The jolt of apparation broke her from her grief and when she lifted her head they were once again on the front stoop of number twelve. Ron pushed open the door and stalked inside, heading straight for the hallway that led to the kitchen.
George was halfway down the stairs when they entered. "Sweet Merlin, not again," he said, taking in their appearance. He rushed forward but Harry waved him off.
"Is everyone here?" Harry asked in a tight voice.
"In the library," George answered. "Do you want me to..."
"No," Harry interrupted. "Give us a few minutes and we'll be in."
Harry kept his arm around Hermione and guided her down the hall. She just needed some time to get control of herself. She knew sleep was going to be a long time coming and she could deal with that, but her head wasn't yet in a place to adequately process any information the other Order members may be waiting to share.
Harry pushed open the door and they saw Ron with a bottle of firewhiskey and a glass already half full. He threw it back and then very deliberately put the bottle back in the cupboard. He didn't turn around to see them though; his hands gripped the countertop so hard his knuckles were white.
It was blessedly silent in the kitchen and she pulled away from Harry to sink into the plush seat by the fire, grateful there was no one in there to disturb them. Harry pulled out a ladder back chair and sat down heavily, his elbows on the table, palms supporting his head.
They only had a few moments of peace before their oasis was interrupted by Fleur entering, Victoire balanced on her hip. The little girl was giggling at something her mother had just said. The laughter sounded so foreign to Hermione right then that it made her jump more than the door banging into the wall.
It took Fleur three steps into the room to realize they were there. The smile slipped off her face as she took in their appearances and their expressions. "Mon Dieu!" she exclaimed. "What has happened?"
Victoire squealed in delight at seeing them and scrambled out of the shocked Fleur's arms. "Oncle Ron, Oncle Harry, Tante `Mione!" she yelled and ran straight for Hermione, climbing into her lap before she knew what was happening.
Hermione sat stock still, not even breathing as the happy little girl hugged her. Harry looked like he had seen a ghost and Ron refused to turn.
Victoire was asking her a million questions in rapid fire French: Why was she so dirty? Why was she hurt? Where did they go? Did they bring her anything back? Papa always brings her a treat back when he goes somewhere new.
Of their own volition, Hermione's arms came up and pulled the warm, and very much alive Victoire to her. The child's chubby arms wrapped around her neck and Hermione blinked furiously to keep from crying and scaring her.
Fleur finally found the ability to move and came over to them. She began trying to coax her daughter down, believing she was somehow hurting Hermione.
"No, please, Fleur. Can I just hold her for a moment," Hermione gasped out, her hand shakily stroking Victoire's hair, which was thankfully unplaited.
Although Fleur couldn't have known what had happened, she saw something in Hermione's eyes and nodded her consent before moving over to her brother in law.
As the little girl snuggled in more closely and began to play with the ring on Hermione's finger, she could do nothing but hold her. Harry shifted back in his seat and finally looked at her properly, the sadness in his eyes lifting a bit as he looked at the little girl.
Ron still hadn't moved. Fleur laid a hand on his stiff back and he turned purposely away from her, until she took him by the elbow and forcibly moved him to a chair.
His head was bowed, and Fleur knelt in front of him, blocking his face from their view. Fleur was whispering something, and between the crackling fire and the slight roar she still had in her ears, Hermione couldn't make out every word of Ron's reply, but she did hear `just babies', and she held Victoire a little tighter.
Fleur turned quickly at his words and looked at her daughter and then Hermione. Hermione met her gaze and Fleur gave her a sad smile; she knew now why Hermione needed to sit with the little girl.
Turning her attention back to Ron, she tried to heal some of his wounds but he brushed her off, assuring her he would be fine. Fleur gave up, although the look on her face said she wasn't pleased. She didn't bother offering the same to Harry or Hermione, rightfully guessing they would also turn her down.
"Harry," Fleur said gently, "would you like me to...would you like me to tell them what happened at the school?" her voice catching.
"No, Fleur, we'll be in shortly," Harry responded.
Fleur nodded and took one last look at her daughter, who was growing drowsy from the warmth of the fire, and quietly exited the room.
Hermione selfishly took a few more minutes, knowing that Harry wouldn't move to leave until she was ready. With Victoire soundly asleep now, she stood slowly and made her way over to Ron. She waited for him to look up before she placed his niece in his lap.
Harry came up behind her and dropped a hand on her shoulder. Ron shifted the girl a bit and then cleared his throat before he spoke. "I'll be there in a minute," he said roughly.
"Take your time, mate," Harry said, and they made their way into the hall.
They could already hear the low rumble of voices coming from the library. Harry raised his hand to push the door open and then let it fall back, moving to the side of the door and leaning against the wall, his head falling backwards with a deep sigh.
She moved to stand in front of him, her hands coming up to rest on his chest, absently brushing dust from his jacket. "Can you do this?" she asked, concerned for what she knew had to be an oppressive amount of guilt eating at him.
He pulled her in tight and rested his chin on her head. "Don't have a choice," he mumbled into her hair. She shut her eyes and tried to pretend they didn't have to walk in that room and tell everyone else that some madman had just killed almost two hundred children. Harry's hands skimmed over her back, providing as much comfort as he could give.
His hands stilled suddenly and she lifted her head to see that Ron had joined them. Victoire was half awake, her head resting on Ron's shoulder. "Can we just get this over with," he asked with a gruff voice. Harry answered by straightening up, grabbing her hand, and pushing the door open.
All conversation stopped as they walked in. The room was full, mostly Weasleys, but she could see others she hadn't seen in years; Kingsley, Hagrid, Professor McGonagall, Neville, and others who had fought at Hogwarts.
Molly screeched in horror as she saw them. "What happened to you?" she cried and headed for Ron first, her hand trying to turn his head so she could get a better look at his wound, but he used his height to evade her and handed her Victoire instead. When his arms were free he backed up behind Harry and started to lean against the large table but stopped short when he realized it was the one they had laid Hermione on after the attack; he moved over to the side table instead.
Harry cleared his throat and leveled a look at Kingsley who gave a slow nod. "I assume those of you who weren't here before have been brought up to speed." He waited to see if there would be a response, and when there wasn't he continued.
"We've finally managed to figure out what these attacks are about, well rather Hermione has figured it out," Harry said, giving her hand a quick squeeze as he spoke.
"There have been several small, seemingly innocuous incidents all over the wizarding world. They caught our attention but we didn't know until yesterday what the connection was between all of the locations." Harry drew his wand and with a flick the magical map hung before them, enlarged so everyone could see.
"The blue dots are where these incidents took place, and the stars are the locations of other magical institutes of magic." He paused and let the information sink in.
"Surely not," said Professor McGonagall. "Potter, you can't be suggesting that these...these ruffians are thinking of attacking schools." Their former Headmistress was clearly flustered at the notion of something so horrific.
It was Ron who bitterly answered her. "Sorry, Professor, but since we just spent the morning moving hundreds of tons of rubble off of dead little kids, that is exactly what he's suggesting."
Harry pinched the bridge of his nose at Ron's words, accurate as they may be. The silence was long and then the room erupted.
Kingsley was the one who finally called for quiet. Hermione couldn't talk over the lump in her throat, even though she wanted to be able to do more for Harry than cling to his hand.
"Silence!" the minister shouted. "Harry, we've had reports coming in from Norway of an explosion of some sort. Are you saying the school was attacked?"
Harry nodded solemnly. "We had sufficient intelligence to suggest that the Norwegian school was going to be hit first. The three of us apparated in early this morning to speak with the Headmaster, but before we could enter the school we saw all the professors exiting the building and heading for an apparation point beyond the tree line." Harry paused as the information sunk in. McGonagall shakily reached for the chair behind her for support.
"Where were the students?" Neville asked, his voice tight. Hermione could tell that the knowledge of professors walking out on their charges was hitting the current Herbology instructor hard.
Harry's eyes shot to hers briefly before he answered. "They were in their main hall. Having breakfast for all we could tell. That's where the explosion was."
McGonagall looked every one of her years as she sat down heavily in the chair she had been using for support.
Molly's hands covered her mouth as she looked at Harry in horror and Hermione found she had to avert her gaze. "All the children?" she managed to get out.
"We found some survivors," Harry said roughly, and Ron had to turn his back to the rest of the room in an attempt to keep his composure.
"Who'd do such a thing?" Hagrid boomed, his deep voice echoing in the space, causing Hermione to jump slightly.
Kingsley took over from there. Within an hour there was a semblance of a plan. Without knowing who they were going up against it was difficult, but they knew Rookwood was involved and that was a start.
The minister promised every possible assistance from the Aurors, and anything else the Ministry could provide; a welcome change from the war.
The room had emptied some. Arthur and Percy headed back to their offices to begin gathering information and to liaise with the Norwegians. Molly and Fleur took the little ones into the kitchen to prepare a meal. McGonagall and Neville returned to Hogwarts to oversee precautionary security measures. Harry had broken off to speak with Kingsley, which left Hermione and Ron observing from the far end of the room.
She still felt slightly numb from the day's events, and one look at Ron suggested that he hadn't recovered either.
There were stacks of files on the desk, most likely of the Deatheaters' activities since the end of the war. Hermione knew she should start working her way through them, but she couldn't come up with the energy to move.
"Sorry about earlier," Ron said suddenly, not looking at her.
"Whatever for?" she replied, not understanding for what he could possibly be apologizing.
Ron shrugged noncommittally. "Just for...for blurting that out, and everything else."
She recalled his rather crass, but not untrue, proclamation from earlier when he had so ungraciously announced what had happened.
"You didn't say anything that wasn't factual, and it's understandable to be upset by what we saw." She turned so she was facing him fully and laid a hand on his arm. "I'd be more worried if you weren't affected."
He gave her a tight smile and was about to say something when Harry came up to them.
"Kingsley's got a plan," Harry stated. He was trying to sound like he felt sure, but the strain around his eyes and the slight hint of doubt in his voice betrayed him to her.
"That's good to hear," she said.
"What's the plan?" Ron interjected.
Harry drew a long breath and ran a hand over the back of his neck before responding. "Kingsley believes since we don't know who or why, the best we can do is get teams into place but not deploy them until we know more."
"So we're going to leave the schools vulnerable?" she asked incredulously, not believing that this could possibly be the plan.
"Not entirely. If we blanket each school with large teams of Aurors, we run the risk of sending whoever's behind this running and not ever catching them. The only way this works is if we operate behind the scenes and try to discover who it is and who they plan on targeting next."
Hermione was stunned. She never would have imagined that this would have been the way they were going. Turning to Ron for support she had to take a step back when she saw him nodding in agreement.
"Are you joking?" she shouted, her voice rising as she made no attempt to control her reaction. "The best you could come up with was to let those schools stay open and function as, at the best bait, and at the worst, cannon fodder! That is not acceptable!"
Harry didn't blink, nor did he even have the good grace to look apologetic.
" `Mione, it's the only way." He reached a hand out to cup her shoulder but she stepped away from his touch, not missing the flare of hurt that flashed across his eyes.
"I refuse to accept that. What are we to do in the meantime? Just sit around and wait for the next building to explode?" She could not comprehend how he could be going along with this.
"Hermione, listen to me," Harry said, his voice harder than usual and this time when he reached out he didn't give her a chance to back away, instead holding her in a grip that was secure. "We can't send in armies of Aurors. But we can have smaller specialty teams in place that will be observing and working with local groups. The three of us are leaving for Germany in the morning. I told Kingsley I wouldn't have it any other way. If we're quiet but coordinated we may be able to flush them out before there are any more attacks." Harry lowered his head some so they were almost on eye level. "I don't like this any more than you do, but we have to be smart about it. Those files hold everything we know about every Death Eater who wasn't killed in the war. Something in there is going to give us the answers we need." His hands came up now to cup her face, and his expression was so earnest she couldn't help but believe him. "We will figure this out."
Her head was spinning. She was still reeling from earlier and now this...but she had to admit she did see the logic in his argument, even if everything in her told her they should evacuate the schools immediately.
She grasped his wrists and brought them away from her face. "Ok, Harry. We'll do it your way. I just...I need some time."
His face fell, and he unconsciously took a step away from her.
"I'll be back," she said as kindly as she could before slipping out the door and not looking back.
She focused on finding a quiet place, which was not the easiest thing to do in this house at the moment. She climbed flight after flight of stairs until she was at the door for the attic.
The room was mostly empty. She didn't know what she had been expecting; hundreds of years of Black family relics perhaps. But other than a few odd pieces of furniture there was nothing else.
The pitched eaves were tall enough that she didn't have to bend over, and at the far end of the room there was a low window.
As the only source of light she was drawn to it automatically and when she looked out she was pleased to discover it opened onto a relatively flat section of the roof.
Without thought, she pried it open with minimal effort and climbed out.
She settled with her legs crossed and her back against the wall. The sun was warm and for a moment she just shut her eyes and let it seep into her. The morning had been beyond horrific, and as much as she tried to keep them at bay, the memories of the bodies they had found kept flashing through her mind.
With a firm shake of her head and a small gasp she looked up and realized she was no longer alone. Luna was now sitting next to her, mimicking her position, and seeming as if she'd been there all along.
"Luna!" Hermione said with surprise.
"Hello Hermione, lovely day," Luna replied, glancing out at the garden they had an excellent view of from this vantage point.
Hermione followed her gaze and was about to agree before it was replaced with an image of the rubble and smoke of Norway.
"I'm not sure I can say that right now, Luna." The bitterness was impossible to keep out of her voice.
Luna went to speak but Hermione cut her off. "I'm sorry, I came out here to get some space."
"Harry's scared," Luna said suddenly, and in such an offhand fashion Hermione didn't almost comprehend what she had said.
She began to reply and then stopped herself. Luna may not always make sense at first, but there was usually a reason for why she said what she said. Almost always she ended up making sense in the end.
"Why do you say that?" Hermione eventually responded.
"He's scared of losing."
Hermione was quiet. She wanted to challenge Luna, to insist that Harry wasn't scared, and that it had never been about winning or losing for him, but something made her wait and see what else Luna had to say.
"He's scared of losing the future he never thought he could have," Luna said, as if it was the simplest thing in the world.
Hermione was struck dumb. She didn't know how long she sat there. She could vaguely recall Luna leaving, but other than that she was oblivious to the passing of time.
Her head was full of Harry: Harry before the war and Harry after. Everything that Dumbledore had known and kept from him. The terrible burden of Snape and the revelation come too late. How she had felt when she realized Harry was going to have to sacrifice himself to save them all. She brushed a stray tear away with that.
It was, quite frankly, embarrassing how little she and Harry had actually talked since he'd been back. Her cheeks flamed as her thoughts were drawn, unbidden, to memories of their too few times alone; talking hadn't always been a priority.
Part of her thought it wasn't necessary, that nothing had changed between them and that he was still as familiar to her as he had always been. And then part of her had no idea what he had been doing for the past four years, and in that regard he was a stranger.
Luna's words came back to her and she wondered if that was one of the problems he had before the war. Had he never allowed himself to consider a real future? Had he ever thought about what he would do after the war, or did he truly believe he wouldn't be alive so it didn't matter?
A flash of his broken, resigned visage on the crumbling ruin of the main staircase came back to her and she took a shuddering breath. He had truly accepted death and its finality, and then he had been brought back. He had no idea how to actually live.
But now he was back, and so was she, and they were in England. Their lives were no longer on hold. If anything they were fast forwarding and if she thought it was dizzying, she couldn't imagine how it was affecting Harry.
A muffled oath to her right broke her from her thoughts and she turned in time to see Harry attempting to squeeze himself out the narrow window. He didn't say anything, just sat down next to her much like Luna had done and was silent.
"How'd you find me?" she asked, even though she had a good idea as to the answer.
"Luna said you were, `roosting on the roof'," he quoted, with a quirk of his mouth and slight tilt of his head as if he thought it had been a long shot he'd actually find her there.
"I'm sorry," she said softly, looking purposefully ahead of her. "I didn't mean to push you away earlier, I just..."
"It's alright," he assured her, reaching over to take her hand where it rested in her lap.
"What are we doing, Harry?" she asked, and she felt him start next to her.
"What do you mean?" he deflected, his hand pulling away.
Turning so she could see him she noticed that now he was the one avoiding her gaze. "You know what I mean. You've been running since the war and now you've been forced to stop, and so have I for that matter. And now we're back, and we're together, but I don't know if I understand what that means."
He looked dumbstruck, and then he took his glasses off and scrubbed a hand across his face, pinching the skin at the bridge of his nose. His thoughts were clearly still on Kingsley and Norway and the new threat and she felt a flash of guilt at pulling him away from that. "I thought we already talked about this, Hermione," he said wearily. She flashed back to that day in France beside that memorial. They had talked, but hadn't really gotten past the surface.
"No. We talked around it," she retorted, hoping to spur some sort of reaction from him. "I know why I ran. I ran because you weren't there anymore, and I think I know why you ran, but I don't know if you do."
His jaw was set and he fiddled with his glasses, cleaning the lenses and checking the hinge; anything to avoid looking at her.
"You chose to die that day, Harry," she started, her voice almost immediately failing her and she had to wait before she could continue. "You didn't just assume you would die, or accept that it was war and death could happen. You actually made the decision to die." She could barely see now through a glaze of tears and she blinked angrily to get rid of them. "You gave up everything. You gave up your future. And then...you lived. You came back. How did that make you feel? How are you dealing with that?"
He clearly hadn't been expecting her questions. "I didn't exactly have a choice," he spat out, and by the way he shifted his position she could tell he felt cornered. "What were my options? Let Voldemort win?" he said with a cruel twist of his mouth that she'd never seen before. "Besides, it was my destiny." He bit the final word off with such derision she felt frozen in place. When she regained herself he'd disappeared through the window.
"Harry, wait!" she called frantically and scrambled after him, her already sore and torn hands catching on the rough wood of the sash. She hissed distractedly and wiped them on her trousers before she crawled the rest of the way into the attic.
After being outside, the light appeared dim and she could barely see in the empty space. She almost thought he'd left entirely when she heard him pacing at the far end of the room. It took everything in her not to run straight to him. Instead she forced herself to take her time shutting the window and then rested against the sill with her arms crossed; waiting.
"You know, when I first came back it wasn't so bad," he started out suddenly, still pacing, still not looking at her. "I think I was in shock or something." She could just make out Harry shaking his head. "There was one night at the Burrow. I'd had a nightmare and took a walk outside and it hit me. I had no idea what the hell to do."
Her fingernails dug into her upper arms as she fought the urge to touch him, but she knew this was something they would have to get past and get through or they were going to end up in the exact same place they were four years ago when this was all over.
"It scared the shit out of me, Hermione. I was well and truly frightened. And you...," he trailed off, and turned his back to her. She knew what he was going to say.
"I wasn't there." Her voice was hollow and sounded much too loud in this room with nothing to absorb the noise.
"You weren't," he agreed. "You had already left for Australia, and I didn't know how to talk about it with Ron since his brother had just died...so I panicked."
He fell silent and she didn't know if he expected her to respond or not, but her throat was clogged with something so far beyond guilt she didn't think there was a word adequate enough to describe it.
"I waited for you to get back. As much as I wanted to run, I knew I had to wait. Everything had just narrowed down to doing whatever I had to do to just get out, but I knew I couldn't leave until I saw you." He was closer to her now, but still hadn't stopped moving.
"That's why you didn't say anything. When you came to see me that day. That's why you didn't say anything." she finally managed to get out.
He just nodded. "When I was out of England...I was away from having to think about it. I didn't have to wonder `What would Harry Potter do?,' because I didn't have to be me." The toes of his trainers scuffed wide arcs on the dusty floor, and she watched the movement like it was the most captivating thing she'd ever seen. "So that's how I felt. I just didn't feel at all." He said it so simply, like it was an easy thing to ignore.
"But what about..." she stopped herself because she honestly was not sure if she could ask anymore of him right then. She'd heard this before. It still didn't tell her what he was thinking now.
"After Kingsley?" he asked perceptively, and after her nod he continued. "Well that's when it really started, isn't it? When Kingsley offered me the position...it meant I had to make a commitment, but I wasn't all in. Staying away from England...staying away from you..."
She wrapped her arms tighter around herself now; his words hurt even though she knew he was just being honest.
"Staying away from you was the hardest." His feet entered her field of vision but she couldn't bring herself to look up yet. "Every time I thought of you, I would think about what I didn't have, and what I couldn't have. That's usually when I'd ask for another assignment; someplace farther away, someplace that required a deeper cover. And it worked, I suppose. If Ron hadn't been attacked, I can't honestly tell you when or if I would have come back."
This admission hit her hard and she bit her lip in an effort to control her emotions. Releasing the tight hold she had on herself, she swiped angrily at her eyes with the backs of her hands and then resumed her position. Nodding once she still wouldn't look at him. "I understand, Harry. I truly do."
Their toes were almost touching and she could feel him as he stood right in front of her. "I know you do, because you did the exact same thing."
Her eyes flew to his in shock at his declaration. She stuttered out an attempt at a denial, but it was a lie and they both know it.
Looking over her right shoulder she shut her eyes tight and took a deep breath, trying to give herself some sort of distance from him.
"What were you going to do after you finished university?"
She could feel her heartbeat increase and wondered if he can hear it as well. This had been her greatest fear for the past four years: Having to face a certain future without him.
"I don't...I don't know," she admitted, unconsciously making to wipe her eyes again, but he beat her to it. She startled at the contact, but he didn't remove his hand, just let it rest along her jaw.
"I was studying muggle law. I didn't have any plans. Maybe go to Australia with my parents, maybe stay in France. I don't know," she answered with a noncommittal shrug. Going back to England had never been entertained.
"And now?"
"I don't know, Harry! I just spent years letting people think I was a widow. Your widow! I wasn't spending a lot of time plotting out my future." She felt panicky and trapped, and then she realized what he'd done. He'd turned the tables on her. Literally backed her into a corner, and suddenly she was the one being interrogated instead of the one doing it.
He'd learned a lot as Kingsley's personal Auror.
A flash of anger shot through her and she stood a bit straighter as her hands fell to her sides, silently congratulating herself on a tiny victory as he took a half step back.
"Well, now you're back, and we're in England, and everything has changed." Her voice was strong. "The real question is, what are you going to do now?"
She could see the internal battle raging behind his eyes as he was finally being forced to confront the prospect of his life and his future.
Waiting for his response, she never thought he'd answer with his lips. His mouth crashed into hers and she couldn't help the surprised yelp that slipped out. Everything they had been discussing suddenly seemed unimportant and she had the fleeting thought that he planned this as a distraction.
When he finally pulled away they were both breathing heavily and she was grateful she closed the window because she found herself pushed into the corner of the frame, half sitting on the sill.
His head rested against hers and she could feel where his hands grabbed her waist, the fingers clutching fistfuls of fabric to keep her connected to him.
"I'm with you. Australia, or France, or the bloody Ministry of Magic, I'm with you," he answered, and her heart soared. "It's the only thing I've ever really wanted. The few times I let myself even consider something other than what I was doing, I always saw you."
"But Harry..."
He shushed her with a thumb tracing over her bottom lip.
"I don't need this job, `Mione. I'm not even sure I like it. I just know that I've spent too much time away from you, and too much time running. And even though it scares the hell out of me, I'm ready to stop."
She couldn't control the grin that spread across her face, and just as she tilted her head forward he stopped her. "What about you?" His tone was deadly serious, and she realized he really wasn't sure how she would answer.
"I'm with you," she parroted back to him, loving how his eyes lit up at her words. "You're my future Harry Potter. You always have been."
His smile was contagious and she found herself grinning soppily back at him, the fear she had felt earlier from Luna's words beginning to fade away.
"You're stuck with me now, Granger," he growled playfully.
"I've been stuck with you since I fixed your glasses on the train," she threw back and he had to admit she was correct. He stepped back far enough for her to slide off the sill, and she self consciously straightened her clothes. Not missing Harry's slightly feral grin at her action.
"I'm sure everyone will be looking for us," she stated unnecessarily.
"They're going to have to wait a little bit longer," he replied, catching her hand in his as he began to lead her towards the door.
"And why is that?"
"Because we're going to get cleaned up and fix these hands." He raised the hand he was holding to his lips and ghosts over the tiny scrapes and tears that are still present from the morning. Her stomach twisted as she really looked at her torn fingernails and bloodied knuckles. The creases of her wrists were stained a dark red brown and she's not sure if it's blood, dirt, or both. He continued on as if he hadn't noticed her reaction. "Then we're going to grab some sleep because we're leaving for Germany before dawn."
Everything from earlier comes back to her in a flash; Kingsley's plan, and all the schools in danger, and her vehement disapproval of how they were going forward. She let out a resigned sigh and knew that at this point it was too late to argue, and she couldn't change the Minister's mind even if she wanted.
Harry stopped to face her, his hands stroking up and down her arms. "I know you don't like this. I don't either. But as much as we need to keep the schools safe, we also need to catch who's doing this. This is the only way of ensuring both of those things happen."
She allowed her head to fall forward until it rested against his chest and he pulled her into him automatically. "I know, Harry. I just don't know if I can do that again." By the way his arms tightened, she knew he understood.
She felt a shudder go through him before he spoke, "I only told Kingsley this, but the Norwegian official I spoke to, he said that the reason it took them so long to respond was because right before the explosion an extremely strong silencing spell had been cast on the area. I've never heard of anything like it before. No one in the village even knew what had happened until they finally saw smoke coming over the tree line." she gasped at this knowledge. If they hadn't been at the school there very likely would have been no survivors.
"When someone in town noticed they didn't immediately think there was anything wrong, but when some of the professors began to stumble in, dazed and confused and not knowing why they were there someone put in a floo call to the ministry. They had just received Kingsley's inquiry and felt it was an odd enough coincidence to warrant checking out." He tried to pull back in frustration, but she held onto him.
"I should have gone to the village immediately to send for help, or called Fawkes, or something!"
She leaned back so she could look at him. "Harry, you know you can't second guess yourself. You reacted in the moment, and who knows how many students would have died if one of us hadn't been there to get them out. You also had no idea that the explosion hadn't been heard at the village. It didn't occur to me either that no one had come to help. So stop beating yourself up!" the last sentence was said in the firmest, prefect voice she could muster, and she was pleased to see the corner of his mouth lift in recognition.
"I know, `Mione, but that doesn't make it any easier to live with."
She didn't have a response, because she knew he was right. All she could do was offer him whatever comfort he would take.
"Let's go, alright?" she suggested, and felt his answering nod.
At the stairs leading down from the attic he turned suddenly and took her face in his hands. As he stared at her, she saw the intensity in his eyes and felt her stomach flip just before his mouth crashed into hers. She answered him in kind, and it was only a loud creek from the floor below that made them separate.
They managed to make it back to their room without running into anyone else, and as soon as the door was closed Harry made sure it was locked and silenced.
"How's Ron?" she asked suddenly as they entered, wincing with guilt that she hasn't thought of him until then.
Harry stepped into the bathroom and turned the shower on before answering her. "Better. He disappeared with Luna after she was done talking to you." The sly smile on his face told her all she needed to know about what they were doing.
He reached for the zipper on her jacket and tugged until she stepped into him, her hands finding his waist. As he pushed the stiff material down her arms she stretched on her toes to press a kiss to his throat, and smiled at the low grumble he let out.
The jacket was pulled off her arms with a bit more haste, and then he towed her towards the bathroom.
"How long until we leave?" she asked innocently. The dangerous grin he gave her sent a shiver down her spine.
"Hours," he replied, shutting the door behind them.