DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Thanks to Haggridd for his most excellent Beta skills and steadfast moral support.
CHILD'S PLAY
(Part Four)
"A Price Above Rubies"
"Who can find a virtuous woman, for her price is far above rubies."
Proverbs 31:10
"This is just right," said "Goldilocks".
Reverend Gilderoy Lockhart couldn't have agreed more as he settled into the hot tub. The water wasn't too hot. The massage she'd just given him wasn't too hard-and as for who would be sleeping in his bed…
"How beautiful are thy feet with shoes, O prince's daughter!" Lockhart quoted, "The joints of thy thighs are like jewels, the work of the hands of a cunning workman. Thy navel is like a round goblet, which wanteth not liquor: thy belly is like an heap of wheat set about with lilies. Thy two breasts are like two young roes that are twins. Thy neck is as a tower of ivory; thine eyes like the fishpools in Heshbon, by the gate of Bathrabbim: thy nose is as the tower of Lebanon, which looketh toward Damascus… How fair and how pleasant art thou, O love, for delights!"
"Is that really in the Bible?" "Goldilocks" asked.
"Song of Solomon, Chapter 7, verses1-6." Lockhart grinned. "Now you know how the old boy managed to snag all those wives."
"That is so… biblical!"
"You know it, kid. Now, what do you say we break a few Commandments?"
The last thing Lockhart needed at that moment was the Honorable Lucius Malfoy, M.P. scowling down at him.
Lockhart patted "Goldilocks"-what the hell did she say her name was again? -on her lovely pear-shaped derrière and pointed her toward the bathroom.
"Why don't you take a shower, darlin', and let the men-folk talk?" With a naughty twinkle in her eye, "Goldilocks" simply stood straight up, giving Malfoy the full, unobstructed view. Yet, for all the reaction she provoked, she might just as well have been a chair or a lamp. Lockhart wondered if the man even possessed a libido. Shrugging, the girl picked up a towel that had been draped over the side of the tub, casually wrapped it around herself and walked through the patio doors into Lockhart's hotel suite.
"If that doesn't make you believe in Heaven," Lockhart sighed as he admired the view, "nothing will."
Malfoy let out a contemptuous snort as he set his briefcase down on the patio table.
"You have been granted the most extraordinary powers and yet you use them to indulge your vices and lure women into your bed!"
"And your point is…?"
"Lord give me strength!"
"You have your ambitions, Lucius, and I have mine." Lockhart felt around until he located his champagne glass, and then helped himself to another round. "If you disapprove of my behavior so much, you can always get someone else."
"There is no one else," Malfoy sighed, "not with your kind of talent, both for magic and for-" he glanced over at the girl as she disappeared into the bathroom- "…persuasion... Still, as long as the job gets done, it is not without precedent for history to forgive great men for their… `indiscretions'… Jefferson, Eisenhower, Kennedy…"
"Why Lucius, I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me. Thank you." He saluted Malfoy with his champagne glass. "Anyway, I'm not the one you have to worry about." He picked up a copy of the Times that had been left beside the hot tub and tossed it to Malfoy. It was folded open to the article about the vandalism of Harry and Hermione's flat.
"I've already spoken to Dennis." Malfoy carefully placed the paper face down on the patio table.
"They were only supposed to find the other notebooks. What was the idea of trashing the place?"
"Naturally, Dennis is impatient to increase his abilities- he and his friends got a little carried away." Lockhart knew that Lucius was lying, but now wasn't the time to call him on it.
"If you can't keep that kid of yours on a leash, he's going to blow this scam for all of us!"
"I wish you'd stop referring to our good work as though it was some cheap real estate swindle. I'm convinced that we are doing the Lord's will."
"If you would let me handle this my way, I might still be able to win the Potters over to our side."
"Our side?" Malfoy repeated incredulously. "Do you seriously think you can just sweet-talk them into giving us the notebooks voluntarily?"
"Lord, you gave them eyes, and yet they do not see!" Lockhart sighed. He poured himself some more champagne. "Don't you understand, Lucius? The Potters are `Do-Gooders'! Like you, they are on a mission! They're seeking out others of their kind!"
"And just what do they propose to do when they find them?"
"Knowing Potter, probably to form us all up into some kind of magical `Peace Corps' so we can save the world from itself. Perhaps your goals and theirs are not so far apart as you think."
Lucius shook his head and sighed.
"I could see it in his eyes, Lucius! Harry was practically drooling over the idea of using the church a sanctuary for witches and wizards! All we have to do is be patient and he'll come around."
The doorbell rang. Lockhart motioned for Malfoy to hand him his bathrobe.
"Mrs. Smith!" Lockhart said as he let the old woman in.
"I-I don't mean to disturb you at this hour, Reverend." She stammered. With a mischievous smile, Lockhart quickly tied his robe the rest of the way.
"You're not disturbing me at all, Minerva. You know The Honorable Mr. Malfoy, our Member of Parliament. We were just discussing church business."
"Mr. Malfoy…" Though she did her best to be polite, there was something about Lucius Malfoy that Minerva just didn't trust.
"What can I do for you, Mrs. Smith?"
"I've just been on the phone with Amelia Bones. It's seems her daughter Susan went up to the church for a meeting of the Sunday-school teachers and hasn't returned. Then I come to find out that there is no meeting scheduled for tonight."
"A very devout young lady, as I recall." Malfoy said out of the blue.
"And no one at the church has seen her?" Lockhart asked with a suspicious glance toward Malfoy.
"The only persons there were your son and his friends Mr. Crabbe and Mr. Goyle." Her answer sounded a little bit like an accusation.
"Had Draco seen Miss Bones?"
"He said that they had prayed together, but that she had left."
"She probably just needed some time to herself. I'm sure there's nothing to worry about." Malfoy quickly changed the subject. "I'm glad I finally have a chance to speak with you, Mrs. Smith. It seems you were quite right to bring your suspicions about Harry Potter to my office. I've been in contact with several professional magicians, including David Copperfield and Lance Burton. Many of Potter's feats simply cannot be explained away as simple stage illusions. There's clearly something more sinister involved."
"I believe that there are supernatural forces at work, Mr. Malfoy," Mrs. Smith said grimly. "I am convinced that Harry Potter is practicing black magic."
"Or, perhaps it is his wife who is responsible…?"
"I don't understand…"
Malfoy opened his briefcase and pulled out a thick file folder, which he handed to Mrs. Smith.
"Being a Member of Parliament does have its advantages. My people have been doing some discrete checking on Mrs. Potter. Before she and her husband were married, Miss Hermione Granger barely caused a blip on the radar screen. Her parents are dead. The hospital where she was born has been closed. Her primary school conveniently burned down and all records were lost… and on and on. It's almost as if she never existed prior to her marriage to Harry Potter. She simply appeared out of nowhere."
"Perhaps she is a succubus Harry conjured up to be his `love slave'…" Lockhart said with a grin.
Lucius Malfoy and Minerva Smith both glared at him with distaste.
"More than likely," Malfoy insisted, "she created this identity in order to hide her past."
"A false identity?" Lockhart said, raising an eyebrow. "I wonder what she could be hiding…?"
"You don't suppose," Mrs. Smith pondered, "that she's …a… communist?"
"I shouldn't be a bit surprised," Malfoy said, doing his best to keep a straight face. "Which makes it all the more imperative for us to take decisive action as soon as possible."
"I just don't know, Mr. Malfoy… If only there were some way to be certain before we do something drastic. My head tells me that the Potters are doing wrong-but my heart tells that that deep down they're basically good people."
"You are a caring and compassionate woman, Minerva," Malfoy put his arm around her shoulders, "But we must never forget that although our Lord is a God of love, He is also a God of Judgment." He turned to Lockhart with a "Back me up here!" look.
"Did He not let loose His plagues upon the Egyptians when Pharaoh defied Him?" Lockhart reminded her. "Did He not rain fire and brimstone on Sodom and Gomorrah to punish them for their wickedness? Did He not flood the entire world when mankind turned their hearts away from Him?"
"We can be allowed some pity for God's enemies, Mrs. Smith, but we must never weaken in our resolve!"
"In my head, I know that you're making sense, Mr. Malfoy," she sighed, "but the Potters are so kind. Every time I see them they're helping someone or doing some good work…"
"I'm sure they work very hard to disguise their true intentions."
"Harry Potter even risked his life to protect me when that horrible Mr. Higgins was determined to do me bodily injury…"
"Proving perhaps that they are not beyond redemption." Lockhart quickly added with a stern look toward Malfoy. "Of course, we must hate the sin, but love the sinner!"
"Of course," Malfoy repeated reluctantly.
"…and Mrs. Potter is expecting a wee baby soon."
"Which makes it all the more important that they be brought to their senses in time, before that poor child is caught in whatever diabolical morass its parents have already been dragged into! The Lord is their only hope, Mrs. Smith," intoned Malfoy. "The church is their only salvation"
When Minerva Smith left Reverend Lockhart's room, she was still plagued by doubts.
"I'm beginning think Potter's wife is the key." Malfoy mused once she had gone. His mind was working overtime. "Now if we could just apply the right amount of pressure…"
"What? Threaten her? Threaten the baby?" He shook his head. "Don't even go there, Lucius."
"When did you suddenly grow a conscience? You're not afraid of Harry Potter, are you?"
"Of course not!" He poured himself another glass of champagne. "It's Mrs. Potter I'm afraid of. Ever see a lioness defending her cubs? And lest you forget, she was the one who wrote that notebook! I don't know where or how Hermione Potter acquired her knowledge of magic, but she has had the full syllabus. Dennis and I-even Harry-have barely passed our first years! Now, I'm getting pretty good at this magic stuff-and your Dennis seems to have even more of a knack for it than I do-but that doesn't change the fact that we both have the equivalent of a brown belt from a correspondence Karate school. Neither one of us are ready to pick a fight with Bruce Lee."
Lockhart could have sworn he heard Malfoy mutter the word, "coward" as he gathered up the file folder and shoved them in his briefcase.
"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to freshen up." Lockhart let his robe slip off as he went inside from the patio in search of "Goldilocks". "Oh, Susan! If you're a good girl, I'll let you scrub my back!"
************
Through the streets of Shepherd's Bush echoed the voice of Frank Sinatra.
"Fairy tales can come true,
It can happen to you
If you're young at heart"
Minerva Smith was watching as Harry rehearsed a segment for his television show in a small park not far from BBC Center. The scene involved Harry casually strolling through the park, (in full wizard regalia), when he comes upon a lonely looking old man sitting on a bench, a lonely old woman sitting on the bench opposite. With a wave of Harry's wand, the old man gets up, sweeps the old woman into his arms and the two begin dancing like Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers.
"For it's hard, you will find,
To be narrow of mind
If you're young at heart."
Before she knew what was happening, Harry had swept up Mrs. Smith in a similar fashion.
"Where are you right now, Mrs. Smith?" Harry asked softy when she closed her eyes.
"The old Town Hall…" Minerva replied dreamily. "We're both nineteen, my Jamie and me… so young… and so much in love."
"Don't you know that it's worth
Every treasure on Earth
To be young at heart"
Harry smiled and softly spoke a quick incantation.
When Minerva opened her eyes, it was all there: the old Town Hall, the lights, the music, and her beloved Jamie-with one slight change. Instead of just a phonograph record playing over the loudspeaker, "Ol' Blue Eyes" himself was on stage, singing.
"For as rich as you are
It's much better by far
To be young at heart"
Mrs. Smith suddenly let go of her Jamie and backed away.
"No…" She shook her head violently. "It's not true… It's a lie. My husband is dead," she declared.
Harry was now up on stage in place of Sinatra.
"Not a lie, Mrs. Smith," he said gently. "A memory! I meant no offense," Harry apologized as they returned to reality. "I simply wanted to give you back something you had lost; A moment of joy. If you'll forgive me for saying, there seems so little in your life right now."
Part of her wanted to scream, "How dare you!" and slap his face-but Harry was right. There was very little joy left in her life. "It's not been easy since Mr. Smith passed on." She turned and started to walk away, then abruptly turned to face him. "Why?"
"I don't understand."
"Why, after all I've done, do you insist on being so… nice to me?"
"I'm afraid that you have my wife to blame for that, Mrs. Smith."
"Your wife?"
Harry led her over to a park bench where they sat down. He produced a small bag of breadcrumbs from his pocket and began to feed the pigeons.
"Apparently you remind her of a teacher she greatly admired. I guess she could be pretty hard-nosed, but she could also be warm and compassionate, and very wise. Hermione seems to feel that you have those qualities-and maybe I agree with her."
"You love your wife very much, don't you, Mr. Potter?" Mrs. Smith said, trying to steer the conversation away from herself.
"She saved my life." Harry considered for a moment, "No, that's not quite right. I didn't have a life before she came along. You told me that you had met the Dursleys-but you can't possibly imagine what it was to live under the same roof with them."
She covered Harry's hand with hers.
"I am so sorry, Harry… If only I had known what they were doing to you. They were members of our church! If only I had seen…!"
"You mustn't blame yourself, Mrs. Smith." Harry told her gently, "Uncle Vernon was very good at convincing people that nothing was wrong. Anything strange going on in that house was obviously my own fault." Harry suppressed a shudder. "Heaven only know what I would've turned into if Hermione hadn't showed up on my uncle's doorstep that night."
"She simply appeared out of nowhere…?" Minerva said, Lucius Malfoy's words echoing inside her head:
"It's almost as if she never existed prior to her marriage to Harry Potter."
"Something like that." Harry chuckled. "She certainly had her work cut out for her with me. My uncle had me convinced that I was the most worthless creature ever to walk the earth. Hermione saw talents in me that I would never have even dreamed were there. Perhaps more importantly, she showed me that I was not only capable of giving love, but that I was worthy of being loved as well."
"But what do you really know about her-about her background?"
Harry shrugged, "I know that she's had her share of hardships… She lost her parents just as I did. I think it's only brought us closer together. Why do you ask?"
"A false identity?" Lockhart said, raising an eyebrow. "I wonder what she could be hiding…?"
"It's just that…" She reached up, wanting to touch his face, but stopping herself. He was so much like her dear Jamie… "You're so… You seem such a trusting soul, Harry… I would hate for anything to…"
"We can be allowed some pity for God's enemies, Mrs. Smith, but we must never weaken in our resolve!"
Harry raised an eyebrow. She seemed worried about him. He wondered if it could it have anything to do with Lockhart and Lucius Malfoy?
"Mrs. Smith-"
"I really must go!" She collected her purse and hurried off, leaving Harry totally bewildered.
"Mrs. Smith!"
A hand rested on Harry's shoulder.
"You can't win 'em all, kid," Mr. Sinatra said as he cocked his hat, slung his overcoat over his shoulder and lit up a cigarette.
"No… I guess not." As they watched Mrs. Smith walked away, the music slowly faded in. Frank began to sing:
"And if you should survive
To a hundred and five"
Harry took of his wizard's robes, slung them over his shoulder and took the next verse.
"Look at all you'll derive
Out of being alive"
As Harry and Frank walked back toward the crew, singing in close harmony, Frank slowly faded away, only his voice remaining.
"Here is the best part
You have a head start"
She now knew for certain that Harry Potter definitely had strange powers. But even so, somehow Minerva couldn't bring herself to mention the incident to either Reverend Lockhart or Lucius Malfoy.
"If you are among
The very young at heart"
***********
"Mommy?"
Hermione must have dozed off, because when she awoke, the afternoon chat shows were on.
The Honeymoon Suite at the Dorchester Hotel in London was the very definition of "the lap of luxury", but Harry had always suspected that the real reason Hermione loved to stay there was because the Concierge had the bad luck to resemble one of her old Hogwarts professors-Snake, or Snade, or something… As much as the fellow obviously detested them, now that Harry was something of a celebrity, he had no choice but to pretend to be nice. Harry's cheeks used to ache in sympathy for the poor fellow, knowing how painful it must be to hold that fake smile of his for so long.
"I think you enjoy giving the man a hard time," Harry had observed. "When you told him that you were nine months pregnant, for instance, did you also happen to mention that you were still nearly three full weeks away from your official due-date?"
"Well…"
"And is it possible that the reason he wanted to program the numbers of your obstetrician and Charing Cross Hospital into the Speed Dial at the front desk, is that you let him assume that you could go into labor at any moment?"
"I can't be responsible for what the man assumes, Harry," she had said innocently.
Harry could only laugh. At least they were assured of good service while they were here. As long as the Concierge was on duty, the phone never had to ring more than once when they called for room service.
Until the Potter's new house was ready for occupation, or the baby came, Hermione was clearly intending to enjoy herself.
"Mommy…"
She thought she had heard-but it wasn't really a voice-it was more of-what was it? She put a hand to her abdomen. That's when it hit her: It was the baby!
***********
Harry got back from taping his television program about six thirty in the evening. When he had left her that morning, Hermione had been in one of her "I'm so fat and gross and repulsive" moods. Of course, Hermione had never been terribly secure about her looks to begin with.
"Just once, I wish you could see yourself the way that I see you," Harry had told her. "Then you would know just how truly beautiful you really are." That usually did the trick but sometimes more drastic measures were called for. While Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough Ice Cream was not a guaranteed cure for the condition, it did seem to relieve the symptoms most of the time.
"Talk about a rough day at the office!" Harry said as he let himself in. "We've got the Olsen Twins as guest stars this week. You wouldn't believe the way those two natter on! I now know more about "N-Synch" and "The Backstreet Boys", than any one over the age of fourteen should. And of course, Mr. Nibbler® got me three times today! I swear, if I never see another custard pie as long as I live-"
Hermione was sitting in a big armchair in the middle of the room, hugging her abdomen, a beatific smile on her face and tears streaming down her cheeks. She looked as though she had just experienced some divine revelation.
"Darling…?" Harry knelt down in front of her, gently touching her hand, almost afraid to disturb her reverie.
"It's the baby, Harry," she said softly.
"Is it time?" He fumbled for his cell phone to call Dr. Pomfrey.
She gently took hold of his hand.
"No, no… It's not time, yet," she said ever so softly, as if afraid to awaken a sleepwalker. She took Harry's hand and placed it on her abdomen. "He could sense that I was upset… about the break-in… about Lockhart… He wanted to make sure Mommy was okay." She smiled at Harry. "Caring and considerate, just like his father."
It took a moment for the full implications of what she was saying to sink in.
"You can actually communicate with the baby…?"
"It's not words. He's still too young for that. I don't think he really understands what I was upset about, just that I was upset."
Harry's mind was racing in ten different directions at once. "I-uh-uh-Is this normal? For a witch, I mean?"
"I don't know," Hermione admitted. "I grew up as a Muggle and I don't remember Molly or any of the witches I knew at Hogwarts ever mentioning it. I think it's you, Harry. You've been training less than two years and you're already doing things I couldn't do after six years! If you're that powerful, what kind of things will our son be capable of?"
"We should call Molly-"
"Later," Hermione insisted. "I want to enjoy this moment while it lasts." Harry gently laid his head against her abdomen and closed his eyes while Hermione ran her fingers through his hair. "I tried to share my second-sight with him, the way I did with you as we watched him grow inside me. I tried showing him a little of the outside world but I think it confused him a little.
"There's only so much that even an exceptional infant can take in," Harry pointed out.
"Now that you're here, I'd like to try it again." Closing her eyes, Hermione concentrated. Opening her eyes, she reached up to caress Harry's face. "Can you see, my little one? This is your Daddy."
Harry was so overwhelmed by the moment that all he managed to get out was, "Son…"
She began to giggle.
"He wants to know what those funny things are on your face." Hermione reached out and pulled off Harry's glasses.
"They help Daddy to see." That apparently brought forth a cascade of questions, which Hermione wasn't quite prepared for. Her expression changed several times as she mentally tried to placate their curious son. Finally, she sighed. Evidently he was satisfied for the moment. "I can't wait for you to finally meet your Daddy, Darling, because he loves you just as much as Mommy does… Just as much as Mommy loves him-even if he does snore sometimes."
As he replaced his glasses, Harry stuck his tongue out at her.
"Pay no attention, Darling, Daddy's just being silly."
"Daddy can't wait to get to know you, son." He began kissing Hermione's hand. "Just like Daddy can't wait to get `reacquainted' with Mommy when she's feeling up to it." He worked his way up her arm. "It's been much too long since Daddy and Mommy spent any `quality time' together!"
Hermione was beginning to blush. When Harry got to a particular spot on her neck, she suddenly found herself thinking things that really perplexed the little tyke.
"Harry!" She said through gritted teeth, "Not in front of the baby!" Suddenly, she caught her breath and held up her hands, causing Harry to freeze. Something was happening. "I think the lessons are over for today," she said with a smile, "Let's have a look."
Harry took Hermione's hand and she looked inside herself once more.
Young Master Potter had apparently decided that he'd had enough for one day. He didn't really understand a lot of what his parents were going on about. He would soon discover that things were much the same in the outside world. On some level, Young Potter did understand that, in spite of their rather strange behavior, that these beings called "Mommy" and "Daddy" were there to love and protect and care for him. That at least, the child decided, was a good thing.
Harry and Hermione watched as their son smiled and went back to sleep. The Potters-the three of them, snuggled together in the big armchair. For the very first time, a connection had been made. They were truly a family.
END OF PART THREE
See Chapter Two
Young At Heart Lyrics by Carolyn Leigh, music by Johnny Richards