Disclaimer: I wish I had half the imagination it took to create this world. As I don't, not much belongs to me.
Author's Notes: A very large "thank you" to everyone who reviewed the first part. I'm glad you liked it and I hope I don't disappoint you with the rest of the story.
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An Organ of Fire
by Kristen Elizabeth
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"The heart is an organ of fire." -The English Patient
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The short carriage ride to Hogwarts from Hogsmeade began in unbearable silence. Harry stared out at the familiar scenery, lost in the beauty of the countryside, lest he get lost in the woman seated across from him. She had spoken no more words than were necessary to get him and his belongings onto the Hogwarts Express. Yet, she had been watching him out of the corner of her eye ever since. Mustering up all of his courage, Harry opened his mouth.
"How is..."
She started at the same time. "Why have you...." They both stopped. Harry nodded, indicating that Hermione should go on. She took a breath. "Why have you come back, Harry?"
It was the one question he could barely answer for himself, much less for her. Almost without thinking, he reached up to rub the lightning shaped scar, his only reminder of the day his parents had died for him. "I can't answer that anymore than you can explain why you've never left," he replied. Before he could stop himself, he continued. "Or why you married him."
Her back stiffened. Harry didn't seem to notice her lower lip trembling. "I've not left because my life is here. I have a job I love, people I care for...I don't want to leave. I haven't ever wanted to leave." She sank deeper into her seat. "You were the restless one, Harry. Not me. And not him, either."
"Ron wanted to see the world," Harry commented. He turned an intense emerald gaze on her. "Does he still? Or does he enjoy the stable home life?"
"I wouldn't know. He died last year."
The words hung in the air between them. Sometime during the silence, Harry forgot to keep breathing. He had to remind himself. **Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, Ron is dead. Breathe out, your best friend is gone.**
Hermione bit her lip. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to tell you like that."
His mouth was painfully dry, odd since his eyes were wet. "How did he...? Why is he...?" Unable to get the questions out, Harry turned his tearful stare onto Hermione. "Why didn't anyone tell me before?"
"Do you think that we didn't try?" Her stare was equally teary and just as hard. "I cannot count the number of owls I have sent to you in ten years, Harry. Every single one of them returned, without the letters having been so much as touched. If not for Hedwig coming back, we would have had no sure way of getting you to reply...ever."
Harry's stomach ached with grief. It was all he could do to maintain control of his emotions. "If I had known....I would have come. Even if only to say goodbye..." He closed his eyes. "Did he go quickly or was it expected?"
"Quickly," Hermione replied in a softer tone. She wiped her cheeks. "It was an accident. We were pretending to be Muggles for a day. Some scaffolding on the street collapsed. He pushed us out of the way and tried to stop it, but he didn't have his wand..." She trailed off. "It was an accident."
Harry refrained from saying anything further, but something about her story nagged at him. "'Us'?" he repeated. "Who was with you?"
Skillfully dodging his question, Hermione sat up straighter. "There's the station up ahead."
"Hermione..."
"I should probably tell you a few things before we get there," she rambled on, ignoring him. "First of all, yes, Dumbledore is still in charge, thank goodness. And of course, Hagrid still tends the grounds and teaches Care of Magical Creatures."
Harry allowed himself a small smile at that. "What does he have in store for the students this year?"
She adjusted her robes nervously. "I believe it's Colsamkisk Skeets. Either that or Fiji mermaids. All I've seen is a lot of water being pulled from the lake." The carriage lurched to a stop and they stood up to collect Harry's few bags. "Before you ask, yes, Snape is still teaching Potions. Don't worry, he won't be after your job. He tried Defense for about five years, before realizing that Potions was his true calling in life. Nothing gives that man more pleasure than coming up with new ways to poison people."
He followed her, stepping down from the carriage only seconds after she had. "Hermione, you haven't told me what you're teaching. You are a professor, are you not?" She nodded. "Don't tell me; let me guess. Transfiguration."
"Of course not." Hermione rolled her eyes. "McGonagall will have that position until she becomes one of the ghosts."
"All right then." He thought hard. Anything was better than thinking about Ron. "Charms?" She shook her head. "Arithmancy?"
Despite herself, she smiled. "Think really hard, Harry."
"I've got it," he announced a moment later. "Divination."
She rolled her eyes. "The History of Magic."
Harry gave her a look. "What about..."
"Even ghosts retire eventually."
Harry looked up at the towers for the first time in ten years. They were as impressive as they had been when he had seen them from across the lake on the first night of his first year at Hogwarts. It was nice to know that no matter what else changed in his life, this place would always, always be the same. "What did Ron teach?" he asked her, quietly.
"He didn't." Without bothering to wait for Harry, Hermione started for the port trellis entrance. "He was an Auror."
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Throughout seven years spent at Hogwarts as a student, Harry had never once stopped to consider where the Professors resided during the school year, much less during the summer. Although he had been in all of their offices at one time or another, the idea of them having rooms or apartments within the castle was one he had never pondered. So the part of the castle Hermione was leading him through was completely unfamiliar. It seemed, as far as he could guess, to be a good distance away from the dormitories. The hallways and corridors on this side were still extremely similar to the ones he had practically grown up in. The paintings aligning the walls called out to him as he passed, waving and winking.
Hermione ignored them all until they reached a particularly large portrait of an elegant woman from what looked to be the early-nineteenth century. She put a hand on the hip of her empire gown as they stopped in front of her. "I have a few words to say to you," she addressed Hermione in a haughty voice.
"Oh, do you, Miss Belle?" Hermione crossed her arms. "And what insight do you have today?"
"You know what I'm talking about. Him." She said the word with such loathing that Harry recoiled slightly. Miss Belle looked at him. "Oh, not you, sir." She gave him a dazzling smile. "Not you, Harry Potter." Her hard gaze turned back to Hermione. "She knows of whom I speak. He was running up and down the corridors again, scaring everyone to death. I do not stand here for my health nor to be opened and shut, opened and shut again at the whim of a..."
Hermione cut her off quickly. "White oleander." When the password was spoken, the noble woman closed her mouth and the portrait door swung open revealing a longer, wider and even more richly furnished hallway. "These are the Professors' apartments," she explained to him as they started down it. "Everyone except Hagrid lives here; he still prefers to stay on the grounds."
Harry's head still hurt, a low throbbing in the base of his neck that had appeared the moment he learned of Ron's death. Everything was so overwhelming. It felt as though he were trying to catch up on ten years in the space of ten minutes, which, he supposed, was exactly what he was doing. He had no wish to learn anything more at the moment, but his curiosity had been mounting.
"Hermione...who was the portrait woman talking about?"
Once more, she chose to ignore him. "Here we are. This is where you'll be staying." She handed him a large, wrought iron key. "Go on in. Your bags are already there."
Harry let himself into his new home with only a shade of hesitancy. As soon as he entered, he relaxed. The first room looked much like the Gryffindor common room. Comfortable chairs and couches, a roaring fire and a staircase that he assumed led to his bedroom. He looked around for a long minute. Hermione watched him carefully.
"Shall I give you a moment?" she asked.
He shook his head, dark locks swung across his scarred forehead. "Where do you live?"
"Just down the hall." Harry waited for the invitation, but it did not come. Instead, she cleared her throat. "Come on, then. We're expected at a staff meeting before supper." She left no room for questions.
Although Harry suspected she had plenty of answers.
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Harry was flooded with disappointment as he entered the eerily empty Great Hall. All of the Professors, some he recognized, some he did not, had gathered there, but Professor Dumbledore was not amongst them. Hermione left his side before he could ask where the beloved wizard was; she seemed to be headed for....Hagrid.
Hagrid. Harry smiled broadly. There was no time for him to follow her to their old friend; he felt a hand on his shoulder and turned around suddenly.
Professor McGonagall looked back at him from behind her spectacles. "I expect you've already been properly welcomed back," she greeted him, warmly.
"Well...let's just say I'm here." Harry scratched his cheek. Somehow, he still felt like a first year student around his old teacher. "Professor..."
She held up her hand. "It's Minerva when we're not around the students, Harry."
"That's going to take a bit of getting used to." Blushing, he continued with his question. "Where is Dumbledore?"
"He got called into a Ministry meeting in London," she replied. She studied him for another second. "Harry...have you been told about..."
"Ron? Yes." His expression soured. "She told me on the train."
Professor McGonagall lifted an aged eyebrow. "She's been in a great deal of pain for the past year, Harry. If she seems cool, it's certainly understandable. To lose a husband so young..."
He nodded. "I still feel that there's something else, though. Something she's not telling me."
"Well..." She smiled nervously. "Just remember that you've been gone a long time." With those simple words, the Professor excused herself and started for the head of the hall.
Once again, he tried to make his way over to Hermione and Hagrid, who appeared to be deep in conversation, but he was again stopped. This time, it was Severus Snape in his way.
"Mr. Potter," the older man said in a tone only he could produce. Harry braced himself for some sort of insult, very nearly forgetting that all animosity between him and his old teacher should be long gone. Snape surprised him by simply saying, "Welcome back," before taking his seat.
He blinked. "Thank you." His gaze drifted back over to Hagrid and Hermione. Why hadn't Hagrid come over to greet him? Just what were they talking about so intensely? He had no time to find out. Right then, Professor McGonagall rapped loudly on the head table and indicated for them all to take their seats.
"Thank you all for coming tonight. I know you're very busy what with the new term beginning and the students arriving the day after tomorrow."
Harry's face became quite pale. Two days? How could he have forgotten when the terms began at Hogwarts? He began to panic. He would need lesson plans, book lists, a classroom....how could get all of that together in only two days?
McGonagall seemed to read his mind. "I'm sure you all know by now who our new Defense instructor shall be. Let's all give a warm welcome to Mr. Harry Potter." A round of light applause sprung up. Harry nodded in response; hopefully his panic was not evident on his face. "Being new, *Professor* Potter is going to need a bit of help from all of us. I expect you all remember what your first terms were like." There was a wave of murmurs and looks of sympathy.
"All right then," she continued. "First order of business, new House assignments. I know this might come as a bit of a shock, but I am getting older and with my other duties, not to mention classes, I don't feel I will have time this year to head Gryffindor. Therefore, we will need to select a new Head for the House. Any volunteers?"
Harry could feel all eyes swing to him. He scratched his cheek again; it was becoming a nervous habit. "I...er...that is to say..." he began.
"I'll do it." Hermione's voice was clear throughout the hall. "I was in Gryffindor, as well."
Professor McGonagall looked at her with much concern. "Hermione, are you sure? It's a great responsibility, which isn't to say you're not up to it. But considering everything..." She stopped, as though afraid she might be saying too much. "I have an idea. Why don't you and Harry head Gryffindor together? It's a tad unorthodox, but we are a progressive school."
Harry's eyes darted to Hermione for her reaction. She seemed to be biting her tongue, holding back an objection. After a second, she gave a curt nod. McGonagall looked at Harry, expectantly. He, too, nodded.
"Good. That's settled then. Now, next piece of business..." McGonagall looked down at her notes before taking off her glasses. Harry recognized her serious voice. "I know there have been rumors about the school council and a certain issue they are currently debating. I just want to reassure everyone that Dumbldore will never allow that plan to take effect. He'd rather close the school first."
Harry glanced around. Was anyone else as confused as him? He caught Hermione's eye. She immediately looked away, but not before he caught something in the centers of her eyes.
Fear.
McGonagall replaced her glasses on the bridge of her nose. "Moving on. Weekend trips to Hogsmeade. Should we begin to allow second years to go if they are in a group, accompanied by one of us? Severus, I believe you had something you wanted to say about that?"
Snape stood and began to speak against the proposal. But Harry paid him no mind. His attention was focused entirely on Hermione, as though he could extract the answers to all his questions merely by staring at her long enough. To her credit, she ignored his stare with the same skills she had used to dodge his questions.
Sighing in defeat, Harry settled in for Snape's long diatribe.
****
After supper was finished and the few dishes magically cleaned, Hermione stood up from her table. Harry seemed to be occupied talking to Professor Flitwick. It seemed the perfect time to make her escape back to her apartments.
Hagrid looked at her; with her stand and him seated, his eyes were level with hers. "Ye'll be goin' then?"
She nodded. "I shouldn't have been gone this long. Mrs. Plumb is going to have my neck." On impulse, she kissed Hagrid's weathered cheek. "Good night."
Careful to be unobtrusive, Hermione slipped out of the Great Hall and started off towards the apartments. She intended to go straight to hers, but she was stopped along the way by the apparition of Nearly Headless Nick, the resident Gryffindor ghost.
Hermione smiled politely. "Good evening, Sir Nick. How are you?"
"Depressed," he announced dramatically.
"You don't have to explain. The people who run the hunt are being very unfair to you, Nick," she sympathized. "If it makes you feel any better, you'll always be completely headless to me."
The ghost grinned. "Thank you very much, Professor Weasley." His voice dropped. "Is it true that Harry Potter has returned? And that you and he will be Head of the House this year?"
"The walls have ears," Hermione sighed. "Yes, it's all true."
Nick laughed delightedly. "Finally! Perhaps he can wipe away that frown on your face."
She crossed her arms. "Any frown on my face is well deserved. And I don't think it's your place to..."
"Hogwash!" Nick declared. "There's been too much sadness around here! Harry Potter comes back..." He began to fade. "...and the sun shines once more."
As soon as Nick was gone, Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Harry Potter comes back and everyone forgets that he left in the first place."
When she reached the portrait door, she quickly spoke the password before Miss Belle could begin another lecture. The door opened; she stepped in and came face to face with the Boy Who Lived.
"Why are you avoiding me?" Harry asked, without greeting or ceremony.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "As ever, it's all about you, isn't it?" She walked past him.
"Just what does that mean?"
"Never mind, Harry. If you don't get it by now, you never will."
Harry followed her closely, a bit too closely for her comfort. "I'm trying very hard here, Hermione. I just learned that my best friend on this earth died a year ago and while everyone else may be healed or healing, I'm still processing it! But I can't, not really, because I have to prepare for seven levels of classes that begin the day after tomorrow." He ran a hand through his hair. "And then there's you."
She turned on him. "What about me?"
"I don't know!" Harry lifted his shoulders. "I feel like I should be apologizing every time I see you! And there's something big...something you're trying to keep from me."
Hermione sniffed. "I can put the past in the past, Harry. You have nothing to apologize for."
"Maybe I should anyways." He reached out to her. "Stop...talk to me."
"Oh, you want to talk, do you?" Not even trying to hide her bitterness, Hermione snapped at him. "It's a bit late for that, isn't it? You had plenty of time to talk...when I sent all those owls to you ten years ago. But did you read them? No, you didn't. And now you just show up and expect answers? Well, I'm sorry, Harry, but I'm not just going to hand them to you!" She stopped in front of his door. "See you in the morning...unfortunately."
He refused to enter his apartment, though. Refused to end things like they were. "Is this all because I left? All right...I should have kept in contact. For that, I am very sorry. But you don't understand what I..."
"No, you don't understand," she hissed. "If you think you can just waltz into our lives and..."
"I'm not waltzing!" Harry yelled. "I've wanted to come back for a long while. I just couldn't admit it to myself. When Hedwig appeared the other day...I knew it was time. Hermione..." He reached for her once more, but she moved back to avoid him. "I've missed you."
She snorted softly. "Well, that makes it all better, then. Doesn't it?"
"That's not what I'm trying to..."
"You have no idea, Harry." Hermione blinked back fresh tears. "You just have no idea what I...what we went through."
This time, she allowed him to touch her. His fingers curved around her arm. "Tell me."
She shook her head, ignoring her tears. "I can't. I'm not ready to..."
"Mum!" They both turned their heads upon hearing the word. At the far end of the hall, a boy emerged from one door. He was clutching a battered copy of "Hogwarts, A History" and approached them quickly. "I'm hungry and Mrs. Plumb fell asleep before she could make supper."
Hermione extracted herself from Harry and reached to brush rust-colored bangs away from her son's forehead. "Harry, I've taught you how to make shepherd's pie."
The boy folded his arms around his book indignantly. "Only the meat. Not the potatoes."
His mother smiled. "Fine then. Go get started on the meat and I'll be there in a minute for the rest." The boy ran back and the door slammed shut.
The hallway was quiet for a moment. "There," Hermione finally said. "Now you know."
Harry blinked. They had a child. Ron and Hermione... He took a breath. "He's a good looking boy."
Hermione nodded. "That doesn't come from my side."
"His name..." He looked at her strangely. "You and Ron named him after me."
"No. I named him." She dug her nails into her palms. "After his father."
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To Be Continued