Unofficial Portkey Archive

A/N: Hey guys! Here's another chapter for you! Been super busy, and I literally just pulled into a McDonald's parking lot to use their WiFi to post this chapter. So thanks to all of you who reviewed! You guys are awesome! Keep `em coming!

Oh, and remember that this is the last chapter in my saved supplies, so the next chapter will be longer in coming. Sorry about that in advance!

Chapter 40: Waiting

"Come on, Jamie," Ginny cooed, holding aloft a spoon laden with peas. "Come on, you really should eat your veggies. Don't you want to grow up to be big and strong like Daddy?"

James turned his head away sharply as the spoon neared his mouth, clamping his little lips all the more tightly.

"Don't be ridiculous," Ginny said, continuing to hold the spoon determinedly in front of her son's face. "You have a birthday party in a few hours…it would be extremely preferable for everyone involved if you weren't a cranky mess when we get there."

James twisted even farther in his high chair, equally determined to keep the peas as far away as humanly possible.

"James Sirius Potter," Ginny said. "This is your last chance. Eat."

"No," James said.

"Fine," she said, letting the spoon drop to the plate. "Don't grow - see if I care. You'll be sorry later."

"Right," Harry said, pushing away his own plate. "I'm sure while he's stuffing his face with cake he's going to be regretful for not finishing those peas."

"I'm sure," Ginny replied. "And I notice you didn't finish yours either, by the way."

"Well that's because they're gross."

Ginny rolled her eyes as she cleared off the table. "You're such a good role model."

"I try," Harry said. "So when's this party again?"

"I've told you a dozen times already!" Ginny said, her voice growing muted as she entered the kitchen. "It's at two o'clock! But I told Hermione that we'd be there by twelve thirty to finish setting everything up."

"And how many people are coming?"

"A fair number."

"I still don't know how you managed that," Harry said. "I mean, it's Valentine's Day. Not to mention a Tuesday."

"So?" Ginny said, returning to the room with crossed arms. "The party will be over by five o'clock at the latest, so it shouldn't interfere with anyone's plans. As for it being Tuesday, I just asked if a few people could leave work a little early to come. Do you have a problem with that?"

"I'm just saying it would've been a little more convenient to do it Saturday."

"It's his first birthday, Harry. I really don't see the problem with wanting his first party to be on his actual day of birth. Plus, it's not as though you were exactly around for the occasion last year…"

Harry winced slightly, as it had indeed been one year to the day since his first encounter with Dolohov.

"It's not as though I wanted to be in the situation I was in, Ginny," he said, his voice a bit cold. "And how do you know that's not a perfectly legitimate reason to not have the party today?"

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "Do you honestly expect Dolohov to attack a one-year-old's birthday party?"

"Not necessarily," Harry said. "But it's still a possibility."

"Come off it, Harry. Just because it's been exactly a year doesn't mean Dolohov would be so stupidly predictable. And besides, I know for a fact that Ron and Hermione's new place has every possible safety ward. Stop being paranoid."

"Fine," Harry said, standing up and scooping James from his high chair. "Are you ready to go yet?"

*******

"Um, move it a little to the right. To the right. Oh come on, Ron, even you should know which direction right is!"

"If you'd shut up for one bloody second I'd move it to the right!"

"Funny, it looked like you were moving it left to me…"

"That looks straight now," Hermione said.

With a final poke of wand to stick it into place, Ron hopped down from the chair and stood back to admire his handiwork.

The banner proclaiming HAPPY BIRTHDAY JAMES in big, bold letters had been the metaphorical icing on the cake to finish the party decorations, and Ron let out a sigh of relief.

"It's about time," he said. "I feel like I've put up all of these decorations myself."

"I would've helped, but you know, pregnant and all that," Ginny said, pointing emphatically at her stomach.

"Ditto," Hermione said, already helping herself to some of the chips and dip that had been laid out.

"And I'm shorter than you," Harry pointed out.

"You were the natural choice," Ginny said with a shrug.

"Don't I feel special…" Ron said.

Ginny turned to Hermione as Ron continued to grumble. "I know I've said this already, but thank you so much for letting us throw the party here. Grimmauld Place just isn't all that much of a party location, especially without much of a yard…"

"It's our pleasure," Hermione said. "It's more convenient for everyone to get here anyway. Molly and Arthur don't have a very long walk, and it's even shorter for Luna."

"Fair point," Ginny said. "Though I still can't quite belief that you only live a few minutes from Luna. Fate has certainly been rather unkind to you, Hermione."

I'm not going to argue with that, Hermione thought, making an effort to keep her eyes solely on Ginny and not Harry. "Oh, you know I love Luna."

"Of course," Ginny said. "But it does help that she's lost a few of her…eccentricities. I still adored her when she was younger, but you can take larger doses of her now."

Hermione couldn't very well dispute that point. And besides, she was much more willing, even happy, to have Luna as a neighbor rather than her father. As Xenophilius Lovegood had almost permanently resorted to wandering the country in search of news worthy of the Quibbler's prestigious name, Luna had more-or-less permanently inherited the house, writing and publishing the information her father sent to her as she saw fit. Consequently, and perhaps a little surprisingly, this resulted in tamer, shrewder editions of the magazine, every now and again stumbling on information that was unexpectedly accurate, if still a little eccentric. Hermione had even been caught from time to time perusing the pages of the colorful publication.

"Speaking of Luna," Harry said, balancing his son on the knee of his good leg, "when will she get here? And everybody else for that matter."

Hermione couldn't help notice that he seemed a little tense, although the way he was kneading his upper thigh gave her a fair hunch.

Ginny seemed to reign in a glare before she answered him. "Two. O. Clock," she answered through slightly gritted teeth. "And if you ask me that one more time-"

Harry was saved the trouble of finding out what would occur to him by Luna entering the room, showing her usual knack for showing up precisely when she is being discussed, as though summoned from thin air. Which for Luna didn't seem that much of a stretch.

"Sorry, Gin, won't happen again," he said, standing up with James to give Luna a proper greeting. "I personally blame the nargles."

"Oh, you have them too?" Luna said, taking James from Harry. "Infestations seem rampant this year."

Ginny opened her mouth as if to retort but shut it again, seeming to think better of commenting on nargles with Luna present.

"Happy birthday, James!" Luna said, smiling. "Auntie Luna brought you the best present!"

Hermione found it somewhat amusing that Luna seemed at her most normal when interacting with children. It would certainly explain why she and Ron got on at all.

"I'm glad you could make it, Luna!" Ginny said. "I'm sorry if this interrupted any of your plans for tonight..."

"It's okay," Luna replied. "I don't have anything to do until later anyway."

Ginny seemed slightly startled at this reply, clearly expecting that Luna hadn't had any plans to interrupt.

"Really? With who?" she asked, her tone trying and failing to hide some of her curiosity.

"His name is Rolf. He's very nice," Luna said idly.

"That's…wonderful," Ginny said, her inquisitiveness obviously not quite abated. "Do we know this Rolf?"

"I don't think so…I mean, you may know of his grandparents. Perhaps his grandfather."

"Who's his grandfather?" Ginny asked, brow furrowed questioningly.

"Newt Scamander," Luna replied, and Hermione practically dropped her plate of chips.

"Newt Scamander?" she said. "Are you serious?"

"What's the big deal?" Ron said, and Hermione saw that neither he, Harry, nor Ginny had any look of recognition on their faces. Sometimes it was difficult to be the only bookworm of the group.

"Really? Nothing?" Hermione said.

"Nope," Harry said.

"Nada," Ginny added.

"Nothing," Ron finished.

"He's a really famous author!" Hermione exclaimed.

"I think we gathered that much from your enthusiasm," Harry said with a smile.

"I would think one of you would remember, though! He wrote one of our schoolbooks!"

"Which probably explains why I don't remember it," Ron said. "Which one was it?"

"Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them!" Hermione said.

Recognition still failed to find its way into her friends' faces, and Hermione sat down on the sofa with a sigh.

"Never mind," she said, crossing her arms. "I swear, sometimes I think Muggles probably know more about these things than you people…"

Everyone mostly ignored this final statement, and Ginny turned again with some interest back to Luna.

"So how long have you been seeing this Rolf?"

"Um, that's difficult to say…I think about three months ago. I thought he was very nice-looking."

"No," Ginny amended, "how long have you been dating him?"

"Oh. In that case…" She glanced at her watch as best she could while holding James. "In about five hours, then."

"This is your first date? On Valentine's Day. That's so sweet!" She turned to frown at Harry. "Why wasn't our first date on Valentine's Day?"

"You do realize that you kissed me -"

"Wait a minute, I think that whole `who-kissed-who' deal is debatable -"

"As I was saying, you kissed me after the last Quidditch match of the season. In May. And considering I was a little busy the following Valentine's Day, we wouldn't have had a date until…" Harry counted momentarily on his fingers. "Almost a year and nine months after you kissed me! I'd say your timing was a little off if you expected a Valentine's Day date." A somewhat mischievous grin suddenly crossed his features. "Though I can't be all that surprised that you would have wanted to start off our relationship officially on Valentine's Day…after all, it would have almost been an anniversary of our first romantic encounter."

Ginny seemed uncomprehending at first, although Hermione, and by the look of it withheld hysterics on his face, Ron, knew very well what Harry was referring to. Hermione bit her lower lip as a giggle threatened to escape her.

Ginny clearly saw the looks of glee on their faces and frowned. "I don't see what's so -"

And then she stopped abruptly, blushing furiously, just as George and Angelina burst through the door, Roxanne and little Freddie is tow.

"Happy Valentine's Day, all!" George said.

"Oh please, Harry, we managed to get through almost fifteen years of not bringing this up, let's not start now -"

"Now how did that poem go again?" Harry wondered aloud, and Hermione could practically see George's remaining ear perk up as his smiled devilishly.

"Harry, how could you forget such heartfelt, beautiful poetry!" George said, and cleared his throat. "I'll refresh your memory."

Ginny didn't seem to find this at all funny. "Oh for the love of -"

"His eyes are as green as - now wait, what was that…"

"I believe what you're looking for is `a fresh pickled toad,'" Harry said.

"That's right! His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad…"

"His hair is as dark as a blackboard…" Ron said solemnly.

"I wish he were mine -" Hermione said, blushing.

"He's really divine -" Angelina sang.

"The hero who conquered the Dark Lord!"

Everyone chanted this last bit, even Luna, and James let out a peal of laughter.

Ginny's ears were tomato-red at this point. "Well that's just great. Even my own son laughs at me. You all do realize that that poem is the single most humiliating incident that's ever occurred to me in my entire life?"

"Hey, you wrote it," George said.

"And now that you've all had your fun," Ginny sniffed, "I've got some things to finish up before the civilized guests show up." She turned towards the kitchen and strode towards it without looking back, only calling back to them when she was out of sight. "And Harry, take out that pile of trash in there!"

George looked to Ron seriously. "I guess you're free to go."

"How does it always get turned back to me?" Ron said.

***********

The guests started arriving fairly quickly after this, and soon Hermione and Ron's modest three-bedroom home was filled to the brim with people, some of whom Harry barely recognized. Of course, many of them he did recognize. In addition to Luna and George's family, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were in attendance, as well as Bill, Fleur, Percy's wife Audrey, Neville, Hannah, Seamus, Dean, Hagrid, Mitch, and even Professor McGonagall. Of course, the kids were all there as well, with the exception of little Molly, who was sick at home in the care of Percy. Charlie and Andromeda couldn't make it either due to their hectic work schedules, so Bill had brought over Teddy. Beyond this, however, Harry found that many names eluded him, a fact that was only exacerbated by his nervousness. And given that every additional guest that arrived intensified this nervousness, he found himself in a bit of a catch-22.

He tried to relax, of course. Numerous times. But even his half-hearted attempts at mingling quickly morphed into perimeter scans, which Mitch noticed and jokingly volunteered to assist in. In the first hour of the party alone he estimated that he had lapped every available space at least eight times.

"So Harry, I couldn't help but notice over the nine times you've passed me that you seem a little distracted."

Okay, so nine times.

"You've noticed, have you?"

Hermione lifted her hand, holding her thumb and index finger slightly apart.

"Just a bit."

Harry moved to stand beside her, clutching the same glass of punch he'd gotten at the beginning of the party.

"So is it just me, or do you not recognize half the people here?"

"Besides the Weasleys and the Hogwarts lot? Sure, loads."

"Name one other person!"

She scrutinized the crowd for a moment before pointing at a man on the opposite side of the room.

"I know that guy."

"Sure you do," Harry said. "What's his name?"

"Jonathon. Wait. No, Jackson. Jerome. Yes, I believe it's Jerome," she said, nodding. "Or maybe Phillip."

Harry took a sip of his drink. "I can tell the both of you are very close."

"Incredibly," Hermione said. "Me and Phil go way back."

"Should I be worried?"

"Well, he did confess his undying love for me and beg me to run away with him, but I'm still mulling things over. But don't hold your breath if I don't show up to work tomorrow."

The man across the room - Jerome or Phillip or whoever - seemed to sense the pair of them looking in his direction and turned towards them. Hermione waved at him, and he gave a small, confused wave in return.

"See?" Hermione said, lowering her hand. "Undying love."

"I completely understand now," Harry said. "You could cut that romantic tension with a knife."

They both laughed as the man turned away from them, looking rather self-conscious at their amusement.

"Poor guy," Hermione said. "I'd go and apologize if I had the slightest clue of who he was. But seriously, Harry, why are you so wound up? I've been trying to get your attention the entire party."

"I know," he said. "It seems like every time I get near enough to start a conversation that Ginny pops up out of nowhere and asks me to set out more drinks or speak to someone or something like that."

"But I've got your attention now. What's bothering you?"

"It's nothing, really. Just some…irrational paranoia."

"About Dolohov?"

Harry nodded mutely.

"It's understandable that you're nervous, but I really do think you can relax," Hermione said. "Do you honestly expect Dolohov to attack a one-year-old's birthday party? I'm not exactly an authority on Dark wizards, but I suspect they'd prefer to have a bit more style than that."

"I told you it was irrational," Harry said. "I'm just ready for this to be over with…"

"What? The party? Dolohov?"

"All of the above," Harry said tiredly.

They fell silent momentarily, alternating between glancing around the crowd and staring into the red punch within their glasses.

Harry cleared his throat.

"So…do you and Ron have any plans for Valentine's Day?"

He hoped he sounded casual to Hermione, because to his own ears the words came across as forced and perhaps even slightly bitter.

"Just dinner," she replied quietly.

Silence.

"What about you and -"

"Harry, there you are! I've been looking all over for you! Could you please come and say hello to Gwyneth? She hasn't seen you in ages!"

Ginny flashed Hermione a smile as she ushered Harry away.

"Sorry to steal him away! We should finished over here soon."

Hermione was already being swallowed up by the crowd as Ginny continued to push him through the room, and he could barely hear her muttered reply.

**********

"Sure," Hermione said softly, faintly annoyed as Ginny and Harry disappeared into the mass of people. "I'm used to it by now."

She stood alone in the corner of the room before she was joined by Victoire, dressed in a pretty little pink dress. The purple Pygmy Puff perched on her shoulder, complete with a tiny lavender bow, made a very pleasant accessory as well.

"Hey, Aunt Hermione," Victoire said.

"Hello, Victoire," Hermione said. "You look very nice. I like your dress."

"Thank you," the girl said politely, though a certain glumness pervaded her tone.

"Coco looks very nice as well," Hermione said.

"Yeah," Victoire said noncommittally, glancing sideways to look at her pet. "Mama thought it'd be nice if she was dressed up for Valentine's Day."

"That was a nice idea."

Victoire nodded, surveying the crowd sadly just as Hermione had been a moment ago, though her significantly shorter height didn't give her much of a view.

"Is something wrong, Victoire? You seem a little down."

Hermione saw Victoire's eyes glisten with unshed tears and she lowered her head to stare at her shoes. She was about to prompt her niece to talk again when she spoke of her own accord.

"Aunt Hermione, do you ever feel sad on Valentine's Day?" she said, turning her tearful blue eyes upward.

For the first time, Hermione noted that Teddy was nowhere to be seen, and she could instantly guess what this was about.

"Oh," she said. She knelt down as well as her swollen belly would allow. "Of course, honey. I've felt sad on Valentine's Day before." Like right now.

Victoire sniffled slightly. "How do you get not sad?"

Hermione couldn't help but smile ruefully. At only five, Victoire had unwittingly stumbled on one of the many questions that women everywhere asked themselves on February 14.

"Is this about Teddy?" Hermione asked, sidestepping the question. She didn't feel right giving an answer when she was really no closer to knowing than Victoire.

Victoire's lower lip trembled before a soft cry escaped her mouth.

"He said he didn't want a Valentine!" she wailed.

"So you asked him and he said no?"

Victoire hiccupped and shook her head. "No…he just said it. So that means I can't ask him because he doesn't want one."

Hermione nodded thoughtfully. "That is a problem," she said seriously. "But Teddy is only seven…maybe he's just not ready for a Valentine yet."

"But I am ready," Victoire insisted, sounding angry. "Why should I have to wait for him?"

Hermione frowned. Another excellent question. Though she knew the answer to this question, she knew it wasn't the type of answer a little girl was looking for.

"Well, boys don't grow up as quickly as girls," she said instead. "So sometimes you have to be patient with them. Maybe he'll be ready next year."

Victoire looked rather disgruntled at this news, but nodded in acceptance.

"Boys are stupid," she grumbled.

"I agree," Hermione said. "Very stupid."

Victoire darted off at this point, and Hermione suspected she was off to find anyone to play with but Teddy. She stood up with difficulty and watched her go, wishing things could be as simple as they were when you were a child.

"Well zat looked like an intense conversation."

Hermione turned to face Fleur.

"Just a little boy trouble."

Fleur nodded sagely. "Typical. I was hoping zis wouldn't come up for a few years."

"Sometimes it can't be helped," Hermione said with a shrug.

"I zink the cake will be cut soon, so `opefully zat will be a good distraction. So `ow is work going, by ze way?"

"Oh, fine," Hermione said dismissively, noting that a large cake shaped like a Snitch was indeed being brought into the room by Harry and Ginny, a single candle protruding from the icing. "I'm working for a couple more months and then I'll transfer departments after I come back from maternity leave."

"Zat is a good way of doing it."

"Yes," Hermione said, watching as the piece of cake with the candle was cut and placed before an excited James. She waited until "Happy Birthday" had been sung before continuing, though she still kept a distasteful eye on Harry and Ginny. "I figured it would be best. I could have transferred earlier, but I'd hate to have to take such a long break after just starting."

"Very logical," Fleur continued, and later Hermione was embarrassed to say that she completely tuned out whatever was said afterward.

She didn't know if it had something to do with her talk with Victoire, or pregnancy hormones, or the fact that it was Valentine's Day, or temporary insanity, but she just couldn't stand the sight of Ginny and Harry. Ginny, who didn't look as if she had gained an ounce of fat anywhere in her body except her large stomach, impeccably dressed even with said stomach, groomed to perfection, and standing next to Harry as they watched their adorable son dig ravenously into his cake. Harry muttered something to Ginny, who laughed as if they were in on some inside joke.

Her clenched hand shook on her punch glass, and she wouldn't have been very surprised if Fleur had uneasily inquired about a twitch in her eye.

She really should calm down. It wasn't healthy to allow her anger to swell up like this, and for that matter she really didn't have the right to be so angry, even if Harry and Ginny were looking a little too intimate for her tastes. After all, they were married and - and - she should get her damn hands off of him!

Light bulbs shattered throughout the room, glasses exploded in guests' hands, and the curtain closest to where Ginny had just pulled in Harry for a kiss burst into flame before Hermione could reign in her rampant emotions.

"What was zat?" Fleur said, astonished as she watched guests frantically attempt to put out the fire.

"No idea," Hermione breathed, barely conscious of the handle she held, the only thing remaining of her glass, or the red punch now splattered over her sweater. "Completely mad. Very strange. Better check that out."

Then she stalked away in the opposite direction of the chaos, slamming the door to her new bloody house as she exited. She continued to walk even when she was outside, aware of how raving mad she must look as she threw the handle harshly into the street, where it shattered just as the rest of the glass had.

"Oy, Hermione! Wait up!"

She stopped instantly in the middle of the road, though she didn't bother turning around even when the footsteps neared her, the sound of the soles of his shoes slapping hard on the pavement coming to an abrupt halt directly behind her.

"What the bloody hell was that about?" he said, though Hermione was irritated at the fact that he sounded more amused than angry.

"I have no idea what you're referring to," she said petulantly.

"I know it was you, Hermione."

"Not really," she said, finally turning around and pointing to her stomach. "To be more accurate, it was her."

"She may have been responsible for the magic, but you're the one who pulled the trigger," Harry said.

"You wound me," Hermione said acerbically. "What makes you say that?"

"Come on, what's wrong?" Harry insisted, taking her hand.

Hermione jerked her hand away from him, briefly contemplating if she should entertain his question with a response. However, her hormones rebelled at the concept of remaining silent.

"Do you really have to ask that?" she said nastily. "How do you think it feels to be six months pregnant with your child and then have to watch Ginny get to kiss you and share these moments with you when every passing day it seems more and more likely that I'll never get to share that with you?"

She turned away sharply and started storming down the street once more.

"Things would just be so much easier if I wasn't pregnant!"

Hermione heard the sound of his footsteps once more as he ran to catch up to her.

"What are you gonna do, walk it off?" he said furiously.

He grabbed her arm to stop her and turned her towards him.

"Let go of me! You don't know how I feel! You don't understand!"

"You think I don't understand?" Harry said incredulously. "You don't think this hurts me, too? To have to watch you and Ron together? To know that I may have to watch my own child be raised by him and not me?"

He stared at her intensely, and Hermione felt her lip tremble as she tried to hold back her tears.

Damn it, he does understand.

He pulled her closer to him and hugged her as he saw her tough demeanor fade.

They stayed like that for a few moments before Hermione laughed.

"Of course it had to be my house," she said, sighing at her own outburst. "Did you at least manage to salvage the curtains?"

***********

The actual Valentine's aspect of Hermione's day went just as she expected it would. She sat in a nice, quaint little restaurant at a small round table that was physically incapable of seating more than two people. The room was dim, there was a lit candle between every well-dressed couple, and the pristine white tablecloth made the blood-red rose petals scattered delicately across it seem all the darker.

Typical, really.

Everything was just as she knew it should be, perhaps how it had been since the very dawn of this wretched holiday.

She wondered throughout the meal what the other couples in the restaurant were thinking. How many of these couples were legitimately happy, really? Probably depressingly few. Smiling, laughing, exchanging gifts and compliments only because an arbitrary date on a calendar dictated it. What was romantic about that?

Very little, Hermione decided.

But she played along, just as the world expected her to. She smiled with the best of them, she laughed as though her heart was really in it. She acted appropriately delighted when she opened the small box of gold earrings, although she primarily felt only guilt at the fact that the first thought that popped into her mind was that they didn't remotely match her necklace, which was tucked safely in her purse until the night was over.

She ate her meal with as much enthusiasm as she could muster, and wished she could have a glass or two (or three or four) of wine in an attempt to enjoy herself more. Then, of course, she only felt guiltier for thinking any of these thoughts when Ron was being so nice (as expected of him) and this only increased her longing - the numbness would be welcome.

But Ron seemed to drink enough for the both of them, and by the time they reached their house he barely had time to remove his jacket and loosen his tie before collapsing on their bed, and the snoring that followed was almost instantaneous.

She didn't bother following him into the room despite how tired she was. She kicked off her shoes and padded barefoot through the house, glad that Ginny had taken care of all the cleaning up after the party.

She made herself a cup of tea and took a sip as she continued to wander, still familiarizing herself with her new home, not that there was too much to familiarize herself with. Kitchen, living room, laundry room, two bathrooms, her bedroom, her study, and the untouched room that had been set aside for the baby. She tended to avoid this last room, so instead she decided to go to her study.

She flipped on the switch, but instead of the lamps turning on, something entirely different happened.

Instead, dozens of candles lit up throughout the room, casting a pale glow on the row after row of books on her shelves. Rose petals began to fall like snow as soon as the candles were lit, and in the very center of the room a note floated innocently in midair.

Despite the predictability of such a scene on Valentine's Day, Hermione appreciated the gesture nonetheless, even if he couldn't be here himself.

Sighing, she walked to the middle of the room, attempting vainly to brush away the rose petals as they fell into her hair. She plucked the note from the air and opened it:

I'm sorry I couldn't be here.

She sighed once more as she folded the paper, feeling tears prick at her eyes again. Her mind couldn't help but drift to Victoire's angry outburst from earlier that day:

But I am ready! Why should I have to wait for him?

Why indeed?

Hermione took one last look at the beautiful room, imprinting the scene into her memory, and vanished the candles and rose petals with a reluctant wave of her wand. Still clutching her untouched tea, she exited the room, shutting the door softly behind her.

She would wait because it was Harry, because she loved him, and that was all there really was to the matter.

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