Chapter Twelve.
Whole Against the Sky.
"Once the realization is accepted that even between the closest human beings infinite distances continue, a
wonderful living side by side can grow, if they succeed in loving the distance between them which makes it possible for
each to see the other whole against the sky."
- Rainer Maria Rilke
Hogsmeade. 2004.
After the honeymoon Ginny and Neville returned home and began there lives as man and wife. Neville worked for the school and Ginny had decided that what she really wanted to do was own her own business. A lofty goal, she decided, but one that she felt suited her.
After getting tips from Draco and a loan from Harry she opened a bar. She called it Gin & Tonic's, after a nickname from Neville that had somehow stuck around. "And why not have a bar?" She had said to herself. After all, if one is going to take a risk in life it seemed appropriate to take a risk on one more bar in her sleepy little town. Sink or swim, had become her mantra.
When the thank you letters had all been mailed out, taking far longer than either of the newlyweds had anticipated, finally reaching post months after the wedding, the newlyweds had time to work out a routine for themselves.
Neville would find himself at the bar with Ginny every night after work, sometimes just sitting around and talking to her and other times helping out with the work load. Word spread around town that he was the "Tonic" referenced in the bar's name, an oversight that no one bothered to correct.
Slowly the bar became a presence in the community and the bar's owners a fixture in town. Ginny had learned, in a strictly business sense, to swim.
* * *
Neville came home one evening and found Ginny pouring over the financial statements for the bar. He kissed her temple and went about making them a quick supper of boiled eggs and fruit. They ate in silence as she reviewed her paper work and he graded some papers that the Professor had turned over to him.
Finally he heard her put down her work. He looked up to find her staring at him. He did a quick check to make sure he didn't have anything on his face. She rolled her eyes but smiled all the same. He found himself smiling at her as well.
"I love you." She said for no reason other than that it was true.
"I love you, too." He answered for the same reason.
That night they cuddled against a storm raging outside their bedroom window. They let the sweet sound of rain on window pane loll them gently to sleep.
London. 2004.
Harry slammed the door behind him and raced for the bathroom. He had never had to pee so badly in his life, that he could recollect anyway. He made it to his toilet and unleashed his bladder, a glazed look in his eyes, the kind a man gets when all of his will power is being taxed by a singular task.
He had been awake for just shy of three days. Unable completely to sleep at night and unable to speak with Hermione during the day. The problem, it had turned out, with suddenly making up one's mind about who and what one wants was a threefold issue.
Firstly, there was what was to be said. He would waste huge parts of his day working out drafts by hand and available light that he would discard when the sun rose on a another day of bitter waiting. He couldn't seem to make his words, to force them or pattern them, into what he felt. He began to have serious doubts as to whether English had ever even been structured in such a hollow way as "I love..." while the language was developing.
Secondly, there was the issue of timing, mostly the fact that his was terrible. Hermione was in full swing at work. She was organizing events, making and taking meeting, wheeling, working into the late hours of the evening, dealing and generally being totally unavailable to any human soul that wasn't working for her, helping her out, or opposing her goals. As Harry was doing none of those things he was pushed to the periphery of her life with heartfelt apologies and vague rain checks for unspecified dates.
Finally, there was the fact that if he didn't start taking better care of himself he was likely to drop dead before he could even speak to her. He was not in the habit of running himself ragged but there had been little else he could do. Missed appointments with her, false starts and the crushing goddamned futility of trying to see her at all was seeing him running around like a chicken with it's head cut off during the day and insomnia saw to it that he was unable to sleep at night.
Harry finished peeing. He stood in the bathroom staring straight at the wall ahead of him. He realized that he had to move. He then realized that the pressure on his bladder and cigarettes and the last piece of hope he could muster were the only things that had kept him moving during the day.
Harry walked from the bathroom in a daze. He made it to his bedroom, and as it was inevitable that he must, he fell unconscious just inside the door frame. Three days without sleep had finally caught up with him, and over the next two days he would do little else but sleep. He would occasionally stir, momentarily convinced he was awake but then realizing he must be dreaming. During one of these dreams he could swear that he saw her, sitting on the edge of his bed, weeping gently and smiling wide.
But dreams can be an odd thing. Insubstantial at best, true at worst, and bizarre for the most part.
Yorkshire. 2004.
Ron opened the kitchen door from the outside of the house. He discovered Luna standing in the door frame, her smile writ large upon her face. He smiled back at her, though there was confusion dripping into his face while he did.
From behind her back she took a small white stick, more of a tube that was fatter on one edge best he could tell. He took it from her, looked it over and let it fall to his feet. He picked her up and spun her around in slow circles before letting her down so that he could kiss her.
She threw her arms around him and laughed and cried and made noises that were both and neither and he grinned wide as the world as he kissed her cheeks and hugged her a hundred times. She looked him in the eyes, happiness evident beyond the serious tone, and asked if he was ready. He said that he was, that he wanted nothing more, and she kissed him and that night they made love and held each other until they fell asleep. They woke up still holding each other.
The moonlight trickled through the window, they told each other how much they loved one another, how happy they were, and then they didn't speak. They held each other and they smiled and the breathed in the musty sweet smell of their own love making. She closed her eyes as she nuzzled into him and he played with her hair and ran his fingers up and down her bare thighs.
In the doorway of the kitchen the pregnancy test with the positive marking sat unaware of any of the commotion it had caused. Such is the case with inanimate objects, they can forever change lives but have no power to enjoy that they have such a power.
London. 2004.
Hermione had left work, saying that she needed a minute to herself, if only to catch her breath. Her workers didn't seem to mind the long lunch she took as it gave them a chance to relax as well. When she got to Harry's flat, unsure what force had made her decide to go there, she fiddled with the lock until she realized that the door was closed but not locked.
She gently pushed the door open. Once inside she heard the noise of Harry snoring from a a farther room. She saw his feet hanging out of the door to his room and into the hallway. From the fridge she fixed herself a sandwich and a glass of milk. When she was through she walked over to him and thought briefly about moving him more into the bedroom.
She decided against it, but thought it would be kind to get him a pillow at least. She stepped over him and walked into his room. Once inside she saw that his room was covered in balled up bits of paper. She uncrumpled one and let her eyes run over it's contents.
She looked from the page to the man sleeping in the doorway back to the page. She laughed for a moment, then she wept. She shifted on the bed, letting both emotions wash over her at once and fight between themselves. She wiped her eyes, she smiled, she cried again.
Finally she got up and returned to work, knowing in her heart what had to be done.
Somewhere in all of that he rustled but slept on.
New York City. 2004.
Draco leaned against the wall he had just hung up a painting on. The painting was wonderful, it depicted the city from an overhead three quarter in hues and colors unlike anything most would attribute to the buildings. Draco took a sip from his bottle of water and smiled weakly at Amber who stood across the gallery.
It was evening and the lights were only on it the showroom. They were a gentle sort of florescent, meant to imitate natural light, and doing a fine job of it most of the time, so long as the doors were left closed and the mood was just right.
Amber walked from the corner she stood in and wrapped Draco in her arms. She kissed his forehead and then his cheek and finally his lips.
He held her against him as he returned her kiss. The gentle, almost natural, light warmed their skin. They breathed in each other. They had quarreled earlier in the evening about money and time and the little things that only matter in the short sighted world of life and moment. They had fought to the quick, giving as good as getting on both sides. Tears had been shed and he had walked out.
He had finished the display in the gallery, letting himself ignore the guilt he felt at the things he had said and the shame at the heart of the things she had. When she had finally cooled down, regret winning out over the argument in her heart, she had followed him. She knew where he would be, because his work and her and his friends were the only things that mattered to him.
Once there she watched him work, the lean muscles flexing and relaxing against his too pale skin. She loved him then, as she had once and forever loved him. He felt the presence of her eyes but didn't want to fight anymore. He wanted to be wrapped in her love and so he said nothing but finished his work with her eyes on his movements and the prickly shame of impotence at his own inaction.
But when she kissed him it all melted away, all of it, and they were once more a part of each other. They melted into one another and let the trivialities melt away entirely from their shared bones.
In their lives there were always going to be arguments and pain, there would always be the quiet moments of darkness but they would yield to the bright light of new days and promises kept. There had to be, it was the march we all march, and it was as broad as it was specific to them and to all of us.
Their life, the one shared between them, like all things that are and end, was both sides of the human puzzle but it was held together by them. Always held together.
Together.
London. 2004.
Harry slept. In dreams there were whispers, fleeting moments of things which were truth masquerading as fiction. Dream logic is not easy to follow and harder still to explain. Suffice to say, Harry Potter slept like the dead, and when he awoke he rose like the living.
In his mind he would know things, he would have the words, and he would find the patience to wait for a moment and in that moment he would have the strength to fight, he would see the light at the end of his tunnel. He would cup it in his hands to keep the wind from blowing it apart, and with that simple resolve he would know the path that he must take.
But before that moment, Harry slept and he dreamed and he longed. He longed to share his sleeping dream with his waking life.
Yorkshire. 2004.
Ron and Luna held each other, sometimes crying happy tears and other times dry eyed and loving. He would run his hand against her belly and let it rest there. She looked into his eyes and smiled. She took his hand and ran it lower on her abdomen until it rested on the right spot.
"Here." She said to him, "Right here."
"Right here." He confirmed.
They smiled at each other, laughter came light and breezy and they let it. There were no wrong emotions, there was no moment that did not call for a kiss. She leaned into him, letting her naked back feel the skin on his chest, staying long enough that their skin would stick together.
His hand stayed on her and her hand stayed on his.
London. 2004.
Hermione worked like a woman possessed over the course of the next two days. Finishing what had to be finished and getting done what had to be done. She alerted her workers about the status.
Life was hectic movement and ticking clocks until one day she came in and left Bryan in charge. She left work and told them she would be gone for a few weeks. They understood, mostly because there was so little remaining to be done.
She stopped at a take out place and had them put together a basket of food for her. She bought a bottle of soda and stopped by Harry's flat, to make sure she was right about where to find him.
He wasn't at his flat, so she set out for the harbor. She had a small spring in her step, and a smile that she couldn't wipe from her face. She had such news in the last few days.
* * *
London felt empty to Harry most days. Almost all of his friends lived outside of the city, and being unemployed gave him a large amount of time with nothing much to do. Most days he could be found at the harbor working on his boat. Over the last year his boat had become his go to hobby. He brought everyone out in it at one point or another.
He brought Hermione out most of all. If there was ever anything that could keep him from the open sea it had become her. He liked being around her, he liked the easy confidence of sitting and talking with her. He would sometimes swing by her office and take her out to lunch. Though lately it had been more difficult to arrange.
Their constant meetings had made them something of an item in the rumor columns of the wizarding world press. They had taken it in stride and told any reporter who popped up that the rumors about them were unfounded, that they were just friends.
Lately it was difficult for them to say that.
That day he was changing out some of the ropes around his boat. He could smell the food before he even saw her coming. He had eaten when he woke up, but it hadn't seemed like enough. He turned and smiled and waved to Hermione, who was approaching with something in a basket that smelled fried and wonderful.
Harry wiped his hands on a rag he had laying next to him on the floor. He stood up and greeted her from the deck of his boat. She smiled up at him from the dock, the blue sky framing her face, and Harry thought she looked like heaven. He waved her on board.
She set down the basket on top of the table in the kitchen and sat down. From the basket she removed some fried fish and chips wrapped in newspaper. She took out two sodas and placed them, one in front of her and one in front of where he would sit.
Together they ate the meal. Together they spoke in loud and happy tones.
Together.
* * *
The meal finished Hermione crumpled up the wrappers and stuffed them back into the basket. She winked at him.
"Hope you liked your surprise." She said.
"I did." He smiled at her, "I hadn't realized how hungry I was. Thanks, 'Mione."
She wrapped her fingers together and leaned forward, "So, what do you want to do this evening?"
"Aren't you working?"
"Nope." She smiled, "I'm taking a vacation. Bryan is more than capable of covering for me."
"How is Bryan?"
"He's the same." She turned her head, "So what do you want to do?"
"How long is your vacation?"
"Three weeks." Hermione said, "I seem to have gathered a lot of vacation days by never taking off."
"I heard that you got elf kids attending Hogwarts." Harry said, "No idea how that'll work out."
"Hopefully for the best."
"But isn't their magic kind of ingrained in them? Do they really need to learn it?"
"It isn't about them learning it. They work off of a modified curriculum. Mostly they will concentrate on building skills that will make them more attractive to future employers in the job market. They aren't going to Hogwarts to take their O.W.L.S and their N.E.W.T.S. They're going to be immersed in our culture, because they're now a part of it."
"That's amazing." Harry smiled, "You're amazing."
"I try." She shrugged.
"Don't be so modest." Harry grinned, "I fought a bad guy, but you've made the world a better place. Voting rights for elves and giants, fair medical treatment for werewolves. You've left the world a better place than you found it, and that counts for something."
"You're too kind." She put her hand on his shoulder, "But I think history will still only remember me for my involvement in the war."
"That's history's problem."
"It really is."
"Sail away with me." Harry said suddenly.
"What?"
"For your vacation. Can you extend it?"
"Extend it? To what?"
"A year."
"A year?"
"One year, maybe eighteen months, sail away with me. We'll go the world in this boat. Together."
"That's a really big request." She sat back, "I don't know if I could do something like that."
Harry looked the other way, "You're right. Dumb idea."
"It isn't dumb. It's wonderful." She reached forward and to his hand in her own, "But whatever made you think of it?"
"It's kind of why I bought the boat." He looked at her, "I like the idea of going somewhere and losing myself for awhile. I like the idea of taking you with me. I bought the boat because of that."
"You do?"
"Of course I do." He paused, bit his lip and continued, "I'm in love with you. I spend most days just thinking about how we would make such an amazing couple. And no one lives in London anymore anyway. It's just us, and you're ahead in your work, apparently. You've done so many wonderful things, a sabbatical wouldn't kill you. And we could be together without the posturing of our stations."
"We wouldn't have to dodge the paparazzi." She said.
"We wouldn't have to sit down for monthly interviews." He added.
"And you think you're ready to try with me?" She interrupted the train, "Why now?"
Harry looked away, remembering the words Ron had spoken to him so long ago, "It's kind of hard to explain."
"Aren't you still afraid?"
"Terrified." He admitted.
"Then why?"
Harry stood up and paced around the small kitchen. He turned to face her and spoke softly at first, but with a raising level of animated emotion, "I want to be happy. We all want to be happy. That's what life is meant to be about. And You, 'Mione. My wonderful, smart, beautiful 'Mione, you make me happy. You make me so happy that I'm fit to burst at it. Every time someone asks about us for their paper it's a struggle to tell them that you and I are just friends. It's hard because it's such a pathetic half truth. There's no one else for me. No one."
He paused and collected himself, "And, yes. Okay. I'm scared. But I woke up this morning and I realized that if I let fear hold me back from the things in life that I really want then I'm letting it have power over me. When the towers fell, in New York, I refused to leave. I refused to let anyone have that kind of control over me. Now... I'm doing it to myself, and I don't want that. It's stupid." He turned to face her, joy mingled with something less defined danced across his face, "I'm so tired of loving you and not being able to love you like I want. I looked at myself and I asked what it is that I want out of life and I could only think of you. I want you."
She looked at him, surprise clear on her face, "You mean that?"
"Of course I mean that!" He put his hand to his mouth, "Sorry, didn't mean to shout. I'm passionate about this."
"So what are you saying?"
"Be with me." He moved over and sat beside her, her hands in his own, "Be with me and leave with me, screw the nonsense about waiting and forget the advice we've been given. What could be more important than you and me and right now?"
She kissed him then. Tears in her eyes and in his own and an uncertain future, unanswered questions and the ocean and she kissed him.
* * *
His question was not answered that night. They both went home, having kissed and danced and smiled and laughed. The total events too fresh in their minds to be anything but a blur of movement. In his flat Harry fell asleep, effortlessly for the first time in many years.
In her own half empty flat Hermione smiled in her sleep, his taste still on her lips, and even as unsure as she was about what she would do about his offer to sail the world, his lips were a part of her lips, his heart was her's as her's was now his and that was enough.
Author's Note:
Went back over the chapter, because it read poorly and it needed to be proofed badly. So here you go. I apologize that some of your comments are now gone. I'm not allowed to save them when I replace a chapter.