Disclaimer: Nope, they're still not mine.
Author's Notes: Thank you so very much for all the really nice reviews the last few chapters have gotten. They've been more than merely encouraging:) I hope you continue to read and enjoy. No matter what happens. With nothing else really major to say, on with the story!
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An Organ of Fire
by Kristen Elizabeth
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"It ended too quickly." Harry picked lint off the bandages on his hands. "Don't you think?"
At the foot of the hospital bed on the edge of which Harry was seated, Dumbledore shook his aged head. "I don't know, Harry. I wasn't there."
"It did," Sirius answered for his godson. "Just a couple of words, some green light and...poof. Too quickly."
"Such is death all too often," the Headmaster said. His sad gaze passed over the woman lying in the bed. "And life."
From the bed next to the one around which they were all gathered, Lupin gestured to Harry with his good arm. The other was encased in a sling to keep his shoulder wound from re-opening. "Shouldn't you be lying down with those broken ribs of yours?"
Sirius' cheeks grew red. "Must you keep bringing it up, Remus?"
"No, that's what I'm for," Snape replied from his place next to Dumbledore. It was the closest he had ever come to cracking a joke with his childhood enemies. "You should be resting, Harry."
The Boy Who Lived Once Again shook his head and looked down at Hermione. "She hasn't woken up yet."
"And she won't for awhile," Sirius reminded him. "But you need rest just as much as she does."
Harry winced as a throbbing pain in his side made him think that the advice he was receiving might not be so far off-base. "I need to tell her. As soon as she wakes up."
A moment of reverent silence followed. "What happens now, Headmaster?" Lupin asked.
"A team of Ministry persons has already been sent to Malfoy Manor. Neville Longbottom has assured me that everything will be properly taken care of."
"What about Malfoy's son?" Snape asked.
"His late mother's family has agreed to take the boy in." Dumbledore sighed. "It will be up to them how much young Bronson will ever know about what happened last night."
Sirius frowned. "You mean to let the public know, then? About...Lord Voldemort?"
"I've already made a statement to the Daily Prophet, an obituary for Draco Malfoy. The public does not need to know how close they came to becoming Voldemort's followers. But I have told the Parkinson family the truth; they have a right to know who murdered their daughter." Dumbledore cleared his throat all of a sudden. "Speaking of the Daily Prophet, Harry, they were most pleased to inform me...and asked me to pass the good news along that Virginia Weasley had her baby yesterday. I wasn't sure whether or not tell you, but I thought it might best if you heard the news from someone who knows about..."
Harry forced himself to smile. "It's all right. I can still be happy for a friend. It was early, wasn't it?"
"Yes, but the child is just fine. A boy. They've named him..."
"Ron," Harry guessed. "Of course. It should be that way." He picked Hermione's hand up from the starched sheets and held it between his. Despite what he had said, it was painfully difficult to be happy for Ginny and her husband right then. Not after what had happened to... Harry willed back tears. What had that holy man in India told him when he asked about death? "When one life ends, another begins," he said out loud.
"It's not your fault, Harry," Sirius said all of a sudden. Silence followed. "It wasn't."
"Perhaps we should leave Potter alone," Snape quietly suggested.
Harry had stopped listening to them by that point. He could see the faint blue veins beneath Hermione's soft skin, and concentrating on following them up and down the delicate bones of her hand was far easier than thinking about their lost child....or how he was ever going to break the news to her when she woke up.
And it was his fault.
They each said their goodbyes; Lupin got up and moved to a bed further down the room even after Dumbledore pulled the thin curtain around Hermione's bed. With Hagrid keeping little Harry occupied back in the Professor's wing, he was finally alone with Hermione.
"I swore I'd keep you from being in one of these beds again," he whispered. "Please forgive me, love."
The tears he had been fighting fell; they dripped down the inside of her arm. He closed his eyes, but all he could see was himself, holding her thrashing body down while Snape fed her the counter-potion....the counter-potion that had brought her back to him and killed their child at the same time.
"Forgive me, Hermione. Because I never will."
****
She awoke without ceremony from a sleep that had been haunted with upsetting dreams. Retaining no memory of them beyond that, her eyes opened. Someone had a hold of her hand. The first thing she did was flex her fingers. Almost immediately, he appeared over her.
"Harry." Her voice sounded so weak, even to her own ears.
The face of the man she loved was a mottle of purple-blue bruises; there were some wounds that even magic couldn't erase. Behind a new pair of glasses, his eyes were liquid green, both worried and relieved. And sad. So very, very sad.
"Hey there," he said softly, stroking her hair back from her forehead.
She could only say his name again, but instinctively she knew she didn't have to ask any questions. He began to speak in a low, soothing tone. As he recounted the night's events, Hermione could tell he was hiding something. But she wasn't sure she was strong enough yet to find out what it was.
"He's gone," Harry finished a few minutes later. "It's all over, love."
Hermione tried to swallow, but her throat was bone-dry. Bones. She could remember bones. Voldemort's...no, Draco's. She desperately wanted to close her eyes again. "I'm so...sorry."
His eyes grew darker. "No, Hermione. There's nothing..." He stopped for a few seconds to collect himself. "This...all of this...was my fault. All of it." The last sentence was barely audible.
"You came for me, Harry." Her tears wet the white pillow. "I told him you would...and you didn't let me down. I remember...everything now. Everything until..." There was the strangest sense of emptiness within her body all of a sudden; it sent a spike of cold fear down her spine.
"Until what?" he asked, worried.
She shook her head. "I...I don't know."
Harry hesitated just long enough for her to figure out that whatever it was, it was very bad. "Madam Pomfrey says you're doing just fine. You just need lots of rest and fluids. And don't worry about Harry; he's just fine, as well. Very glad that you're all right. He'll come see you later if you like."
"Harry." Hermione closed her eyes. The pieces fell together and formed a nightmare. It could only be one thing, her worst fear realized. "Our baby is gone, isn't she?"
A reply never came. It wasn't necessary. Unconsciously, Hermione's hand slid down the length of her stomach and settled on her flat belly. Still sore from the miscarriage, she shut her eyes tightly. Grief built up in her chest, manifesting itself into deep sobs that shook her slender body and ripped Harry apart. His handss balled up, stretching the broken skin under his bandages. A few spots of blood appeared through the white gauze.
He relaxed his fists suddenly, needing to hold her. Because as soon as she found out the truth, he might never be allowed to again. Harry lifted her shoulders and back off the bed and wrapped her up in an unbreakable embrace. "I'm sorry," he said into her hair, his voice choked. "I'm sorry." It took her awhile to respond, but when she did, she tightened her arms around his torso and spent her tears into the crook of his neck.
They remained like that for a long time, long enough for the initial sorrow to work its way out. Hermione opened her bloodshot eyes, staring at the forest-green braid that trimmed the borders of Harry's robes. "We never even named her."
"Maybe it's better that we didn't."
"Maybe." She hiccuped softly and pulled back just enough to be able to see his face. "He said his potion wouldn't hurt the baby. Did he lie, or did he just not know?"
Harry's expression was that of a man entering hell. His chin dropped down to his chest. "Love, it wasn't his potion." He continued, his voice flat and lifeless. "There was a counter-potion. Snape brewed it...the only thing that could bring you back from..."
"Harry?" She tucked her lower lip between her teeth to keep it from trembling uncontrollably.
"I had him give it to you. Even though I knew what it would do." His eyes burned with unshed tears as she stared at him. "There wasn't any other way, Hermione. Please believe me..." She looked away from him, a simple movement that hurt worse than Sirius's right hook. "'Mione..." Harry reached for her hand, but she pulled it away. "You can't possibly hate me right now any more than I hate myself...but please...at least look at me."
When she finally spoke, her words were soft and cool. "I know you must have done what had to be done. You always do; it's one of the things I fell in love with." Her arms crossed protectively over her stomach. "I don't hate you, Harry. But I don't want to look at you right now either."
"Hermione..." He tried touching her again. A mistake.
"No!" Her outburst echoed off the ceiling. After a moment, she shut her eyes and carefully laid back down onto the pillows, her head still facing away from him. "I want to be alone for awhile." Harry drew his hand back towards his body. "Please, Harry...just go."
He stood up on legs that shook beneath him. For the time it took the second hand to get around a clock, Harry remained still, waiting for something, some sign of encouragement. When it didn't come, he slowly backed up through the curtains and walked out of the hospital wing, ignoring Lupin as the older man called to him.
Five minutes later, he found himself at Minerva McGonagall's office, knocking on the heavy wooden door with his bleeding fists. When she answered, he pushed past her without waiting for an invitation. "Where is it?"
McGonagall put a hand against her throat. "Harry, I am so terribly sorry for your loss. I had no idea that..."
"Just tell me where it is. Please."
"Where what is, Harry?"
He leveled her with a hard stare. "The time-turner. I know you have one."
She glanced down at her wrinkled hands. "Harry, you know perfectly well that I can't..."
"Yes, you can. It's simply a matter of giving it to me." Harry held out his hand. "Easy as that."
"Hardly, Harry. Hardly." His old teacher sighed sadly. "For one thing, the time-turner is only designed to go back an hour or two at the most. Any more than that and you risk..."
Harry cut her off, "Don't you think I'm willing to take any risk?!"
"There are some things that aren't worth..."
"And there are some things that are!!" He began to pace to keep his feet moving and his mind occupied. "I just need to go back two days. Three at the most. Yeah....three. Then I can stop her from ever being taken. She'll be safe and we can devise a better plan to rescue Sirius and most importantly...our baby won't..." His voice gave out, too overcome to continue for a few seconds. "Just give me the chance, Professor. I'll fix it...I'll save her...I can do it! I can."
The older witch brushed away a tear. "I'm sorry. Even if you're willing, I can't risk altering the outcome of last night's events. Just because you have the power, Harry, doesn't mean it's always wise to exercise it."
He was helpless. Everything he knew, everything he was...and yet none of it mattered. Life had happened as it was wont to happen and the only thing left to do was to pick up the pieces and try to move on. At least, that was what his head recognized. His heart, as always, was two steps behind.
"I killed...a part of myself last night." His jaw felt tight. "Do you have any idea what that feels like, Professor? To know that you are personally responsible for the death of your own child?"
"Harry..." She approached him and put both hands on his arms and spoke the four words he couldn't bring himself to believe. "It's not your fault."
His eyes clouded over with hot tears. "Please just give it to me," he whispered. When she shook her head, his shoulders slumped over. Just as McGonagall began to worry about him falling to the ground, Harry's back straightened. "Thank you for everything, Professor."
"Harry, you know that if there were another way, I would gladly..."
"When you offered this position to me, you said that there was a great deal of good to be done. Well...I'm not sure how much I have done, but I thank you for the opportunity." He started for the door. "My students are more than ready for their exams, thus fulfilling the obligation I have to Hogwarts as outlined in my contract. Please pass on my regards and thanks to the Headmaster and the rest of the staff."
"Running away again, Harry?" she asked with more than a little disappointment.
"Not running. Just sparing everyone even more suffering."
"Harry...you know that this is your home. *They* are your family. You're older now and leaving is not the mature thing to..."
Harry paused with his hand on the door. "My home...my family is better off without me." He gripped the brass handle tighter, remembering Hermione's heart-wrenching sobs. "There are some wounds that even magic can't heal."
"You're not wrong," McGonagall said in her usual crisp manner. "But what magic can't heal, love and time always can."
"I asked for time." He pulled the door open. "You wouldn't give it to me."
She raised a grey eyebrow. "And love, Harry? What of that?" An answer never came; the door slammed shut behind him.
****
He would be leaving Hogwarts with more than what he had arrived with nine months earlier. Besides his Firebolt and a few new sets of robes, he would be leaving with a plethora of new memories. Playing Wizard's Chess with little Harry, watching a student's face light up when he or she finally grasped a particular concept, talking with Hagrid over huge cups of tea...making love with Hermione in the moonlight.
Harry sat on the edge of his bed when he was finished packing, one foot propped up on his full trunk. He closed his eyes and allowed himself a moment to think. Leaving was not a decision he had come to lightly. But she had asked for time, and this was the only way he could give it to her. While he would have loved to stay and been allowed to work through his own sorrow by her side, she obviously needed space, as well.
In fact, the only thing keeping him from jumping on his broom and departing straight away was his son. Little Harry had just begun to accept him...and now he was preparing to break that thin bond of trust that had been established. But he had to believe it was worth it. He just had to. Or else...he'd have to think twice about going at all.
Harry opened his eyes and found himself looking into a pair of identical green irises. He blinked. "Harry? How did you get in here?"
"Mum's wand. Alohomora," his son replied. "Standard Book of Spells, chapter..."
"Three."
"Are you going somewhere, Father?"
He glanced around his bedroom. "I was planning to, yes."
"Why?" little Harry asked, unable to hide the shadow that settled onto his brow.
"For lots of reasons," Harry said with a sigh. "All of which seem ridiculous now." He paused. "Harry, you're old enough to hear what happened to your mother last..."
"I already know, Father. I saw it all in my dream. What happened to her."
"You saw it?" Harry swallowed a hot lump in his throat. "You saw your sister?" The boy nodded. "What did she...I mean..." He choked on a sharp breath. "Did she look like Hermione...or me?"
Little Harry shook his head. "I don't know, Father. I only saw a very little baby." He frowned, remembering. "Wrapped in a blue blanket."
"A *blue* blanket?"
"It was blue," the boy said, closing his eyes. "The snake...bit the baby's arm...and it cried. There was blood...all over the blue blanket."
Harry reached for his son's shoulder. "I thought you said...that Ron said your mother was going to have a girl?"
"He did. And he said that she'd be fine." Fat tears appeared in the corners of little Harry's eyes. "Was it not Dad that I've been seeing in my dreams? It's looked just like him. Sounded just like him." The tears spilled over. "I've wanted it to be Dad so much, Father...I've wanted to see him again...just once."
"I know what you mean," Harry whispered. Without hesitating, he pulled his son into his arms for a long overdue hug. "You know what?" he continued after a long time.
Little Harry sniffed, but didn't remove his arms from around his father's neck. "What?"
"I think it has been Ron you've been seeing. I saw him, too. He was with us when we...well, anyways, he was there at Malfoy Manor."
"I'm glad you saw him, Father."
Harry nodded. "Me, too. Even if it was only just for a second."
"Please don't go away," the child blurted out into Harry's shoulder. "I don't want you to leave! And I don't want to see Mum cry anymore."
"I don't either, Harry. That's one of my reasons for leaving."
The boy sniffed again, this time indignantly. "You said yourself all your reasons were ridiculous."
"I did, didn't I?"
His son pulled back without breaking the embrace. "What happened...it's not your fault, Father."
There was no difference in the way he said it from the ways Sirius and McGonagall had said it, but for some reason, this time Harry let himself believe. He slowly nodded. "Perhaps."
Little Harry wriggled out of the hug and pushed his father's foot off of his trunk. While Harry watched, the boy successfully unlocked it and began pulling out clothes and replacing them in various drawers.
"I take it I'm not going anywhere tonight, am I?" Harry said. He was rather inclined to be amused by the turn of events, but his chest was still too heavy with grief to smile.
"Nope." The boy carefully unfolded Harry's good set of dark green robes. "Not until you talk to Mum." He moved to the closet, looking very much like his mother when she set her mind to a task. "You two need each other right now, more than ever."
Harry looked down at his lap. "Did Ron tell you that?"
Little Harry shook his head proudly. "I figured that one out myself."
"All right." He stood up from the bed and adjusted his glasses. "I'll try again."
"I think that's pretty much all you can do. But Mum loves you. She doesn't want you to go."
Harry knelt down to his son's level. "I love her. And you. You know that now, right?"
"I do," little Harry nodded. He watched his father stand up and walk to the door. "I love you, too, Father."
It was the brightest moment Harry had experienced since he had woken up in Hermione's arms the day she was abducted. It kept him motivated as he made the long walk down to the hospital wing. And it gave him courage when it came time to push the privacy curtain aside and confront the only woman he had ever loved.
She turned her head to look at him, an indescribable look on her lovely, tear-stained face.
"Hermione," he began. "So much has happened to us in the years we've known each other. Lots of wonderful things. And far too many tragic things. Losing our baby last night...it's pain like we've never known. It's pain...like Ron's father said it would be. And nothing's worse. Except maybe one thing." He stopped to take a breath before plunging on. "Losing you. Hermione...I love you. I have always loved you. Even before I had any idea what love was...you were there. I had to make a choice last night and right or wrong, I can't change it. All I know is that I can't lose you. Ever. You are my home."
"Harry..."
He sat at her side and gently covered her mouth with two splintered fingers. "You told me to go away...and I almost did. I'm still here because I had to tell you all of this. And...I had to ask you something. It's not the best time...and it's not the way I wanted to do this, but....Hermione..." He licked his lips. "Will you consider marrying me?"
Hermione's hands still rested on her belly. For an endless moment, she looked back and forth between his eyes. The color of the Quidditch green. The color of emeralds. Finally, she lifted one hand to run her fingers through his tousled black locks.
"No. I won't consider it."
****
To Be Continued