Disclaimer: The Harry Potter world and its characters do not belong to me, but to the great JK Rowling, whose next book is even more overdue than this chapter.
Author's Notes: My extreme apologies for the lateness of this chapter. It's been about four months, I guess, maybe a little more. It was an insane spring semester and that's my excuse;) But you all have been fabulous with your emails and IM's. I wish I could have replied to every single one of them, but they all touched me and were greatly appreciated. I hope you're still interested in the story. Enjoy and I promise the next chapter won't be so long in coming!
Dedication: To you all for your kind words.
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An Organ of Fire
by Kristen Elizabeth
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"You give a guy a handjob during Harry Potter and suddenly he wants to marry you." -ER
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Harry's fingers finally found his glasses, but it was too late. "Bloody hell," he muttered, pushing them onto the bridge of his nose. He glanced at Hermione. Her hand was still clamped over her mouth; her slender frame shook ever so slightly. He put his arm around her; she didn't protest. Rather, she had no reaction whatsoever. "Hermione..."
"This is horrible...." Her hand trembled as she lowered it back to the sheet covering her chest. "Oh god...this wasn't supposed to happen."
"It's going to be all right," Harry tried to assure her. "He's a mature child...if we talk to him, explain things to him..."
Hermione closed her eyes. "I can't believe this happened."
Harry blinked. It suddenly occurred to him that they might not be talking about the same thing. "We are his parents, Hermione."
"Not to his knowledge!" She shrugged off his arm. "He didn't just see his mother and father in bed, Harry. He saw his mother and Professor Potter in bed. And that's something entirely different!"
There was a long pause. "Maybe it's a good thing," Harry said quietly. "Maybe it's time that I'm not just 'Professor Potter' to him."
"What are you suggesting, Harry?"
"I think you know exactly what I'm suggesting." She turned her head to stare at him. "Don't look at me that way, Hermione. This is something to which I've given a lot of thought." Harry pushed off the covers and reached for his clothes. "I understand that Ron was a wonderful father to our son. But he is *ours*. We know it...Dumbledore and Hagrid and Sirius know it." He fastened his pants and looked back at her. "I want *everyone* to know it. Including Harry."
Hermione slowly shook her head. "How can you be so very selfish?"
"Selfish?!" Harry's eyes sparked with emerald fury. "He's my son, Hermione! If I had known about him, I never would have left...or I would have come home years ago."
"So, now you're blaming me for keeping him from you?" Her own eyes narrowed.
Harry plunged his fingers into his tousled hair. "No, that's not what I'm..." After a calming breath, he continued. "I'm not blaming you for mistakes I made. But I will blame you if you don't give me the opportunity to correct them."
"And you think that if you go to him and tell him, 'it's okay that you saw me in bed with your mother...I am your father after all'....that everything is going to automatically be all right?"
He blinked. "I didn't say that."
Hermione threw off the rest of the blankets and grabbed her robe from its place on one bed post. She shoved her arms into the terrycloth. "You're just going to tell him, rip apart every basic belief he's ever had, tear to pieces the memory of the only father he's ever known...and then expect him to start calling you 'Daddy'?"
"No...I don't..."
"Then what is your master plan, Harry?!"
"I don't have one!" he yelled. "I'm just tired of having to hide how I feel about you and how I feel about my son! Is that so wrong? I mean, is it so terrible of me to think of the three of us being an actual family?"
A bit of Hermione's anger faded. "Harry...would you really want that?"
Her question made him take a literal step back. "How can you even ask that? All I've wanted my entire life was a family of my own." He swallowed. "We had one once. Ron, myself and you. Remember?"
"Oh, I remember. The problem is...I also remember how you tore that family apart by leaving without a word." She stared at him from across the bed. The rumpled covers stretched like miles between them. "And if you think I'm about to let you get in a position to do that again, this time to me and my son...you're very mistaken."
Harry bare shoulders slumped. "You said that you forgave me for that. And you said we could mend and move past it. You might love me...but you're still so hurt, Hermione. Why haven't you let me know before now? Why did you pretend everything was all right?" He gestured to the bed. "And why do this tonight?"
She was a long time in replying. "I had a recurring dream when I was pregnant with Harry. It always started off the same. You came back, full of apologies, asking for my forgiveness and to be a part of my life again." She stopped.
"And then what happened?"
Hermione folded her arms across her robe. "It was always different. Sometimes, I'd walk away. Or I'd wake up before I could even reply." A small smile played on her lips. "Other times, I'd forgive you and take you back." The smile fell. "And then you'd leave again."
"Hermione..."
She held up a hand. "I thought the dreams would stop after Harry was born, but they didn't. I finally told Ron about them...and he said that maybe if I *didn't* forgive you in the dream, if I got mad, yelled, told you where you could stick your apologies, that they would go away. Well...it didn't happen and the dreams continued." Hermione licked her lips. "Until one night. The dream started as usual and when it came to the part where you asked me to forgive you....I punched you."
Harry bit his cheek to keep from smiling. "How very therapeutic."
"I felt awful!" she countered. "But then...I didn't. And I suddenly felt much better than I had in months." Hermione looked away from Harry's eyes. "When I woke up, I realized I was in Ron's arms. It was the first night we had spent together."
"I see," Harry replied, stiffly.
"I never had the dream again." Hermione finally looked back at him. "I forgave you a very long time ago, Harry. But yes...I am still terribly mad at you. It just seemed...irrelevant. And I thought it would pass...especially if we made love."
He nodded as he slowly walked around the bed to her side. "Then, there's only one thing to be done."
She frowned. "What's that?"
"You're going to have to punch me."
Hermione blinked twice. "Have you gone insane?"
Harry shook his head. "I'm quite sane, I assure you. But if one punch is going to make you feel better, I'll give you two." He tapped his cheek. "Come on."
"Harry, this is not the time for macho antics!" She propped her hands up on her hips. "I am not going to hit you."
"If you love me...if you love our son...and if you want us to be a family, you're going to have to do it," he told her.
She pursed her lips. "I refuse to punch you, Harry Potter."
"But you want to, right?"
"Of course I don't want..."
Harry reached for her hand, balling up her fingers in his palm. "Do it. If it's what you need, do it. There is a very confused boy out there who really needs some explanations."
Hermione closed her eyes for a long minute. "I can't believe I'm going to do this..." she muttered to herself. Harry smiled and braced himself. Hermione drew her arm back and swung, landing a direct blow to Harry's cheek bone.
His eye felt as though it were going to pop out of its socket. After his head had snapped nearly halfway around his body, he doubled over and grabbed the side of his head. "Ow."
"Oh god! I'm so sorry, Harry!!" Hermione flexed her fingers, a look of sheer panic on her face. She reached for him. "Are you all right?? I didn't mean to do it so hard!!"
Harry rubbed his numb cheek. "I'm all right." Cracking his jaw, he stood up straight. "Do you feel better?"
She bit her lip, worried. "A little."
He nodded. "Good. Now..." Smiling hurt, so he simply nodded again. "Let's go have a talk with our son."
"You're going to tell him no matter what I want, aren't you?"
His cheek was now beginning to throb. "I want you to tell him. And I want you to do it because you want this family as much as I do."
Hermione reached for his cheek, not surprised when he flinched. "I understand." After a pause, she started for the door. "Here we go."
"Yeah..." Harry winced as she left the room. "Ow..."
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They found little Harry in his room, curled up on his bed with a picture of Ron. He didn't move when he heard them enter the room and failed to acknowledge them for a long time after Hermione began to speak.
"Harry," she said softly. "We really need to talk." After a long pause without any response, she sat on the edge of their son's bed. "Harry...can you please turn over and look at me?"
"No," he replied sharply.
The older Harry cleared his throat. "We know that you're upset with us. But if you could just..."
"No!!" the boy screamed. "Go away!! I want to be left alone!"
"Harry, please..." Hermione's eyes flooded with tears. "What you saw....I mean to say, you shouldn't have had to see...." She took a breath and reached out to him. "You're too young to understand this, but..."
Little Harry yanked his pillow out from under his cheek and clamped it down over his head. Hermione's hands shook; she drew them back towards her chest before they could touch the boy's back. Harry cleared his throat, unable to bear the hurt on Hermione's face when she looked up at him, expectantly.
"Harry," he began. "I thought you were more mature than this."
The boy hiccuped underneath his pillow. "I don't want to talk to you."
"You don't really get a choice." Harry took a breath and walked around to the other side of the bed. "You're almost eleven and this is really quite childish, hiding under the covers....closing up your ears to what you don't want to hear."
Hermione bit her lip. "Harry, are you sure this is..."
The older Harry pressed on. "You have every right to be mad. In fact, it's all right, even if you want to yell at us. Your mother and I..." He hesitated. "Just come out from under there, so we can all talk this..."
Little Harry threw off his pillow and shot up into a sitting position, his face distorted with tears and anger. "You can't tell me what to do! You're not my father!!"
There was a long moment of silence. Harry opened his mouth to continue, but found it quite unnecessary, as Hermione beat him to it. "Actually, Harry....he is." Her voice was gentle as she dropped the heavy news.
The boy blinked and then sniffed dramatically. "My father is dead."
Hermione shook her head. "I'm so sorry, Harry. I never meant for you to find out....certainly not like this." She drew in a brave breath. "You probably won't understand any of this until you're older. But you have a right to know. At any age."
"My father is dead," he repeated, although the certainty that had been present in his first affirmation had faded.
"Harry." The elder one joined them in sitting on the bed. "You once told me that we had the same eyes." His son stared back at him. After a pause, Harry continued. "Do you think your mother would lie to you about this?"
Fresh tears appeared in the corners of little Harry's eyes. "Mum..." He glanced at Hermione. "What about Dad? Don't you love him anymore?"
"Oh, Harry..." Hermione reached for her son again and this time he let her enfold his hands in hers. "Of course I still do. No matter what happens, I will always love Ron. We both loved him, didn't we? And he loved you so much. I can't even tell you how proud you made him." She bit her lip to keep it from trembling. "But Harry is right. I wouldn't lie to you about this."
"But you did. All my life." He rubbed his forearm across his eyes. "Why?"
"It's a very long story, Harry." Hermione lip was no longer wobbling, but her hands had started to shake. This was the very conversation she had dreaded for ten years. And so far, it wasn't going well. "Professor Potter...Harry...your real father...we fell in love a long time ago. But...he had to go away. And after he did, you were born." She took one hand away from the boy's to run her fingers through his rusty hair. "The best thing that's ever happened to me." Hermione pulled her hand back. "Ron was there the day you were born and he loved you as soon as he saw you. Because he loved me too, we got married."
The boy looked back at his namesake. "Why did you leave?"
Harry felt Hermione's gaze boring into him as well as his son's. "I wish I could tell you, Harry. The truth is....I've regretted it ever since."
Little Harry pressed further. "Didn't you want me?"
"I didn't know you were going to be coming," Harry replied. "If I had known..." He stopped to look down at his hands. "When I understand it all, I'll try to explain it to you. But what I think you need to know right now is that I am your father. And that Ron will always be a part of you. I would never try to take his..."
"Yes, you are!!" The child's anger surfaced again. "I don't have to call you my father! I could never do that to Dad. I hate you!"
"Harry!" Hermione squeezed his hand. "You don't mean that, so don't say it."
"I do mean it!" He jerked his hands away from his mother. "Leave me alone!! I want to be alone!!"
The older Harry placed a comforting hand on Hermione's shoulder. "Come on. Let's give him some space."
Reluctantly, Hermione stood, her eyes still fixed on her son. He had curled back up around Ron's picture, turning his face away from his parents. With a final look at the boy, Hermione allowed Harry to lead her out of the room. He gently shut the door, but not before they both caught the faint sounds of choked sobs. It was all Hermione could to do to keep from running back in to comfort him.
"Harry," she whispered. "What have we done?"
"The only thing we could do, Hermione." Harry cupped her face in his hands. "If we had let more time go by before we told him the truth, he would have only resented us more. And maybe we'd have never gotten him back."
"He's so angry."
Harry brushed his thumb over her cheek, wiping away a stray tear. "He'll come around, once the shock wears off. "Give him some time. I'm not going anywhere; are you?"
A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "No, I'm not." His lips pressed against her forehead. "You're really not going to leave again?"
"I'm really not." He moved his next kiss down to her lips. "I love you, Hermione." Harry drew back. "I think I'll just head back to my place now, all right?"
Hermione sighed. "One of these times I'm going to get you to stay a full night with me."
"One of these times..." Harry gave her another kiss. "I won't hesitate to take you up on that."
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The days between Christmas and New Year's passed slowly for Harry. He saw Hermione only a handful of times around the snowy grounds. On those few instances, she would give him a smile, but the circumstances prevented either of them from doing anything more. She and little Harry were taking all of their meals in their rooms; Harry could only hope the boy wasn't causing Hermione any more pain. But there was little he could do to find out, much less to help.
On the first day of the new year, Harry had settled himself in front of a roaring fire in his apartments, working on restoring his Firebolt to the condition in which he had left it ten years earlier. He had many regrets, but not taking his prized possession with him on his travels was not one of them. It would not have held up well through all his trials and tribulations.
He was applying a layer of Patrick Paddy's Patented Polish to the handle when there was a knock on his door. Wiping his hands on a rag, Harry went to answer it.
The man who had given him the boom stood on the other side of the door. Harry smiled. "Sirius. Happy New Year."
"The new year...." Sirius walked past his godson and into the room. "It's already promising to be a bloody interesting one."
Harry closed the door, a frown on his face. "What do you mean?"
Sirius drew his hands out of his black robes and warmed them over the fire. "Damn drafty castle," he muttered. After a moment, he glanced back at the younger man. "I've just come in from London. From the Ministry of Magic. Auror's headquarters."
"Ron's office." Harry walked towards the fireplace.
His godfather nodded. "I think I know, Harry. I think I know what Ron found out. What he died for."
"What was it, Sirius?"
"It's Malfoy, Harry. Just like you suspected." Sirius tucked his hands back against his chest.
"He killed Ron." Harry's eyes closed as his fist balled up. "Why? What did Ron find out about him?"
Taking a seat on the couch, Sirius looked up at his godson. "What does your instinct tell you?"
"Voldemort." The word arrived on Harry's tongue without hesitation. "Malfoy is working with Voldemort. He *has* risen! I knew it! I felt it..."
"No, Harry." Sirius sighed. "It's not as simple as that."
"But what about..."
"Malfoy isn't trying to bring Voldemort back," Sirius interrupted. "He's trying to take his place."
Harry blinked. "Say that again?"
"You heard me the first time." The older man stood up again. "And if everything in Ron's files is correct, he's not just a little wizard trying to fill shoes that are too big for him, Harry. He has power. Real power. Dark power." Sirius shook his head. "He'll do anything to twist the world to his liking. Just like Voldemort did. He's already built up a following. And killed! It's only a matter of time, Harry."
A question Harry wasn't sure he wanted answered spilled out of his mouth. "Before what?"
The moment of silence that followed was so heavy that neither man seemed to breathe for its duration. "Before he comes after you."
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To Be Continued