A/N: Sorry for the late update guys! I've been horribly busy these last few weeks and plus my beta still hasn't officially gotten back to me with the finished version of this chapter which I intended to release last week. But I held off from posting it regardless because I had absolutely no time to write this past weekend. I hope you'll forgive me for my not-so-spot on updates with this story. But something is better than nothing, eh? No? Alrighty then.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all associated things/characters aren't mine, sadly. The only thing that remains in my possession is the writing.
Enjoy!
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Magique
Chapter 5: Raindrops on Roses
It was a bright afternoon - the sun shining, the grass an almost unbelievable shade of green, and a perfect breath of wind was in the air. These were the days Harry longed for. They gave him an excuse to go outside and take a walk around the grounds of the castle without being stared at by the servants or his godfather. No, on days like this everyone was outdoors, even the normally secluded kitchen staff who was out in the nearby woods picking herbs. There was even a small match of Quidditch being played on the training ground. Normally Harry would have joined in or refereed at least, but something was telling him not to. It wasn't that he wasn't in the mood - he was always in the mood for Quidditch - but that he wasn't in the right state of mind.
Lately all Harry had been thinking about were two things: the ball and, for lack of a better word, his heart. Now, letting his thoughts dwell on the upcoming ball was one thing, but he had never allowed his mind to reside on matters of his heart often, if at all. It always got him into trouble ever since he could remember. But as soon as the Fowl's had arrived, he had been in inner turmoil. Clara was lovely, there was no denying it, but she was lacking something. Or rather, she wasn't -
He was stopped in both his tracks and his thoughts by a sight that made him smile and forget all about his inner pains. Hermione was in the gardens picking flowers from a bush and putting them in a basket that was hanging from her elbow. He knew how much she loved being surrounded by all of the smells of the flowers. She once told him that they reminded her of her mother and the garden she used to keep out in front of her old home in the lower towns. They were the only family within blocks that kept flowers and vegetables out for others to see, mostly because it was a work of art. Jane Granger took particular pride in her arrangements, giving Harry a fruit basket every year for his birthday until he turned sixteen.
The sight of her picking an arrangement of flowers filled him with a strange sense of nostalgia. She didn't usually pick flowers, only admired them. There was only one day a year when she even thought about stealing a few of the buds from the bushes.
"Harry?" A soft, sweet voice spoke from beside him.
Harry turned and was none too surprised to see Clara standing next to him. She was dressed in a pale pink gown with short sleeves in favor of the warm weather. Her hair was pulled up to frame her face and highly accentuated her delicate features. She looked nothing short of lovely.
"Hello Clara." He greeted with a smile. "Are you enjoying the weather?"
"Oh yes." She said with an enthusiastic nod. "It's the perfect weather for a nice stroll."
"I couldn't agree more."
She smiled. "I thought I would see you over by the arena with all of the other knights."
He chuckled. "Not today, no."
"Why ever not? It's the perfect weather for a Quidditch match."
Harry shrugged. "I don't know really. I'm just not up for it today."
"That's too bad." She said. "But not all is lost. I could keep you company if you would have me."
"That's very sweet of you, Clara, thank you." Harry said. He extended his elbow out to her and she took it with a grin. Together, the two of them began walking in the opposite direction, not aware of the sad eyes that watched them depart from the gardens.
The pair passed a crowd of finely dressed woman who instantly began whispering as they approached. Harry inwardly scoffed at the gossiping bunch and continued past them without a second glance. Clara, however, was not so easily abided.
"They think we're courting, you know."
Harry turned his face sharply to her. "What?"
She nodded. "The whole castle is abuzz. Apparently we're this season's hottest gossip."
"That's ridiculous." Harry said in annoyance. "We're just friends."
"Yes," Clara said dejectedly. "Just friends."
Before Harry could think on her change of demeanor she quickly changed gears. "I certainly hope I'm not getting you into any trouble."
"What do you mean?"
"Well if people think that we are courting when we aren't, that could stir up some controversy throughout the kingdom. A man and a woman seeing each other so often without a ring attached could jeopardize your reputation as the future king."
"Hermione and I are around each other quite often and my reputation has never been questioned when it comes to her. Even you thought we were courting when you first came here."
"Indeed I did." She said with a slight tinge to her cheeks. "But that's all cleared up now. Besides, the entire kingdom is aware of your close friendship. With me, however, it's different. I'm a new resident here and am already a permanent fixture in the gossip circles."
"You have nothing to worry about." Harry said reassuringly, patting her hand softly. "If there was anything even remotely close to that transpiring, my godfather would let me know. As of now, we are completely safe."
She smiled. "Good. I wouldn't want you to get in trouble because of little old me - let alone be cornered into a position that would make you uncomfortable."
He wasn't quite sure what she meant with her last statement but waved it off as nothing. All of her worries weren't justified anyway. If their relationship was in any way affecting his position as the future king he would be informed immediately. To the extent of his knowledge, he was completely in the clear from any prying eyes that may view his new friendship with Clara as inappropriate.
Hopefully.
~*~
After seeing Harry and Clara walk arm-in-arm away from her, Hermione was left in an even worse mood than when she began the day. She had thought an earlier trip to the gardens would lift her spirits but had been wrong. So very wrong. She already knew today was going to be bad, but now with Harry and Clara strutting about so close to each other, it was only making her stomach less able to keep down her breakfast.
She looked down at her basket and nodded to herself. She had picked enough flowers anyway. There was no more reason to stay here. So with her head held high, she exited the gardens and made her way to the stables. Chester, the royal carriage driver, was sitting at his normal post behind his desk. He heard her approaching and greeted her with a sad smile.
"‛Ello, love."
"Hello, Chester." She greeted with her best attempt at a smile. "Is Rosie awake yet?"
He nodded and gestured down the barn. "Awake and ready for yah."
She reached into her pocket and held out a silver sickle to him. He shook his head and gently pushed her outstretched arm away. "Not today, love. You know that well enough."
She shrugged tiredly. "It doesn't hurt to try."
He chuckled. "Go on, then."
She thanked him and walked over to let Rosie out of her station. She was a gorgeous gray stallion with the strongest legs and softest eyes of the entire lot. That's why Hermione always chose her for her yearly ride. She could have gone with one of Harry or Ron's prime steeds but something about Rosie struck her. Ever since she first came here three years ago, she and Rosie had a special understanding. Hermione was never one for riding, but with Rosie she always made an exception.
She slowly and cautiously saddled the mare up. After she was finished, she grabbed the flowers she had picked out of the basket and untied the silk ribbon from the handle. She arranged the flowers carefully and tied the ribbon around the stems in a simple bow. Then, after making sure the knot was secure, she placed the flowers into the attachable pouch on Rosie's saddle and buckled it shut. After all of the prerequisites of her trip were finished, she finally mounted and clicked her tongue.
As soon as Hermione left the stables, she felt the wind brush past her in a rush. Rosie was only at a trot and yet the steed was going faster than she could run. The trip in itself would only take a few minutes and could be lengthened to her heart's desire with a pull of the reigns. But Hermione didn't want to wait any more. This had to be done just like it had to be done for the past three years.
The steel gates of the cemetery always looked less menacing in the light. But that still didn't stop the rush of emotion Hermione was hit with the moment they came into sight. She eased Rosie to a stop and dismounted swiftly. Unclasping the pouch, she pulled out the rope and her bouquet of flowers. She set the flowers down on a nearby rock and went to tying Rosie to one of the horse rings off to the side of the gates. With a final tug, she secured the rope and petted Rosie's snout sweetly.
"I'll be back." She whispered.
She then grabbed the bouquet of flowers and pulled out her wand to unlock the gate. It opened with a dull creak and she let herself in. With each step into the gated cemetery she felt her heart grow heavier until she finally reached a large statue of an angel. Hermione fell to her knees in front of the statue so that she was eye-level with the engraving at the bottom.
Edward and Jane Granger
Beloved parents and aids in the war against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named
A single tear inched down Hermione's cheek as she hugged the bouquet close to her chest. Soon, a waterfall of salty drops were cascading down her face. Even after all these years she still hadn't been able to refrain from crying. It was a healthy thing, she knew, but it still made her feel weak. She missed her parents every day and yet only when she came here did she shed a single tear.
When she gained enough composure, she released the bouquet and pulled the single lily from its otherwise completely red rose arrangement and set it on the ground beside her. Then, after placing a tender kiss upon the remaining petals, she set down the flowers at the foot of the grave.
A shadow fell over her and she looked up. A gathering of gray rainclouds were now polluting the once bright blue sky. She supposed it was appropriate. It had rained this same day four years ago as well - the night her parents were murdered.
She wiped her wet cheeks just before the first raindrops fell. Within seconds a light drizzle began to come down from the sky and Hermione knew she had to get back before she risked getting sick.
"I love you." She whispered weakly.
With a final caress of the stone, feeling her parent's names etched into the statue, she pulled back and stood, making sure to grab the single lily from the ground. She walked purposefully to the very back of the cemetery where a large tomb towered over her. She walked up the stone steps to the base of the tomb, held up by two carvings of large lions facing each other. Carved above the entrance was the surname of the royal family: Potter.
When she first came here to Gryffindor Cemetery, she had wondered who else had been buried here. She wandered around the large gated plot until she came upon the royal tomb appropriately placed in the back with the most intricate of all of the graves. Most of the nobility had family tombs but none as beautiful as the Potter's. It was raised a good foot off of the ground and had its own garden planted around it. Random statues of angels and lions were scattered throughout the intricate setting and along the front wall of the tomb itself was each of the royal's names carved into their own stone with their dates of birth and death underneath. Hermione found James and Lily's names instantly because they were at the forefront. Ever since then she had taken a single flower from her parent's bouquet and placed it in the tiny space between their stone and the blank one underneath.
Hermione twisted the lily between her fingers delicately before sliding it into its rightful place next to Harry's parents. She smiled softly and turned to leave.
When she arrived back to Rosie's side, the steed looked slightly put out by the rapidly increasing amount of rain being spilled onto her mane. Hermione quickly untied her from the ring and mounted her, easing her backward from the gates and then turning back toward the castle. Rosie was faster to return because of the weather and Hermione was fearful that she might lose her footing on the slick grass. But she had faith in Rosie that she would return the both of them home safely.
When the stables were in sight, Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. She eased Rosie to slow down to a trot and brought them into the barn slowly. Hermione slid off of the saddle when they were under roofing and set to tending to Rosie.
"Why don't you let me worry about that, love?" Chester asked with a smile. "You need to get into the castle and warm up."
"I'll be fine, Chester." Hermione said.
He gave her a knowing look before striding up to her and taking off Rosie's saddle himself. "I don't want to hear any of it. Go sit by a fire for a while and get dry before you catch a cold."
Hermione pursed her lips sourly but knew better than to retort. Chester was one of the oldest and wisest working hands in the castle and he always knew best. She would be a fool to argue with him. If he said she would catch a cold if she stayed out here any longer, she would wake up tomorrow morning with a stuffy nose and the chills. So without any more argument she turned on her heel and made her way back up to the castle, ignoring Chester's childish giggling as she departed.
The grounds were completely deserted, not that she expected anything less. Everyone was probably indoors all nice and cozy in their beds and as far away from the downpour as they could get. She could picture Harry and Ron in Harry's quarters playing wizard's chess by the candlelight while the dull hum of thunder sounded around them. It was a comforting picture to think of but she knew it wasn't awaiting her inside. No, Harry was probably too busy wooing Clara to pay mind to anything else.
When she reached the side entrance to the castle, she was completely drenched. She pulled out her wand and performed a simple drying charm on her clothes. She knew that sitting by a fire would be more effective on her drenched psyche but the charm would have to suffice for now. She made her way down the corridor with intent on curling up in her room when she heard two raised voices echo from the next room. She recognized Harry's angry tone instantly and quickly jogged a nearby crevice to listen.
"What exactly are you suggesting, Remus?" Harry asked with a scary hiss to his tone.
"I'm suggesting that you either get your shit together or do the right thing."
"And both of them entail something that I'm not comfortable thinking about, let alone doing."
"Courting a girl is nothing to be ashamed about, Harry. It's a right of passage in a man's life. Something you should be quite familiar with by now."
"Of course I am but I just… Remus, I can't court Clara. I just can't."
Hermione stomach dropped. Remus was talking about Harry courting Clara? She thought in a panic, Oh Gods.
"Can't or won't?"
"I don't know, okay!" Harry shouted irritably. "Why do I even have to be considering this? Our friendship hasn't been a problem before so why now?"
"Your friendship wasn't made public before now, Harry." Remus scolded. "Walking around whispering and holding hands with Hermione is one thing but to do it with a Court-assigned guest without formal obligations to court is just inappropriate."
"Is that you talking or the Court?"
Remus sighed. "It's everyone. Even Sirius is concerned."
"Then why doesn't he talk to me himself instead of getting you to do his dirty work?" Harry spat. "You aren't his puppet."
"Indeed I am not." Remus agreed. "But when the two of us share the same understanding, it helps that I -"
"So you both want me to court Clara?"
"No, Harry, that's not what we're saying."
"Yes it is!" Harry said. "You're telling me that I either have to court Clara or stop having relations with her altogether just because the Court doesn't find it appropriate that we're friends."
"Friends and being friendly are two completely different things, Harry." Remus said firmly.
Hermione's head was spinning. She couldn't comprehend the things the two of them were saying. Sure, she knew that Harry and Clara had been growing closer this past week but that didn't mean that their relationship was up to the Court to decide. It was hard enough picturing Harry courting her but to hear it said out loud was something completely different - and by Remus no less! It was too much for her to handle, especially today.
Without any conscious effort to hide her presence, she sprinted as far away from the room as possible without stopping. Her feet carried her down the stairs and in the direction of the kitchen, which she knew to be deserted at this time of day. All the cooks and staff were usually out in the protected greenery at this time of day, planning the night's courses.
The room was lit with an enchanted overhead lamp, making the room the brightest in the castle next to the ballroom. She braced herself against the middle counter and caught her breath. She hadn't run that fast since the war. A few minutes later and her breath was regulated, allowing her brain to function more clearly.
Courting Clara. They had been talking about Harry courting Clara.
Normally the thought of Harry courting someone didn't bother her too much. She knew how he was and never worried herself over it. But now that the Court was involved in his personal life she had every right to be anxious. Harry would never cut ties with someone if he was ordered to unless it was for their own safety, a fact that she knew too well. But if it was for his own reputation… she didn't know. She didn't know and it bothered her to no end. He had never been faced with a situation like this before and the fact that it was so unfamiliar scared her. Especially since Clara was involved. She knew that Harry liked the Ravenclaw - that much was obvious by the way he looked at her - but did he like her enough to consider the Court's subtle threat?
What exactly could the Court do if he refused? She shivered. She didn't want to think about it.
"Hermione?"
She nearly jumped out of her skin at the call of her name. She turned to the door and saw Harry looking at her with a raised eyebrow. Speak of the devil.
"Hello Harry."
"What are you doing here?" He asked taking a few more steps into the room.
She shrugged. "Dunno."
A flash of light and the following of thunder prevented him from commenting. Hermione shivered at the sound and crossed her arms around her waist. She didn't like storms. Not one bit. Harry knew this and strode right over to her, putting a comforting arm around her shoulder and pulling her tightly to him.
"I'm guessing that's why you're back earlier than usual, then?"
"Hm?"
"The cemetery. You came back earlier because of the storm."
"Oh, yes." Hermione said. "I left when it was just beginning to rain."
Harry nodded. "I'm sorry I wasn't there with you."
She looked up at him curiously. "You've never come with me before."
"There wasn't a storm before." Hermione bowed her head and remained silent. Harry continued speaking. "I was worried when I heard you were still out and the storm began to pick up. I was going to go after you when Remus stopped me."
"Oh?" Hermione said softly. "Why did he stop you?"
Harry was silent for a moment before answering. "He had a message for me from the Court."
Hermione knew she had to play the part of the oblivious bystander if she wanted to get him to keep talking. The more he disclosed about the argument, the more she would know about his final decision. "What was the message?"
He laughed bitterly. "Apparently they're not too happy about my friendly relationship with Clara."
"But that's all it is, right? Friendly."
Harry shrugged and removed his hand from around her shoulders. He walked a few steps away from her and ran a hand through his hair, something he only did when he was frustrated or nervous. In this case she guessed a combination of the two.
"I don't know." He finally said. "I don't know what we are - I mean I like her but I don't know if I do enough to court her."
A small spark of relief began bubbling in Hermione's stomach. Maybe her worries were all for nothing. "So what are you going to do?"
"What can I do, Hermione?" Harry asked. "If I break all ties with her I'll lose respect from not only her and her mother but most likely from the entire kingdom of Ravenclaw as well. But if I court her I might lose…" He trailed off.
"Might lose what?" Hermione asked. When Harry didn't answer her, she repeated. "Harry… might lose what?"
He lifted his eyes to meet hers and she could feel his answer. She knew it deep within her but couldn't find the will to leave it at that. And then he opened his mouth. "Nothing."
But it wasn't nothing, was it? It was never nothing.
"Then what's stopping you?" She asked darkly. "Court her."
"Hermione…"
"Go on, what's stopping you?" She said, her voice beginning to break. "You know you want to."
"Hermione stop it."
"Why should I?" She asked. "You've already made up your mind, I can see it in your eyes. Too scared to say anything but knowing that if you do you might risk everything."
"Hermione, please."
"Just promise me that when you're courting her you'll look in her eyes not her breasts like a common pig. Focus on something on her face so you don't let your eyes drift down and compromise your precious reputation."
"Hermione!"
She stopped. He strode over to her and backed her up against the countertop, gently enough to allow her room to leave but close enough to let her know that he didn't want her to. Slowly, he lifted his hand to caress her face and wipe her cheek with his thumb. He pulled his hand away wet. She hadn't even noticed that she had been crying. He wiped the excess water off on his trousers and took a final step toward her. Her breath caught as his hand came back up to wrap around her neck and pull her face to his. Their foreheads touched and she could feel his shallow breaths blowing against her skin. She angled her face up so that their noses bumped. Their lips were only a breath away from each other.
"Harry…"
"Harry!" Remus came through the kitchen entrance with a solemn look on his face. The two of them broke apart just before he entered the room. "I've been looking every - oh, hello Hermione. Sorry, did I interrupt something?"
"No."
"Yes."
They both spoke at the same time. Their eyes met once more and Hermione spoke up once more. "I was just leaving, Remus. He's all yours."
"Hermione, wait." Harry called as she shrugged out of his arms and walked towards the exit.
Hermione turned back and called over her shoulder. "No, Harry."
And before he could refute, she continued on her way with her heart heavy in her chest. When she cleared the kitchen she began a full-out sprint to her quarters. She didn't stop until she reached her confined space and collapsed onto her bed. She let the tears stream down her face once more and curled up.
The rain, she thought to herself. Why did it always have to happen with the rain?
His arms were wrapped tightly around her. The sobs have long since disappeared and now only dry heaves remained to wrack her tired body. He had never once let her go - never once loosened his protective hold. It must have been at least ten minutes since she had first flung herself into his arms. There were no words, no comforting looks, just the two of them, alone in her quarters. This was just what she needed. She couldn't have handled questions or sympathy. All she needed was this, to just be held, nothing more nothing less.
Another rumble of thunder caused her to shiver. He ran a comforting hand in a circle on her back, letting her know that it was alright. There was no reason to be afraid of the rain or the darkness that surrounded the night sky. Not while he was there to protect her. She allowed the first shadow of a smile to grace her lips against his clothed shoulder. With him here, the newly wounded hole in her heart didn't seem so empty.
Tentatively, she began to raise her head from his tear-soaked shirt to look at him in the eyes. They were a dark shade of emerald, highlighted by the flicker of candlelight. She needed to thank him for being here. It meant more to her than he would ever realize. But their unspoken embrace seemed too perfect to break. She felt that if she were to speak, it would mean the end of this feeling of safety. She would go straight back to her fetal position on her bed, consumed by tears once more. No. She had to let him know, even if it meant compromising her sanity or even her better judgment. If an embrace was enough to portray reassurance, what could she do to let him know her gratitude? Her body acted before she could think it through.
She began to raise her lips to his…
She stopped herself with a jolt. There was no use dwelling in the past, especially not today. What's done is done and there's not use trying to fix it. No matter how much she desperately wanted to. She closed her eyes and let herself succumb to the sleep her exhausted body so desperately craved.
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