hermione's eyes searched McGonagall and the older woman nodded.
Harry tried to regulate his breathing so he would not cause Hermione any alarm, but the widening of her eyes and her careful phrasing indicated that she knew something very big was happening.
"Harry. Just tell me. You all know something I don't, and my notes seem to be a part of this."
Instead of answering her, Harry continued to question. "How did you research Horcruxes? That's very Dark Magic that would be in the restricted section of our library here, or in a private collection of a pureblood."
"Or in the Durmstrang school library. Not even restricted. I was sent there to do research. The Headmaster had to grant special permission since I was Muggle-born," she answered icily. "It wasn't a pleasant experience, but since McGonagall asked that I continue this research after Dumbledore's death, I'd guessed that it was much more than an academic exercise, and I had hoped it would avenge his death somehow." Hermione looked at Harry gravely. "I think it's time someone told me what happened to those notes."
Harry took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "Those notes, Hermione, do you know how they call Ron and I the Golden Duo? Well, I always thought it should have been much more. You know how so many helped our cause. But even before we were at war, I got help from a third person. Someone who left me notes in odd places on odd topics. Like how to approach a dragon, what a basilisk was-"Hermione's eyes widened"-and the nature of Horcruxes. The potion riddle was quite good. There were also some chess moves if I remember, but I didn't need that particular note."
"What did the notes look like?" Hermione asked very slowly, struggling to keep her composure.
"Handwritten. In English. Printed."
McGonagall decided it was time to interrupt. "Perhaps you can show us an example of your handwriting, Miss Granger?" She handed the young witch a parchment and quill.
"It wasn't my usual cursive. I somehow felt that I had to print it all out for Dumbledore. That's why I really appreciated the Fast Writing Quill," Hermione said as she wrote out the first line of the Potions riddle and handed it to Harry.
Harry took the parchment and stared and stared and stared. "I'd know this anywhere. When I first got the notes, I assumed they were from Dumbledore but he denied it. Then I thought it must be someone else, maybe a Ravenclaw. I had hoped it was Cho, but it wasn't. Luna didn't know either. So, I just assumed it was Dumbledore, even though he'd denied it." Harry looked up suddenly. "You know that Time Turner third year saved Sirius's life? I just wish you had been around fifth year to spot the trap that lead to his death." Harry dropped his head, still filled with the guilt that his brashness caused the death of his godfather.
He felt a small hand on his arm. "Harry." Hermione was out of her chair and squatting before him, mere inches away. "Harry." she enveloped him in a hug. "Harry, I had no idea."
"You saved us so many times. There is no way Ron or I would have survived without your notes. You pointed us the way."
"It wasn't me! I was just doing something fun for Dumbledore! I had no idea!"
"But surely with the Triwizard Tournament? You recognised that your puzzles were connected to the tasks?"
"I had assumed that since I was one of the Beauxbatons students who stayed in France, that he wanted me to feel included somehow." Hermione held her face in her hands. "Oh gods! I had no idea. No absolutely bloody idea. Merde!"
"Hermione. You saved us."
"I was doing a puzzle!" Hermione turned to the older witch who watched them, bemused.
"You always knew, didn't you?"
McGonagall straightened her back and cocked her head to the side as she smiled. "Yes, Miss Granger. Albus informed me that you were-what's the Muggle term?-Harry's Deep Throat."
Both Harry and Hermione coughed at the 1970s Watergate reference. That these witches and wizards knew about the downfall of an American president was astonishing.
Harry felt an array of emotions: surprise, shock, elation, joy. He grabbed Hermione by the shoulders and kissed her on the mouth.
"What was that for?" she asked, once she was released.
"Thank you. For saving my life. On too many occasions. Without those notes, I would not have survived, Voldemort would be alive, and you would still be in France."
"And France would be under attack, I'm sure. Oh. My. God." The full weight of the events hit Hermione like a Bludger, and she sat down to absorb it all.
"Some water?" McGonagall suggested, handing her a glass.
Hermione nodded, and gulped it.
Once her nerves had calmed down, Hermione remained seated in the chair and Harry held on to her hands. They had reversed their previous roles, this time Hermione needed the comfort.
"Well, this is all rather much. Perhaps some fresh air would help. Harry, you could show Hermione around the grounds? Hermione, you've never been here before," McGonagall said.
"Actually, I have," Hermione whispered, keeping her head down and her eyes focused on her shoes.
"Excuse me?" asked McGonagall. Harry held onto Hermione's hands tightly.
"Hermione?" he asked.
"Since we're spilling secrets, I was here. Very briefly. The final battle. A group of us from Beauxbatons. Le Croix du Lorraine-the Cross of Lorraine, from the French resistance during the Muggle World War. We heard about what was happening in Britain, and we decided that we needed to be trained in combat, things outside of the normal curriculum," confessed Hermione.
"Merlin!" exclaimed McGonagall. "We never knew! Students?"
"Yes. We … we had to fight. We knew if it wasn't stopped in England, it would spread across the Channel. It was wrong, anyway. England is my home," Hermione finally looked up, her face wet with tears. "I couldn't let this happen to my home."
"So you secretly trained?" McGonagall asked Hermione, all the while staring at Harry.
"Well, not terribly secretly. It was a legitimate duelling club, but we only accepted certain members. They had to pass a loyalty test.
"So, we Apparated here-"
"As students? You were able to Apparate that far?"
"Not all at once! We had to stop in Paris, then Calais, then Dover, then London, then Edinburgh and finally Hogsmeade. It was very tiring."
"And still you came," Harry finally spoke, his voice awed.
Hermione squeezed Harry's hand. "We couldn't not come."
"You faced combat?" McGonagall asked. Hermione dropped to gaze to Harry's feet and nodded.
"Yes. We were immediately under attack. We ended up near the lake. Some of us … didn't make it."
"Merlin," McGonagall breathed. "We had no idea."
Suddenly it made sense. That haunted look that would sometimes cross Hermione's face when the War was mentioned. Harry thought it was only due to her natural empathy. He had no idea that it was because she was a veteran, like the rest of them.
Her head was bent down, Harry could see the tears falling on the tops of his worn trainers. He reached up and encased Hermione in a hug. A tight hug. The sort of hug she usually gave to others, he gave to her. He buried his face in her pumpkin-scented hair. "I am so sorry," he breathed into her curls. "I had no idea. I am so sorry."
When Hermione looked up, she struggled to breathe between her sobs. "Marguerite. Her name was Marguerite. She was my best friend. She died here. She was killed-" Hermione took a breath and blurted it out, ignoring the tears and mucus on her face "-she was killed because I was too fucking slow. I was too fucking hesitant. I gave a jelly legs jinx to a fucking Death Eater and he Avada Kedavra'd her in response. I should have Stupefied him. My best friend is dead because I'm an idiot."
McGonagall handed Harry a tissue that he used to wipe Hermione's face. "And I'm an idiot who's responsible for the death of my godfather, and Cedric, and Moony, Dobby, and so many others," Harry replied simply.
"No, Voldemort is the one responsible-" started Hermione.
Harry looked at Hermione and she knew what he would say. "Voldemort is ultimately responsible."
They held each other until McGonagall cleared her throat. "Perhaps you would still like that tour."
Hermione looked up. "I'd like to go back there. Where Marguerite died."
Harry and McGonagall nodded. Hermione stood up, assisted by Harry. He kept his arm around her as she took another tissue and dabbed her eyes, then blew her nose loudly. "Oh, I'm not sure where to-"
"I'll take care of that. Miss Granger, I am so pleased to have finally met you. If you two would like to come by when your tour is over, I should be here. But if you decide not to, I understand," McGonagall said.
Harry kept Hermione held tight against him as they walked through the castle out to the grounds. As they stood on the steps, Harry stopped. "Which way?" he asked.
Hermione stood, perplexed. "I-let me see, it was dark and we were so preoccupied with staying alive, let me remember what angle the castle was." She walked out, stopped, looked around. "That way." She pointed toward the lake.
They walked on in silence. Harry was aware that the sobs had decreased, and Hermione was focused on the task at hand, finding the spot where her best friend was killed. Being at Hogwarts brought memories for Harry as well. Fortunately for him, his memories of Hogwarts were years and years of building friendships, playing Quidditch, Hogsmeade weekends. They were not only death. But for Hermione, Hogwarts meant death. No wonder she failed to mention it to the Old Hogwartians in their pub crawls or sing-alongs.
They walked for a while. Hermione would stop, look around, stare at the castle then the surrounding area, and they would change direction or continue the way they were. He felt so aware of her emotions, her thoughts. He stayed silent. This was not the time to talk.
Finally, she stopped. She looked about, her wet eyes judging the distance from the castle to the lake to the gates to the forest. She looked at the ground about her, and moved about five feet to the left. And stopped.
"This is it," she finally said, but Harry had already guessed that it was from her tightened grip on his hand and her struggle to calm her emotions.
The struggle ended. She loosened her grip on Harry and sank down to the ground, held her face in her hands and sobbed. And sobbed. And sobbed. And Harry sat down next to her and held her. And held her. And held her.
When the sobs diminished, Hermione looked up. "I-I didn't tell you everything. I haven't told anyone this, but I-I think I can tell you. I think you would understand."
Harry remained silent. He nodded, and kept holding onto her.
"After that Death Eater killed Marguerite, I killed it. I did it-I used the Avada Kavada. I killed it! I was just filled with so much hate, so much rage. I wanted that bastard to be killed by a Mudblood. Yes, a Mudblood! I know the term! Not that it matters, but Marguerite was a pureblood from an old wizarding family in France, the Saint Denis. She was like your Cedric-she was everything good. She was smart, she was gorgeous, she was rich, athletic, but most of all she was kind. I was horribly lonely first year, that's when Luna and I started writing. Well, Marguerite just took me under her wing, introduced me, and she even found the right clique for me, all the intellectuals. That's where I met, well, my first boyfriend." Hermione became bashful and Harry felt jealous.
"After Marguerite died and I killed the Death Eater, I just wanted to kill more and more and more. That's why I'm afraid to duel. Part of me is afraid to let go, to have the killer in me come out. Then I'm afraid to be too hesitant, to let someone else die because of my mistakes."
Harry held her close and kissed her hair. "It happens to all of us. We don't know how we'll react in battle, and unfortunately only practice gets us better. I can help. We can always practice, in private."
He held her. No more words, not even eye contact. She stayed still, and he knew that what she needed more than anything else was for someone she knew, someone she trusted, someone who knew her, the real her, to just hold her. So, he held her.
He held her as her breath grew more ragged and her shoulders slacked. He held her as her eyes swelled with tears. He held her as the tears spilled onto her cheeks and the mucus caused her to sniffle. He held her as her mouth opened into sobs. He held her and he held her and held her.
When her sobs softened, he kept holding her. She suddenly realised where she was and who she was with. "Oh!" she cried out, and before she could do anything else, Harry held her closer and whispered in her ear, "It's okay. I understand."
Hermione studied Harry's face. "I know you know."
Hermione stood up and they held each other awhile longer. Neither watched the time. Harry noticed the leaves move with the wind, the branches sway, the grass bend. He smelled the pumpkin in her hair and felt her press against him. He wanted to let her know that she was safe now. That he was here.
When Hermione was ready, she looked at Harry and nodded.
"Thank you."
"Would-would you like to see the memorial? It's on the other side of the lake, by the Forbidden Forest."
She nodded and they walked silently arm in arm to the marble wall carved with the names of the fallen of the Battle of Hogwarts.
The memorial was large, black, sombre and overwhelming. One side was a depiction of the final battle at Hogwarts and the other a list of names of the fallen, not just the fallen from the final battle, but all the Voldemort Wars.
Around it was the stillness found in battlefield memorials, because it was one. They clung closer together to blunt the chill.
Hermione found Marguerite's name and pressed her finger against it. Marguerite Saint Denis. Someone must have known she was there to have engraved her name on the stone.
Harry pressed his fingers into the engraved names of James Potter and Lily Evans Potter. Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. Cedric Diggory. Remus Lupin. Sirius Black. And many more.
Hermione wrapped her arms around Harry's waist and buried her head into the valley by his shoulder. She momentarily thought it odd that for two people who had barely touched in the past, now had been in constant contact for at least an hour, but she simply could not conceive of letting him go, of letting go of this tangible connection with him. They took turns holding each other up, comforting each other, quite simply being there for each other.
"Not all the names of the dead are here. I died, too."
Startled, Hermione looked into Harry's face to see if he was joking, but he was not; his finger stretched, tracing the pattern of Cedric Diggory's name, his eyes distant.
"Did it happen during the Triwizard Tournament?" she asked.
"No, I only nearly died there. Well, I nearly died quite a lot. But this is something only Ron and a couple others know, but I had to die for Voldemort to die. It was the prophesy, and I was a Horcrux."
"Merde!"
"I'll show you where." He reached for her hand automatically, for it had become automatic, this reaching for each other, this need to be physically close.
Upon realising what he had done, and how easily her hand fit into his, he smiled, and she smiled back. Big revelations can either strengthen a relationship or damage it, but it could never go back to where it was. Theirs was stronger. And he didn't want to go back.
They walked hand in hand to the Forbidden Forest. "It's forbidden," they both said at once, and had a rare laugh. Then he brought her to a small clearing in the trees. Like Hermione had by the lake, he looked about for visual markers, then situated himself to a specific spot.
"This is it. This is where I died. I was a Horcrux, so I had to die, and die willingly, for Voldemort to die. My parents were with me. I had to die."
Harry's voice was flat, his eyes distant, seemingly almost detached from his words, but his arms held tight onto her.
"And then?" she was almost too afraid to ask.
"A flash of green and I was dead. And I woke up naked, in Kings Cross station. Dumbledore was there, and he gave me a choice: to stay or to return. I had to go back. I chose to live."
The words had a surprising affect on Hermione.
She grabbed his face in her hands and kissed him.
On the few times that Hermione attended yoga class, her favourite part was at the end, when after an hour of stretching and balancing and holding one's own weight in a very wobbly way, the teacher would tell them to lie on their backs, tighten every muscle and then release. That release was the best part.
On this day of revelations, of long buried secrets emerging, they were both ready for release.
She grabbed his face in her hands and kissed him. She kissed him with all the passion and fear and anger and joy that she had felt in the past several hours and more. And he returned it with all the passion and fear and anger and joy he had stored up not only in the past day but for years as well.
His kisses covered her face then her jaw, her neck, then the triangle of exposed skin at the base of her throat. His hands lifted her shirt from her jeans and felt for the smooth skin of her back, as she pulled at his shirt. The weather was a bit brisk-the Highlands of Scotland rarely got very warm-but they failed to notice.
They were soon on the ground as hands and lips raced to cover rapidly exposed skin. Neither one was an innocent, but both felt like they were reaching new heights of bliss, and they took their time relishing the final release of the months long unresolved sexual tension that was between them. This, and this, and this.
Then, later, as the sun approached the horizon, with a nod of assent from her, he entered her and they came together.
Completed, they wrapped their limbs around each other. Hermione Transfigured her jumper into a blanket, and buried her head into the crook of his arm.
They faced each other. A bit ashamed, she kept her head lowered as he traced his finger down the length of her nose and counted her freckles. His fingers then traced her upturned lips. Fairy light kisses dusted her lips just before his lips tasted them again.
"I've dreamt of this," he said.
"I hadn't, but now I will," she answered truthfully, then pulled herself on top of him and started the duet again.
"This is all so sudden, but, you don't regret this, do you? And you didn't do this because you felt sorry for me?" Harry asked during a pause to catch their breath.
"No. Absolutely not. And I never do things like this. Never. It-it just felt like the right thing to do."
"You know," he said between kisses much later, "we can do this in an actual bed. I've got acorns in my back."
She laughed and kissed the tip of his nose. "Should we just Apparate to a room at the Three Broomsticks?"
"Very very tempting."
"Might cause a scandal."
"But it would be worth it."
"Mmm, kiss me again and I'll consider the risk reward ratio," teased Hermione.
They kissed again.
"Changed your mind yet?"
Eyes bright, Hermione sat up on her elbow and smiled at Harry. He smiled back and ran his finger along the length of her nose, then along her side. She grabbed the finger and kissed it.
"I want to get to know you, Harry Potter."
"Hmm?" he was enjoying the sensations and not focused on much else.
"I want to know you. I had you all wrong. I was wrong. I was stupid. I believed the worst. Your letter changed everything, and finding out you were actually my secret pen pal, not Dumbledore … I'm just amazed, it feels like we were meant to meet, we were meant to know each other."
"I think I know too much of the wrong stuff. I know what I read about you in France. I know what lies I've heard here, but I want to know the real you. I want to know you, Harry Potter."
Harry blinked, and sat up on his elbow as well so that they were eye to eye. He looked at her intensely and saw no signs of mocking. "You want to get to know me?" he repeated. She nodded. "You don't think you know me? The Daily Prophet's favourite cover boy?"
She leaned back and focused on a blade of grass she had just pulled from the ground. "I mean, I know you, but I was so wrong about you from the start. And now, well …" She turned to face him, then, shyly dropped her eyes, before tentatively looking at his again, covering her chest with her arm. "I-I don't do this very often. I mean hardly ever. I mean, there was this boy at school, and well, other than, I haven't; now you're the third …"
Harry was amused and delighted that he joined an exclusive club of men who had slept with Hermione Granger. His club had a much larger membership, a fact that he was not proud of. And if in a moment of post coital intimacy, if any of them had asked to know him, he would have headed for an Apparition point. But this was different. This was Hermione Granger. And he was still in love with her.
Hermione continued, "Well, what I'm trying to say is, I hope I'm not too forward, but I'm thinking this isn't a one night stand-well, one afternoon stand-and I wouldn't mind a replay in an actual bed as you said, but that's not what I wanted to talk about. I want to get to know you. I get hints of who you are, especially when we were at Appley, but sometimes-" confidence growing, she was able to meet his eyes now "-sometimes you throw up a wall and I can't connect to you. That's when I think about the mean, scowling wizard I first met. I don't want to go back to that. I want to know you. The you who Luna and Ron and Kyle and Padma know. Because they know you and knew that you were never the man Draco portrayed you to be. I want to know you."
"Don't you feel that you know me now?" Harry teased as he ran a finger down her chest. She swotted it away.
"Oh, I know your body, Harry Potter," she answered in a thick voice. "I want to know the man I was supposed to meet fourteen years ago."
Harry sat up. Her request was something he didn't do. He didn't allow others into his world, unless they were already there. Ginny, Ron, Luna, Neville, his friends from Hogwarts experienced the war with him. They didn't need explanation. He could be himself with them. He didn't need to relive it.
He looked at the beautiful witch beside him. Was it worth it? He had already opened his heart to her, could he open himself? Be totally himself and let her in? What if it was too ugly, too soiled, too dark from years of fighting evil, being exposed to Voldemort's thoughts for all those years? When he expressed his love for her, he meant it. But she was asking for more. She wanted him to expose himself to her completely, and it scared him.
She leaned against his back and stroked his hair. "No worries," she said over-brightly. "Let's just go."
He clutched her wrist and twisted his body to look at her. "No. I want you … I want you to see me, the real me, but I'm afraid you may go run screaming in the opposite direction. Because I'm actually boring and dull, and because I've been exposed to so much, I can be quite moody and difficult."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "I've met that Harry Potter already. I can't imagine you doing much worse that publicly snubbing me. And boring and dull works for me."
Harry made a decision. He felt so comfortable with her, like he never felt with any other witch, not even Ginny or Cho. Maybe Luna.
"Yes."
The effect was immediate. She grinned. "Really? Are you quite sure?"
"Yes, you're right. I do love you, and I want you to see the real me. Spend the weekend with me."
"Excuse me?"
"The weekend. And then we'll see. I'm due to visit Teddy, and there's something at Shell cottage you should see. And I'll give you a more thorough tour of Hogwarts."
She stared at him, trying to assess the authenticity of his words. He paused.
"And if you're interested, I want you to get to know me, Harry Potter," Hermione responded as she leaned in to kiss his chin.
"I would like that, Hermione Granger," he replied.
***********
(A/N: feedback please!! Did anyone guess this? How was the love scene? (I hate writing those, especially since P&P's version was just a kiss. That won't work in 21st century Great Britain. ;-)
Background: when I envisioned this story, this chapter came first to mind, and was one of the first ones I wrote. I hope it answered some questions that came up in the reviews that I avoided answering.
Next chapter: Shell Cottage and meeting Teddy.
-->