Disclaimer: Not a lot of what follows comes from my brain originally.
Author's Notes: Again, I want to thank everyone for all the wonderful feedback. Yall are just as great as the people in the Gundam section;)
Dedication: To Melissa, my usual beta-reader who can't beta-read this story until tonight, after she finally sees the movie. And to my brother, Clifton, for taking over her position in the meanwhile.
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An Organ of Fire
by Kristen Elizabeth
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"I thought I migh' be findin' yer here."
Harry did not have to take his eyes away from Ron's grave to know who was behind him. "Hello Hagrid," he said, listlessly.
The older man lifted his lantern to see better in the dark. Harry was sitting on the cold grass with his knees bent, balancing his chin on his arms. The wind had blown his hair every which way and threatened to rip off his glasses, but he barely seemed to notice.
"I brough' yer this." Hagid draped a cloak around Harry. "Gittin' a mit bit cold out here."
Harry nodded and pulled the material closer to him. Both men were quiet for a spell as they simply stared at the marble marker and listened to the lake below. Finally, Hagrid cleared his throat. "Yer ran away agin, 'arry."
He snorted. "I'm still here, aren't I?"
"Yer oughta be in there. Talkin' ter her. And him."
"That's certainly easier said than done." Harry blinked and looked up. "Is he really mine, Hagrid?"
The half-giant's eyes flashed dangerously. "Yer be doubtin' 'ermione's word?"
"Well..." Harry coughed. "He just looks so much like Ron. The hair....you know."
Hagrid finally sat down; the earth trembled a bit under Harry as he plopped to the ground. "I know ye've only seen pict'res, 'arry, but yer mum's hair were the same as the boy's."
Harry looked down at the grass under his legs. "This is....this all a lot to take right now, Hagrid. I don't even...I mean, the thought never occurred to me...." He turned his face up towards the dark sky. "We were just kids. And we were only together...like that....once. Just once."
"Seems ter have bin enough."
"Tell me what happened after I left, Hagrid. She won't..."
Hagrid scowled. "Yer didn't give her much o' a chance, did yer? Just bolt'd straight out to here wit'out a word."
"I think I have the right!" Harry replied, indignantly. "It's been a bloody awful day!"
"And she's had a bloody awful ten years," Hagrid shot back. "Iffen it weren't fer Ron, she never would've made it. Yer asked what happ'ned after yer left? Well, I'm gonna tell yer. When yer left, 'arry, she cried fer a good week. Ron...he were the only one what could make her even eat. He wrote yer, tryin' ter git yer back fer her, but yer never replied. And when she got told she were pregna't, well...even then they still wrote ter yer. When he were born, they wrote ter yer. And when they got hitched, they tried agin." He stopped for a breath. "Can yer blame her fer not tryin' when he died?"
Harry shook his head. "No. I don't suppose I can." Suddenly, despite all of his efforts to remain in control, hot tears filled his eyes. "Ron is dead..."
Hagrid nodded.
"And...I have a son."
The older man put a large arm around him. "That yer do."
Harry leaned into his old friend, allowing himself, for the briefest moment, to be eleven again. His tears caught in the frames of his glasses. "And the term starts the day after tomorrow."
Hagrid laughed. "That's the easy part, 'arry. First thin', yer gotta fix thin's with 'ermione. And..." He paused for effect. "Git ter know lit'le 'arry. He's a damn fine kid, that one."
"I'm sure he is...what with being raised by them." Harry rubbed at his eyes under his glasses, shrugged off the cloak and stood up. "Has she hated me, Hagrid? I wouldn't blame her, but I'd like to know what I'm up against."
"Well..." Hagrid thought long and hard. "Seems ter me she didn' have a lot o' good thin's ter say 'bout yer the nigh' she had the wee one. 'Sides that..." He smiled. "There be hope."
Nodding, Harry prepared to go, but Hagrid called out to him again. "Wait a bit!" He fumbled around in his coat pockets, searching for something. At long last, he pulled out a small, wrapped package. "Yer didn' think I'd ferget, did yer? I know it's a bit on the late side, but....'appy birthday, 'arry."
Harry looked at the present with wonder. He tried to recall the last time he had received a gift. Graduation day...Hermione...a pocket watch with a picture of the three of them on the inside.
**So you'll always be on time, Harry. And so you'll never forget us in the meanwhile.**
He hurriedly unwrapped the package. Inside was a tin of treacle fudge. Harry grinned. "Thank you, Hagrid." There was an awkward moment. "Good night, then."
As soon as Harry was gone, Hagrid looked back at the grave. "Gonna be toug' times, Ron. They migh' need a bit o' yer help alon' the way. Those two..." He shook his head again, this time in amusement. "Both need a good kick in the arse, iffen yer ask me."
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Hermione had just settled down with her lesson plans when there was a knock on her door. She glanced at the couch where her ten year old son lay sleeping, curled up with a thick blanket. He didn't stir as the knocking became more insistent. Sighing, she stood and went to answer the door.
She very nearly closed it again as soon as she opened it. But Harry sticking his foot in the doorway prevented that. "Back again, eh? Rather nasty habit you're developing, Harry. I never would have taken you for a pantywaist when I first met you."
"A what?" He shook his head. "Never mind...it can't be good. Look, Hermione..." Over her shoulder, he caught sight of her son...their son asleep on the couch. "May I come in at least?"
"You can say whatever it is you need to say from the hallway," Hermione replied, a bit more harshly than she had intended.
Harry glanced down the corridor. At the far end, Snape stood, apparently straining to hear what was going on at Hermione's door. Upon being spotted, he hurriedly unlocked his own apartment and disappeared into it. "Have a heart, Hermione," Harry said. "We need to talk."
Shaking her head, she conceded to letting him inside. He shut the door gently behind him, very mindful of the boy on the couch. Harry took a deep breath and tried to review all the things he had thought to say on his journey from the cliff to the castle. They all seemed to be flying out of his head as he was faced with her...his oldest friend, one time lover, mother of his child...and still, he couldn't help but acknowledge, the prettiest girl he had ever known.
"Hermione...first and foremost, I'm sorry." She folded her arms, but let him continue. "Leaving ten years ago was the worst mistake I've ever made. I could spout on about all my reasons, but the only thing that's important is that it wasn't your fault. Nothing you did...nothing we did together made me leave. I promise you that."
Hermione chewed the inside of her cheek before replying. "You can tell me that as much as you want, Harry, but it's going to take me a very long time to believe it. I mean, what was I supposed to think? Waking up in the morning to a note that said basically just said 'goodbye', after the most incredible night of my..." She stopped. "How was I not supposed to think that I had done something horribly wrong to drive you away?"
"I know and I'm sorry." He wanted to touch her, but he didn't want to see her recoil from him again. "It wasn't your fault. It was me. Just me."
"It can't be that way, Harry! It's not just about you anymore...it never was!" She began to cry and with each sob, Harry's chest ached a bit more. "Why couldn't you have just said goodbye...in person? Why didn't you give me any reasons....and why have you shown up after all this time, *still* unable to give any reasons?" She trapped her lips between her teeth before she could go on to say, **Why couldn't you ever love me the way I loved you?**
Harry looked completely helpless. Nothing he had thought of to say could repair the past. "Forgive me?" he whispered.
She looked down at the thick rug beneath her feet. Her arms, which had be crossed at her chest, slipped down until she was holding her stomach. "It's going to...take time."
All he could do was nod. Once again, his gaze slipped over to the sleeping boy. His hair seemed even more red in the light of the fire, but as he studied him closer, Harry could actually see his own face. He reached behind his head to rub the back of his neck. "I want to know him, Hermione."
"That's admirable, Harry." She looked back up at him with teary eyes. "But not necessary."
"What do you mean 'not necessary'?"
"I mean just that! Your desire to be part of his life is not necessary."
"If it's not necessary, then why the bloody hell did you tell me at all? Why not let me go on thinking he was Ron's child?" Harry's temper sparked.
Hermione lifted her shoulders. "I don't know. A desire to get the truth out? Or perhaps it was the horrible parts of me that want you to know what it's like to want something so badly, but be unable to have it."
Was she trying to be cruel or had ten years really changed her that much? The Hermione he thought he knew never would have acted this way. "So...you're going to punish me? Is that it?"
"If you insist upon thinking about it like that, so be it. I don't really care. Let me just tell you this..." She stepped towards him. "As far as he knows, his father died a year ago. And I'm not all that eager for him to think any differently." She walked back to the door and opened it. "I'm sure you have things you need to be doing. Term starts the day after tomorrow. You don't want to show up on the first day unprepared, do you?"
"Heaven forbid," he said between clenched teeth. Taking the hint, he started out the door, but not before he pointed a finger at her. "This isn't over, Hermione. I live here now, a mere three doors down from you. You can't avoid me. And I will not stop trying until you let me get to know my son."
Hermione waited until the door was shut behind him before whispering, "Good night, Harry.
****
The next day passed in a complete blur for Harry. With a little help from Professor McGonagall, he decided not to change the book for his class, but rather use the one that was still on the list from the last professor, "The Dark Arts and You: A Study In Defense". Apparently the old book, "The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection" was out-dated. In doing so, however, he spent the better part of the morning pouring over the new book in the staff room, trying to pick out important topics and deciding which grade should learn which and in what order. By lunchtime, he was feeling a bit better about classes starting in less than twenty-four hours.
He had just sat down to a plate of beef casserole in the Great Hall when there was a loud chiming from some unseen clock he had never heard before. A few places down, Professor Sprout looked up from her lunch. She smiled at Harry's confusion. "Eleven o'clock, on the dot. The Express is on its way."
Harry's stomach churned. In only a few short hours he had to be back here, prepared to greet the students of Hogwarts. Pushing aside his plate, he stood up and excused himself. Quickly, he started for the staff room, to return to his lesson plans.
The heavy door to the room was ajar. As he approached it, he could hear voices from inside. Immediately, he recognized one of them. Hermione. Not intending to eavesdrop, but being unable to stop himself, he got as close to the door as he could and strained to listen.
"I have complete faith in Dumbledore, I do," he heard Hermione firmly state. "But can you blame me for being scared?"
The second voice replied back; Harry identified it as Professor McGonagall's. "No, I can't. Albus has power, but even he can be out-voted by the council. And they seem determined to go through with this...this outrage."
"I'm not so much worried about my job," Hermione continued. "But Harry...my Harry...he'll be starting here next year. If Malfoy gets his way, life is going to be so much harder for him than it ever was for me." She paused. "He'll still be seen as having Muggle blood."
"Albeus won't let this happen, Hermione. We're just going to have to trust him. Besides that, the entire wizard community would be in an uproar if anyone with any Muggle blood wasn't allowed at Hogwarts. We'd have practically no students or teachers!" McGonagall's voice was reassuring. "It will be all right."
Harry heard a faint sniffle. "When Ron was here, all of this didn't seem quite so scary." Hermione cleared her throat. "If only he could have found out..." She stopped. "Well, no good going down that alley. What's done can't be undone."
"How are you doing, dear? I've been worried about you, what with Harry returning and all."
Before Hermione could reply, Harry quietly walked away. It would be wrong, he decided, to listen any further. But what he had heard of their conversation concerned him deeply.
Malfoy. Had she meant Draco, their childhood adversary, or his father, Lucius? Either one could be responsible for a plan to rid Hogwarts of any mixed-blood wizards, Mudbloods as they so crudely put it. They were a cruel pure-blooded family, proud of tracing their heritage back to Salazar Slytherin, who had, himself, tried to rid Hogwarts of mixed-blood wizards back in the founding days. It would not be of any surprise if Draco or his father were actively trying to carry on their ancestor's work.
Harry's blood boiled. How could they even suggest such a thing? Everyone knew that Lucius Malfoy was a Death Eater, loyal to the wizard responsible for so many people's deaths, including Harry's own parents. Why would anyone support him or his son? How could they allow good people like Hermione to be threatened, simply for having been born to a non-magical family?
Moreover than that, something about what Hermione had said about Ron bothered him. He had been an Auror, a wizard in charge of tracking and unearthing dark wizards to bring them to justice. An honorable profession now that the ministry was much more just system, but still a very dangerous job.
Harry looked up suddenly. In his anger, he had somehow found his way to the library. He could hear Madam Pince, the librarian, in the Restricted Section, straightening up. He glanced around, refamiliarizing himself with the walls of books. His green eyes fell on the periodicals. Something propelled him towards it and kept propelling until he had dug through all the old copies of The Daily Prophet. After a great while and many stops along the way to catch up on news he had missed, he found what he was looking for. With shaking hands, he pulled forth one yellowed paper, dated June 11 of the previous year.
AUROR KILLED IN LONDON ACCIDENT
A smaller caption read, "Ron Weasley leaves behind wife, child and memories."
Harry took a deep breath. The picture that greeted him was of Ron, Hermione and little Harry. Ron's smile was broad; he looked down at the young boy with much love. His fingers were entwined with Hermione's. Due to aging and quick developing, the picture moved slowly. Harry watched his son laugh and point at something behind the photographer. Ron lifted Hermione's fingers to his lips.
With a lump in his throat, Harry folded the paper and stuffed it inside his robes for later reading.
On his way back to his apartment, he was nearly knocked over as something small and fast raced past him. He stepped out of the way before Nearly Headless Nick swooped past him, evidently chasing the same thing. Harry squinted; a few feet away, his son was climbing onto a stone statue of a griffin.
The Gryffindor ghost pointed at the boy. "I've got you now!"
Little Harry laughed. "See, Nick? You don't need the headless hunt when you can chase after me!"
Nick waited for the boy to jump down. "Don't let your mother catch wind of this, Harry." He bowed at the boy, before turning to bow to the older Harry. "Ah, Professor Potter. Good to see you again." Winking, he dissipated. The hallway was now empty except for him and his son.
Harry readjusted his glasses. "Hello, Harry."
The young boy looked at him. "Hello," he replied, happily. "Are you the new Professor?"
"I'm Ha...Professor Potter." Harry extended a hand to the boy.
"Harry Weasley." His son shook his hand importantly. He blinked suddenly, upon seeing Harry's scar through his bangs. "You're Harry Potter!" The boy's green eyes widened. "My mum and dad used to talk about you all the time! Dad, especially. He used to say I had a lot to live up to because we have the same name. You knew my dad, didn't you? You and he and Mum were all friends, weren't you?"
Harry's head spun listening to the boy. "Yes. We were. Your dad... Ron..." He swallowed. "He was a very good man."
Little Harry nodded emphatically. He was about to continue talking when Hermione appeared around the corner. "Mum!" he called to her.
She walked over to them, lips pursed. "What are you doing, Harry?" Harry wasn't sure if she was talking to him or to her son.
The boy replied for him. "I was just saying hi to Professor Potter, Mum. We were talking about Dad."
"Oh, were you?" Hermione gave the older Harry a look. "Do you know what time it is?"
Their son sighed and crossed his arms. "Mum...do I really have to stay in my room tonight? Can't I come out and watch the ceremonies?"
"Only one more year, Harry." Hermione ran her fingers through his reddish locks. "Then it'll be your turn."
Little Harry pouted but only for a minute. His frown was quickly replaced by a smile. He was a jovial child at heart, Harry decided. "Goodnight, Professor Potter," he said to Harry. "Goodnight, Mum."
Hermione waved to her son as he took off towards the apartments. "Harry, don't run! You'll scare the paintings!" But the boy was long gone. Hermione sighed. "He is so much like Ron in that respect." She turned to give Harry another hard look. "And you."
"I take that as a compliment." Harry paused. "I think."
She smiled softly. "It was meant as one." After a rather awkward pause, she folded her arms. "Are you ready for tomorrow?"
Harry scratched the back of his head. "I hope so." He coughed to break up the next bit of silence. "Hermione...I was in the library today and I found the article on Ron's death...."
"So?" She waited for him to go on.
"Well...I haven't read it yet, but you said it was Muggle scaffolding? It fell on him?"
Her lip wobbled, but she maintained control. "Yes. It was an accident."
"Hermione...you and I have both lived in the Muggle world. I remember going about London when they were restoring some of the older buildings. That scaffolding...it's meant to stay in place."
She frowned. "What are you getting at, Harry?"
"I don't know. Maybe nothing. I'm just trying to make sense of everything..." Harry paused as a thought came to him. "Ron was an Auror, right?" She nodded reluctantly. "What was he working on when he died?"
Hermione opened her mouth, but thought better and shut it again. When she started back up, her mood had taken a definite turn. "Harry, I'm not sure what you're suggesting, but Ron's death was a complete accident. Scaffolding falls; it's Muggle-made. Completely fallible." Her face softened. "I know it's hard. It took me a long time to accept he was gone. But he is gone, Harry. Thinking too much about how he died won't bring him back."
"Yes, but..."
She cut him off. "Please just stop." Her eyes were wet. "You mean well, but you're not helping." Before she could continue, the same, unfamiliar clock rang out. Hermione wiped her eyes. "The train's arrived. Come on. The sorting ceremony will start soon."
"Hermione..." Harry managed to take hold of her arm. "What if it wasn't just an accident? Wouldn't you want to know?"
"No." She pulled away from him sharply. "I wouldn't." Taking a few steps backwards, she brushed away the last traces of her tears. "And I don't want my son thinking that way either. Please stay away from him, Harry."
Unable to speak in the wake of her demand, Harry watched her disappear, headed for the Great Hall. After the shock had begun to wear off, he balled up his fist. Somewhere in the ten years, Hermione had lost the passion of her convictions. The Hermione he knew...the Hermione he loved was different now. But Harry was up to the challenge. He would find out the truth about Ron's death. He would get to know his son.
He would make Hermione love him again.
****
To Be Continued