Unofficial Portkey Archive

A/N: Okay guys, here's the big confrontation. Hope you enjoy! Please review, sans flames.

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Chapter 37: Revelations

The silence of the dim room was shattered as Dolohov slammed his fist onto the table, causing the goblet on its surface to be turned on end. The contents of the cup spread over the unfinished wooden table, seeping into its grain and dripping over the edge to create a pool of red liquid.

With a roar of rage, the Death Eater swiped his arms across the table to send the goblet and everything else rocketing into the wall next to him. The loud clattering was deafening, but the brown-haired occupant sitting at the other end of the table looked on impassively.

"All of that fucking planning for NOTHING!" Dolohov roared, sweeping around and slamming his hands against the wall. "The filthy half-blood still got away!"

"Which was always a possibility," the brown-haired man said neutrally.

Dolohov turned sharply to the man and curled his lip in a snarl.

"Not according to your brilliant plan!" he said viciously. He pointed a finger accusingly at the man. "You swore it would work!"

"I never swore anything. I said we had a good chance."

"And obviously you were wrong! You're the one who insisted on luring the Mudblood along for this, and if you didn't notice, she's the ENTIRE REASON HE ESCAPED!"

"By all means continue shouting," the man said in a bored voice. "It really drives your point home much more effectively than speaking normally."

"Just as your arrogant demeanor makes your point all the more successful," Dolohov sneered back, though he did lower his voice. "But it's true - you insisted on including the Mudblood, and now Potter is gone. If she hadn't been here, he would've been ours. I told you the dementors would be all that was necessary for Potter's weak mind!"

The man sighed in a patronizing manner. "Contrary to your belief, Potter's mind isn't as weak as you claim. The only reason your plot did as well as it did was because of Hermione Granger, not in spite of her."

Dolohov, for once, seemed confused by this statement.

"That's ridiculous," he said, though he now seemed unsure of himself. Despite the youthfulness of the man in front of him, he had proven to possess a wisdom far beyond his years. "Why would the Mudblood have anything to do with this?"

"Because without her presence, Potter wouldn't have been nearly as susceptible to the dementors," the man said calmly. "I'm aware you were under the impression that such a vast number of dementors could overcome Potter's Patronus, but I knew that without her it would have been a pointless endeavor." He gave a small smile at this point, though it was neither conceited nor particularly happy. "As you may remember, he never managed to even attempt a Patronus, let alone produce a corporeal one."

"And how did you happen to foresee this?" Dolohov said, unwillingly intrigued.

The brown-haired man twirled his wand between two of fingers. "It's of no importance," he said indifferently.

Dolohov opened his mouth to respond with an angry retort, but the man held up a hand to silence him. Dolohov clapped his mouth shut, watching as the man's wand became still in his hand.

"I take full blame for our failure tonight," the man said, his voice still toneless. Even his blue eyes were uncomfortably empty of emotion. "I made a small… miscalculation. I will be more thorough in the future."

Without another word, the brown-haired man stood up, effectively putting an end to the conversation. He walked towards the door, but just as it was about to shut, he spoke once again.

"Dispose of Mr. Sanders as well," he said. "We won't need him any longer."

And with a soft click the man shut the door.

Dolohov stared, disgruntled, at the door for several moments, but then turned his head with a cruel smile. After walking a few steps, he knelt and lifted the chin of a bloodied man who was collapsed in a heap in the corner of the room. The man was barely conscious, but fear could be detected easily in his half-open eyes.

"But how about we have a little fun first?" Dolohov said, and raised his wand to the man's chest.

***************

Hermione didn't know how long she sat in the clearing, clutching Harry to her, but the sun was beginning to rise before she finally pulled herself together. The pool of blood around Harry's leg was substantial, and Hermione knew she should have attended to it sooner.

She gently laid Harry's head down in the grass and moved to examine his leg more closely. There had been no opportunity to inspect it before, but under the light of dawn she could finally see the extent of the injury.

A large portion of his calf had been blown apart by the force of whatever curse had hit him, and Hermione could see that the bone was clearly shattered. The sight of the white bone among his ravaged muscles made her feel ill, and she questioned her ability to heal such an extensive wound.

After a moment of hesitation, she decided to tamper with the leg as little as possible. The most pressing matter right now was to stop the bleeding; after that, a simple splint would be enough to get him to St. Mungo's for proper healing.

Pointing Harry's wand at the wound, Hermione muttered a spell that would alleviate the profuse bleeding. She did this to multiple locations on his leg, and when she was satisfied, she used a cleaning spell to rinse the wound clean. Lastly, she created a splint using a transfigured stick and length of thick string. When she finished, she was relieved to see that some color had returned to his face and his breathing had become more regular.

As she moved once more to sit at his back, she returned Harry's head to her lap. She loved the feeling of him being so close to her. A very strong part of her wished she could just stay here, holding him, sitting in the pale glow of the rising sun. No awkward avoidance, no guilt, no complicated circumstances that could change the balance of their lives forever.

"If only it could be like this when you're conscious…" Hermione muttered to herself wryly. She brushed his dark, messy hair away from his forehead, and then leaned down to place a soft kiss on the skin she had exposed. She allowed her lips to linger for multiple seconds, keeping her eyes shut tightly. She knew that when she opened her eyes, she would have to face the present, and she was quite frankly terrified of what it would bring.

"Please don't fail me now, Harry," she breathed against his hair. "Anytime but now."

She pulled away from him after a moment more and reluctantly stood up, relinquishing her hold on him. Taking a few steps back, she pointed the wand at his chest and heaved a sigh. She carefully arranged her features and emotions before she cast the spell.

"Rennervate."

Harry's next breath was deeper and longer than the previous, and his eyes opened weakly as he exhaled. He was staring at the sky, and Hermione did nothing to call attention to herself, instead choosing to wait until he sought her out.

He took a few more deep breaths before he turned his head away from her, blankly observing his surroundings. It didn't seem like he completely recalled where he was, similar to the way you sometimes feel when you awaken in a strange home. After several seconds he finally turned his head in the opposite direction, towards her. She fidgeted nervously as he blinked several times, taking in the sight of her, and then she saw recognition appear in his eyes.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, cautiously keeping her tone as neutral as possible. She folded her arms protectively across her stomach. It would be unacceptable to break down now.

Very slowly, Harry moved into a sitting position, but he released a sharp hiss of pain when he went to bend his leg.

"Disregarding the gaping hole in my calf?" He shrugged tiredly. "Okay. Are you alright?"

Hermione jerked her head downwards. "Fine."

"I take it you got us out of there?"

She jerked her head again. "Yes."

She was grateful when he didn't press the issue. Instead he looked guilty, and Hermione refrained from the urge to shake her head. Typical Harry.

His next words confirmed her suspicions.

"I'm sorry, Hermione. It was completely my fault and I should've -"

"Should've what, Harry?" she said, exasperated. "Taken me with you? Left me in the woods instead of by the house? It doesn't matter. I lived, you lived. You couldn't have done anything, so forget about it!"

She had said it more harshly than she intended, and Harry looked rather startled by the outburst.

"Fine," he said, his tone slightly angry now. "I'll forget about it." His face was set into stony determination as he bent his good leg and pushed himself from the ground. He swayed multiple times as he rose to his full height, but Hermione couldn't bring herself to step forward and help him. She doubted he would accept her help anyway.

When he had finally gained his balance, he fixed her with a severe look. "Are you coming to the Ministry with me?"

Hermione furrowed her brow. "Ministry? You need to go to St. Mungo's and have your leg fixed."

"It's fine," Harry said gruffly. "I need to speak to Wahler first."

Under normal circumstances, Hermione would've insisted he go until she was blue in the face. But these were not normal circumstances, so she gave yet another jerky nod.

"If that's what you want," she said.

"It is," Harry replied. "So are you coming with me or not?"

"I have to," Hermione answered. "We only have one wand." She stepped forward to hand over his holly wand.

"Right," he said, taking it in his grip. "You can get another when we get there, at least until you can go to Ollivander's."

"And you'll go to St. Mungo's after you speak to Wahler?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "Are you coming with me there?"

Hermione shook her head. "No. I have some things I need to take care of."

Harry's stare hardened even further as she said this. Hermione instantly realized the suspicion in his gaze and backtracked.

"I'm not trying to avoid you again," she said curtly. "I just need to take care of something before we talk."

Harry seemed incredulous of this, but nodded anyway. "And you'll have it taken care of before tonight?"

"Yes," she said.

"Great," Harry responded tersely. "So you should have no problem meeting me at the Leaky Cauldron around four."

"No," Hermione said, her own tone taking on a slightly angry edge, "that shouldn't be a problem at all."

"Excellent," he said, taking her arm roughly in his grip. "I'll be in room 10."

Without waiting for a reply, Harry Disapparated, pulling an irritated Hermione with him. She was hoping that their later conversation would have much more pleasant results, but she somehow doubted it.

**********

After they had appeared in the Ministry and Hermione had snatched her hand back and stalked off, Harry himself stalked his way to the Auror Department. He noticed that the few people already at work were staring at him, and he figured it was his staggering walking pattern that was drawing their attention, as well as the rumpled and tattered state of his robes. For once no one spoke to him, but despite this small favor Harry found their gaping more infuriating than usual. Why couldn't they just ignore him for a change?

It was only at this intense wish for privacy that he realized what profound thing he had forgotten at the mansion.

"Fuck, the Cloak!" he exclaimed. Thankfully he was alone on the lift, so no one was around to hear his outburst. He thought furiously, wondering if he could possibly have just left it in the grassy clearing, but felt his heart sink as he recalled exactly where it was. It had fallen from his grip when he was blasted from the balcony by Krista's spell. Dolohov had to have discovered the Invisibility Cloak by now.

"Shit shit shit," Harry groaned, clapping a fist to his forehead repeatedly. "This is the last thing I bloody needed today. The most dangerous Death Eater out there has possession of one of my family's ancient family heirlooms, which also happens to be one the most powerful magical objects in the world." He laughed mirthlessly to himself. "No big deal."

The lift opened, and Harry quieted his self-deprecating grumbling as he stepped into the Auror Office. Just as on the floors below, there were few individuals waiting around, but Harry was hoping Wahler would be one of them. He usually waited for his Aurors no matter how long their missions took, and Harry figured today wouldn't be any different.

"Alec?" he said, knocking on the door.

"It took you long enough, Potter!" Wahler grumbled from within the room "Get in here!"

Harry cracked the door open and stepped in quietly, trying his best to walk as normally as possible. Unfortunately, the agonized grimace he made with each step gave him away. Wahler looked surprised at his state.

"Damn it, Potter, what in the bloody hell happened to you!? I send you on a scouting mission and you come back with a quarter of your leg gone!"

"It's really not as bad as it looks, sir," Harry said feebly.

Wahler gave a derisive snort. "Bullshit. Is Granger alright?"

Harry nodded as he sat down, appreciating the rest for his leg. "She's perfectly fine. No injuries or anything like that," he said.

"That's good at least," Wahler grunted.

"Glad to see where your preference lies," Harry said, trying to lighten the mood. "Not that I blame you - she's much prettier than I am."

Wahler gave a bark of laughter, which Harry took as a good sign.

"Well, tell me what's going on," he said, waving his knarled hand impatiently.

"Er, alright," Harry said. "First off, we found a mansion just a bit north of where you sent us."

"Suspected as much," Wahler said as he jotted down a note on a slip of parchment. "What else? Who was there?"

Harry sighed. "Dolohov."

Wahler sat up straighter in his chair as he surveyed him. "Dolohov? How -"

Harry cut him off. "I really don't know, sir. But he's gotten more allies since the last time."

Wahler frowned and leaned back in his chair. "Did you hear any names?"

Harry laughed. "Actually, I was pretty much introduced to the lot of them."

Wahler chuckled as well. "I don't understand how these Death Eaters can be such idiots and still give us so much damn trouble."

"Me either," Harry said. "But he seems to have mostly the same lot except for a few others. Three of them. Curtis Burkes, and a brother and sister named Xavier and Krista. I didn't catch their last names."

"I've heard of Burkes before," Wahler said, writing down a bit more. "He's mainly been up to minor scams so far, but I guess he's looking to take a step up. I've never heard of the other two though."

Harry shrugged. "They seemed pretty young, so it's not that surprising."

Wahler placed his face in his hands and gave a tired sigh.

"Is there anything else?" he asked.

Harry shook his head. "Not really. They didn't discuss any plans for the dementors. I…I actually think that it was all a ploy to get the Department's attention. I think they wanted another shot at me."

Wahler gazed at him intently. "Why would you think that?"

Harry hesitated, wondering how much he should reveal. "Before they found me…well, the things I heard them discussing sounded like they were talking about me."

Wahler shook his head. "But that seems like a gamble," he said. "There was no guarantee that you would've been the Auror that was sent. An extremely low chance. If I hadn't had every other available Auror busy, I wouldn't have sent you."

Harry felt his leg shaking badly despite the fact that he was sitting. "I don't understand it either, sir, but that's what I heard. I'll leave you the record of the conversation if you want to review it."

Wahler gave a vacant nod as he stared at his desk. "Vials are in the cabinet behind you."

Harry quickly found the vials and placed the memory of the Death Eaters' discussion within it. He ended the memory with Rowle's discovery of him. Harry was unsure if his boss should know anything beyond that.

Once Wahler had taken the vial, he dismissed Harry.

"Get that leg taken care of and then get some sleep, Potter. I know you need it. And don't worry about your wife either. We've already informed both her and Ron about your and Hermione's whereabouts. Actually, Weasley's going on a bit of a mission himself later tonight - probably won't get in until early tomorrow morning. I'm sure he'll will catch her, but if not, let Hermione know."

Harry nodded, and then staggered back down to the Atrium, where he promptly Apparated to St. Mungo's.

***************

He didn't have very long to wait at the hospital. He had no more than set foot in the waiting area when a receptionist dashed in and directed him to the nearest Healer. Usually he would have complained at the special treatment, but he accepted it gladly today. Harry quickly explained the whereabouts of his injury, and the Healer immediately went about some diagnostic spells.

Once he was finished, the Healer gave Harry a small apology.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Potter, but due to the severe extent of your wound, there may be some lasting effects," he said nervously. "Magic can quicken the natural healing of the wound, but it can't change the long term results. We can mostly repair the muscles and skin, but there'll still be scarring and you may have a bit of a limp."

Harry shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm used to scars. It's fine."

The Healer seemed immensely relieved at Harry's easy-going manner, and efficiently cast the proper spells on his leg. The shattered bones mended, the muscles reattached themselves to each other, and the skin knit itself together neatly before Harry's eyes within minutes. He experimentally extended his leg and detected a bit of stiffness, but other than that there was no extensive pain.

"Thanks," Harry said. "That feels loads better."

"My pleasure," the Healer said, standing up. "The limping should become less troublesome over time. And if you have any problems, don't hesitate to come back."

"Sounds good," Harry said, and raised a hand to suppress the yawn that was about to escape him. He quickly thanked the Healer again and made a hasty retreat. He still needed to write Tom to reserve a room, and then he would Apparate straight there. His own bed was sounding absolutely amazing at the moment, but he knew if Ginny was home it wouldn't be an option. But he still wanted to get a few hours of sleep before he needed to meet Hermione. If their earlier conversation was any indication, he would definitely need his wits about him.

*************

As the clock on the wall inched closer and closer to four o' clock, Hermione couldn't help but feel herself collapsing into the numerous layers of her fear. So many things could go wrong…so many things would change…

She frowned as she stared at the ceiling, vacantly rolling her recently required replacement wand between the fingers of her right hand. After her short morning excursion, she had immediately returned home and lay down on her bed. Sleep never overtook her, and here she was, nine hours later.

Her brow furrowed as the same thoughts trailed through the already well-worn path in her mind. At first she thought her worry was unnecessary, that maybe she was overreacting. But she knew that those preliminary notions were completely untrue. In fact, by this point she was wondering why she hadn't ripped out the majority of her hair and dehydrated herself from excessive crying.

Surprisingly, not a single tear had escaped her eyes. Hermione speculated whether she was subconsciously saving her tears for tonight, when she might truly need them.

"I guess I should go," she said to no one in particular as these depressing images flashed through her head. Harry would probably think she wasn't going to show up if she didn't leave now. Plus, Ron might be home soon, and then she'd have no opportunity to leave.

Even after she said this, she took several minutes to actually stand up. But she finally did, and then Apparated to the Leaky Cauldron before she could succumb to the temptation to sink back onto her bed.

When she arrived in front of the entrance, she slid into the pub and was grateful to find it so busy. There was less of a chance that she would be noticed. Using this to her advantage, Hermione sidled her way across the room until she reached the stairs that led to the upper rooms. She cast a discreet glance around the room, and when she thought no one was looking she quickly ascended them.

The room she was looking for was at the very end of the hallway. The black number 10 stood in sharp contrast to the pale wooden door, and she stared at it until she was sure she had her emotions under control. However, considering she'd had herself under control for the last nine hours or so, it didn't take very long. So, knowing she shouldn't delay the inevitable any longer, she cracked open the door and slid into the room.

As she closed the door silently behind her, she saw that Harry was already there, relentlessly pacing the floor. His hair was tousled as though he had recently woken up, and this was further amplified by the hand that he kept raking through the dark locks. She also noticed the pronounced limp that accompanied his steps, and she felt a sharp pang in her stomach as she watched him.

She hated that after all these years he still had such a burden on his shoulders, and she couldn't help but feel guilty about adding to it. She wanted it to be the way it used to be, where she could wrap her arms around him and listen to his problems, and when he could pull her against him and let her cry through her own troubles. That would be almost impossible now without forbidden memories intruding upon their minds, and Hermione wistfully wondered what it would be like to just return to being only his best friend.

Better yet, as Harry finally turned his emerald gaze towards her, she wondered what life would be like if they would have simply acknowledged each other ten years ago.

Hermione crossed her arms across her stomach.

A hell of a lot simpler, that was for sure.

*************

Harry's eyes fell on Hermione, and his furious pacing was stopped cold. He watched as she folded her arms across herself and met his eyes apathetically.

"Hey," he said, all of his previous thoughts flooding from his mind.

"Hey," she said in return. Harry hoped that she would immediately launch into some sort of previously prepared speech that he would be able to work with, but by the expectant look on her face he determined that he would have to begin the conversation.

They stared at each other blankly as he tried to gather his thoughts, but they continued to elude him.

"I've been trying to figure out what to say for the past few hours, but now that you're actually here I have no idea how to start," he said lamely, rubbing at the back of his neck.

Hermione gave an understanding nod, but still said nothing.

He resumed his pacing for a few moments before distractedly stopping in front of the small table in the corner of the room.

"Do you want a drink?" he asked as he picked up a dark bottle from the table's surface.

Hermione frowned and gave a small shake of her head, resulting in Harry giving a careless shrug as he poured a liberal amount into a glass. He raised the glass to his lips and swallowed a few mouthfuls of the bitter liquid before setting it back down sharply. He saw that he had drained over half the glass and decided to top it off.

As the alcohol neared the glass's rim, he heard Hermione give a small sound of aversion and saw that her frown had deepened.

"Is this really so disagreeable for you that you have to get drunk just to talk to me?"

The uncalled for anger in her tone immediately set Harry's teeth on edge, and he picked up his glass again to take another defiant gulp. It burned his throat, but in a pleasant way. The borders of his thoughts were less concrete, and he felt that he could begin to think more easily. However, when he went to take another drink, the glass disappeared from his hand, as well as the bottle from the table. Harry turned to Hermione in time to see her replacing her wand in her pocket.

"I think that's enough," she said curtly. "You're the one who arranged this, so stop avoiding it."

Harry gave a small snort. "You would recognize avoidance," he responded scornfully.

Hermione shook her head. "I've already apologized for that," she said, her voice rising slightly. "I refuse to let you make me feel guiltier about it than I already feel."

"Fine," Harry said, his voice rising to match hers. "Let's get around to the real matter then, shall we?"

"Finally," Hermione said nastily.

"Alright," he said. He stepped closer to her. "Why'd you kiss me?"

The bluntness of his question seemed to momentarily stun Hermione's anger, but she eventually snapped herself from it. She shrugged her shoulders a bit helplessly.

"Because I wanted to," she answered.

Harry was rather surprised by the calm honesty behind her words. He had expected her to have come up with an obstinate and thoroughly logical and thought-out excuse, so her simplistic reply was completely bewildering. However, he needed to know more.

"That's not enough," he said, carefully observing her guarded features. "Why?"

"I don't know, Harry! I was drunk, you were drunk - it just seemed like an appropriate thing to do at the time!" Her voice was disdainful, and had risen even further in volume. She was practically yelling at him now.

"That doesn't answer my question!" he fumed, taking a step towards her. He was infuriated by the fact that she hadn't budged an inch since she'd entered the room. "I want to know why you wanted to kiss me, not what made you kiss me!"

"Does it honestly matter what I was thinking at the time?" she said furiously. "Why do you want to know?"

"Because before we can move past this, we need to know why it happened!" Harry bellowed. He felt years of frustration and emotions welling up inside of him, and he grabbed at his hair in anger. "I'm sick of this game we're playing! I just want you to be fucking honest with me!"

Hermione's eyes sparkled with unshed tears, and the air around them seemed to spark with their built-up rage. "Honesty works both ways, Harry!" she screamed. "So I think the better question would be why did you kiss me back?"

Harry felt a twitch in his jaw as the unanticipated response caught him off guard. He worked his jaw soundlessly for a moment before he could sputter out a reply.

"Don't…don't try to turn this around on me!"

"I'll turn this around if I want to!" Hermione shouted. Her arms were still crossed tightly across herself, but her expression had taken on a frightening edge. Harry didn't think he'd seen her this riled up since she'd set that flock of canaries on Ron in their sixth year. "Out of all the time I've known you, it's been me that's had to do all the giving! So I think I have every right to want your answer before I give you mine!" Her shoulders were heaving as she stared him down. "Why did you kiss me back?"

Harry inwardly winced at her unfortunately true statements. She had given more to him than he could possibly begin to realize, and he knew that she deserved an answer. But he once again floundered under her penetrating gaze.

"Because… well, I…" he began, stuttering slightly. His mouth all of a sudden felt horribly dry, and he knew his constricted chest was heaving as much as Hermione's. He swallowed the lump in his throat as she visibly became more and more aggravated with his hesitance, but he still couldn't bring himself to speak.

Finally, after he had endured minutes of soundless struggling, Hermione gave an infuriated sigh. When she spoke, her voice was both angry and desperate. "Damn it, Harry, please - because you what?"

Later Harry would wonder what would have happened if he'd simply kept his mouth shut until he could come up with a legitimate excuse. But a split second is hardly a sufficient amount of time to consider all of the possible consequences to any of his potential responses, and a split second happened to be all the time that separated Hermione's question from Harry's rapid and entirely impulsive answer.

He gave an enraged sigh much like Hermione's and roared at the top of his lungs:

"BECAUSE I LOVE YOU!"

The words seemed to hang in the air like a dense fog as soon as they burst from Harry's lips, and he and Hermione stared at each other in pure astonishment as they fell upon both their ears for the first time.

Oh shit did I really just say that? Harry thought frantically as he searched Hermione's wide eyes for some insight to her thoughts. Even though he had never been able to admit it to himself until this moment, hearing those words out loud only cemented their certainty into his mind.

After Merlin knows how long, he'd finally told his best friend of fourteen years that he was in love with her.

He felt almost light-headed by the revelation, elated by the lifting of a burden that had been gripping his heart so tightly for so long. But just as quickly as the burden was raised from his chest, an even greater weight settled into it, only getting heavier with each never-ending second of silence that passed between them. With four words he had figuratively chucked himself from the edge of a cliff, and the quiet was like the rush of wind in his ears as he hurtled into the unknown - he only hoped jagged rocks were not the objects waiting for him at the bottom.

Harry studied Hermione for what felt like an eternity as a feeling of panic took a firm hold on his mind, forcing him to use every ounce of self-control he possessed so he wouldn't do something he'd regret.

Bolting from the room was out of the question, obviously…Hermione was standing in the way.

So short of barreling over her (which also didn't seem recommended), he was stuck here, frantically waiting for her to say something, anything. Usually he could detect some semblance of her emotions through her eyes, but for the life of him Harry couldn't gauge the expression in her flat gaze.

Relief? Happiness? Disappointment? Anger?

He wasn't sure which she was feeling - possibly all of them - but Harry could certainly recognize the one she finally latched onto as she began to speak.

"You love me?" she said, her voice dangerously low and shaking horribly. "And when did this revelation occur to you?" Her tone was contemptuous. Harry felt his heartbeat quicken as his panic increased in addition to the cold anger he felt at her words.

"I don't know," he said truthfully, struggling to keep his own voice cool and level. "Does it even matter?"

"Sure it does," she said, her voice scathing in its mocking sweetness. "It would really help to clear some matters up. Was it just now? Right after we slept together? Since I got married? Since you got married?"

"I don't know," Harry repeated, his voice rising again as he began to lose his composure.

"Well, why don't you figure it out?" Hermione replied harshly. "I think it's pretty important. Was it earlier than that? Maybe when we were searching for the Horcruxes? Or back in Hogwarts even?"

She only seemed to get angrier with each question she asked, and even more so as Harry remained silent under her interrogation.

"Well, come on, Harry!" she shouted. "If it's time to open up, we might as well do it the right way!"

Blood pounded in his ears, and he breathed deeply through his nose. He thought he felt another tic in his jaw.

"I don't know, alright?!" he yelled. "I'm telling you now! Why does it matter how long I've known?"

A rapid reply burst from Hermione's lips, perhaps more immediate than Harry's own had been.

"Because I've loved you for almost ten years!"

Harry felt his jaw unhinge slightly as he stared at Hermione uncomprehendingly. Surely she hadn't just said ten years?

Hermione got a sad look on her face as she observed his expression. "And you still don't realize it," she said softy.

"Realize - ten - I - how -" Harry sputtered, his mind reeling. He opened and closed his mouth multiple times before he managed to speak a complete sentence. "Why didn't you ever say anything?"

"When did I have the chance?" Hermione countered, seeming disbelieving that he would even ask her such a question. "By the time I'd come to terms with how I felt, you were interested in Cho and then Ginny right after!"

Harry shook his head at her logic, clenching his fists. "I broke up with Ginny at the end of sixth year! Hell, Ron was even out of the picture for a while! We had months to ourselves where you could have said something!"

Hermione gave a short, mirthless laugh. "That's a brilliant idea, Harry!" she said sarcastically. "Why didn't I think of that? `Hey, Harry, I've been in love with you since I was fourteen years old. Sorry to distract you from this miserable search we're on and that whole destined-to-destroy-or-be-destroyed-by-the-Dark-Lord thing.'" She gave a short shake of her head as another humorless laugh escaped her. "Did you really expect me to do that? Besides, when did you ever show the slightest indication that you felt the same? For Merlin's sake, Rita Skeeter published an article about our supposed relationship, Viktor and Cho both accused you of having feelings for me, and you didn't show the slightest hesitation in denying it! There was always such a thin line between you and I, where I thought, just maybe, if I tiptoed across it to suggest something more than friendship, it could work out. But the circumstances, the people-the timing-was never right. So why would I put myself and our friendship at risk like that? And besides, it's not like your track record of crushes indicated that I was even remotely your type."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry said, taken aback.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Athletic, specifically at Quidditch, popular, and extremely pretty," she said, ticking the traits off on her fingers. "Ginny and Cho both seem to fit the bill fairly well."

Harry frowned. Did she honestly believe she hadn't been talented or pretty enough for him? "I've dated two women in my entire life! I hardly think that constitutes me having a `type.' I…" He swallowed, took a small step closer. "I think you're beautiful."

Hermione shook her head again at his response and raised her palm to him. Harry knew she would have taken a step back if she wasn't already so close to the door.

"Harry…" she said. "Just…just don't."

Her eyes looked tired. Tired of ten years of silence, tired of the sadness, tired of their game. Harry suspected his eyes looked tired too. Tired of his own silence, tired of this charade, tired of the regret. They shouldn't be standing like this, across the room from one another in a dingy inn, looking at each other this way. They were supposed to be sitting with Ginny and Ron, maybe with Ginny snuggled comfortably into his side and Ron's arm slung carelessly over Hermione's shoulders. That's the way things were supposed to be, the way things had been obligated to be for as long as he could remember.

"Well…what do we do, Hermione?" Harry finally said, his voice quieter than it had been since they had begun speaking.

Hermione continued to look at him tiredly, but it was clear she had no more of an answer than he did.

"We...we can't go back to the way things were," he said.

Hermione still said nothing. She averted her eyes slightly, gripped her arms more tightly around her.

"We can't just ignore this." Harry didn't honestly know why he made himself continue speaking. Perhaps just to fill the void of stillness that would take its place. "We can't just…"

He trailed off, feeling impatience and renewed anger bubbling in his chest. He waited a few moments, giving Hermione yet another chance to speak. But all she did was close her downcast eyes, her lips moving soundlessly, seeming for all the world entirely disinclined to answer. Harry felt his throat burn, but he swallowed to regain his voice.

"Or we could just go back to pretending we don't feel this way about each other."

He said this rather stiffly, and Hermione raised her head. Her brow was furrowed slightly, as though she were contemplating the meaning behind his words - waiting for him to continue.

"That would certainly be the easier thing to do," he said. He waited for some sort of objection, prayed for one, but Hermione continued to be silent. Perhaps she didn't find his suggestion objectionable. Maybe that's what she wanted.

"Yeah," Harry continued, his voice coldly casual. "I don't blame you for wanting to take the easy way out. You being with Ron is the simpler thing to do. Confronting this would change things. A lot less risks if things just stay the way they are - if we just forget about everything that happened." His next words already tasted acrid in his mouth. "It was obviously a mistake."

Hermione looked as though Harry had just reached across the room and slapped her across the face. Harry felt a grim satisfaction. He wanted her to cry, wanted her to lose the tough demeanor she'd been emanating since she'd arrived. If that happened, he would have an excuse to cross the room and pull her closely to him, so she could sob into his shoulder.

But instead her expression hardened again. Her eyes searched his face for a long time. They stood there, two people in a tiny hotel room, suddenly looking, really looking, at each other. Reassessing everything that they had once thought true about the other, redefining every aspect of a fourteen-year-relationship that was now harder to describe than either of them had ever thought possible. And it became clear to Harry, by the fierce independence in her stance, the sharp look in her eye, that she would not reveal to him such vulnerability. Not again.

He watched as she finally let her arms fall to her sides for the first time. There was an unsettling emptiness in her last look at him, an emptiness that was more disconcerting than any of her previous anger. She turned on the spot, her shoulders set stoically, and pulled the door open. But just before she disappeared into the hall, she paused. She didn't even glance back at him as she spoke.

"I'm pregnant."

Then the door shut with a sharp snap, leaving Harry to stare blankly at the pale wood as his mind all but shut down.

He subconsciously managed to stumble over to the bed and sit down.

He released the breath he didn't realize he had been holding, and he opened his mouth to take another breath. Oxygen seeped into his lungs unwillingly. The air felt like it had thickened, felt almost solid.

His hand shook as he raised it to comb through his hair.

Then he felt overwhelming sadness as intense regret permeated his thoughts. Not just the burning regret of their conversation, his harsh words, but for Hermione's long unseen silence, for his too-late realizations, for waiting so long to confront each other, and for giving their hearts to the wrong people.

Harry swallowed at the lump in his throat as it began to burn again, but for once he didn't fight it. As he buried his face in his hands, he allowed tears to flow unchecked through his fingers.

**************

The next few hours passed in a complete haze. Without really registering his actions, Harry turned in his room key and went home. He was surprised he didn't manage to splinch himself when he Apparated to the front of Grimmauld Place, distracted as he was. It took him a few seconds to even realize that Ginny had greeted him until she had wrapped her arms around him.

"Hey!" she said enthusiastically, giving him a quick kiss. "I missed you!"

"Right," Harry said, blinking. "Er, I missed you too."

Ginny released him from her embrace and stepped back, smiling. "Did everything go well?"

Harry blinked again as he tried to focus on her question. "Sort of. There were some…unexpected developments."

"Well are you at least happy with how it went?" Ginny asked, leading him to the kitchen.

Harry was glad she was not looking at him as she said this - he almost certainly would have averted his eyes.

"Yeah, I guess I am."

"Great," Ginny said. "I'm glad you're home on time, I made all your favorites for dinner."

Harry saw that the dining table was indeed loaded down with many of his favorite foods, including roast chicken, potatoes, and numerous other sides. There was even a plate towards the end of the lineup heaped with treacle tart. Although he didn't feel the slightest bit hungry, he managed a weak smile.

"Thanks, Gin, it looks great."

They both sat down to eat, and Harry only partially heard many of the things Ginny was saying. He pushed his food around his plate unproductively and gave the occasional nod or murmur of interest, but disregarding this there was no real communication on his part of the conversation. However, Ginny didn't seem to notice. Even in Harry's preoccupied state, he could still tell that she was more excited than usual. He wasn't particularly curious about what she was keyed up about, and figured she would tell him eventually anyway.

Sure enough, as Harry managed to swallow a final bite of treacle tart that he hardly tasted, Ginny let her fork drop with a clatter.

"Oh!" she said, practically bouncing in his seat. "I wanted to wait to tell you after you'd rested but I can't keep it in anymore!"

Harry glanced up from his plate, worry settling into his stomach. Surely not…?

Ginny smiled brightly at him and grabbed his hands from across the table.

"I'm pregnant!" she squealed happily.

Harry would have let his hands fall to the table if Ginny hadn't been holding them up.

"You are?" he said, trying to infuse some enthusiasm into his response. He figured he managed it, because Ginny nodded earnestly, her hair swinging about her face.

"Yes!" she said. "I found out yesterday, but you were gone and I couldn't tell you! Isn't it wonderful?"

"O-Of course it is," Harry said. "It's…it's fantastic."

"I know, I can't wait! I hope it's a girl this time," she said, finally releasing his hands. They plopped down to the table like rags, just as Harry expected they would.

"And I hope it's alright, but I told Mum. I had to tell someone! And Ron knows as well, he was visiting there for dinner since Hermione was gone as well."

Harry perked up for the first time.

"Ron knows?"

"Yeah," Ginny said, beginning to pick up the numerous plates. "Like I said, he was there when I told Mum. So I bet Hermione knows by now as well."

Harry closed his eyes as she took the first batch of dishes to the kitchen, feeling his stomach ache horribly. He thought of Ron and wondered if Hermione had actually seen him before he left for the night for his night shift. All Harry knew was that he needed to find out, and soon.

**************

But as Harry stepped into Hermione's bedroom later that night, he knew in an instant that she had seen Ron, and that Ron had told her about Ginny. Through the dim light sifting from the window, he could see Hermione's frame hidden beneath the covers of her bed. She was lying on her side, facing the wall, and at first glance may have just been sleeping. But it only took a moment more to see that she was curled into a ball, her shoulders quivering, and to hear the soft sobbing escaping her form.

As silently as possible, Harry crept across the room. But the sharp intake of breath and the sight of Hermione's tense shoulders showed that she had heard his steps.

Harry stopped at the edge of the bed, staring at her back.

"It's…it's me," he said quietly.

Silence. He wondered if he should just turn around and leave. He was about to do just that when he finally heard Hermione's similarly quiet reply.

"I know," she said, her voice quivering with a suppressed sob. "You're footsteps are different than Ron's…softer."

Harry took her lack of harshness as a good sign, and finally gave into his urge to lie on the bed and comfort her. He sidled up to her side until his body was cradling hers, and wrapped his arms gently around her middle. She made no move to push him away, but she continued to cry even as he buried his face into her hair.

"I didn't mean what I said before," he murmured. "It wasn't a mistake."

"I know," Hermione whispered, her voice thick from crying. "I just…I just don't know what to do."

Harry kissed the back of her head. "Me either. But we'll think of something."

They fell silent after this comment, perhaps both wallowing in the unlikelihood of finding a true solution to their predicament, but neither spoke a word regarding this hopelessness.

However, after a while Harry gave a soft chuckle, his face still tickled by Hermione's brown curls.

"This kid's going to have the most untamable hair imaginable," he said lightly.

He could almost visualize her small smile as her shoulders relaxed, and a tearful laugh escaped her. Harry pulled her more tightly against his chest. The rational part of his mind was telling him that he should worry, but the illogical part was falling asleep with his hand splayed across Hermione's not-yet swollen stomach. Tomorrow would bring what tomorrow would bring, and, like always, they could get through it as long as they were together.

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