Unofficial Portkey Archive

The Catalyst

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Chapter Fourteen: Truths Spoken

The private ward was empty, save for the trainee Healer and the occupant of the only bed, the Healing team having moved on to other patients. The clatter and noise of the hospital hallway seemed quite distant, and other than the frothy bubble of the liquid remedies arrayed alongside the head of the bed, the silence was total and somewhat smothering. Hermione felt like the mediwitches had sucked out all of her energy and whisked it out of the room along with the potions cart. Slowly, she let herself slide down the wall, until she was crouched on the cool tile floor, folded over her own knees. She took several deep, slow breaths until the urgent, almost painful drumbeat of her pulse in her ears slowed itself.

Her eyes stung with tears, and she struggled to quell them. They had already poured from reddened eyes, when she burst into highly unprofessional and utterly surprising sobs, as Healer Fellowes told her that Harry had been stabilized and was - for the present - out of immediate danger. Auror Falworth had promptly offered to take Eleanor down to the cafeteria for a biscuit, and promised to be back shortly. His only response to her almost unintelligible thanks was a grave nod, though a suppressed twinkle glinted in his eyes. No wonder Eleanor likes him so much, she thought, rather randomly.

A smooth, translucent purple shell arced over the entirety of the bed, making it look sort of like a giant piece of hard candy lying on a metal rack. Woodenly, she stood and moved to the side of the bed, extending her hand and barely skimming her fingers across the vivid surface. It crackled against her skin, making a sandpapery rasp. Null magic field, she thought, watching with detachment as it blocked her magic, sparks lighting up the crescent undersides of her fingernails. It would keep Harry's system safe from the magic inherent in the hospital, from the magic of any wizards or witches nearby, from the magic found in maladies of any other patients, and even from the magical properties of the potions. The selection of solutions Healer Fellowes had prescribed for him was much more herbal than magical in nature. She could just barely make out the placid features in his face, knowing that he would remain unconscious, at least until his own system reoriented itself.

"Harry…" she whispered, her voice giving out on the last syllable. How frustrating to stand here and be able to do nothing, to know that no brilliant idea would accelerate this process, that nothing she could do would allow her to take his place! No wonder Harry always went charging off half-cocked. It was far preferable to this interminable waiting… wishing… hoping…

Hoping for what? A blush crept its way into her face unbidden, even though there was no one in the room to see her. Eleanor's offhand comment rang in her ears. …and I know you do. Her heart rate sped back up, and her palms grew clammy, stinging like they'd been scraped on concrete when she left them in contact with the null field for too long. She jerked them away, and wiped them down the sides of her robes.

…and I know you do. Oh, God - did she? And then she heard Ron's voice, angry, despairing: But Harry - I don't know, he's got this hold over you or something. If it comes down to me or him, you choose him. You always have chosen him. And this time is no different. She had gotten so angry at Ron, so sure that he was seeing things that didn't exist through a hazy veil of jealousy and insecurity. Had he been right, instinctively sensing what she had not been able to - or had refused to - see?

Yearning welled up within her, knotting her stomach, clenching around her throat, burning her eyes. One hand moved upward, of its own volition, to cover her mouth. This time is no different. This time is no different. She lifted her chin to stare across the empty ward with unseeing eyes, wide with realization and shock. She wanted to laugh, to cry, to flee. She wanted to fling herself next to Harry, to thread her fingers through his hair, to see his eyes light up with affection, as he slung one arm around her and told her that everything was going to be all right.

I have always chosen him.

An odd combination of glee and fear fluttered her heart, and then settled in her gut like lead. She had no proof that he felt any emotion toward her that was more than platonic. She knew that he treated her singularly among all other women with whom he was acquainted. But she also knew that her status as his best friend made her unique among all other women.

He's still with Ginny, still with Ginny. He has never given me any indication that he is less than happy with her.

But it was too late for caution, for temperate words. Too late to tamp down the hope that had sprung, fully formed, to life within her. He could feel the same way. They were special to each other. She knew that, had always known that. Maybe… Her fingers danced restlessly across the shiny purple shield again. Wake up, Harry…

The door to the ward swung open, not loudly, but suddenly enough to startle her. She was all but hunched over the null field, drinking in all of Harry that she could see beneath the muting purple, and jerked into a fully upright position, with wide eyes. Auror Falworth was leading Eleanor back in by the hand, the evidence of her snack clearly seen on her face. A smile wisped at the corners of Hermione's mouth. She looks her age, she thought fondly. She should look her age.

The null magic field crackled loudly, like the popping of grease in a pan of frying bacon, and a tremor rippled across it. Hermione's wide dark gaze met the Auror's, and Falworth backed up a pace or two, gently pulling Eleanor with him, and they paused. The purple field roiled, as it fought to stave off the little girl's amplified magic. Eleanor's countenance, those Harry eyes, were heart-breaking, recalling her father with such clarity that it made Hermione's eyes prick again: how he'd looked when they had lost Fred, Remus, Tonks; when Ron had left them in the tent; when he knew what he was, a Horcrux; the fathomless sorrow in those beautiful eyes, far too deep and knowing for one so young. Eleanor's little shoulders slumped, her gaze dropped to the toes of her shoes.

"We'll just wait outside for your mum, shall we, Eleanor?" Auror Falworth was saying, in a voice that was surprisingly chipper, without being condescending.

"What about her bracelet?" Hermione blurted suddenly. Eleanor wanted to see her father; the guilt was too heavy a burden for a five-year-old to bear. Surely she could do this much for their daughter, and her father.

"That's a good idea, Healer Granger," Falworth agreed. "Eleanor, do you want to wear the bracelet - at least until your father is off the null field? I know it makes your head ache, but - " Eleanor was already nodding, grasping Falworth's hand between both of hers. The Auror promptly directed his Patronus - an impish looking type of monkey that Hermione wasn't familiar with - toward the door. Hermione was astonished when it faded into an almost invisible outline before it slid through the door. She was sure her fascination broke through, as she caught Falworth's eye. "Built-in security spells," he shrugged. "The Patronus is Disillusioned, and a Muffliato keeps the message from being heard by unfriendly … or unauthorized… ears."

"That's incredible!" She murmured, half to herself.

"Unspeakables are making strides in magical research and spell development all the time."

"Researchers here at St. Mungo's are too," Hermione mused. "At least, the ones who are open-minded enough to consider the benefits in Muggle theory, procedure, and scientific method. There are things that are truly greater than the sum of their parts, when the best of both worlds are combi - " She stopped suddenly, the muscles in her neck working convulsively as she swallowed. Her eyes darted helplessly down to Eleanor - a living embodiment of her previous words - and then back up to Auror Falworth. His eyes met hers in understanding, and it surprised her a little. "I wouldn't have - I mean, I wouldn't have thought that - " Her eyes crinkled apologetically, and her smile was shamefaced.

"The Ministry is not known for its openness to innovation," Falworth admitted with a wry grin. "The Unspeakables are a little different - always have been. And some of us Aurors… well, we're not as settled in the Dark Ages as most would like you to believe."

"Once upon a time, I thought - I hoped anyway… after Harry - "

"Human nature is the same, whether the blood is magical or Muggle. When people are afraid, they promise anything, swear they'll change, plan grandiose visions of an ideal future." He shrugged. "When the danger has passed, and their way of life has been saved, they find reasons not to do any of those things." He laid a hand on the top of Eleanor's head. "It's a shame, really. We aspire to so much, and so much of that is within our grasp, and we don't even realize it."

"Surely, you're not advocating for this kind of manipulation?" Hermione spoke tentatively, wondering if she would offend him, but he laughed merrily.

"Absolutely not! But there is good that could be done too - if wizards would realize that they could use Muggle methodology and science to their advantage, if we tried to adapt some of their ways to our lives - rather than avoidance and intolerance."

"And fear…" she murmured softly, almost to herself. She heard the faintest hint of noise, barely a rush of air, and Falworth's Patronus crouched before them again. She was unable to hear the message, but a moment later, Falworth raised his wand, muttered an incantation, and held out his palm, as if checking for rain. A heartbeat later, the bracelet appeared in mid-air and dropped into his waiting hand.

"Here we go," he sing-songed. "Now we can see your Dad properly. Let your mum or me know if your head starts to ache. I'm sure we can get you a potion."

Hermione held the door for Falworth to lead Eleanor in, and was about to follow suit, when she heard the pounding of feet - more than one set - down the tiled corridor. Hesitating at the familiarity of the stride, she was rewarded with the sight of the youngest two Weasleys pelting toward her, confusion and panic blended in equal measure on their faces.

"Ron? G - Ginny? How did you know we were here?" Something flickered in Ginny's face at the plural pronoun.

"Dunwi - someone at the office gave me a heads' up that Harry'd been injured." Ron stumbled clumsily over the name, not wanting to get a colleague into trouble. "Thought I might like to know. All this is still technically above my pay-grade, but they - they can't stop me being Harry's friend."

"Nice to know somebody can't," Hermione snapped before she thought, but looked apologetic as Ron flinched. Ginny looked as though she wanted to say something very badly, and was only restraining herself with great difficulty. Color was mounting in her face as if she were a pressure cooker. "I'm sure you'd like to see him," Hermione offered in a strained way, gesturing that they pass before her through the door. "He's under a null field. Will be until his magic restabilizes."

The three of them walked through, and the door had not even swung to behind them, when Ginny noticed Falworth and Eleanor next to Harry's bed. The null field was rippling uneasily from time to time, but Hermione noticed that Eleanor's bracelet seemed to be performing its function admirably.

"Hermione, why is she in here?"

"Ginny," Hermione's voice was almost a hiss. "Can we not do this - "

"She's dangerous!"

"She's a little girl. She's Harry's little girl, and she can hear what you're thinking. Have a care, Ginny." Hermione had moved so that she was in between Eleanor and Ginny, blocking their line of sight to each other. She let her eyes slide sideways to the purple shield arcing above Harry, and a pang of sorrow and uncertainty pierced her like an arrow. Why does everything have to be so complicated?

Ginny tracked Hermione's gaze, and her lips thinned when their stares crossed again. Ginny's bright eyes crackled with an indignant fury, while Hermione's were coolly challenging, with something like regret banked in their shadows.

"Stuart," Hermione ventured, after a tense moment, tentatively addressing the Auror by his first name. "Would you mind terribly taking Eleanor down to the gift shop? I'm sure they have some crayons down there." She fished in one pocket for a half-dozen or so Sickles. "I'll - I'll pay you back if that's not enough. I'm sorry. I - I know you aren't a babysitter, but…" You're the only other one I trust with her right now was what she did not say.

"No worries, Healer Granger," Falworth told her in his gentle, cheerful way. "Just make sure that you don't leave him in here, until I get back. Just in case." Hermione jerked her head toward him so quickly that she heard her neck pop.

Just in case of what? said her crinkled forehead and worried eyes. The auror averted his eyes, peering up at the ceiling through the fringe of his golden crown of hair. When his gaze swung back down to meet hers, it first encompassed the room, looping past Ron and Ginny, and Hermione knew that he wasn't going to speak of it - whatever else he had learned from the returned Patronus - right now.

"She'll be perfectly safe with me, I promise you." And with that reassuring pronouncement, he once again led Eleanor from the room, cheerfully babbling something about the characters generally featured in coloring books for Wizarding children.

"Well?" Ginny prompted, as soon as the doors to the ward had closed, crossing her arms over her chest.

Hermione had moved back to Harry's bedside before she realized it. She needed to see him, see his face, even if it had to be filtered through a purple tinted null field.

"What, Ginny?" Her voice was world weary.

"Why isn't she locked up? Why isn't she being kept away from the Wizarding population? What if she hurts someone else?"

"She has a name, Ginny. Her name is Eleanor. And none of this is her fault."

"I never said it was her fault. But that doesn't mean she needs to be running around loose, with power that she doesn't understand and can't control!"

"She's got a special connection with Harry. We don't know why yet. But it hasn't affected anyone else the way it has affected… him." She looked at Harry again, her mouth unwittingly caressing over the word `him'.

"Harry told me what happened at the park," Ginny pointed out, her eyes narrowing at the look on Hermione's face. "You're telling me that would never happen again? That you could guarantee that no one would ever be hurt by one of her `outbursts'?"

"Of course I couldn't. But that doesn't mean we can't work with her, teach her to control it, help her function in society."

"At what cost? Are you telling me that we should sacrifice Harry - the hero of our world! - for this - this thing conjured up by a mad man? She - she wasn't ever supposed to be. She's unnatural."

Ron had been standing silently thus far, watching the two young women spar as though he were at a tennis match. But he and Hermione both hissed in a breath at Ginny's last word. Ginny herself recognized one of Vernon Dursley's catchphrases, and coughed over the last syllable even as it escaped her mouth.

"I can't believe you would say that," Hermione responded quietly. "I can't believe that you would spend any amount of time with Harry, say that you love him, and still say that about his child - about our child."

"'Our child,'" Ginny mimicked her bitterly under her breath. "How could you even - ? You weren't meant to have a child with him. You aren't even together, you didn't make a decision together, you - you didn't - " She huffed a little and looked away, struggling against tears. "You took his seventh year away from us, you took him away from me at the end. He always included you, confided in you - you're always around. The one thing - the one thing I had with him that you didn't was - was a - was romance. I thought one day, we'd get to have a family together, just him and me." Without you was obvious, though unspoken. "And now - and now you're taking that away too."

"Ginny, I haven't taken anything away. Harry's never once intimated to me that - and - and I've never - I would never - "

"Even if you didn't - even if he didn't, with her around, then you'll always be around. Always be the mother of his first child, always sharing parenting experiences with him… something else that takes him away from me… again." She looked from Harry's still form to Hermione, with shining damp eyes. "Besides, you say you haven't… and I know you haven't, yet. But I see the way you've been looking at him, the way you have to look at him… the way I look at him. You know it now, don't you?"

"Ginny…" Hermione's protest was fruitless, as her throat closed up. "I - I didn't know… before." She looked at the younger girl almost helplessly. "How could I not have known? Surely, I should have realized…"

"Bloody hell." The oath dropped loudly into the still room, and Ron shoved his hands into his pockets, crossing toward the doors and exiting with an air of despondency. Hermione could see his bright hair moving back and forth in front of the windows into the corridor as he paced.

"But, don't you see?" Hermione spoke with renewed fervor. "It doesn't matter - how I feel doesn't matter. Harry loves you! I'll just have to … move past this."

Half-hearted hope flickered briefly in Ginny's eyes, and then was extinguished. "Harry thinks he loves me. And maybe that would be enough… if it weren't for - for … Eleanor. He'll figure it out eventually, how he feels about you; he's not that thick." She laughed a bit, a joyless sound, and clenched her fists, looking for all the world like she was suppressing the urge to throw something across the room. "I want to hate you so much, right now. But - but how can I, when I would do the exact same thing if the situation were reversed? How can I fight for something, if I never really had it to begin with?"

Hermione had never felt so miserable in her entire life. And at the same time, there was a growing certainty inside her that Ginny was right, and it made her want to laugh and cry and skip around the room all at once. And that made her feel guilty. She dropped her gaze to the toes of her shoes, and tried to come up with something helpful and compassionate to say.

At that precise moment, the null field winked itself off. A soothing chime began to sound - a notification, not an alarm. Harry's magic had stabilized itself. Ginny and Hermione moved to either side of his bed, with bated breath, waiting for his eyes to flutter open. His gaze was unfocused at first; he stared at them both for a moment without comprehension, before he spoke.

"Ginny…" he said, reaching toward her with one hand. But before their fingers had even touched, he had turned toward Hermione in panicked remembrance. "Where's Eleanor? What happened? Is she hurt?" He was trying to push himself into an upright position, but his muscles were shaky and weren't responding as they ought.

"She's fine. Don't sit up just yet. Let Healer Fellowes see you first." Hermione was pushing gently on his shoulder, impeding his attempts to get up. The warmth of his skin, even through the hospital-issued robe, seared her skin, and she felt her face begin to glow. "Her magic overloaded yours. You - you almost died." Those horrible words escaped her lips with difficulty; she could feel her chin wobble, and clenched her teeth together.

Harry's eyes shone his empathy with her, knowing without her having to voice it, how difficult it had been for her. He knew that while she was generally cool and efficient during a crisis, she fell apart after it was over. He reached up and dabbed at the evidence of tears beneath her reddened eyes.

"You've been crying."

"You know how I get," she murmured, with a laugh that did not quite evade tears.

"I'm sor - "

"Please don't apologize for nearly dying again, Harry." Hermione's voice held faux-weariness, and Harry smiled that half-smile that fluttered her stomach. How had she not been aware of it before?

"Don't let me interrupt the two of you, please." Ginny's voice was humorless and flat, falling into the room as heavy as lead, and wiping the smile off of Harry's face. He immediately moved his hand away from Hermione's, and turned toward his girlfriend.

"Ah, Gin, I'm sorry." He was struggling to make his voice jocular. "I just hate that I keep traumatizing Hermione this way."

"What about me?"

Harry blinked. He darted a glance at Hermione, as if in plea for her to save him from whatever precipice he was about to blunder over, but she was looking regretfully at Ginny, with something…else … hidden in the depths of her eyes, something he was unfamiliar with coming from her.

"Well, Hermione had to watch it happen - and - and you're always so - " Strong, he was going to say, but he stopped as Ginny banged her open palms against the bed's railing so hard that the entire frame shuddered.

"I can't keep doing this anymore, Harry."

At first, there was confusion in Harry's face, which then gave way to alarm. He reached out a beseeching hand to catch her wrist, but she twisted it away, sadly shaking her head.

"Ginny, don't do this…"

Hermione might not have been in complete agreement with Ginny's timing, but maybe it was better this way. She wondered if she had been the one to drive them all to this point, and felt horribly responsible: getting too attached to Harry, then breaking up with Ron… and then there was Eleanor. Her eyes drifted over towards the door, and caught Ron peering in the window, his face grim and shadowed. She looked back over to the couple to see what Ron saw; their body language would have been clear to any passer-by. She let her eyes slid shut briefly.

"Why not?" Ginny whispered brokenly. "Why prolong this when it is clear that it isn't me that you want?" Harry's eyes flicked from Ginny to Hermione, then back again.

"What have I ever done that - she was with Ron! I love you. Eleanor doesn't have to change that. Why - why won't you let her in?"

"I don't have a problem letting Eleanor in!" She protested. Harry gauged her expression carefully, and looked over at Hermione again. Awareness slowly dawned on his face and shuttered the light in his eyes. "It's not Eleanor at all, is it? It's what Eleanor represents. It's who she brings with her…" He smiled a tight, sad smile. "It's Eleanor's mother you have a problem with."

Ginny swallowed convulsively, but did not deny it. Hermione groped blindly for the railing on her side of the bed, and twined her fingers around it. She could not look at either of them, and wished violently that she was somewhere else.

"I don't understand." His voice was hoarse, and the simple question was heartbreaking. "Why does this change things? It's not like she wasn't ever around before."

"She was with Ron before."

"And now she's not? And that makes her a … threat… to you? Why? Didn't we go over all this last night? I thought it was all rubbish, what you were worried about… but you really believe…! She's my best friend. She always has been." He sighed.

"She loves you. She always has." Ginny's look was vindictive, her voice almost untelligible with sarcasm as she aped his sentence structure. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Hermione," he said. "Please tell Ginny that - " He swung his head toward her, and his next words died unborn in his throat, as he saw the look on his best friend's face. His jaw fell open as he took in her eyes, watching him through a sheen of unshed tears, eyelashes starred into points, and her hands clenching the railing so tightly that her knuckles were white. He cocked his head at her, as though he'd never seen her before. "Hermione?"

"So, we're done here, right?" Ginny's tone was clinical, but hurt was clearly stamped on her normally vivacious face.

"Ginny, I - " His voice failed him again, and he couldn't help but look wonderingly back at Hermione for a moment. "Wait, please."

Ginny was already at the door. She threw one last look back over her shoulder at him.

"Send me an Owl if you ever figure out what you really want, Harry."

And then she was gone, whirling on one heel so fast that her hair swung out in a copper nimbus around her shoulders, and almost bowling over Auror Falworth, who was standing out in the corridor with Ron and Eleanor.

Harry sat in the hospital bed, looking as bewildered and forlorn as an abandoned child. Hermione pressed one fist against her mouth, and willed herself not to cry. The part of her brain that was still processing sensory input noted Ron kneeling next to Eleanor, apparently in serious conversation with her. He looked up briefly as Ginny blew past, but did not rise until the little girl had finished speaking. Eleanor's eyes lit up as she noticed Harry was awake.

"Father!" But instead of running toward them, she waited dutifully for the two men to proceed as well.

"Is everything all right in here?"Auror Falworth asked, as the three of them approached the bedside. "Mr. Potter, it's good to see you." Eleanor was practically bouncing in her excitement, delight shining in her eyes, and Hermione watched fondly as Harry's face lit up at the sight of her. He reached to lift her up into the bed next to him, but Hermione blocked the motion.

"You shouldn't do that, Harry. Not yet." Disappointment flickered in his countenance, but he dropped his arms back to his sides, and smiled at his daughter.

"I'm sorry for hurting you, Father." Her wide green eyes were stricken, filled with a regret beyond her years.

"We'll figure it out, Eleanor. I promise." Hermione could see Harry visibly restraining himself from laying a hand on her head, from offering some sort of comforting touch. She knew it had to be unbearably hard for him. And I'm making it harder.

While Harry chatted with his daughter and the Auror, Ron tugged on her elbow, pulling her across the ward to sit on the plain plastered window sill.

"What is it, Ron?" She asked in a long-suffering voice. She was not in a mood to go another round with him. But Ron's face was as grave as she'd ever seen it.

"I'm really sorry, Hermione. For everything I've said the last few days." He closed his eyes and sighed, looking pained. "For the things I've done to make you - to make you not want to marry me anymore."

"Ron…"

"Let me - let me say this, please. I think - I think maybe you were right. To - to call it off, I mean. I'll - I'm going to miss this - miss us, Hermione - Merlin, more than I can even say. But if - if he makes you happy, then - " He drew in a ragged breath. "Then I'll support it as best I can."

"He doesn't - " she argued weakly. "He doesn't even - Ginny just broke up with him, and he looks like he got hit with a Bludger. I don't think we'll - "

"You will."

"This is a complete about-face for you, so you'll have to pardon me for feeling a little off-kilter. How can you possibly know that for certain?"

"I was talking to Eleanor. And she told me. She told me how the two of you felt about each other." Hermione's heart began a heavy, accelerated beat behind her breastbone. She leaned toward him, lips parting almost breathlessly.

"What did she say?"

Ron's blue eyes were distant and gloomy, gazing toward Harry, but not really seeing him.

"She said that it was beautiful."

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