Professional Documents
Culture Documents
Introduction
Prologue
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
The Augurey
By: La-Matrona
After the war, Harry Potter is desperate to make sure that not a single life more is ruined by
Voldemort's legacy. Aided by the ever loyal Hermione Granger, he makes a decision which
will forever change more than one life. An epilogue disregarding, Cursed Child inspired,
Harmony romance.
Status: complete
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Words: 173051
Chapters: 40
Rated: Fiction M - Language: English - Genre: Romance/Family - Characters: [Harry P.,
Hermione G.] - Reviews: 1,923 - Favs: 2,642 - Follows: 2,549
Original source: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12310861/1/The-Augurey
Exported with the assistance of FicHub.net
The Augurey
Introduction
Prologue
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Prologue
A/N: Thank you for joining me for this short prologue! One thousand
thanks to literally the best beta in the world, oblivionbaby, and to
Shayalonnie, whose encouragement where this story is concerned has
rubbed off on me in a big way. This will be another novel length story, and
will be rated M for good reason. It's (generally) not as dark as The Heir, but
please note that I'm including blanket warnings here for sexual content and
bad language, as well as torture and child abuse in early chapters. I will be
trying for twice monthly updates, but I must warn you that my muse is a
fickle, schedule disregarding scamp, and that some months you might see
no more than a single chapter, or *gasp* even no chapter. I will also be
attempting to update When Strangers Dance on opposite weeks, so if you're
following that as well you should see something from me more frequently.
Notice Me Not Charm: I am not the owner of Harry Potter, and am
therefore not entitled to make money off of any of this, or claim that I
created the characters or world. I am playing joyfully in JK Rowling's tree-
house.
Prologue
The room was sweltering, but the windows would not open. No matter how
many times the midwife flicked her wand at the shutters, they stayed
stubbornly put, shielding the room's denizens from prying eyes. A bed
dominated the room they occupied, but it was empty. The woman it was
meant for was sitting instead on a low stool in the corner of the room, her
eyes downcast and her face twisted in pain as she groaned aloud.
"That's the way," the midwife encouraged, keeping her place on the edge of
the bed, a safe distance from the laboring woman and her companion.
"Merlin, Morgana, and Circe," the woman swore once the clenching, all
consuming pain of the contraction had relented.
"Hush now, you don't want him to hear you like this." The blonde at her side
spoke in hushed tones, barely raising her voice above the level of a whisper.
Her role, it seemed, was to remind the them all of what propriety demanded.
"To hell with him," hissed the laboring woman, her dark hair swinging
forward and clinging to her sweat soaked face.
"Don't say that," cried the blonde, reaching out to touch her sister's bare
shoulder, only to be shrugged away again. "He'll hear you!"
"I don't give two damns!" The woman's voice spiked on the last word as
another surge overtook her, her belly clenching, her body bearing down
involuntarily as she arched forward over her midsection. Her chin touched
her chest as she fell from the stool onto her hands and knees.
"Good girl," called the midwife. She stood, circling around to get a better
look at the woman's progress. Luckily, she had shed her robes hours ago
and was left bare to the midwife's gaze. "Not long now. I can see the head
when you're pushing."
A soft knock sounded at the door, and the dark haired woman looked up
only briefly at the sound as her contraction ended. Immediately, her sister
rose, crossing to the door and opening it a sliver so that she could see the
person on the other side. The conversation between them was too quiet for
the midwife to hear, and it ended just before the next labor pain came.
"A message for you," the blonde whispered when she returned, stroking the
dark haired woman's head as she stilled. "He says you're his for a reason,
and that he has every confidence in you."
"He doesn't love me, he doesn't love me…" murmured the sweat soaked
woman on the floor. Her sister leaned down to her, pressing their foreheads
together and meeting her gaze.
"He does. In his own way he does. Now push."
The woman cried out louder than ever as her body swept her up in its
intensity once more. Sensing the end, the midwife dropped to her knees
behind her, using a hand to touch the crown of the head visible between the
birthing woman's thighs. As the contraction ended, the patch of scalp and
dark hair did not recede, and the mother whimpered.
"One more big push with the next one, and it will be all over," the midwife
promised.
"Did you hear that?" asked the blonde, and her sister nodded.
True to the midwife's word, the child was born with the next contraction, its
head emerging as the mother screamed aloud and its shoulders following
with little trouble. Quick with her wand, the midwife cleansed the child as
the new mother turned over with her sister's help, before reaching for the
babe.
"It's a girl," she said, as she handed the infant over, settling it on the
mother's belly. The babe was still attached to her mother by the umbilical
cord which continued to pulse visibly.
"A girl," echoed the mother, clutching the child to herself, a panicked look on
her face.
"I'll tell him now," her sister said, rising to her feet. "Help her into bed," she
ordered as she crossed to the door.
Merlin bless this child, thought the midwife, beginning to hoist the dark
haired witch up towards the bed, the poor thing will need it.
Chapter 2
A/N: Please note that some dialogue from this chapter is taken directly
from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows . It is not mine, and I do not
wish to claim it. (Okay, of course I want to claim Jo's work as my own, but
it's not, so there.) Now, everyone please thank Oblivionbaby for being a
truly saintlike (not hole-y) beta, and Shayalonnie for her alpha reading!
Malfoy Manor
24 March 1998
She watched the boys disappear through a one of the doors out of the
drawing room, held at wand point by Fenrir Greyback. Bellatrix's hand was
still tangled in Hermione's hair, her long nails scraping her scalp
uncomfortably as she held her up, forcing her to watch her only allies
disappear down a dark passageway.
"Now, you filthy little Mudblood, we're going to have a little chat. Girl to
girl."
Hermione said nothing, her stomach flipping uncomfortably as she stared
wide eyed at the mad woman in front of her. The silver dagger she held was
wickedly sharp and pressed against Hermione's neck.
"Bella, please," Hermione heard a woman plead from behind her. She
thought it must be Narcissa Malfoy. "Tell us why you-"
"Keep your mouth shut, Cissa," hissed Bellatrix. "You've no idea the danger
we are in." And with a jolt, she released Hermione, sending her careening
onto the floor. She was not quick enough to catch herself, and so she landed
heavily on her shoulder. A sharp, throbbing ache radiated from the point of
contact down to her elbow.
"Now, Mudblood," Bellatrix said, her voice thick with anger, "let me give you
a taste of what you can expect if you attempt to lie to me. Crucio !"
This pain did not bloom, it did not radiate from a point of contact or spread,
it simply was. Knives pierced every inch of her skin as her muscles began to
seize uncontrollably, and Hermione thought she must be dying. The agony
was all consuming. She did not realize until after the curse was lifted that
she had been screaming.
"Tell me where you got the sword!" demanded Bellatrix, her voice barely
penetrating the fog in Hermione's head. In the distance, Hermione thought
she heard a child cry, and she looked up, meeting Bellatrix's eye just as she
remembered that night at number twelve so many months ago, and the
secret the black haired which had no idea Hermione knew. Was this
defensiveness over her vault somehow related to to the name they had seen
embroidered on the Black Family Tapestry?
Apparently, Hermione's thoughts had left her silent for too long, because
with a quick step forward and a practiced swing of her arm, pain was
blossoming across Hermione's cheek. She had never been backhanded
before, and it stung, but she realized in a heartbeat that she would rather
this physical violence than the unimaginable pain of the Cruciatus Curse.
"I'm going to ask you again! Where did you get this sword? Where ?"
Bellatrix was shouting now, her eyes wild as she stared down at the girl
before her.
"We found it-we found it-" Bellatrix made to hit her again, and Hermione
cried out even louder, "PLEASE!" The blow landed on the same cheek, and in
another moment Bellatrix was over her, straddling Hermione's rib-cage and
placing one hand on her neck as the other forced her left arm out across the
carpet.
She couldn't help but scream, couldn't do anything but struggle against the
weight of the witch atop her. Finally, Bellatrix brought her forearm down
over her windpipe, cutting off her access to an air supply and causing her to
scratch and claw violently to break free. The older woman eased off the
pressure only enough to keep Hermione conscious, and with her hand she
pulled up the sleeve of Hermione's jumper.
"You are lying, filthy Mudblood, and I know it! You have been inside my
vault at Gringotts!"
Hermione shook her head frantically just as Bellatrix shifted off of her neck
and the gleaming silver of her blade began to dig into Hermione's forearm.
"Tell the truth, tell the truth !"
The dagger painted fire on Hermione's arm and she screamed again, shaking
her head in horror as she realized Bellatrix was carving something into her
arm. In the distance, she thought she could hear someone calling her name.
"What else did you take? What else have you got? Tell me the truth or, I
swear, I shall run you through with this knife!"
Hermione had managed to quiet herself to a dull whimper when Bellatrix
went back to the beginning and started over on the open wounds the dagger
had left on her arm. This time she went deeper, and Hermione heard herself
begin to scream involuntarily once more.
When she had finished, the black haired woman held her blade, already red
with Hermione's blood, up to the girl's neck.
"What else did you take, what else? ANSWER ME!" And perhaps realizing
that Hermione was not planning on answering her, she raised her wand
again, still straddling her as she shouted, " CRUCIO !"
Again, the pain flooded her reality in an instant, filling every corner of her
experience with a white hot sensation that could be neither ignored, nor
properly catalogued. By the time the older witch lifted the curse, Hermione
had wet herself, and she found it impossible to stop screaming.
It took Bellatrix backhanding her again to bring Hermione back to her senses
and back to the moment enough that she realized she was being addressed
again.
"How did you get into my vault? Did that dirty little goblin in the cellar help
you?" Now, Hermione was certain she heard a child crying somewhere in the
distance, and she shook her head to try to ignore it.
"We only met him tonight!" Hermione sobbed instead. "We've never been
inside your vault." And, seeing Bellatrix raise her hand again, she flinched
and turned her face to hide her already injured cheek. "It isn't the real
sword! It's a copy, just a copy!" She knew the words were a lie, but she
couldn't think of anything to say which might appease the madwoman above
her. She couldn't know that the sword was real, couldn't be given any inkling
that they might be hunting Horcruxes."
"A copy?" screeched Bellatrix. "Oh, a likely story!"
"But we can find out easily!" Hermione turned towards the voice which had
spoken, spotting Lucius Malfoy, who stood beside his wife and son. "Draco,
fetch the goblin, he can tell us whether the sword is real or not!"
She watched as Draco followed his father's orders, disappearing down the
same dark passage she had seen Harry and Ron go into.
"You think you're so clever," Bellatrix hissed into Hermione's ear, "But I will
find out the truth if it kills you, Mudblood. You are worth less than the carpet
you're bleeding on."
"And Delphini," Hermione whispered, suddenly enraged, her voice hoarse as
she found herself staring up into Bellatrix Lestrange's shocked eyes. "Is she
worth more, with a half-blood father?"
Bellatrix looked nearly apoplectic at Hermione's words. "How did you-"
"The Black Family Tapestry." Hermione paused to cough. "That's her crying
upstairs, isn't it?"
" CRUCIO !"
When the curse was finally lifted, Hermione understood how the woman now
standing above her had driven Neville's parents to madness with a single,
unvarying curse repeated time after time. She did not pay attention as the
Goblin was interrogated, only continued to lay on the expensive oriental rug,
watching her blood drip from the word she had finally been able to read, to
the floor. She had been a fool, to mention the child, and she knew that if her
birth was as much a secret as she had expected, Bellatrix would not let her
live once she had solved the problem of the sword. She felt herself begin to
cry again, and let her eyes flutter shut.
Hogwarts Castle
2 May 1998
When it was over, and he had fallen asleep in his old familiar four poster
bed, Harry dreamed.
He walked quickly toward the cottage, dead leaves scraping the ground
beneath his cloak as he moved through the night. The streets were empty,
and as he approached the door of the cheery home, it swung open in
invitation.
He didn't raise a wand as he walked through the house, he didn't need to,
they were already dead. The father, a black haired man with unseeing red
eyes, lay unmoving on the stairs. Harry stepped over his body, making his
way up to the room he knew would be a nursery.
The mother, her black hair streaked by premature grey, was propped
against the crib, her head lolling grotesquely to the side, her neck obviously
broken.
As he approached, the child began to cry, and Harry forced himself to look
at her. She was round cheeked and grey eyed, her thick black curls an
unruly mop atop her head as she screamed, tears streaming down to her
chin.
The lightning shaped cut on her forehead accused him as he raised his
wand.
Harry woke with a start, his head swimming as he breathed out a single
world.
"Delphini."
Chapter 3
A/N: Keeping on schedule so far! I'm several chapters ahead with my
writing and really feeling this story this week. Cheers for my muse! And a
thousand thanks to both my alpha and beta readers, Shayalonnie and
Oblivionbaby, without whom this story would likely not have gotten beyond
the prologue.
The Burrow
31 July 1998
Eighteen didn't feel much different than seventeen to Harry. He thought
perhaps this had something to do with that fact that he'd spent most of the
previous year on the run or fighting a war. Whether he liked it or not, he had
become an adult the moment he'd left the Burrow-the day of Bill and Fleur's
wedding. An extra birthday did little to add to that.
Still, despite his general lack of interest in the anniversary of his birth, he
was unwilling to deny Mrs Weasley an event to plan, especially one she
seemed excited about. "You only turn eighteen once, Harry," she had told
him. "And as your seventeenth birthday was interrupted by that man, I
think you deserve a day uninterrupted by politics." That was how he had
ended up the center of attention at a gathering which seemed to rival even
the best attended of the Weasleys' parties.
"I don't recognize half of the people here," Harry told Ron as they found a
table beneath the marquee which had been erected again after a year of
disuse.
"Mum may have gone a little overboard with the guest list," Ron agreed,
eyeing a pair of Fleur's veela cousins, who were chatting merrily with Charlie
beside the punch bowl.
"A little overboard? I don't think I saw this many people at Bill's wedding."
Ron shrugged and took a sip of his butterbeer. "Planning things makes her
happy."
"Well," said Harry, "when you and Hermione tie the knot she'll have another
event worthy of all this work."
He watched as Ron's cheeks paled and he looked up to meet his eyes.
"What?" he asked, sounding incredulous. "Tie the knot? What are you on
about?"
"I only meant… well, it seems natural, doesn't it? You two. I know it's early,
but I thought one day you'd… well, you know." Harry looked down at his
glass, suddenly feeling more than a little disconcerted by the thought of his
two best friends marrying. It was odd enough seeing them kiss in greeting,
and often when he saw it he was reminded of the way Hermione had laid
into Ron upon his return the previous year. He had not imagined, in the long
weeks of Ron's absence, that the brunette witch would ever forgive the man
to whom she had given her heart. Sometimes, when he saw the way she
held herself in the redhead's arms, he wondered if she really had.
"Oh, I dunno," Ron said, frowning slightly as he began to blush. "I think you
and Ginny are more likely to go there before we do. Mum'd be pleased to
have you as a proper son, at any rate.
"I'm not going to get married to make your mum happy, Ron," Harry said,
perhaps too harshly.
"That's not what I meant. Merlin. You're touchier than a venomous tentacula
these days. How'd we start talking about marriage anyway?" Ron took a sip
of his butterbeer and then looked back up at Harry. "We're too young to be
thinking about any of this. I mean, Ginny and Hermione are both going back
to school in September, aren't they? We're barely more than kids."
"I don't think we've been kids for a long time," said Harry as he spotted
Ginny across the crowd; she was chatting amicably with Dean Thomas. He
remembered suddenly that he was a former boyfriend of hers and waited for
the off monster of jealousy to rise in his chest. When it didn't, he breathed a
sigh of relief, turning back to Ron, who had become engrossed in watching
the veela cousins again.
"Where's Hermione, anyway?" Harry asked, and Ron looked up at him with a
blush.
"Running late. I left her upstairs doing something to her hair."
"Her hair? That doesn't sound like her." Harry furrowed his brow as Ron
shrugged.
"I only know what she tells me, mate."
Harry glanced in the direction of the Burrow, wondering as he did so, what
Hermione had really been doing.
"Hullo, Sis." Harry looked up at Ron's greeting, his gaze landing on the lithe
young woman at his side. He smiled.
"Ginny. You look lovely." And she did. Her long red hair fell in a smooth
cascade down her back, and a sprig of wildflowers over one ear
complemented the pink of her sun dress.
"Prat," Ginny said, acknowledging Ron's greeting before sinking into the
chair on Harry's other side and smiling at him. "Boyfriend. Fancy seeing you
here."
"At my own party? Truly a shock," Harry teased. Ginny laughed, and he was
reminded of the sunny days they would spend nestled beside the Great Lake
in his sixth year; entwined in one another's arms and satisfied by their
proximity. He wondered why he couldn't recapture that feeling now that he
was actually free to enjoy it.
"Mum wants to know if you'd rather do the cake before or after the dancing."
She propped her elbow on the table and her cheek against her palm, staring
at him expectantly.
"Umm, whatever's easier for her."
"I told her you'd say that," Ginny said, smiling again. "Shall I make
something up?"
Harry gave her a grateful nod, and she leaned toward him. Her lips were
warm against his, but he pulled away just as he felt her begin to deepen the
kiss. He cleared his throat. She gave him a disappointed look, her lips tight
as she rose to leave.
Harry didn't watch her go, only stared down at his hands in his lap. When at
last he looked up it was to catch Ron staring at him speculatively. God,
Harry thought, I am such an ass . And his best friend-the older brother of
the girl he was supposed to be desperately in love with-had witnessed it. To
his credit, Ron said nothing, only sighed and took a long gulp of his
butterbeer before standing.
"I think I'm going to get something a bit stronger. Do you want anything?"
He shook his head and watched Ron go, nodding in Kingsley's direction when
they caught sight of each other, and surveyed the rest of the crowd. He
hadn't been exaggerating when he had told Ron he didn't recognize half of
the people in attendance. Part of him wondered whether Molly had simply
recycled the guest list from the wedding she had hosted the year before;
that would certainly explain the veelas' presence, as well as Elphias Doge
and Ron's Auntie Muriel, both of whom were sitting in the opposite corner of
the party with goblets of elf made wine and annoyed expressions on their
faces. A further sweep of the tent's occupants revealed Luna Lovegood
talking animatedly with an uncomfortable looking Percy Weasley. She
seemed to have backed him against a wall and was waving her wand from
the top of his head to the tips of his toes, shaking her head and fishing what
looking like a rolled up sock from her pocket to thrust into the red-head's
hand. Harry smiled and stood, thinking he might go and rescue Percy from
whatever Luna was doing, but before he could take a step, a familiar voice
sounded from behind him.
"Why, Mr Potter, It is a pleasure to see you." Harry froze, turning slowly
until he was facing the person who had addressed him. When he saw her
clearly, he grimaced.
"Skeeter. What are you doing here? I know you didn't get an invitation."
"No need for such vitriol," the woman chided, her tight blonde curls stiff as
she dipped her head in his direction. Harry noticed the Quick-Quotes quill
hovering over a parchment near her hand. "I've come in peace."
"Somehow, I don't believe you," Harry said. "Now clear off."
"Come now, Harry, it's taken me so long to start this conversation, it would
be a pity to postpone it."
"I don't want to talk to you, Rita, you're a viper. A little beetle who butts in
where she's not wanted and spreads lies around like dung."
"Now that's just hurtful," she said, pouting as Harry cast his gaze around the
party, looking for Mrs Weasley, who he knew would send Skeeter on her
way. "All I want is to tell your side of the story, Harry! You're the savior of
the Wizarding world! You're the Chosen One! Everyone is dying to know
what it's like in your shoes! Help me, help you!"
"Help you make a quick galleon, you mean," Harry snapped, turning his
green eyes back to pierce Skeeter where she stood. "I know what you do.
Don't think I've forgotten the tripe you wrote about Dumbledore."
"The facts," Rita said, her eyes glittering. "And speaking of Dumbledore,
Merlin bless him, would you be willing to substantiate the rumors about the
role he played in your near death experiences?"
"I'd be willing to tell you to piss off," answered Harry, turning his back on
the reporter and striding away. He clenched his jaw as he heard the rustling
of her stiff party dress, which meant she was following him.
"Harry, I know we've had our differences, but you must know that the
Prophet only wants to be your friend! You're a hero! What would I gain by
maligning you?"
"Ratings," said Harry, not missing a beat as he whirled about again to face
her. His rapid pace had drawn attention now, and he could hear people
murmuring as they began to recognize Skeeter. Good. He hoped they tore
her to pieces on her way out.
"I'm only asking for ten minutes," she said, pressing on despite the
obviously mounting tension around them. "Ten minutes and a cup of tea,
and I promise you full control over the final published piece."
"Your promises mean nothing to me," Harry said, not bothering to mince
words.
"What the hell are you doing here?!" Ron's voice rose above the crowd as he
spotted Skeeter, and Harry watched as he rushed forward, stepping between
Harry and the blonde haired reporter without hesitation, a drink in each
hand and a scowl on his face.
"Ah, Mr Weasley. A pleasure. I was hoping to catch you as well. Not feeling
particularly talkative today, by any chance?"
"No," said Ron, "but I'm feeling plenty violent. Want me to give in to that
impulse?"
"I trust you heard that, Minister?" Skeeter raised her voice, calling to
Kingsley, who stood several yards away, watching the confrontation unfold.
"I'm not sure what you're referring to, Rita," he said, his deep voice
reverberating through the sudden silence.
"I see," Skeeter smiled broadly, waving her hand at the Quick-Quotes quill
still floating in the air beside her. Immediately, it darted into the purse
dangling from the crook of her arm. "Well, I can see I've overstayed my
welcome. I'll catch up with you later, shall I, Harry?"
"I think that's for the best." Harry looked behind him in surprise at the
sound of Hermione's voice, full of steel and a tight anger. When he caught
sight of her, his eyes widened.
"Miss Granger," said Skeeter, her voice stiff as she seemed to shrink where
she stood. "I was just leaving."
"What a pity," Hermione said, eyes glittering as she watched the other
woman take several steps backward before turning around and rushing
toward the edge of the marquee where she disappeared past the silken wall.
"Blimey, Hermione," Ron said, sounding awed. "That cow's more terrified of
you than my threats of violence. I'm feeling a little less manly now."
"Well," Hermione said, "I made an impression, once upon a time." Harry
didn't try to suppress the smile that came at the memory of Skeeter in a jar.
Around them, the other partygoers resumed their conversations, leaving the
trio in the center of the dance floor to stand in silence, Hermione still staring
after the spot where Skeeter had disappeared, and both Harry and Ron
staring in awe at her.
"Hermione, you look nice," Harry said at last, when he had managed to
catalogue the differences between this Hermione and the one he saw on a
nearly daily basis.
"Thank you, Harry," Hermione said with a bright smile. She patted the skirt
of her dress, smoothing a few small creases as she did so.
"What did you get all dressed up for?" asked Ron. He was scowling now and
looking for all the world as if she had done something to offend him. Harry's
eyebrows shot up as he turned his face away from his two friends. If they
were about to start arguing it was not something he wanted to become
entangled in.
"What do you mean, 'why'?" Hermione asked, sounding affronted. "I'm at
perfect liberty to wear a dress and do my hair for my friends-"
"What about that stuff on your face?" Ron questioned, crossing his arms
defensively across his chest. "You never put on makeup!"
"I do too," Hermione hissed. "When an occasion calls for it, I'm happy to
dress up and-"
"So seeing me doesn't call for putting an effort into your appearance?"
"Umm," Harry tried to cut in to excuse himself but was promptly silenced by
a glare from Hermione.
"Don't you dare try to make my appearance out to be some sort of reflection
on you. This is not the 1950's, Ronald!"
"I didn't mean it like that! I'm only saying that you never look like this!"
"Like what? Pretty?"
"Guys-"
"Shut up, Harry!" Ron snapped, and then turned back to Hermione. "You're
twisting my words! You know I think you're pretty."
"Do I?" Her voice was soft and higher than normal now. "Well, what a
consolation. Here I was under the impression that I wasn't sure whether you
found me attractive or not, beings as you never say anything about it-but
I've known all along how you really feel! Honestly my Legilimency skills are
far better than even I could have imagined, as I'm apparently capable of
reading your mind." These last words were spoken on a hiss, and Hermione
whirled away from the pair of them, elbowing her way into the crowd and
leaving both Ron and Harry in stunned silence behind her.
"Bloody woman's gone round the twist," said Ron after nearly a full minute
of silence. Harry, who had just been thinking Ron was rather lucky Hermione
hadn't smacked him round the head for being so incredibly obtuse, cleared
his throat.
"I should probably go make sure she doesn't do something she'll regret,"
said Harry, and at Ron's incredulous look he merely shrugged, shaking his
head and following Hermione through the crowd and out of the marquee.
The night air was cool and crisp, a welcome relief from the warmth inside of
the tent. Harry looked about for Hermione, catching sight of her in the
distance; she was sitting down on a bench inside the Weasley's back gate.
He made his way over to her, settling on the bench beside her and putting
an arm around her shoulder. He could feel her trembling, her upper arms
bare beneath his hand and cool to the touch.
"Ron can be a prat," Harry said, knowing he couldn't defend his friends
words.
Hermione let out one short laugh and buried her face in her hands, the sliver
of mirth melting into muffled sobs. Harry let her cry, his hand rubbing her
upper arm in a circular pattern. He remembered sitting beside her, just like
this, in the tent last year. She had cried so often those first few weeks Ron
had been gone, and on more than one occasion Harry had held her while she
let down her guard, the tears soaking his shirt as he let her feel his warmth
and wished to hell Ron would have had the sense to treat her better.
When at last she seemed to have exhausted herself of tears, she looked up
at him, her mascara running down her cheeks and her red lipstick smeared
just slightly. "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to make you miss your
party. I just can't stand him sometimes."
Harry gritted his teeth to keep from telling her he felt the same. He had to
be neutral here. He was a friend to them both, loved them both. Ron was
going through a lot, just like he was, just like Hermione.
"He cares about you, I know he does," Harry said at last. "He just… I think
he has trouble showing it, because he worries you don't feel the same."
"Idiot," Hermione said, wiping her face with the back of her hand and
frowning down at the streaks of makeup left behind there. "Hell. There goes
my makeup. So much for looking nice."
"I still think you look great," said Harry, before he could examine his
compliment or think better of it. With a blush, he released her, standing and
stuffing his hands in his pockets. A sudden, confusing feeling of guilt swept
over him, and he bit his lower lip.
"Thank you," said Hermione, who had not moved from her spot on the
bench. "That's very kind."
"Yeah well, I reckon Ron thinks so too and was just too worried it was for
someone else to say so."
"That's the problem with him, isn't it?" Hermione said, her voice low, her
gaze trained on the ground in front of her. "He'll never trust that he's the
one I've chosen. He'll always doubt me, no matter what I say."
Harry had no response for her, and so he stood there stone faced, his hands
warming in his dress robes as he waited for her to say something more or
give some sign she wanted to be alone. When at last she looked up again,
he met her gaze with a warm smile and a shrug. She smiled back at him,
sighed, and stood, brushing the creases out of her skirt again and looking at
him with watery eyes.
"Tell me the truth. How awful does my face look right now?"
"Well…"
"Oh God. That bad?"
"It's just a bit runny is all, all the pieces are in the proper place still."
"Very funny," Hermione said, reaching into the little beaded bag she still
carried with her and drawing out a compact mirror which she used to check
her face. "Merlin. Hold this." She thrust her purse into Harry's hand and
drew a handkerchief out from down the front of her dress. Harry averted his
gaze as she tended to her appearance in front of the little mirror. When she
was finished she looked back up at him. She had wiped the running makeup
from beneath her eyes and done away with the lipstick all together, but
Harry thought she still looked lovely.
"Much better," he said, and Hermione gave him a grateful smile as she
stowed her mirror and handkerchief away once more.
"I'm really sorry about dragging you away from everyone else like that,"
Hermione told him. "I know Ginny had something planned with the cake."
"Don't worry about it," Harry assured her. "I was actually hoping for a
moment alone."
"Oh?"
Harry looked down at his hands, suddenly nervous. It was true, he had
wanted to talk to her, to discuss one on one the thoughts and the dreams
which had been plaguing him for the past three months. He knew that
between Ron and Hermione-the only two of his friends aware of Delphini
Riddle's existence-she was far more likely to be somewhat sympathetic.
Losing Fred had changed Ron. He was still his old self, brave and loyal
despite his insecurities, but the death of his brother had honed his disgust
with Dark magic to a razor sharp edge. Anything he saw as somehow
connected to Voldemort became unpardonable now, and Harry knew that
trying to convince him otherwise too soon would do little good.
"Harry?"
Harry looked back at Hermione at the sound of his name. He gave her a
nervous smile and sat down beside her once more, resting his elbows on his
knees and cradling his head in his hands.
"I've been… thinking a lot lately." The words came out muffled against his
palms.
"Anything specific on your mind?" she asked, her voice light and cautious.
Harry nodded and listened as Hermione sighed next to him.
"Harry, is this about what I think it is?"
Finally working up the courage to look her in the face, he turned his head so
that he could see her.
"I know there's nothing I can really do about it. About her. But I just can't
stop myself from wondering what happened to her. There was a baby,
Hermione. A human being who depended on two people I killed-"
"To be fair," Hermione interrupted, "you had nothing to do with Bellatrix's
death. I think Mrs Weasley might be a little upset if she knew you were
trying to claim credit for her handywork."
"You know what I mean," snapped Harry, trying not to sound frustrated but
failing miserably. "Sorry, sorry. I just… I feel responsible."
"Oh Harry," Hermione said, her voice softening even further as she wrapped
an arm around his shoulders. "I know you do. That's part of who you are.
You care about people, deeply. Just look at where you are now. You saw me
argue with Ron, and you came out to make sure I was alright. It's in your
nature to worry about others, and to try and care for them, to fix them."
"Are you saying I'm just trying to make myself feel less guilty?" asked Harry,
who had feared as much himself.
"No," Hermione said, quickly and firmly. "That's not what I'm saying. This
isn't about your misplaced guilt. This is about the type of man you are. You
care about people, Harry, especially people who have no one else to care for
them. There's a reason you risked your life to save Ginny in our second
year, a reason you risked your life to save Sirius the year after that. You've
saved my life on more than one occasion, and Ron's as well. You saved the
whole Wizarding world from Voldemort, and it's not because you felt guilty,
or have some sort of complex. It's because you're a good man. You're the
type of man who risks himself for others because it's right. And if you care
this deeply about a child you've never met, the child of a man who tried to
kill you on multiple occasions, that's why. You're following your instincts, the
instincts of a kind and honorable man." Her voice trailed off into the night
air, leaving a thick silence in its wake. Harry, who had not been able to pry
his gaze away from Hermione as she had spoken, blinked rapidly and cleared
his throat before straightening up and rubbing the palms of his chilled hands
over the tops of his thighs. He felt Hermione's arm fall from around his
shoulders in the process.
"Well," he said, fighting the emotion that was threatening to bubble up and
overwhelm him. The last thing he needed now was to start crying. With his
luck, Ron would choose that moment to emerge from the tent in search of
his best friends, and Hermione would be left in the awkward position of
having to explain away Harry's tears. "In that case, I've got something I
need to ask you. A favor."
Hermione gave him a brilliant smile and grabbed his hand with hers, giving it
a reassuring squeeze.
"You know I'm with you," she said, "Whatever you need. Then and now."
Harry squeezed her hand in return, holding it tight and nodding once. She
was with him, his closest friend after everything they had gone through
together… He only hoped that the plan that was formulating in his head
didn't make her regret it.
Chapter 5
A/N: Just a note to let you know I'm going on vacation this month and won't
be back with my computer until the 26th. I've uploaded an extra chapter so
that I can still post again this month from my phone. Please remember to
send kisses to OblivionBaby and ShayaLonnie for their hard work and
support of this story. And thank you, thank you for the lovely reviews you
have been sending. I read each one and they give me warm fuzzy feelings.
Thank you.
The Burrow
5 August 1998
It was the middle of the afternoon, and the room was warm. The rest of the
family was going about their business that morning; Mrs Weasley was in the
vegetable garden working with Ginny, and Percy was at the Ministry of Magic
with Mr Weasley. Ron and Hermione, however, had been left to their own
devices. To Hermione, this seemed like the perfect circumstance under
which she could catch up on some reading that she had been postponing,
but to Ron, it apparently seemed like an altogether different opportunity.
"Ron, I really would like to get through these chapters today," Hermione said
in exasperation, clutching the tome tightly to her chest. Ron, who was
apparently unconcerned with her revisions, merely plucked the volume from
her arms and tossed it onto the chair behind him.
"You've been reading all day. Why don't you try living for a change?"
"All day? It's barely half past eleven! It's not even noon yet!"
Ron continued unperturbed, dropping onto the couch beside her and draping
an arm over her shoulders. "Hermione, I'm not going to let you waste away
all summer with your nose in a book. I know you like to read-"
"I'm trying to study, actually."
"But you've got the rare opportunity to spend more than ten bloody minutes
alone with your boyfriend, and I thought you might like to make use of that
time."
"Ron," Hermione sighed and relaxed into the back of the sofa, leaning her
head on Ron's upper arm and giving him a smile. "Your mother's just outside
with Ginny. If they walk in and see us snogging on the sofa, do you really
think we'll be left alone again for the remainder of the holiday?"
"I'm willing to risk it." Ron grinned down at her, and Hermione felt a now
familiar twinge in her chest. It was the feeling which liked to remind her that
no matter how charming or kind Ronald Weasley was to her, there had been
a time when he'd abandoned her, and even more times when he'd reduced
her to tears. She pushed the feeling firmly away, reminding herself as she
did so that Ron may not be perfect, but he did care about her, and he was
one of her closest friends.
She gave one short nod in his direction after several more seconds of
thought. It was all the agreement Ron needed. In another moment, he was
sliding his arm down to encircle her waist and draw her closer to him. His
mouth on hers was warm and pleasant, moving eagerly as his tongue traced
the seam between her lips, looking for admittance. She let him in with the
practiced ease of familiarity. They had spent many evenings since the Battle
at Hogwarts together like this, and though they had never been more
intimate than a hand below her shirt or over his trousers, the time they had
spent together had certainly taught them enough to be comfortable with one
another.
As his fingers traced a pattern over her back, Hermione shivered, the
pleasure she felt at his touch dominating her thoughts at last as she let
herself sink fully into his embrace. Ron hummed contentedly against her lips
as she pressed her chest to his, wrapping one of her own arms around his
neck and lacing her fingers through his hair. This was good, she thought,
this was right. No matter what reservations plagued her regarding their
relationship, here in his arms she could at least forget them.
"Hermione, are you-Oh bloody hell!" The voice which broke the silence was
familiar, but it still made both Ron and Hermione jump, knocking their teeth
together uncomfortably as she winced and scrambled to the opposite edge of
the couch.
"Sorry, sorry!" Harry called from behind his hands which were now shielding
his eyes from seeing anything further. "Merlin, I'm really sorry. I didn't
realize you were both in here or I would have made noise before coming
round the corner."
"It's perfectly alright, Harry," Hermione assured him, wiping the corners of
her mouth with the back of her hand and glancing at Ron, who sat beside
her, scowling.
"Is it?" he asked, and at his sharp tone Harry looked up, his brows furrowed.
"Of course it is," Hermione snapped. She didn't like that her first instinct was
to chide Ron but was aware that there was no getting past it after all these
years. "I told you it wasn't a good idea to do that here."
"Look, if the two of you need a few minutes I can go. Ginny wanted to have
a word anyway." Hermione met Harry's gaze and shook her head.
"That won't be necessary," she assured him, casting a glance in Ron's
direction which dared him to contradict her. He only rolled his eyes and
folded his arms across his chest in response. "I thought you weren't coming
until noon though."
Harry gave a sheepish grin and shrugged. "Sorry about that. I was bored at
home. Thought I'd come along early to see if you were ready."
"There's really no need to apologize," Hermione said, standing and looking
around for her beaded bag. She thought she had left it just there on the end
table.
"Are you going somewhere?" Ron asked, still looking perturbed.
"Harry asked me to go to Diagon Alley with him. He's got to get a gift for
Ginny's birthday and wanted a woman's opinion." The lie slipped easily off of
her tongue, and Hermione met Ron's eyes evenly.
"It should only take us a couple of hours," said Harry. "I would have asked
you, but I know how much you hate going to the girly shops."
Ron, who still wore an odd expression on his face, nodded slowly. "Yeah,
you're probably right," he said.
"There it is!" Hermione exclaimed, spotting her purse on the floor beside the
sofa at last. "Are you ready, Harry?"
He nodded, and Hermione leaned down to drop a peck on Ron's cheek. "I'll
see you later," she said, feeling an odd sense of relief as she walked away
from him.
"Bye," he called. She didn't turn around again before she left the room.
Malfoy Manor
5 August 1998
They had both been there before, and so they were not surprised by the
heavy, ornate gates which admitted them, or the gilded window casings that
sparkled in the midday sun. In fact, the only thing Harry was awed by was
the steady pace Hermione kept on her way to the front door, unfaltering
despite the things which had been done to her the last time she had set foot
in Malfoy Manor. When they reached the door they realized there was no
handle, only a pair of heavy brass door-knockers in the shape of peacocks,
their tail feathers displayed ostentatiously. Harry paused on the front step,
glancing over at Hermione, who nodded in his direction before he reached
out and knocked on the door.
They waited for only seconds before one of the heavy doors swung inward,
revealing a diminutive elf in a crisp white pillowcase, the Malfoy family crest
emblazoned over its chest. Harry heard Hermione huff beside him and took a
small step to stand closer beside her.
"We're here to see Narcissa Malfoy," Harry said to the silent elf in the
doorway. She-for Harry was almost certain the house elf was a female-
stared up at him for several more seconds before nodding once and receding
into the house, leaving them on the front stoop with the dimly lit entryway
beyond in full view.
"Should we go in, do you think?" Hermione asked, craning forward to see
into the house. Harry supposed the last time they had been admitted, there
had not been much time to study the decorations or the architecture.
"She left the door open," Harry shrugged, and then watched in surprise as
Hermione stepped through the doorway and into the house, her wand out as
she lit all of the sconces in the hall.
"Wait for me," he said, following at once and palming his own wand as he
crossed the threshold.
"What is the meaning of this?" Narcissa Malfoy's voice was high and
tremulous as she came striding into the entryway from the drawing room to
the left. She was dressed in a set of rose colored robes, her hair pinned back
from her face with silver combs as her hands shook in front of her, empty.
In a sudden flash of memory, Harry recalled that after her husband had
been sent to Azkaban again, she had been stripped of her wand in addition
to being confined to the manor, the sentence of home arrest to last until
Draco finished another year at Hogwarts.
"Mrs Malfoy," Harry said, lowering his wand and sliding it into his pocket as
Hermione did the same, "we're sorry to disturb you."
"Is that so?" She did not sound as if she believed him, and Hermione cleared
her throat.
"We're here to ask you some questions," Hermione said, her tone even.
"Please believe that we wouldn't have come here again if it weren't
important."
Harry watched as Narcissa winced, reminded, it seemed, of the last time the
visitors in her foyer had been inside of the house.
"Very well," she said, voice stiff, "you may come with me to the patio. I'll
have Tottsy set out some tea." She turned her back on them without
another word, sweeping from the room with grace as the little house elf,
which they had not noticed on Narcissa's heels, motioned for them to follow
before disapparating.
The path from the entrance to the back patio was more circuitous than Harry
had expected, taking them through the entrance way, down several
hallways, into the kitchen, and out through the garden. It was not until
Narcissa was motioning for the both of them to sit at an ornate table made
of gold and glass that Harry realized the patio was directly connected to the
drawing room, and that the reason it had taken them so long to reach was
because Mrs Malfoy had led them around it. As Hermione stiffened beside
him, Harry knew she had realized the same thing, and he reached out a
hand to squeeze hers before letting go and sitting down beside her.
As soon as they were all seated, there was a small pop and a silver tea
service appeared before them, the pot lifting into the air of its own accord
and pouring three perfectly measured portions into china teacups. Once
filled, the cups twirled in the air as they floated towards the three of them
and settled soundlessly on top of the table.
"Thank you," said Harry, more out of habit than any real sense of politeness.
Though Narcissa had been pivotal in defeating the Dark Lord in the end-her
lie in the Forbidden Forest the only reason he had lived to defeat Voldemort
when the time came-he could not help but remember the way she had urged
Draco to identify him last March, or the way she had stood aside while her
insane sister had tortured his best friend.
"Tell me," her voice was soft and cautious as she spoke, and Harry looked
up to see the guarded expression on Mrs Malfoy's face, "to what do I owe
the pleasure of your company, Mr Potter?"
Harry hesitated, not sure how to phrase the question he needed to pose. If
he went about this the wrong way, he might never get the information he
needed.
"This tea is lovely," Hermione said, drawing Narcissa's even stare and giving
the older woman an awkward smile. The blonde woman nodded in return.
"Thank you. It's my own personal blend."
Before she could turn her gaze back to Harry, Hermione spoke again. "Is
that orange and chocolate in there? Maybe a hint of cinnamon?"
One of Narcissa's perfectly manicured brows raised elegantly, and she tilted
her head to the side, clearly curious now. "You've a keen sense of taste, Miss
Granger."
"A keen memory as well," said Hermione, not missing a beat as she set her
teacup down down, giving Narcissa a brilliant smile.
The pleasant expression on Mrs Malfoy's face only faltered for a moment, a
testament to her upbringing, Harry supposed.
"Yes, I imagine you would have to, with the marks you managed at
Hogwarts. Draco was also extremely put out that you managed to outscore
him on every exam. Are you planning to return for an eighth year?"
"I am," Hermione confirmed. "I remember reading that Draco would be as
well."
"It is a condition of his parole," Narcissa said, somewhat stiffly. "Though I
would have insisted even if it weren't. Education is important."
"I can certainly agree with that." Hermione set down her cup and glanced in
Harry's direction. He caught her gaze and shook his head as imperceptibly as
he could manage. He wasn't ready to do this, to ask Narcissa Malfoy the
question that had been preying on him. He didn't even know how to begin.
He watched as Hermione's expression morphed from one of caution to
determination, and he barely had time to widen his eyes before she was
speaking again.
"I suppose family is important to you as well?" she asked, facing Narcissa
again.
"Hermione-" Harry interrupted, a hint of warning in his voice. If they went
about this the wrong way…
"Yes, it is," Narcissa answered, setting her own teacup down soundlessly and
tilting her chin up in apparent defiance. "So if you are here to harm my son
in some way, I'm afraid I must tell you that I cannot- will not -do anything
which might be to his detriment."
"Other than allowing him to join a supremacist cult," Hermione said, her
words now clipped.
"If you think you can come to my home and insult-"
"Enough!" Harry spoke sharply, slamming his tea down onto the table so
hard that it sloshed out onto the glass top. "We're not here to insult you," he
said to Narcissa before catching Hermione's eye and giving her an
exasperated look. She frowned but nodded once, crossing her arms across
her chest and leaning back in her chair. Harry knew this had to be difficult
for her. The last time she had seen any of the Malfoys had been at their
sentencing, and he knew that she had been disappointed that the woman
who had stood by as she'd been tortured had received little more than a slap
on the wrist and a year of house arrest. Hermione had many virtues, but
forgiveness was not one which came particularly easy to her, though she did
try.
"Look, I'm not good at this type of thing," Harry said, folding his hands on
top of the table and peering back at Mrs Malfoy. "Your family and I don't
have the best of histories."
"I'm aware," interjected Narcissa dryly. "I had thought that your testimony
on our behalf, however, might have served to heal that particular divide."
Beside him, Hermione laughed. Harry ignored her and met Narcissa's blue
eyed gaze. He was struck in that moment by how very similar her eyes were
to Sirius's. Despite the difference in their coloring, they were the same
shape, with the same steel in their depths. He rarely remembered that his
godfather had been cousin to the Malfoys, but here, now, the fact made his
task all the easier.
"Maybe it did, a bit. Maybe that's why I'm here. I need your help, Mrs
Malfoy. I need to ask you a question, and I need you to tell me the truth."
Narcissa Malfoy's gaze narrowed and she pursed her lips. "I'm not in the
habit of telling lies, Mr Potter."
"Good. That's good," said Harry before pausing. He looked at Hermione, who
gave him a single nod and a tight lipped smile before turning her attention
back to the blonde woman across the table. Harry swallowed and forced
himself to speak again.
"Mrs Malfoy, I need to know about your niece." The words once spoken were
simple enough that Harry almost felt stupid for dreading them so much.
Narcissa looked confused for several moments before speaking, her perfectly
groomed eyebrows knitting together as she spoke. "Andromeda's girl? I'm
not sure I ever met her."
At once, Harry recognized his mistake. A twinge of guilt panged in his chest
as he lowered his eyes. She thought he had been asking about Tonks. Tonks
who had died defending him and countless others.
"No," Hermione's voice was crisp and unaffected by emotion now as she
began to clarify Harry's question.
"We don't mean that niece. It's the other we're interested in. Bellatrix's
daughter."
"Bella-I'm sure I don't know what you mean." Despite her words, there was
an edge in her voice and in her expression that betrayed her, and Harry
shook his head.
"We know about Delphini, Mrs Malfoy, and we don't want to hurt her."
"Mr Potter, I assure you I haven't the slightest idea to what you're referring.
I had only one niece, and she is, unfortunately, dead. Bellatrix was never
able to have children, you see." She picked up her cup and sipped from it,
her eyes focused studiously on the china rather than the two people across
from her.
"I thought you weren't in the habit of telling lies." Hermione's voice was
sharp, and Narcissa looked up with flashing eyes at the tone.
"I'm not sure I like your accusations, Miss Granger."
"I'm not accusing you of anything," Hermione snapped. "I'm stating a fact.
You can't tell me Bellatrix didn't tell you all about how the filthy Mudblood
who bled out on your oriental carpet, knew her secret."
"I think I'd like you to leave." Narcissa's voice was icy as she stood, and
Harry felt a distinct chill in the air emanating from her direction.
"Please," Harry said, standing to face her and placing a hand on Hermione's
arm when she sprang up beside him. He had known this visit would be
difficult for her, but if Narcissa gave him what he was looking for, he would
need a third. "I swear I'm not going to tell anyone. Can you imagine the
outrage if people knew? I'm not interested in creating an uproar. But I saw
the tapestry at Grimmauld Place; it changed right in front of me. I can't just
ignore it. Her."
Narcissa's furious expression softened only slightly as her gaze narrowed
once more. "I don't see why not," she said, her voice harsh and clipped. "If
what you're suggesting is true, it hardly has any bearing on you now."
"You're right," Harry agreed, "She's really not anything to me. She's my
enemy's kid…" He stopped speaking long enough to swallow down the bile
he could feel rising inside of him. "But she's also more than that. She's like
me, you see. She had parents, and now she doesn't. She's got no one,
certainly not you."
"You think to accuse me?" Narcissa asked, sounding affronted.
"No." Harry answered firmly. "No, that's not it at all. I just… I feel like we're
the same. And like I'm… responsible. Her parents are dead because of me."
"Her parents are dead because they were wrong," Narcissa hissed, fists
clenched at her side, the cold, swirling air now carrying little leaves in circles
around her.
"I need to know that she's okay. I need to know that wherever she is, she's
got more than a cupboard and spiders as company."
"Did you really think I wouldn't spare the money to make sure she had
enough?! She's my blood!"
"You've seen her then? Since the battle?" At Hermione's quiet question, the
cold cyclone which had been threatening to engulf them stilled completely,
leaves dropping out of the air and settling on the three of them.
"I-No. We didn't think it wise. The less she has to do with us, the less likely
it is she'll be discovered for who she is."
"Voldemort's daughter." Harry said the words and watched the way Narcissa
shuddered before nodding.
"Do you know where she is?" Hermione's question was quiet, unassuming,
but Narcissa looked at her with a scowl all the same.
"Of course I do," she snapped.
"Will you tell us?"
This time the older woman scoffed, finally settling back into her seat as she
shook her head. "I may not wish to associate myself with the child, but that
does not mean I wish her dead."
"I would never!" Harry cried, and Narcissa waved a hand in his direction
dismissively.
"Of course you wouldn't," she agreed, "But I must confess that I suspect
Miss Granger to be inarguably capable of it."
It was Hermione's turn to roll her eyes now as she settled back into her
chair, looking bored now. "Mrs Malfoy, if you think my hatred for your sister
could induce me to harm a child, I'm afraid you've been surrounding yourself
with entirely the wrong sort of people. My only interest in the girl is to make
sure that she is cared for and not being raised in her parents' footsteps."
"And if she is?" Narcissa asked, her piercing blue eyes meeting Hermione's
honey brown ones.
"We'll figure something out," Harry interjected. "We're not monsters. I only
want to see with my own eyes… I want to make sure I didn't… I'm not going
to hurt her."
"And I'm to trust your word, Mr Potter?"
"You are," said Hermione in a tone that left no room for argument.
"I see." Narcissa leaned back in her chair, watching the pair in front of her
speculatively for several moments before nodding once. "Very well. I will
provide you with the information you seek."
"Thank you," Harry said at once, relief flooding him. It felt as if a weight had
been lifted from his chest, and he gave the blonde woman a smile as he
began to relax. "You have no idea how much this means-"
"Oh, I think I understand exactly how much you value this information, Mr
Potter, which is why I will require something in return."
"You snake," Hermione accused. "You owe Harry! Without him you and your
precious family would likely be dead!"
"Without me, he would be dead," Narcissa hissed. "I risked my life when I
lied to the Dark Lord!"
"And you were rewarded with your freedom!" Hermione cried.
Narcissa laughed coldly, smoothing her robes out over her knees with both
hands before looking back up to meet Harry's green eyed gaze.
"I want Lucius back, Potter."
"Unacceptable," Hermione interrupted. "Lucius Malfoy is a murderer."
"You've no proof!" Narcissa cried.
"I suppose he was trying to cuddle us in the Department of Mysteries, was
he?"
"If my husband had wanted you dead, you would not be sitting here today,
Miss Granger."
"Alright," said Harry, but he was ignored as Hermione began speaking again.
"I'm only sitting here due to his incompetence," she spat.
"You will not insult my husband under this roof, you arrogant little chit!"
"I SAID ALRIGHT!" Harry bellowed above the women's exchange, standing
as he began to breathe heavily. "I'll do what I can for him. I'll talk to
Kingsley tomorrow. I can't guarantee an immediate release, but I'll do
everything in my power."
A hopeful, satisfied expression flitted across Narcissa's face as she watched
Harry, ignoring Hermione now as she nodded.
"When my husband is returned to me, I will tell you what you want to
know," she said, eyes shining.
"No." Hermione stood up again, drawing her wand in one quick motion and
pointing it at Narcissa. "No, I don't think so. You will tell us now, or there is
no deal."
The blonde woman's hopeful expression faltered as she studied Hermione,
until at last she nodded again. "Very well," she agreed, clapping her hands
twice. Immediately, the house elf who had met them at the door appeared
beside her mistress. "A quill and parchment, Tottsy." Two more soft pops
and Narcissa was writing something down and passing it across the table to
Harry, who took one glance at the address written there and folded it before
sticking it in his pocket.
"I'll expect an owl from you tomorrow, Mr Potter, with regards to your
conversation with the Minister. Tottsy will show you out."
"Not so fast," Hermione said, her wand still drawn. "We aren't done yet. Tell
me, Mrs Malfoy, how familiar are you with Unbreakable Vows?"
Chapter 6
173 Dupart Lane
9 August 1998
The home was not what she had expected. When Narcissa Malfoy had
written down the address on her own personal stationary and given it to
Harry, Hermione had imagined it would lead them to a house on par with the
Malfoys' ancestral manor. How very wrong she had been. Here at the end of
an unkempt lane, number one-hundred-seventy-three was little more than a
cottage in disarray. The full moon overhead bathed the wildly overgrown
front garden in silvery light. Where once there had been a sizable herb
garden, there was now an overgrown bed of rambling weeds interspersed
with the occasional mint and lavender. The rose bushes beside the front
steps were badly in need of pruning, and Hermione imagined that if they
were left much longer they would begin to take on the appearance of the
forest which had separated the prince from Sleeping Beauty's castle.
A loud crack behind her made Hermione jump, and she whirled to see a
cloaked figure standing in the dusty lane.
"Harry," she breathed as he lowered his hood. His hair was even more of a
mess than usual, the black locks sticking out at odd angles as if he'd been
running his fingers through them for a century. "There you are."
"Is this it?" he asked, staring at the peeling paint and the sagging steps
leading up to the front door. Hermione nodded and turned to face the place
with him.
"It isn't what I was expecting either."
"Merlin, you'd have thought the Malfoys would be too prideful to stick their
blood somewhere like this."
"She's not really a Malfoy though, is she?" Hermione reminded him. "She's
the half-blood daughter of a Black, born extramaritally. Not exactly someone
Wizarding nobility would want to associate themselves with."
"Bloody snobs."
"Quite."
They stared at the house for a while longer, watching for any sign that its
occupants might be awake and moving inside. Seeing none, Hermione
turned back to face Harry.
"I got your message, by the way," she said, trying to sound casual. "You
wouldn't believe how difficult it was for me to sneak out. Molly was up late
knitting."
Harry said nothing, only drew his wand and cast a wordless charm at the
house in front of them. A thin jet of golden light shot from his wand and
collided with an invisible shield surrounding the house, dispersing harmlessly
in several bright ripples.
"Looks standard," he said, voice soft and thoughtful. "Think you could
dismantle it, Hermione?"
"Dismantle it? Harry are you actually considering breaking in? There's
probably people sleeping in there! You could be arrested!" Hermione crossed
her arms and stepped directly in front of her friend, blocking his view of the
cottage and forcing him to meet her gaze. "What is going on with you
tonight? First you send me a Patronus telling me to meet you here at one in
the morning, and now you're going to just waltz into someone else's home in
the dead of night? Have you gone mad?"
"You didn't have to come," Harry spoke through gritted teeth, his scowl dark
and determined as he sidestepped her and began to approach the house.
"Stop it!" Hermione hissed, grabbing his arm and yanking him toward herself
with enough force to stop him and send him whirling back to face her.
"You're being irrational! Can you imagine what would happen if whoever
lives there caught you?"
"I imagine I'd obliviate them," Harry said, barely hesitating. "I've gotten
fairly good at it, you see."
Hermione stared at him in consternation. He was clearly upset, and she
didn't think this had to do with just the child who lived there. They had
planned to come next week, during the day. Hermione had been refreshing
her skills with Glamour Charms in preparation, as they had decided on
posing as ministry officials. The woman who had taken in the Malfoy niece
was the spinster sister of a Death Eater, and the connection would be
enough to make their visit believable. Something had happened to make
Harry abandon the plan.
"Please, tell me what's going on, Harry. I want to help you, but I need to
know what's so urgent."
"Does there have to be something happening? Can't I just have changed my
mind?"
"Not about this," Hermione said, shaking her head. "I know how important
this is to you. You wouldn't risk mucking it up unless you'd learned
something that might change things… You can tell me, you know?"
Harry groaned in frustration and ran a hand through his hair, tugging it in
the process and moving to stand several feet from her, his head slightly
bent.
"Do you always have to be so bloody perceptive?" he asked after several
seconds of uncomfortable silence. "Am I not allowed to keep things to myself
anymore?"
"Harry," Hermione said, concerned now, "I don't mean to pry. I only want to
help you. You're my best friend; whatever's bothering you, I just want a
chance to help fix it."
"You can't fix everything, Hermione! I know you fancy yourself all-powerful,
but you can't fix every bloody thing that goes wrong! Sometimes life is shit,
and shitty things happen, and we can't stop them!"
"You're scaring me," she confessed, taking a step closer to him, and then
another and another until she could feel his cold hand beneath her own. She
clutched it in her grasp, lightning her grip as he let out a huff of air and
looked determinedly over her shoulder. "Is it Narcissa? Did she do
something? I thought I'd worded the vow so that she wouldn't be able to
interfere. Did she-"
Harry sighed heavily and shook his head. "It's not her. The vow was fine.
She won't be telling anyone anything."
"Then what is it?" Hermione asked, aware that her voice was sounding high
and desperate now but not really caring. Something had obviously shaken
Harry, and when that happened it tended to shake her too-especially since
their year on the run, which had served to draw them closer together than
ever.
Harry didn't speak for a long time, only returned the tight pressure in
Hermione's hand and leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers
wearily. When at last he did speak, his voice was so low she might have
imagined it.
"Greyback. He had a son. I dunno if I mentioned him or not, but Kingsley
told me about him. He was bitten, a little baby transforming every full moon.
It killed him a few hours ago." And then he began to shake, his shoulders
heaving as he squeezed his eyes shut tight and let go of Hermione's hand,
meaning to withdraw. She wouldn't let him, wrapping her own arms around
him instead and pulling him into her for an embrace. She remembered the
way he had held her last year in the tent, after Ron had left them. She had
sobbed for hours and he had wrapped himself around her, a solid presence
into which she could sink, allowing the tears to overflow onto his jumper
without saying a word. He had given her strength when she had none to
spare, had reminded her that despite how it felt, she was not alone, would
never be alone as long as he was near.
"I'm so sorry," she said, her own voice thick with emotion as she felt several
warm tears pass from Harry's cheek to her neck. He wrapped his own arms
around her at last and let his body relax at the sensation.
"It could have been Teddy," he said, his voice muffled against her shoulder.
"No," Hermione said in dismay. "You would never let that happen. Neither
would Andromeda."
"Yeah, that's the point, isn't it?" Harry asked, pulling away at last. "Teddy
has me, he has Dromeda… but who did Fenrir's kid have? Who does Delphini
have?" Hermione could see in his expression that he had come to some
decision which had helped to alleviate at least some of the pain he had been
feeling.
"I had to check on her," Harry said, clearing his throat. "When I heard what
happened to the Greyback boy, I needed to know there wouldn't be another
death. I needed to know that she had someone too."
"It's not your fault. You believe that, don't you?"
Harry nodded just slightly in response, and Hermione forced a smile.
"I know," he said, "I know it in my head. But here-" He touched a hand to
his chest and shook his head. "It feels different. It's like I'm responsible for
them. For the orphans. For her. It's like, I was her, and now It's my job to
help her. I had a piece of him in me my whole life, my whole fucking life.
And she will too."
"Harry, she's not a horcrux. You have to know that." Hermione hoped to God
he knew it.
"I get that," he said, nodding, "I do. But she's his. She comes from him.
That will always be there, and I can't bear the thought of her finding out
some day, and thinking it defines her. Thinking she's responsible for what he
did…"
"What more can we do than we're already doing?" Hermione asked. "We're
here, checking on her circumstances, making sure she's provided for. You're
doing right by her, Harry." He was, she knew he was. And yet still there was
the nagging feeling in the corner of her psyche which told her she was
missing something, something important.
"You're right," Harry said, his tone appeasing. "And if she's well cared for, if
we can make Rowle take the vow-"
"The vow!?" Visions of Narcissa and Harry, forearms locked together as
Hermione bound them with stinging strings of unbreakable magic, flashed in
her mind. "Harry, you can't just force some to take an Unbreakable Vow
whenever you please."
Harry raised a brow, and Hermione blushed.
"You didn't seem to have a problem with it a few days ago," he reminded
her.
"That was different," she defended.
"How?"
"It was to protect the child's location, in case anyone else found out about
her existence. And to protect us ."
"This would be to protect her too! If we could get the woman to vow to do
the right thing by her-"
"It's more complicated than that, Harry! An Unbreakable Vow must be
carefully crafted, or it may do more harm than good. Look at what happened
to Professor Snape!"
"You don't think swearing her guardian to secrecy about Delphini's origins
would be worth the minimal risk?"
"I didn't say that," Hermione snapped. "But I don't think it's wise to rush
into this situation settled on such a drastic course of action when we don't
even know what the state of things is. For all we know, a vow would be
unnecessary. Euphemia Rowle could be a perfectly agreeable woman who
wants nothing but the best for her charge."
Harry said nothing but sighed and turned his back on Hermione, facing the
house again and raising his wand once more. She watched as he worked,
dismantling the protective charms surrounding the property the same way
they had done on the run. It really was neglectful of the home's owner to
leave the house so sparsely protected. When he was done, Hermione
withdrew her own wand, checking for any further enchantments. Finding
none, she nodded at Harry, motioning him forward.
"You'll need to Disillusion at the very least. And silence your shoes."
"What? Aren't you coming?" he asked. Hermione shook her head.
"Someone needs to keep watch out here," she told him.
Somewhere nearby, a mournful cry began to swell, growing louder on the air
as the unearthly noise mounted in pitch before finally dissipating, only to
repeat twice more and then fade completely into the black night.
"What the bloody hell was that?" Harry asked, looking spooked.
"An augurey," Hermione answered, "unless I'm mistaken, which I really
don't think I am. You'd better hurry. Their cry forecasts rain, and I don't
fancy standing out here getting soaked." She gave him as confident a smile
as she could muster and prodded him forward with the tip of her wand.
He hesitated for a moment and then said, "Thanks, Hermione. You're the
best," before disappearing up the front steps of the cottage and behind a
solidly cast Disillusionment Charm.
The first thing Harry had noticed about the house was that its windows were
obscured from the inside, and so when he stepped through the unlocked
door and into the pitch black entryway, he was not surprised that the light of
the full moon outside did not filter in to brighten his way. Wordlessly, he lit
the tip of his wand and let it spill light out into the front room like a torch.
The room was as ill cared for as the exterior of the house. There was a
threadbare sofa against the back wall-it's floral pattern having long ago
faded from bright and cheery to dull and dusty. Harry wrinkled his nose at
the thought of having to sit on the thing. It looked as if it might be riddled
with bugs, and the rest of the furniture in the room was no better, with the
exception of a wooden rocking chair in the corner which, while it looked as if
it had seen better days, at least appeared to be free of pests and serviceable
enough.
Harry finished taking stock of the room, noting that there were three exits,
each giving entrance to a different part of the house. The first was a tall
wooden door, slightly ajar and leading to what looked like a postage stamp
sized toilet. Judging by the state of the living room, he doubted very much
that he would find the bathroom a pleasant environment, and so he decided
to skip it altogether. Instead, he turned to his right, where a cramped
looking archway seemed to lead into a narrow corridor. He supposed this
would be where the bedrooms were, and so with a renewed resolve, he crept
towards it.
The corridor itself was bare, with three doors leading off of it. He came to
the first and opened it with utmost care, taking nearly a full minute to inch it
open until at last he could see into a curiously tidy room covered in what
looked like sewing accouterments. There were several headless mannequins
here, and stacks and stacks of fabric along one of the walls. In the center of
the room, a long table was covered in piles of robes, and a pair of scissors
floated in the air nearby, as if waiting for a command before springing into
action. If Harry had to guess, he would say that Euphemia Rowle was a
seamstress and that this was her work space. He felt a small weight lift off
of his chest at the realization. Perhaps, though this woman was a terrible
housekeeper, she was a good provider, and a kind guardian.
He left the room as quietly as he had entered it, closing the door carefully
behind himself and moving down the hallway to the last door on the right.
He opened it with just as much caution as he had done the first, and when
the light of his wand swept across the room's contents, he was glad he had.
This room was dominated by a large bed at its center. The quilt atop it
looked handmade and well cared for, though the fabric showed its age… just
as the woman nestled beneath it did. Euphemia Rowle was not a young
woman. If Harry had been pressed to make a guess as to her age it would
not have been a flattering one. Her hair was greying and her face covered in
lines and the occasional spot.
Beside her bed, a cage sat on the dresser, a handful of live doxies within,
buzzing about angrily. The noise did not seem to disturb their sleeping
mistress, however, and Harry found himself grateful that she was such a
sound sleeper. Loitering at the door of an old woman in the dead of night
was not somewhere he would appreciate being discovered.
Feeling suddenly awkward, Harry backed out of the room, closing the door
with care and turning to face the room opposite. This then, would be the
girl's room. He felt his heart begin to race and his pulse pound in his neck.
How unexpectedly nerve-wracking to be here at last, after months of worry
and self-loathing. Would seeing the child change anything? Would knowing
she was safe help him to sleep better at night, and perhaps forgive himself
for the part he had played in her circumstances?
He swallowed, reaching forward with one hand to turn the brass door knob.
He pushed the heavy door inward slowly, his gaze directed at the floor until
at last his view was unimpeded. It took several seconds before he managed
to collect the courage he needed to look up. One, two, three, he counted in
his head, and then Harry let himself take in the state of the room.
It was pleasant enough; with a little lamp on a desk beside a large bookshelf
lined by paperback books and old magazines, and a single bed pushed into
the far corner beneath a shuttered window. He certainly would not have
complained at such a room in his youth. He felt himself begin to relax before
he even realized that aside from its furnishings, the room was empty.
"What the bloody hell," he whispered beneath his breath, checking the room
again for any sign that a baby lived there. Delphini Riddle would be one
today, surely she would have a crib, a changing table, stuffed animals to
amuse her and watch over her as she slept. He looked again at the bed,
wondering whether the old woman in the next room could have put the child
there. Had she fallen in her sleep? He scrambled forward, dropping to his
hands and knees and lifting the worn dust ruffle to peer under the bed. No
sign of a baby there, only several boxes with their contents hastily scribbled
on the surface.
Perplexed, his heart racing now, Harry stood. This was the address Narcissa
had given him, he was certain of it. Had she been lying to him? Had she sent
him on a wild goose chase? " Homenum Revelio, " he said, wand
outstretched as he prayed the sensation of the spell would not wake the
house's owner. After several seconds, two flickering lights appeared before
him, hanging in the air before dispersing together. Euphemia Rowle was not
the only person in the house aside from him, then.
Harry crept from the room, listening for a moment at the old woman's door
to make certain she still slept before going back to the sitting room. From
there, he forced himself to peek into the bathroom. It was empty, and he
sighed in relief until he spotted the cupboard near the front door. His heart
sank, and he felt an uncomfortable knot low in his stomach. She couldn't
be… Rowle wouldn't have… No! This couldn't be happening again, not to her,
not because of him. What had he done? By killing Voldemort, had Harry
condemned his child to the same fate he had endured? Was this his
punishment, for daring to think he could take a life without consequences?
Where had this cycle begun? Who had first inherited a baby, unloved by
anyone but it's dead parents, and decided that it was better off out of sight
and out of mind? He didn't know, and frankly, he didn't care. All Harry cared
about now was ending the horror, the neglect, the abuse. No one had been
there for him, but he would damn well be there for her.
He took one step forward and faltered, then another, and before he knew
what was really happening he was across the room, ripping the door to the
closet open violently and breathing hard as he stared into its depths. He half
expected to see a little cot with a black haired baby lying there in oversized
hand me downs, a lightning bolt scar on its forehead, but there was nothing
more than several travelling cloaks and a broom. He let his eyes flutter shut
as he said a silent prayer of thanks to whatever deity was listening. Still, the
sense of unease he had felt upon entering the house had returned full force,
and he could not keep his heart from pounding out a rhythmic tattoo against
his chest or prevent the sinking feeling from settling in his belly. If the child
was not in one of the bedrooms, or in the cupboard…
Harry turned to the last possible place he might find the child, the doorway
which, presumably, led into the house's kitchen. He approached it warily, his
heart still pounding as he reached out one hand to turn the handle and draw
the door open. Once he had, he found that this room was as dark as any of
the others, and as he stepped into it, his wand light fell on a spindly old
table shoved against the nearest wall and he wrinkled his nose. A foul scent,
overwhelming in its putridity, washed over him, and he found himself taking
an unconscious step back.
Oh God. Oh Merlin.
He directed the light of his wand around the room slowly, taking in the faded
wallpaper and the counters crowded by food-caked and molding dishes. At
last, on the wall opposite the table, he saw a window, slightly ajar as if to air
the room of its terrible scent, and below it, a rickety old crib.
"Fuck," he said, crossing the room in three strides and stopping just short of
the little bed. He forced himself to look down into it, to find the head of dark,
matted curls.
She was awake, her little face red as she screamed soundlessly into the
night air. She was dressed in nothing save a loosely pinned cloth diaper, so
wet it sagged between her chubby thighs and left a damp stain on the
mattress beneath her, one of many. In the corner of the crib Harry could see
several other used diapers filled with urine and excrement, some of which
was smeared on the crib rails. He fought hard not to vomit as he turned his
gaze back to the baby. She had to be freezing there, beneath the open
window, her little arms bearing finger shaped bruises in several spots.
And someone had silenced her so they couldn't hear her crying out in
desperation. Euphemia Rowle had fucking silenced her. Hands shaking,
Harry raised his wand, closing the window with a bang and vanishing every
scrap of filthy cloth in sight, including the one wrapped around the child's
waist. He leaned down then, and lifted her into his arms, the weight of her
familiar. She was heavier than Teddy, but he held her close all the same as
he cast a Tergeo on the mattress beneath her. She clung to him, and he did
not prevent her from laying her head on his shoulder as he wrapped her in
his own black travelling cloak before setting her back down. His heart broke
as her fingers tried desperately to find purchase and keep him near her as
she opened her mouth to wail again. His arms felt curiously empty without
her in them. He turned his back on her-she was still crying soundlessly-and
made his way out of the room.
He paused again in the sitting room, his fists clenched tight as he considered
his next move. He thought about retrieving Hermione before dismissing the
idea. She didn't need to be a part of this, of what came next. She had done
so much for him, had helped him find this place, had given him the comfort
and the strength he needed… He was here now, alone, and that was good.
What happened to Euphemia Rowle now would be no one's fault but his own.
He thought he could live with that.
Chapter 7
A/N: Just a quick note to tell you four things. First, I have changed my name
from lavonnallama to La-Matrona, and I hope you're not too confused by
that. My name has also changed on AO3 to La_Matrona, and on Tumblr to
La-Matrona. Second, I continue to be astounded by your kind reviews, and
appreciative of all the people who take the time to enjoy this story with me.
You rock! Third, the explanation of bonds you see here is taken pretty much
directly from Shayalonnie's "The Debt of Time", which is a marvelous, epic
fanfiction with which I am obsessed. This was done with Shayalonnie's
permission, and I am exceedingly grateful to her. Fourth, oblivionbaby and
shayalonnie are still the very best beta and alpha I could ever ask for.
Privet Drive
11 August 1998
The air was still warm on Privet Drive despite the lateness of the hour and
the encroaching darkness. Harry adjusted his glasses as he approached
number four, feeling the lack of breeze as his shirt began to stick to his back
uncomfortably. He knew that his racing pulse did little to alleviate the
discomfort he was feeling, but even so, he could not keep himself from
feeling anxious. He hadn't seen the house in over a year, had, in fact,
thought that he would never need to step foot inside of it again. Was it the
disappointment that he had been wrong which bothered him now, or was he
honestly that troubled by his past?
His eyes took in the empty driveway, and he consoled himself with the fact
that he wouldn't have to confront any of the Dursley's right away. It seemed
they weren't home. Harry sighed deeply and forced his gaze to the plain
front door. How many times had he cleaned the tiny little window above the
door knocker, or shined the handle? His aunt had taken a ridiculous amount
of pride in having a presentable and perfectly sanitary front entrance.
Harry glanced behind and around himself to check that he was unobserved
before withdrawing his wand and unlocking the door. It swung open easily,
the hinges silent as they moved. Harry took in the gloomy interior of the
house before stepping quickly in and shutting the door behind him. The
house was changed from what he remembered as a child, or even from what
the Dursley's had left behind before they had gone into hiding the previous
year. Then, the family had taken only what they could fit in the boot of their
car. Clothes, photograph albums, important documents, and other small
mementos. They had left the rest behind: dishes in the kitchen, furniture in
the sitting room, all of Dudley's television sets, and even hanging pictures on
the wall. Now, as Harry peered from the corridor into both the kitchen and
the living room, he realized it was all gone. Harry did not know whether it
had all been moved since the end of the war, or whether some of it had
been destroyed by Death Eaters once he had fled the premises, but the
scorch marks on the floral wallpaper gave him some idea. In fact, the only
sign that the house was not completely unoccupied was the suitcase left
open in the middle of the living room next to a deflated air bed.
Harry stepped in to inspect the bed further, but before he had a chance, a
bright light flooded the room for a moment and he ducked instinctively,
backing into the hallway again, out of sight. It took him several more
seconds to realize that the light had not been the flashing of a curse, but the
headlights of a car turning in the street. He let out a sigh of relief and shook
his head. Clearly, he had not been spending enough time in the muggle
world if something as simple as a car could startle him. He looked up then,
squinting in the deepening darkness. "Lumos." His wand light flooded into
the corridor, and it was only then that he realized where exactly he was
standing.
The cupboard door had not changed at all since he had seen it last. Why
would it? His heart began to pound, and before he could stop himself, he
was reaching out with his free hand to grab hold of the door handle and
twist. It opened with the creaking of a hinge, and he peered into the little
space. He wasn't sure what he had expected to see; perhaps the little camp
bed he had slept in as a child or the cleaning supplies he had spent his
formative years staring at in the early morning hours before he had been
allowed out of his cupboard. He felt his fingers twitch on his wand, and he
grit his teeth as he slammed the door shut.
What kind of ruddy human shut a kid into a dark little cupboard and thought
it was alright? How must his aunt and uncle have justified themselves?
When he was younger, he had resented them for their cruelty, but now,
having seen Delphini for the first time and been spurred to action… god he
hated them. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he stepped
backwards, pressing his back to the wall behind him and leaning his head
against it. There was nothing he could do about the past now; he knew that.
Hating Vernon and Petunia would not change what had happened, and in the
long term, his unhappiness and resentment would do him more harm than it
would them… but letting go was so hard, and if he was being very honest
with himself, he hadn't the faintest idea where to begin. He supposed there
would be plenty of time for that in the future.
The subtle purr of an engine sounded outside, and Harry stepped back into
the living room. Light washed through the front window again, this time
growing brighter before suddenly being extinguished. The noise of the
engine died moments later, and Harry heard a car door open and shut. He
backed himself into a corner as footsteps approached the front door and the
handle turned. There was a pause. Harry realized in that moment that he
had not bothered to relock the front door after entering. Whoever was here
now, they must have realized the house was no longer unoccupied. He
extinguished his wand light, not ready to be so easily spotted.
The door swung open quickly, the handle hitting the inside wall with a thunk
as someone rushed into the entryway on the other side of the wall Harry
stood against.
"Who's there?" called a deep, frightened sounding voice. Harry recognized it
immediately and let out a relieved sigh. "If you come out now, I'll let you go
without calling the authorities! There's nothing here to steal!" He listened,
unmoving as the man in the hallway strode forward, his feet heavy on the
floor and practically shaking the walls as he burst through into the living
room. In the light of the streetlamp which filtered through the window, Harry
could see a tall, blond man with broad, heaving shoulders, and close set
eyes.
"Hello, Dudley," said Harry from his spot in the corner. He left his wand in
his hand, still casually pointed at the floor.
Dudley nearly jumped in the air as Harry's voice echoed in the empty room,
his eyes wild as he stumbled backwards, catching himself against the
doorframe.
"Bloody hell. Harry? Is it you?" His hand reached for something on the wall,
and in a moment the overhead light was flickering to life, flooding the room
with the familiar yellow glow of indoor lighting.
"It's me," Harry said, unsure of what else to say. He could hardly do what he
had done in the Order and answer personal questions, because aside from
more inflammatory memories from their youth, the pair of them didn't know
each other well enough.
"Blimey," Dudley said, stuffing his hands into his trouser pockets. "I didn't
expect to see you."
"I didn't expect to come." Harry shrugged and tried to force a smile.
"You got my letter then?"
Harry had, in fact, received the letter his cousin had sent almost a month
before. It had taken a circuitous route to him, through the muggle postal
system and then into the hands of whichever Ministry wizard had been
tasked with keeping a lookout for Wizarding mail there. Finally, it had been
delivered to him over breakfast, in the beak of a tawny ministry owl.
"I'm sorry about your dad," Harry said, and although the passing of Vernon
Dursley did not make him sad in the way the death of a family member
ought to, he would always feel for someone losing their parent. He knew
that pain all too well.
"Thanks," Dudley said, somewhat awkwardly. "I was sorry you didn't make it
to the funeral."
Harry cleared his throat. "I wasn't sure your mum would want me there," he
confessed.
Dudley shrugged, and Harry got the impression he was right.
"Look, I'm sorry to just show up like this," said Harry. "I only got your letter
a few weeks ago, and I meant to reply. I've just had… Well, I've had a lot on
my mind."
"I get it." Dudley nodded and leaned back against the door frame with one
shoulder. "I didn't expect you'd make it to Canada, but I thought maybe
while I was here we could… I dunno. Grab a drink?"
"A drink." Harry echoed the words almost incredulously and winced at the
mortified look which flitted across his cousin's face.
"I understand if you don't want to. I've been a little shit all our lives. I don't
think I'd want to have a drink with me either."
"It's not that," Harry clarified quickly. "I mean, yeah, you were a gigantic
prat, but it looks like you've turned out okay."
"Oh." The tops of Dudley's cheeks pinkened. "You too, I reckon."
They stood in silence, neither meeting the other's eye, until Dudley cleared
his throat at last and stood up a little straighter. "It's good luck you came
today, actually. I fly back to Vancouver tomorrow, and I was wondering how
I was gonna get your things to you."
"My things?" Harry was confused. He had taken all of his possessions with
him when he had left Privet Drive the last time. His childhood had fit into a
trunk. Had he missed something? Something magical? Dudley nodded twice
and looked upwards at the ceiling.
"There's a trunk up there in the attic that looks a lot like the one you use to
take to your school. Mum kept a padlock on it, but I picked it a couple of
years ago. Bunch of books about magic and weird clothes like the ones I've
seen your lot wear. She nearly tanned my hide when she found me."
"A school trunk?" Harry asked in disbelief. "Whose? Why on earth would it be
in your attic?" He had never been allowed into the attic where the Dursley's
stored their old effects. He remembered thinking it odd as a child, given that
he was made to clean every other inch of the house.
Dudley shrugged. "I thought it was yours at first and that my parents had
killed you and stashed the body somewhere, but the dates on everything
were all off. The more I thought about it though, the more I thought it must
have belonged to your mum. I know mine took a bunch of things from her
parents' house when they died, and stuck them in the attic. Maybe it was
one of them."
His mum? Petunia had kept a trunk of his mother's old school things for his
entire life and never bothered to tell him?
"Can I see it?" Harry asked, and Dudley nodded again.
"I was planning on giving it to you if you stopped by or taking it with me if
you didn't, and trying to get you to come grab it. You remember the way?"
Dudley let Harry lead them through the house, jumping slightly when he lit
his wand but following nevertheless. As they walked up the stairs and to the
first floor, Harry realized that the house was not completely empty after all.
Boxes lined the hallway, and though the bedroom furniture was missing from
the open rooms, he was able to glimpse the imprint of their weight on the
carpet as he passed by.
"I've just about finished going through everything," Dudley offered.
"Someone made a mess of the place while we were gone, but there was
plenty I was able to save. I think my mum will be happy. She couldn't bear
to come back here after Dad had the heart attack, but she wanted her old
things."
"Are you selling the house then?" Harry asked, keeping his voice neutral as
he remembered why he'd come to see his cousin after all.
"Yeah. There's nothing here for us anymore. Mum's made new friends there
that she gossips with, and she can't go a day without visiting dad at the
cemetery, and I've got… well, I've got a girlfriend, actually." Harry turned to
face Dudley with an arching eyebrow and a smile. The other man blushed
and reached up to rub the back of his neck. "She's great. Her names Kate,
and she's so bloody smart it puts me to shame."
"Good for you, D." Harry gave him a warm smile, and Dudley blushed a
brighter shade of pink.
Harry turned his back on his cousin, still smiling slightly as he spotted the
door on the ceiling which he knew would lead into the attic. "Right," he said.
He didn't particularly fancy climbing up there and dragging down a school
sized trunk. Luckily for him, he didn't have to. "Stand back, will you,
Dudley?"
The blonde man took several steps back and looked warily on as Harry
pulled down the fold out steps from the attic entrance. Distancing himself as
well, Harry raised his wand. "Accio trunk," he said, and heard a thump from
above, followed by the sound of something heavy dragging over hardwood,
and the appearance of a brown leather trunk which revealed itself at the
open door. It lurched forward, sliding down the rickety stairs until it hit the
floor at Harry's feet with a thud.
"Blimey," Dudley said, eyes wide as he stared at the wand in Harry's hand.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," Harry apologized.
"No, it's okay," Dudley said, obviously still wary, but apparently resolved not
to give into his more suspicious inclinations. He had, after all, been raised by
Vernon Dursley.
Harry unlocked the trunk with a silent flick of his wand and turned back to
face it, his heart beating more quickly. He bit his lip and watched the lid
open of its own accord.
The first thing he noticed was that the top of the trunk had been decorated.
At first he assumed it was with charms, but upon closer inspection, he
realized it had been painted. The beautiful landscape in varying shades of
blue green and brown must have taken ages to complete. He'd had no idea
his mother had been an artist, and he felt his eyes begin to prickle with tears
as he swallowed and forced his gaze down to the contents of the trunk.
"That one I put there, actually," Dudley said from behind Harry.
"How?" Harry whispered the question. He wasn't sure he could trust his
voice at any other decibel.
"I found it in a box of my old baby things. I recognized it."
The blanket was hand knitted in pale cream and stained yellow at the
corners, but Harry didn't care. It had been his as a baby, had been the one
possession he'd come to the Dursley's with and been allowed to keep with
him. He hadn't realized it had been out of a reluctance to share any of
Dudley's posh department store blankets with him, and he hadn't cared.
He'd carried it everywhere with him until the summer he'd turned five. Even
now, he remembered the way he had felt when Vernon had ripped the thing
out of his hands and told Petunia to 'get rid of it'. He'd cried for a week and
had been careful since then to never become so attached to anything.
Harry cleared his throat. "I thought your mum had binned it."
Dudley just shrugged.
"Thank you," Harry forced the words out, finally reaching for the blanket, his
hand trembling as it brushed against the soft yarn. He could scarcely believe
that this piece of his life from before Voldemort, before his parents had been
murdered, and before the Dursleys, was here now. It seemed almost too
fortuitous to be coincidental, and yet… here it was. He finally allowed himself
to pick it up, carefully folded as it was, and set it on his lap. He knew just
what he would do with it.
Looking back into the trunk, Harry took in the rest of the things stacked
there. On the left were old editions of books he recognized. The Standard
Book of Spells: Year One, sat on top, and Harry let his finger brush gently
along its spine before opening the cover. There on the title page, in childish,
feminine handwriting, the words, 'Property of Lily Evans' were written. To
the right of the books, several pairs of Hogwarts uniforms were neatly
folded, the Gryffindor crest emblazoned on top. Beside them, Harry
recognized a set of broken scales, an old pewter cauldron, and what looked
like a stack of letters. He lifted two of them to check the return addresses
and found the names "Pearl Evans" on one, and "Petunia Evans" on the
other. These then, were letters his mother had been sent from her family
while at Hogwarts… and his grandmother's name had been Pearl. How had
he never known that?
"What's this?" Dudley interrupted Harry's thoughts as he approached,
leaning over the trunk and reaching in to grab a gold chain which was
draped over the sleeve of one grey cardigan. Harry watched as he withdrew
it, eyes widening as a delicate looking golden oval came into view.
"Here," said Dudley, settling the thing into Harry's outstretched palm. Harry
looked at the pendant for several seconds, reminding himself that this locket
was nothing like the one he had spent so much time wearing the year
previous. He turned it over in his hand to see an etching in the shiny metal.
Friends Forever it said. Confused, Harry opened the locket. It took him
longer than he would have liked to admit to recognize the two girls on either
side of the locket. The first, was clearly his mother. Her brilliant red hair was
wild and pulled over one shoulder, and she grinned at the camera, perhaps
all of six or seven years old. She was lovely, and Harry could see that
through the years, her eyes had not changed much at all. Opposite her in
the locket was the photo of a pale, blonde girl with a happy smile and blue
eyes. Harry thought at first that it must have been some school friend of his
mother's, but the name scrawled on the bottom of the picture disabused him
of the notion.
"I think this is your mum," Harry said, holding the necklace out for Dudley to
see. The other boy took it, peering inside and then nodding.
"Yeah, I think it is. Wow."
"You should give it to her," Harry said before he could think better of it. "The
locket. Maybe she'll want it now that-" He cut himself off and pressed his lips
shut tight, embarrassed at what he had been about to say.
"Maybe," said Dudley after a beat. "I know it was my dad who hated them
so much. Your parents. Mum didn't argue; I think she was jealous… but it
was dad who really wanted nothing to do with them… I think I will take this
for her, if you don't mind."
"Not at all," said Harry, who was lifting the blanket from his lap and setting
it back into the trunk. He would have more time to inspect its contents later.
With a few flicks of his wand, the trunk locked and shrank until it was small
enough to fit into the palm of his hand. He stood, placing it carefully into his
pocket as he turned to face Dudley again.
"Look, I need your help." Harry stared at his shoes, unable to meet Dudley's
gaze. He'd never asked his cousin for anything before. He had always known
the answer would be no. He hadn't really been planning on asking today; he
had fully expected that he would need to do what he had planned without
Dudley's permission, but now, seeing the change which had apparently
taken place since his cousin had reached maturity, he thought that, just
maybe, he might be pleasantly surprised.
"Anything," Dudley answered. Harry looked up at the quick reply, searching
the blond man's face for any sign that he was being disingenuous. Finding
none, Harry smiled gratefully. "My parents were terrible to you, Harry,"
Dudley continued, looking troubled. "I was terrible to you. Honestly, I'm still
a giant shit three quarters of the time. I'm trying not to be, but so much of
what they taught me encouraged the type of behavior that- well, frankly,
that I'm embarrassed of now. My therapist thinks-"
"Your therapist?" Harry asked, surprised. Dudley was never the type he had
imagined would spill his guts to a paid professional.
"Yeah," Dudley answered, managing not to sound defensive despite Harry's
disbelief. "He's great. He thinks that my talking to you, maybe having the
opportunity to do something positive for you, might help me to be a little
less of a dirtbag."
"You're not a dirtbag," Harry objected promptly. "You've obviously done a lot
of growing up since we were kids, Dudley. We were kids. The way we were
treated was neither of our faults."
"Sounds like you've been seeing someone too," Dudley observed. Harry
blinked and shook his head. "No," he said. "Not that I'd object, but… well. I
don't really feel ready for that."
Dudley nodded, seeming to understand, but said nothing. Harry stood there
in silence for several uncomfortable seconds, wrestling with himself as he
decided what to say next. Dudley had agreed to help him without knowing
what it was he needed, but how much could he really trust his cousin and
former tormentor? Could he trust him with what was most important? He
glanced up at the other man again, taking in the concerned look on his face,
the sincerity. He decided at once that the Dudley he had known was not
duplicitous enough to fake this type of remorse.
"I'm adopting a kid," Harry said in a rush. "She's an orphan, like me, and I
need to protect her. Part of that is making sure no one ever finds out who
she belonged to before she was mine. I want to tell people she was yours,
but you've died, which means I need to hide you from wizards who might
come looking. I need to know if you're okay with that."
"Bloody hell," said Dudley, whose eyes had widened as Harry had spoken.
He sagged against the hallway wall as his pale brows knitted together and
he seemed to turn over the information Harry had given him in his mind. "An
orphan. You're going to be a dad?"
Harry let out a breath, the weight of Dudley's words hitting him like a
hippogriff. Was he going to be a dad? He'd rescued Delphini from that awful
place, had known even as he'd walked out of the house with her bundled in
his cloak that he would not be parted from her. He and Hermione had been
researching magical adoption, had been planning how best to present her
inclusion into his family as a fait accompli. She was going to be his, was
already his. His daughter. Harry nodded. "She's brilliant, Dudley. This
perfect little girl who has been through so much, and yet she can still smile
at me when I sing horribly off key lullabies. She needs me, and I want to be
there for her… And I need you to help me do it. Dudley… Please."
"When you said you needed to hide me…" Dudley's voice trailed off, and
Harry noted the look of concern in his eyes.
"An enchantment," Harry clarified. "My friend is brilliant with spells, and
she's configured one that will repel wizards from you, a lot like how we can
repel Muggles. It's not that they can't see you, but they'll feel compelled to
look away, to leave quickly. They won't want to think about. Otherwise,
you'll be able to live your life normally. You can go back to Canada, be with
your mum, with your girlfriend. Nothing else should change."
"Okay," said Dudley.
"I know you'll need time to think about it," Harry continued. "I can come
back tomorrow before you leave for your answer-"
"No, I meant, 'okay I'll do it,'" Dudley interrupted. "My parents spent most of
our lives fucking you over, Harry. Maybe this way a Dursley can actually do
right by an orphan. Maybe in some small way, I can keep the promise they
should have made."
Harry felt throat tighten and nodded once more.
"You've become quite a grown up, Big D."
Dudley grinned.
"You too, Harry."
Chapter 9
A/N: Oblivionbaby and Shayalonnie both have been the most tremendous
helpers with this story, and deserve all of your thanks. And all of you reading
and reviewing deserve all of my thanks. You're wonderful, and I am so
grateful that you take the time to encourage me along the way. I hope you
enjoy this new chapter!
"Harry Potter, you are a bloody fool. What the hell made you think you were
capable of this?"
His reflection in the mirror accused him as Harry finished washing his hands,
turning as he patted them dry on his trousers to face the pram behind him
where a screeching demon had taken residence in the body of his cherubic
ward.
"Delphi, sweetheart, what's the matter? Tell me."
The baby only continued her wailing, her mouth open wide as she shrieked
and great big tears rolled from the corners of her eyes, down her cheeks,
and onto the sensible onesie Hermione had picked out for them that
morning. Distressed, Harry leaned down, unbuckling the straps which kept
her from throwing herself out of the pram with fumbling fingers. It was a
bloody wonder how he'd ever been a seeker, he thought, as clumsy as he
was becoming. When, several seconds later, he had finished with the straps,
he hooked his hands beneath the baby's arms and lifted her up out of her
seat and into his arms. As he settled her on at his shoulder, she took a long,
shuddering breath and grew quiet, laying her cheek against him and
clenching her chubby fists in his shirt.
"There we are," Harry soothed, rubbing circles on Delphi's back as she
continued to sniffle against him. He glared at the pram, still sitting in the
middle of the tiny bathroom, taking up three quarters of the space and
providing nothing in return. With a disgusted sigh, he grabbed the diaper
bag from beneath it, turned his back on the contraption, and unlocked the
door.
The restaurant was not busy at this time of day, and Harry was grateful for
that. Delphi did not seem to like large crowds, and he couldn't blame her; he
wasn't a fan either. He quickly located the booth they had been sitting at
before, sinking into it and offering Delphi the little stuffed owl he had left
there to save their place. Cautiously, the baby stretched out one hand,
waiting for several seconds as if to gauge the likelihood of the toy being
withdrawn, before finally grasping it and pulling it into her chest, to nestle
between her and Harry.
"You see?" Harry asked, using his now free hand to lift a glass of water
which had been refilled in their absence. "Life's not so bad." Delphi hummed
in response and sniffled once more.
"Where's the pram gone?" Harry looked up at the sound of Hermione's
familiar voice. She was standing beside their table, her hands on her hips
and her head cocked to one side, damp tendrils of hair stuck to her neck
where they had escaped the high bun she'd managed to wrangle her locks
into.
"We had a disagreement," answered Harry, who had to force his gaze away
from the elegant curve of her neck.
"What kind of disagreement? Harry, what did you do?" Her voice was
growing shrill, and Harry found himself smiling amusedly at the tone.
"It's in the loo," Harry said. "But, honestly, it's useless as two shits, so I
don't think I'll bother retrieving it. Delphi just screams whenever we get
within a yard of the thing."
"Watch your language," Hermione chided, reaching a hand out to touch
Delphi's nose playfully. "Papa shouldn't teach you naughty words, should he,
Delphini?" The baby smiled in response, and Harry felt his heart clench.
"I'll be right back." Hermione turned quickly, making a beeline towards the
bathroom, and Harry felt a strange sort of sadness that he couldn't place as
she left. She had been dead helpful in the days since he had found Delphi,
and he didn't think he would ever be able to repay her. She'd gotten him all
the supplies he had needed and had lied to the Weasleys for him while he
had struggled with what to do next. She had been the one to orchestrate the
plan they were following now, the plan which would ensure he could keep
provide for the child in his arms for the rest of their lives. She'd given him
the most precious of gifts, and perhaps he was being a sentimental fool, but
he loved her even more for it. Hermione Granger was the best friend he had
in the world, and God help him, but he needed her in his life.
She was gone for less than a minute, and, when she returned, she was
carrying something in her hands.
"Try this," she said, holding out a long strip of navy blue fabric and waving it
in front of his face. Harry reached out a hand and, unsure of what she was
asking him to do, stroked the corner of the thing.
"Soft," he said, not knowing what sort of response she was looking for.
Hermione rolled her eyes and motioned for him to stand.
"Up," she ordered, taking a step back to give him room. Once he was on his
feet-Delphi still in his arms-she came towards him with the cloth, draping it
over Delphi's back and repositioning her to the center of his chest as she
began to wrap the two ends of the fabric around him.
"Hermione, what are you-"
"Hush," she said, crossing the ends over his back as she leaned forward, her
hair brushing over his shoulder and her cheek bumping up against his. He
smelled the faint honeysuckle scent of the shampoo he knew she favored
and averted his gaze, falling silent as she had ordered.
"There." A full minute later she smiled, standing back and surveying her
work with a satisfied expression. "That should be easier for you."
"Er…" Harry looked down, wondering what on earth she had done. The
fabric, which he realized now was the same color the pram had been, was
wrapped securely around both him and Delphi, extending behind his back
and crossing to drape over his shoulders before it crossed again beneath the
baby's bottom and wrapped around to tie at his back. He moved one hand
off of Delphi's back experimentally, and seeing that she did not budge, he
removed the other, holding them both up in the air.
"Is this a baby carrier?" he asked once he realized Delphi was both secure
and still happily nestled against his chest.
"It's a wrap," Hermione answered, apparently pleased with herself. "I saw
my cousin Estelle use one with her baby when my parents and I visited them
in France years ago." Her expression darkened as if she had said something
wrong, and he knew that the casual mention of her parents had taken her by
surprise, that she was very likely remembering that they were still living
without any memory of her in Australia as she waited for the remaining
Death Eaters to be caught and the danger to them to dissipate.
"It's brilliant." Harry reached out a hand to take hers in its grip. Her fingers
were warm against his palm and he gave her a smile over Delphi's black
curls.
"Thank you," she said, some of the worry disappearing from her eyes as she
smiled warmly back at him. "Kingsley did as you asked, by the way. And I
think that if you're ready, now would be a good time to file the paperwork.
When I walked in, it didn't look very crowded, and I made sure to take a
wrong turn past records."
"The press?"
"There's a few in the atrium, but Skeeter's absent, thank God. I really can't
stand that daft bint."
"Language," teased Harry, and Hermione made a face but leaned down to
engage Delphi with a smile once more.
"Papa's only jealous it wasn't him that got to insult that old beetle," she
crooned.
Delphi giggled and squirmed, an arm breaking free of the carrier and
grasping one of Hermione's curls before Harry could stop her.
"Sorry! Delphi, let go of Hermione's hair."
"You'll have plenty of your own to pull soon enough," Hermione said,
unfazed as she disentangled the little hand from her locks and then took a
small step back. "Shall we, Harry?"
He nodded as Hermione grabbed the diaper bag from the table, slinging it
over one shoulder and moving towards the door.
"Hang on, I've got to get that useless pram from the-" He stopped at the
exasperated expression on Hermione's face. He looked down, realizing at
once why the wrap was the same color as the pram, and then back up at
Hermione with a sheepish grin. "Right," she said, "after you then."
Hermione only grinned a smug grin as she turned her back and left the
restaurant. Harry watched her go with a bemused expression, trying his
damnedest not to notice the way her hips swayed as she walked.
The Ministry of Magic
13 August 1998
The Department of Magical Records was located on the first level of the
Ministry of Magic on the opposite side of the building from the Minister's
offices. Fortunately, Hermione had been as good as her word, and the
Atrium had not been particularly busy when they had entered. The three of
them had been able to pass through unnoticed from the visitor's entrance
and into the elevator, barely having to do more than avoid gazes to be
dismissed as uninteresting. Harry couldn't help but compare this entrance to
the one they had made the year before, and the thought had made the
corners of his mouth turn upward.
Once the elevator doors opened to admit them to the first floor, Harry and
Hermione stepped through, continuing their steady pace through a wide
corridor and into a narrower one which ended in a dingy looking vestibule
lined with spindly wooden chairs.
"Cheery," noted Harry, and Hermione nodded, her gaze landing on the little
window on the opposite wall through which they could see a bored looking
young man flipping through a magazine.
"Excuse me," said Hermione as she approached the window. Getting no
response, she frowned and turned to Harry.
"Hello?" The young man didn't respond, and Harry thought it was quite
possible he couldn't hear them. The idea was confirmed when he spotted a
bell on the right hand side of the little ledge which ran beneath the window.
He reached out with one finger and tapped it, expecting the familiar tinkling
sound to fill the air. Instead, there was silence, but the man on the other
side of the window jumped, clearly startled, and looked up at them through
the window with an annoyed expression. With what looked like a sigh, he
drew his wand, tapping the glass which promptly vanished.
"Can I help you?" he asked, sounding for all the world as if he would rather
still be pursuing the copy of Quidditch Weekly he had been holding.
"Yes, actually," Hermione said before Harry had a chance. "We're here to file
a record of adoption."
Still looking uninterested, the young man shouted over his shoulder, "Oi!
Higgins! Someone here to see you!" and then raised his wand once more to
reconjure the window between himself and the waiting room. Hermione
made a disgusted noise and turned her back on on it, sitting in the nearest
chair and motioning for Harry to join her.
"She's passed out I see."
Harry looked down at Hermione's pronouncement, craning his head to the
side so that he could see Delphi's face. She was right; the baby must have
fallen asleep somewhere between Charing Cross and the Ministry, lulled by
Harry's gait and the steady, reassuring sound of his heartbeat against her
ear. The carrier Hermione had transfigured was genius, he decided.
"My word. You're Hermione Granger." A raspy, feminine voice startled the
both of them, and Harry turned quickly to see who had spoken. An ancient
looking witch with hunched shoulders and frizzy gray hair beneath a pointed
cap stood in an open doorway to the right of the window. "And Harry Potter!
Bless!"
Hermione sprang up from her seat with her wand in her hand. She studied
the old woman for several moments before tucking her wand up her sleeve
once more, forcing a smile.
"I'm here to file a record of adoption," Harry said, noticing that the power he
had meant to express in his voice hadn't quite translated. "Are you the one
in charge of that?"
"Oh, I file all family records," the gray haired which said, motioning them
through the doorway and then leading them on through a poorly lit hallway.
Harry listened to his footsteps, muffled on the closely cropped carpet as they
finally reached an office door. The woman led them through, sitting behind
her desk and conjuring two plush armchairs for Harry and Hermione to sit in.
Hermione took her seat, but Harry remained standing, afraid that such a
change might wake up the sleeping baby against his chest.
"A record of adoption, was it?"
Harry noticed the nameplate on the desk in front of him and nodded.
"Yes, thank you, Mrs Higgins."
"Oh, it's my pleasure, dearie," said the witch. She began to rifle through one
of the desk drawers on her right before pulling out two small vials, a quill
with ink, and a thick piece of parchment with writing already printed upon it.
"Here we are," she said as Hermione leaned eagerly forward to try and read
the contents of the parchment upside down. "Now, I'll need proof of the
bond, and your signatures here, and here."
"Proof of the bond?" Harry queried.
"Blood," clarified Hermione, taking the two vials off of the desk and turning
to face Harry. "If the bond exists, Delphi will have adopted aspects of your
magical signature into her own. It will be evident in her blood."
"Exactly so, Miss Granger. Tell me, will your name be included on the
record?"
Hermione blushed and shook her head. "No," she said. "We aren't- well,
Harry and I aren't a couple."
"Plenty of parents stop being couples," the elderly witch dismissed, "but I
take your meaning. Now, Mr Potter, is the child's name down at Hogwarts?"
Hogwarts. Bloody hell. Was her name listed there among other prospective
students in Great Britain? Was evidence of her true parentage available to
anyone who bothered to look? If she had been born in Wiltshire it would be.
"I'm not sure," he forced himself to say, casting a meaningful look in
Hermione's direction once the other witch looked down at her paper.
"Is she a witch?" Mrs Higgins asked, looking back up. "I'm afraid if she's
Muggle we'll need a whole other form."
"Her father was a Muggle," Harry lied. "My cousin. But I think… well, I think
Delphi's a witch."
"Well, the blood should clear things up on that score," Mrs Higgins said,
finishing whatever it was she had been doing on the parchment before
sliding it across the desk to him. "Your names printed here, and your
signature here."
Harry studied the writing there. There wasn't a lot, and it occurred to him
that the nature of the magical bond between them kept witches and wizards
of ill intent from adopting random children for nefarious purposes, thus
precluding the need for much investigation of either party where the bond
existed. The filing of this form was a declaration of an adoption, not an
application.
He printed his name beside hers, staring at the way Delphini Hermione
Potter looked on the parchment-his eyes catching on the last two names
together before skating hastily away.
"Just a few drops of blood each, if you please," Mrs Higgins said, conjuring a
pin and handing it carefully to Hermione. She took Harry's hand first,
unstopping one of the vials and holding it up to his finger as she pricked it
and worked several drops of thick red blood into the glass. Luckily, when it
was Delphi's turn Hermione cast a numbing spell on the hand from which
she drew the drops of blood, leaving the baby to sleep through the process
and Harry to wince as the blood welled crimson on her finger.
"Wonderful." Mrs Higgins collected the vials, placing them on opposite sides
of the desk before waving her wand over them and watching intently as they
began to glow the same brilliant gold color. The glass began to vibrate
shortly after, and then before Harry could blink, they were zooming towards
one another and colliding in the middle of the desk with the tinkling sound of
shattering glass.
"Well, that answer's certainly clear enough," the old woman laughed.
"There's a strong bond here, and your daughter is absolutely a witch. Her
name will have changed on the Hogwarts rolls when you sealed the bond,"
she motioned to the parchment with Harry's signature and smiled, "so
there's no need to do anything other than take your baby home and love her
to bits. Congratulations, Mr Potter."
Harry's eyes widened, and he looked at Hermione, seeking out her gaze as
he began to smile broadly.
"Congratulations, Harry," she said, her own smile beatific as her eyes
sparkled. "You're a dad!"
"Bloody hell," Harry laughed. Against his chest, Delphi began to stir. His
daughter began to stir.
"Bloody hell," he said again softly, and his heart seemed to burst with joy
inside of his chest.
Chapter 10
A/N: A massive thanks to Shayalonnie for her help on this chapter. Her
typing fingers are truly blessed, because whole sentences flowed forth to
help me fix an issue I was having. Another massive thanks to Oblivionbaby,
without whom I would be lost in a mire of misplaced commas and typos.
This story wouldn't be what it is without those two. And thank you to you,
dear reader, who help to inspire me. Your reviews are, as ever, a thing of
beauty.
The Burrow
16 August 1998
The Burrow stood tall against the evening sky, the sun hanging low on the
horizon behind it and beginning to paint the sky with oranges and pinks. The
Burrow itself looked more silhouette than home from this distance, and
Harry was reminded of Hogwarts on the eve of battle, of the way the castle
had loomed, dark and forlorn in the distance as he had trekked into the
Forbidden Forest to meet his fate. Now-facing the the prospect of the entire
Weasley clan descending upon him-he thought he might rather be back in
the forest.
With a deep breath, Harry pushed his glasses up his nose and glanced down
at Delphi, snug against his chest in the carrier Hermione had conjured for
him the week before. "Ready to meet the rest of the family?" he asked.
Delphi only smiled and reached up for his glasses, leaving fingerprints
behind on the lenses before he managed to wrestle them out of her grasp
and shove them back on his face. "Do me a favor and do that to Percy when
you meet him."
The walk down the hill and to the Burrow's door took far less time than he
had hoped, but by the time he was considering turning around again, he had
been spotted through a window and had heard someone shout, "They're
here!" He stood at the door for several seconds trying to work up the
courage to knock, and just as he raised his fist, the door swung open.
Ginny stood framed by the chaos of her mother's sitting room. Most of her
brothers stood behind her, trying to look far more interested in their shoes
than they had any right to be, and in the corner, Hermione sat in an
armchair, a book open on her lap as she stared anxiously at Harry in the
doorway.
"It's true," Ginny said, her voice low as she stared wide eyed at Delphi.
Harry tried to speak but found his throat curiously tight. He cleared it and
tried again. "Gin, this is Delphi."
"I know who she is," Ginny snapped, her eyes flashing as she glanced
imperiously up at him and then back down at the baby. "We read all about
her in the Prophet ." Harry tensed, wary as Ginny watched them, only
relaxing slightly when her gaze softened and she looked away. "Come in,"
she said at last, her voice small, her shoulders drooping as she stepped
aside and motioned Harry into the house.
"Bloody hell, Harry." Ron spoke from his right, and Harry turned to face his
friend. "You could have warned a bloke you were adopting a kid."
"It was sudden," Harry said. He sounded awkward to even his own ears.
"The Dursley's-"
"I know," said Ron. "The Prophet printed the whole story, and bleeding
Skeeter's been hounding the lot of us for an interview about the accident.
Won't believe that none of us has any idea what happened."
"I didn't mean to put you all in a bad spot," Harry apologized. Bloody
Skeeter. He should have expected she'd stick her nose in any crevice she
could find for a story.
"It's no trouble," Hermione said, rising from her spot and coming to stand
beside Ron. She touched his arm, and he glanced down at her, favoring her
with a smile as some of the tension melted from his shoulders.
"No, of course not," Ron agreed. "It's only we were worried about you. We
know you weren't close with them, but the Dursley's were family, weren't
they?"
" Family!? "
Harry looked up at the sound of the voice he had been dreading the most,
wincing slightly as he found the Weasley matriarch standing in the doorway
to the kitchen, her hands settling on her hips as she surveyed the room.
"They may have been blood," she said, "but we are his family." With that,
she strode across the room, yanking Harry into a fierce hug and only
releasing him when Delphi began to protest. "Of course, I don't mean to
speak ill of the dead," she continued, her eyes growing moist as they landed
on the curly headed child whose hands were clinging tightly to the front of
Harry's shirt. "Now, who have we here?"
"This is Delphi," Harry said, untying the carrier with a flick of his wand and
sending it to sit neatly folded on a nearby chair. "Delphi," he continued once
she was shifted into his arms, "this is Mrs Weasley."
"Nonsense," Molly said promptly, "She'll call me Nan. May I hold her?"
Harry hesitated, knowing that his new daughter was wary of strangers, but
before he could think how to phrase his response, the girl was reaching her
arms out to the woman in front of her with a happy smile. Surprised but
pleased, Harry shifted the baby's weight into Molly's arms and watched as
she began to pluck at the beading around the collar of her robes.
"Well, she's a damn sight prettier than we were expecting," said George
from his seat near the fireplace. "She must take after her mum, because we
all know that cousin of yours was no looker."
" George !"
"Sorry, Mum. I'm right though, aren't I?"
Ron nodded with a grin, and Hermione rolled her eyes as he wound an arm
around her waist, a gesture Harry caught and tried to put out of his mind.
"She seems lovely," said Ginny softly, still standing beside the door. Her
eyes were glistening now. Harry could see that she was upset and felt a
twinge of guilt. He had done what he had needed to do that night on Dupart
Lane, but his actions had consequences, not just for him or for Delphi, but
for the people already in his life.
"Ginny-"
"We'll talk later, I think," she said before he could get out another word, and
then she was rushing from the room and up the stairs towards the upper
levels of the house. Harry moved to go after her, but a firm hand on his arm
stayed him.
"She needs time, Harry," said Arthur, who was looking after his daughter
with a concerned expression. At last, he looked back at Harry, his smile
kindly. "You haven't done anything wrong, son. Even so, these things take
adjusting." Harry nodded; his chest was tight again as he turned back
around. Hermione caught his gaze, her face sympathetic, and Harry felt
some of the tightness release. Arthur was right. Ginny had every right to be
confused or upset… but that didn't mean he had done the wrong thing.
Delphi was his daughter, and the people in his life would need to come to
terms with that.
Dinner was a subdued affair, with only the Weasley's and Andromeda in
attendance with Teddy. Harry spent a great deal of his time holding the little
baby and marveling at how much larger Delphi seemed in comparison to his
godson. For her part, Delphi spent her time going from Weasley to Weasley,
happily babbling to each before finally settling into Hermione's arms and
refusing to be moved. Harry watched, amused as Hermione struggled to eat
her steak and ale pie one handed.
"So, have you got everything you need, Harry?" Molly spoke from the
opposite end of the room, her wand aimed at a trifle which was floating to
the center of the table. "For Delphi, I mean. It's been ages since I needed
baby things, but I've got plenty of toys and outfits set aside in the shed. I
couldn't bear to part with them when Ginny outgrew the lot."
"I think I've got most of it," Harry said, touched that Molly would offer.
"Hermione helped me with the shopping. Turns out she's a bit of a whiz at
baby things."
Ron seemed to stiffen where he sat beside Hermione, glancing over at her
but saying nothing. Harry didn't think she had even noticed, but he changed
the subject all the same. The last thing he wanted was to say something
stupid that would cause them to fight. "Thank you for offering, though," he
finished, directing his gaze and a smile back at Molly, who nodded
graciously.
"Well, you just keep it in mind if you find you're missing anything, Harry,"
she said. "I've got a shed full of things just waiting."
"Mind if we take a look through it?" Bill asked, his voice casual as Fleur's
laugh tinkled from beside him.
"Why would you need to-" began Arthur, looking up from the plate he was
liberally loading with trifle, his eyes wide as his jaw finally dropped. "Merlin,
are you two going to have a baby?"
Fleur's laughter chimed again as the table erupted into chaos and Molly lost
her bloody mind, springing from her spot and rushing around the table to
drag Bill and Fleur both out of their chairs and into her voluminous embrace.
Harry watched the whole exchange, amused, and congratulated the couple
in his turn. He noted the pride in Molly's face as she sat once more, fanning
herself and exclaiming about her wonderful fortune to get two grandchildren
in a single day.
As the family settled down again, and Harry placed a squirming Teddy back
into Andromeda's arms, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye.
He turned and saw a curly head of brown hair disappearing round the
corner.
"Excuse me," he said to Andromeda, rising from his seat and following
Hermione out of the room and into the stairwell. He entered the stairwell
just in time to see her disappearing onto the first landing, and followed at a
quick pace. Once he had cleared the last step, he paused in the hallway,
listening intently for a moment to gauge which of the two doors she had
disappeared behind. The first, he knew, belonged to Ginny. She had not
descended for supper, and so he knew she was likely still behind that door,
alone in her room. He thought about going in to her, about telling her that
he still cared for her, and that he was sorry he had been so distant lately.
For Merlin's sake, he had missed her birthday the week before to meet with
Dudley, sending only his profuse apologies and the 'news' about the car
accident his family had been in with the postal owl. He'd been a terrible
boyfriend lately, had made this huge, life changing decision without even
discussing it with her first. No, Ginny had a right to her solitude and to her
feelings. He wouldn't disturb her now, not when his priorities had changed so
drastically in the past week. Caring for Delphi-being a father-overshadowed
everything now, and he had a feeling that Ginny would not share his
enthusiasm for these new plans. Understandable, considering she'd had to
find out about them from an owl.
"Ron, I'm not going to have this discussion with you!"
Hermione's voice came icy and clipped from the room to his right, Bill and
Charlie's if Harry wasn't mistaken.
"I'm only asking you how much time you've spent with him lately. It's like I
haven't seen you alone in weeks!"
"I don't like what you're insinuating."
Harry moved to open the door. If they were going to row, he thought he
ought to check and see that Delphi was taken away.
"Who says I'm insinuating anything? But now that you mention it, that kid
does seem awfully familiar with you."
"Ron, you're embarrassing yourself. Honestly."
"I'm only saying there's something you're not telling me," hissed Ron as
Harry hesitated with his hand on the door. Did Ron suspect the truth? Did he
know? "I'm not stupid, Hermione."
"I never said that," she cried, and Harry heard Delphi beginning to fuss. He
lowered his head and opened the door, stepping into the room before
looking up.
"Is Delphi up here with you lot?" he asked, trying his best to sound casual.
"Here she is," said Hermione with a forced smile. She picked the fussing
baby up from the narrow single bed she had been wriggling on, snapping her
outfit back into place deftly. "Just needed a new nappy."
"Ron," said Harry, nodding in his friends direction. The redhead merely
nodded in return, his lips pressed tightly together into a thin line, his jaw
clenched.
"The pair of you still coming round to Grimmauld Place after dinner?"
Hermione glanced at Ron who remained still and expressionless. "We'll be
there," she said, and narrowed her gaze.
"Right," said Harry. "I'm heading back down for some trifle then. I'll leave
you be."
When the door closed behind him, he breathed a sigh of relief and climbed
down the stairs to the kitchen.
The Burrow
16 August 1998
The house was quiet by the time Hermione Flooed in. She had stayed at
number twelve longer than she had expected, but she couldn't bring herself
to leave Harry after what had happened. Merlin, that had been a row. She
wasn't sure she'd seen anything as bad in all their years of friendship. Of
course there had been spats and misunderstandings throughout the course
of their lives-and the argument Harry and Ron had had under the influence
of the Horcrux the year before-but none of those instances had even begun
to rival this. What Ron had said-Christ. Hermione wasn't Delphi's parent, but
even she had felt the instinct to protect the child at the vicious expression on
Ron's face. Why couldn't he see that the long list of sins he had rattled off
had nothing to do with the little girl left in their wake? She knew he was in
pain, knew that he had suffered, but even that could not excuse the blind
hatred he had exhibited.
She stood at the foot of the stairs, dreading what she knew was about to
happen. She thought briefly of returning to her own room, the one she
shared with Ginny on the first floor, but she knew that to do so would only
mean postponing the inevitable. So she climbed, her feet settling on each
step with a heavy thump as she made her way up to the familiar door with
its Chudley Canons poster on the outside. After several fortifying breaths she
knocked.
It took nearly a full minute of waiting at the door before she heard the
bedsprings inside of the room shift and the pacing of sock clad feet approach
the door. Ron only opened it a crack, one of his red rimmed blue eyes
peering through warily.
"Ron," Hermione said, her tone making the word a request. He seemed to
hesitate before finally taking a step back, pulling the door open with him to
allow her entrance.
His room was as it had always been. Quidditch posters lined the walls, and
the scent of broom polish permeated the air. Tinted with subtle spearmint
undertone which she had come to associate with him. His bed was narrow
and shoved into the far corner, and she could see his old school trunk still
open at the foot of his bed, as if he hadn't yet had time to unpack it
properly.
"What do you want?" Ron asked. He sounded tired, and his voice was
hoarse. Hermione felt an ache in her chest at the sudden realization that he
had been crying.
"Just to talk," she said.
Ron sniffed, turning his back to her as he leaned down to pull the quilt up
over his bed before sitting down on the edge. His hands were folded tightly
in his lap. "What about? I'm kind of tired."
Hermione sat beside him on the bed, close enough that she could feel the
brush of his elbow against her side. He flinched, shifting until they were no
longer touching. Hermione felt tears begin to prick at her eyes.
"Ron, I never meant to-" she began, but Ron's loud scoff stopped her mid
sentence.
"Come on, Hermione. The least you can do is be honest. We both know that
whatever the hell you and Harry did, you meant to do it." Ron's eyes were
closed tight now, as if he were both anticipating and dreading whatever it
was he thought Hermione had to say.
"I swear to God, Ron. All I did was help him with Delphi. We've never-I
mean, what you're imagining never happened." At that, Ron's eyes flew
open and narrowed. His nostrils flared as his hands clenched tightly in his
lap.
"What exactly is it you think I'm imagining?" he asked, his voice low and
angry. Hermione wondered suddenly whether she had made a mistake and
said the wrong thing.
"I thought…" her voice trailed off.
"That I thought the pair of you were messing around behind my back?"
Hermione nodded stiffly, and Ron swore, rising from the bed and striding to
the wall across the room, as if he couldn't stand to sit beside her for a
second longer.
"Merlin, Morganna, and Circe. How stupid do you think I am, Hermione?" He
swore again and ran a hand through his hair, tugging at it in frustration
before turning to face her again. "I've never thought you-not since that
bloody horcrux got into my head. I trust you, and I trust Harry, which is
why it's such a fucking punch in the gut to find out you don't feel the same."
"Ron that's not true!" Hermione sprang from the bed then, but Ron held up a
hand, his palm facing her as if to warn her to keep her distance. "Ron," she
heard herself whimper. "Of course we trust you."
"Just not with the important things," Ron said, and Hermione felt a familiar
swell of frustration at his intentional misunderstanding.
"You called her a thing, Ron! Harry's daughter!"
"Her parents killed my family!" he hissed in return, his expression
thunderous. "I'm sorry if my instinct isn't to coddle her."
"And you wonder why we were hesitant to tell you the truth," Hermione said,
her voice steely.
Ron let out a cold laugh. "There it is," he said. "I knew you two were lying to
me about something. Thanks for the confirmation."
"Alright, yes," Hermione said, her shoulders stiff as she caught Ron's gaze
and peered into it with as much steely strength as she could manage. "We
kept it from you. I went with Harry to find Delphi, and we rescued her. You
wouldn't believe the condition she was living in-not that you would have
cared given who she had the misfortune of being born to-but we couldn't
leave her where she was, so we took her."
"Bloody hell," Ron collapsed against the dresser at his back, covering his
face with his hands as Hermione continued.
"We took her to a hospital, and then I healed her. We decided the safest
thing to do for her-and for us-was to tell everyone she was a Dursley and to
keep her."
"Do you even hear yourself?" Ron asked, disbelieving. "You stole a baby,
Hermione!"
"I would do it again!" she exclaimed, breathing hard. "You didn't see her!"
"No, I must have missed the invitation to go on that little outing," he
sneered in return.
"You made your position very clear before we even considered-"
"We," interrupted Ron. "We. You're talking as if you adopted her together,
but you didn't, Hermione! Why are you so bloody defensive about a brat
that's not even yours!?"
"She is mine!" Hermione cried before she could even examine the
implications of what she was saying. She took several deep breaths and then
crossed her arms tightly across her chest, letting her eyes flutter closed and
then open again. "She's my goddaughter," she finished at last. "She's my
responsibility as well as Harry's. I'm sorry if you can't accept that."
"Are you?" Ron was staring at her now, his expression unreadable, his arms
crossed stiffly. Hermione thought he looked resigned, and a horrible, sinking
feeling settled into the pit of her stomach.
"I am," Hermione said, her voice breaking on the words but her expression
still fierce.
From his place opposite the room, Ron nodded, blinked several times, and
then looked over her shoulder, his eyes fixed on one of the many posters
over her head. After several quiet seconds, he sniffed and lifted one of his
hands to wipe at his nose.
"Ron. Please," Hermione begged, her voice small and miserable now. "We
don't have to talk about this right now. Maybe we both need time to think
things through before we do something rash."
"Time," echoed Ron. "You think time is what we need?" He laughed
humorlessly. "Will time make you trust me?"
"I trust you," she said, her voice barely a whisper.
"More than you trust Harry?" He sounded determined, and Hermione
flinched at the accusation in his tone. How could he ask her to compare
them?
"That's not a fair question," she protested, but Ron shook his head and held
up a hand.
"It is," he argued. "I'm not just your friend, Hermione. I'm your boyfriend. If
you can't trust me any more than you trust Harry, then what's the bloody
point?"
There were wet tears trailing down her cheeks now, and Hermione found it
difficult to breathe, to put into words what she thought she ought to say.
She loved Ron, had loved him since the beginning… but she knew the truth
that she had worked so hard to shield herself from since the end of the war…
She didn't love him in the way that she should.
"Shit," Hermione said, wiping at the tears on her cheeks furiously.
"Oh," Ron said, the word coming out on a surprised exhale, as if he hadn't
really been expecting her response after all. But he bit his lip, blinking fast
as he tightened his arms around himself and looked at the door.
"I am so sorry," Hermione said fisting her hands into his quilt as she
struggled to watch him through bleary eyes. "Ron, I care for you so much.
You're one of my best friends, and I don't know what I'd do without you."
Ron nodded, refusing to meet her gaze. She could hear him sniffing, could
see his shoulders shaking as he worked to control his reaction.
"Please look at me," she whispered. He turned, and his wet blue eyes met
her brown ones. She bit her lip as he wiped away the tears on his face with
the back of his hand and nodded.
"I get it," he said. And then he continued, "Look, I really am very tired.
Could we maybe-" his voice broke and he pressed his mouth together tightly
before nodding once at the door.
Hermione stood as if the bed had scalded her, aching to go to him and wrap
her arms around him. No matter how furious she might have been, she
couldn't stand the thought of not trying to relieve the ache he must be
feeling deep in the pit of his stomach, an ache which mirrored her own.
"'Mione, please," he said in a voice that was more whimper than anything
else. She rushed to the door, a fleeting thought crossing her mind and
making her pause with her hand on the doorknob.
"You won't tell anyone about Delphi?" She realized too late that it was the
wrong thing to say. She watched the pain in his eyes deepen and his face
twist into a furious scowl.
"I only meant-" Hermione began, but she was cut off.
"I know what you meant," Ron said, "And you can tell Harry I haven't got
any interest in outing his little Death Eater." His voice broke again, and he
turned his back on her with a whirl, his hands clenching the edges of the
dresser as his head fell forward. His back seemed to radiate tension as she
watched.
"He's my best friend too, Hermione," he said, his voice pained. "I would
never-I don't have to like her to realize she's his goddamned kid. I couldn't
do that to him. I'm not a monster."
Hermione knew what he meant, but she could not help but notice that even
as he swore his allegiance to Harry, he continued to other the child which
she had sworn to protect. He stilI saw Delphi as little more than Bellatrix
and Voldemort's offspring.
"Swear to it," she said, her voice even as she turned to look at him once
more. She watched him grow completely still, recognized the anger brewing
beneath the service as he turned stiffly and looked her square in the eye.
She could see the pain and the anger and the helplessness mixed there, and
she shivered.
"I swear on my wand and on my magic that I will neither reveal the secrets
of, nor seek to cause harm to Delphini Potter." He fell silent, his eyes
burning for a moment before he spoke again. "Now get the fuck out of my
room, Hermione."
She fled.
She packed without really thinking, seizing anything she recognized as hers
and stuffing it into the little beaded bag she still carried. As she moved about
the room, plucking scarves and books off of various surfaces, she took care
not to disturb the girl sleeping beneath the window. Ginny, too, had had a
long day, and the last thing Hermione needed now was to be confronted by
a girl just as emotionally compromised as herself. When, at last, Hermione
had managed to stow away everything of hers in sight, she turned to the
door, closing it gently behind her and making her way down the stairs to the
sitting room.
"Hermione?" She nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of Molly's voice
coming from behind her. Hand over her heart, Hermione turned to face the
older woman standing in the kitchen doorway. She was dressed in her
nightgown, a robe pulled on over the top and tied at the waist, and there
were slippers on her feet.
"Molly, you scared me," she said without thinking, and then winced when
she noticed the other woman arch a brow.
"I didn't mean to, dear. But what are you doing up at this hour?" She
crossed her arms, not in the stern way Hermione had seen her do countless
times before, but in a casual manner that gave her pause.
"Shit," Hermione swore. "You've heard us."
Molly gave her a sympathetic smile and nodded. "I'm afraid it was a bit hard
to miss the raised voices, though I didn't really hear what was being said."
Thank God for small miracles, Hermione thought.
"I'm so sorry to have woken you," she apologized, the relief at not having
inadvertently given any of Harry's secrets away being promptly
overshadowed by the reality of what she had actually been fleeing.
"What happened, dear?" Molly asked, her brow furrowing as she uncrossed
her arms and tilted her head to the side. "We heard you rowing, but it can't
have been all that bad."
The woman was ever the optimist, and Hermione felt her stomach tighten as
she contemplated saying the words she knew she must to get out of the
house.
"We've broken up," she said. The words sounded cold and inadequate to
describe what had happened, barely beginning to cover the cause of the
deep ache she felt in her gut. She and Ron had done more than just broken
up; they had broken.
"Oh, love," Molly said, rushing forward and wrapping her arms around the
girl trembling in her living room. "Hush now, you'll be alright." Hermione did
not realize until Molly embraced her that she had begun to cry once more.
She felt ashamed that she had hurt Ron, and that, unknowingly, his mother
was comforting her.
"I'm alright," she said through hiccuping sobs, "Really, you should see if Ron
needs-"
"I'd wager what Ron needs is a swift kick in arse," Molly interrupted, pushing
Hermione back by the shoulders just enough so that could see her face. "My
sons are good men," she continued, "but they all have their flaws. Ron's is a
surplus of pique." Hermione laughed through the tears despite herself,
enjoying the warm acceptance still radiating from the other woman's face.
"Now, I want you to dry your tears and come have a chat with me. I won't
have you running off into the night like some sort of vagabond."
With that, Molly released Hermione's arms, patting her on the shoulder
before heading to a tall bookshelf near the front door. With a conspiratorial
grin in Hermione's direction, she reached for a book on the bottom shelf,
pulling it out and plucking what looked like a deck of muggle playing cards
from behind it.
"Curious as my children are, not one of them has ever thought to pull out
my copy of Housewitch Charms for the New Century . Fancy that." As she
drew closer, Hermione realized that she was not holding a deck of cards, but
a package of half smoked cigarettes.
"Molly!" she said in shock.
"Come on, into the garden," the older which said, taking Hermione and
leading her by the crook of the arm into the back garden to sit on a bench
near the hedge. As they sat, Molly placed one of the cigarettes between her
lips and lit it expertly with her wand tip before offering one to Hermione as
well. She accepted, rolling the cigarette between her fingers until Molly lit it
as well.
"I've never had one of these before," Hermione admitted.
Molly chuckled. "I should hope not. They're a nasty habit. Still, they are
useful in times of stress. I swear I smoked a pack in a night after the
funeral."
Hermione raised the thing to her lips, inhaling briefly and then coughing
loudly. Molly patted her on the back until she had recovered, exhaling her
own puff of smoke neatly out of the corner of her mouth.
"You know dear," she said, settling her back against the hedge as Hermione
let the cigarettes burn in her hand, "I know it probably feels very much like
the end of the world right now, but you'll get on."
"God, I hope so," Hermione breathed. "I feel so very… stupid."
"Nonsense," Molly dismissed. "You're an exceptionally bright young woman.
Whatever happened between the two of you, it was meant to happen, and I
have every confidence you'll both come to realize it." Hermione grew still
and Molly gave her a friendly smile. "I'm not saying any of us wanted it to
happen, but we don't have control over fate, do we?"
"I suppose not," Hermione said, trying for another drag on the cigarette and
coughing again as if on cue.
"Look at Harry," Molly continued. "All of eighteen years old, and a father. I'd
wager it was a shock to him when he was asked to take the child in, but he
knew what he had to do, and now anyone can see plain as day that he's
doing what he's meant to do. Life doesn't deal us the hand we expect, does
it?"
"You'd think it might give you some hints though," Hermione said bitterly.
Molly exhaled and shook her head.
"No," she said, "it always blindsides you. In the end though, I think fate
usually does the best it can by us." She paused, taking another drag on her
cigarette before seeming to decide on something. She turned to look
Hermione full in the face. "You wouldn't know this, but I was married once
before Arthur."
Hermione gasped audibly. "What?" She asked, sure she had misheard.
"Oh yes," Molly confirmed. "He was brilliant and charming." She laughed at
some memory and waved her cigarette at Hermione. "He's the one who
turned me onto these daft things." And then, as suddenly as the light in her
eyes had appeared, it faded, replaced by hard steel. "He was not, however,
a very good man. In the end, the Order killed him."
"Oh God, Molly, I'm sorry," Hermione began, but the other woman held up a
hand to quiet her.
"We were only married for a short while, Hermione. I divorced him a few
months after we left Hogwarts, when it became clear whose pocket he was
really living in. I met Arthur again not long after that, and we became the
best of friends, and the rest is history. Now, I'm not comparing my Ron to
my first husband, because there really is no comparison. My son's a better
man on every level… but I will say that first loves are often learning
experiences. They reveal things to us, help us to know ourselves better."
She turned and met Hermione's eye. "Do you understand?"
Hermione nodded blearily.
"Good," Molly said, lifting her cigarette once more.
"I just…" Hermione hesitated.
"Go on," Molly prodded.
"I'm afraid," Hermione admitted. "The last thing I want is to lose any of you,
and I feel as if I've ruined it all."
"Poppycock," Molly exclaimed. "Why on earth would you be afraid of that?
You're not any less my daughter than Harry is my son, and I'll tell you,
someone would have to pry my cold dead hands off of that boy before I'd
give him up." Hermione felt herself become enveloped in Molly's warm
embrace and allowed her eyes to close. As they did, she pictured her own
mother, thousands of miles across the world with no memory of her
daughter at all. She began to cry anew.
When she had quieted again Molly released her, extinguishing her cigarette
on the bench and lighting another. Hermione let her own fall to the ground.
"Now, where was it you were planning to go tonight, young lady?" Molly
asked at last.
Hermione shrugged.
"I hadn't really thought about it," she admitted. "I probably would have just
ended up at Harry's, to be honest."
"Are you still planning on going back to Hogwarts in September?"
Hermione nodded. "I am. Professor McGonagall's assured me a quiet year. I
think I need that."
"Of course you do, and what's more is, you deserve it," Molly agreed. She
fell silent for a few moments before continuing. "Ginny will be back too, of
course."
"I've been looking forward to sharing a room with someone who can talk
about more than fashion magazines," Hermione said, giving Molly a watery
smile.
"You'll look after her, won't you?" Molly asked, "I have a feeling she'll need a
good friend to keep her on track this year."
Hermione swallowed as Molly turned to meet her gaze. Could she be saying
what Hermione thought she was?
"Ginny is a good girl," Molly continued, "but that's just what she is, a girl.
She's not ready for the life Harry's got, and I think very soon she'll realize
it." She sighed. "She's not like you, Hermione, and that's not a bad thing or
a good thing, only… she's going to need a friend to remind her that it's
okay."
"Of course," Hermione agreed. "No matter what she decides, she'll still be
my friend. I don't think anyone would think less of her."
"She'll think less of herself, for a while," Molly whispered, and there was a
faraway look in her eye that Hermione couldn't quite place. But before
Hermione could dwell too much on it, the other woman seemed to snap back
to the present, flicking her cigarette onto the ground and crushing in with
the toe of her slipper.
"Right," she said, "It's cold out here, and we should go back in before we
catch our deaths. You'll be Flooing to Harry's?"
Hermione nodded and stood, wrapping her traveling cloak tightly around
herself and then tensing as Molly leaned towards her. But there was no
need, the older woman merely enveloped her in another embrace, her hands
pressing into Hermione's back and drawing her closer as she whispered
fiercely in her ear.
"I've known you since you were twelve years old, Hermione Granger," she
said, "and in all that time I've never once known you to not do the smart
thing. Tonight is no different. You've done what needed doing, and painful as
it may be, you'll come to appreciate it in time." She pulled away and
Hermione felt her damp cheeks grow cold in the night air. "Now, off you trot.
Tell Harry I expect to hear from him tomorrow, and that I'll set places for
the lot of you at Sunday supper."
"Yes ma'am," Hermione said, grateful and exceedingly emotional.
Molly laughed.
"Such cheek," she said, and then disappeared back into the house, her lilac
terrycloth robe the last thing Hermione saw.
Hermione watched her go, bemused at the moment they had just shared.
Never in her life would she have expected to converse with Ron's mother so
openly. It had almost felt as if… Hermione sniffled and wiped at her nose as
she followed Molly into the house, thinking as she went that it had seemed
for a moment as if things would really be alright.
Chapter 12
A/N: I continue to be blown away by your responses to this story. You are
all the kindest, most brilliant readers on the internet. Beta and Alpha love to
Oblivionbaby and Shayalonnie, who are not watching me right now and are
therefore the reason you all get this chapter a week early, before I've
managed to finish the one following.
Diagon Alley
30 August 1998
Delphi loved people, and no matter where she went, she managed to
enchant them. At Madam Malkin's, she spent the entire time engaging the
seamstress with smiles and cooing words that only she seemed to
understand. Meanwhile, Hermione flipped through a catalogue of dress
robes, pointing to the ones that appealed to her as she went.
"What about this one?" she asked, turning the booklet around for Harry to
see. He made a face.
"It's very bright," he commented. Hermione made an impatient noise and
thrust the catalogue under his nose.
"That's why it comes in different colors," she informed him, tapping the little
square at the bottom of the page which was flashing between bright colors
and more sedate ones. "I was thinking in a dusky rose."
Harry squinted at the dress as it twirled on the page, the skirt swaying nicely
with each rotation. "I guess," he said, though he didn't sound very sure at
all. Hermione made an impatient sound and pulled the catalogue back
towards her, flipping through the pages again as she began to mutter.
"Honestly," she said under her breath. "Defeats a Dark Lord but can't help
me pick out a bloody dress."
"What was that?" Harry asked.
"Nothing." Hermione glanced up at him as she closed the booklet at last. He
was watching her with one dark brow arched and his bright green eyes
seeming to take in everything.
"What?" She asked, feeling startled but unsure of why.
"Nothing." Harry echoed her own reply back to her and she felt herself begin
to blush. Circe, what was wrong with her?
"Da?" Delphi's voice rose panicked from the other side of the shop, and
Hermione looked up along with Harry. They stood at the same time, but
before she could move Harry was striding towards where his daughter sat
with several spools of unwound ribbon on the carpet around her.
"I'm still here, Delph. Daddy's here." He scooped her up with a smile, and
she clutched at his shirt, laying her head on his shoulder as she smiled in
Hermione's direction.
"I've got your uniforms ready," Madame Malkin called as she closed a
cabinet near where Delphi had been sitting. She walked over to them, her
own floral robes fluttering as she walked. "Would you like to try them?"
"God no," Hermione said, wrinkling her nose. "I trust you."
Madam Malkin smiled and sent a neat stack of clothes spinning through the
air with a wave of her hand. They landed on the front counter where they
were wrapped in brown paper and bound with string.
"Was there anything else you wanted, dear?"
Hermione glanced back at the catalogue of dress robes before shaking her
head.
"That's everything," she answered. They paid with little trouble after that,
and soon Hermione, Harry, and Delphi were on the street again, the sun
beating down on them as they made their way across the Alley towards the
ice cream parlor opposite the seamstress' shop.
"Christ, it's still weird seeing seeing a new name on the place." Harry
stopped outside of the parlor, looking up at the sign which hung over the
restored windows. Hermione let herself look too. She knew that Mr.
Fortescue had been killed during the war, but Harry was right, seeing
someone else's name there was still jarring.
"Shall we?" Hermione asked, opening the door and holding it ajar as she
motioned Harry into the shop. It was busier than she remembered it-the
whole alley seemed to be lately-and given it was a warm day, she probably
shouldn't be overly surprised that the dispenser of sweet frozen treats was
over-run. Wading through the crowd of people queuing for a treat, Hermione
sat down at a blessedly empty table near the window. She held her hands
out to Delphi as Harry neared, feeling gratified as the girl reached back for
her as Harry settled the baby onto her lap.
"I'll grab us all something if you wait here," Harry offered. "Craving anything
in particular?"
Hermione scanned the menu before shaking her head and offering Harry a
smile. "You choose."
"Be right back, love," Harry said, leaning down to peck Delphi's forehead
with his lips and then wading back to the end of the line.
"Da," Delphi said as Harry was obscured by a tall, round witch herding three
Hogwarts aged teens. Hermione thought the eldest looked familiar but
couldn't name them. Probably someone in fifth year in a different house.
"Daddy will be right back," Hermione assured Delphi, turning her around on
her lap so that she could look the girl in the eye. She was always surprised
by how lovely they were. She remembered those same grey irises flecked
with shards of graphite and encircled by obsidian as they had stared down at
her in the Malfoy drawing room. How could they be so different in this face?
Where Bellatrix's eyes had gleamed with cold fury, Delphi's burned hot and
curious, practically sparkling as she took in the world around her with
amused delight. Hermione thought they were enchanting, something she
hadn't thought possible of the Black family before she met her goddaughter.
As kind as Sirius had been to Harry, there had always been a certain
madness, an emptiness in his gaze which Hermione now suspected he had
learned in Azkaban.
"Boo!" Hermione's gazed snapped back to focus on Delphi, who was covering
her cheeks with her chubby hands as she smiled up at Hermione,
entertained already by the game she had initiated.
"You want to play peek-a-boo, do you?" Hermione sang, covering her face
with her own hands before lowering them and leaning in to kiss Delphi's
cheek. The girl shrieked with laughter and rocked backwards on Hermione's
lap far enough that she was forced to catch her before she went tumbling
off. "Careful, darling."
"Boo!"
Hermione pretending to nibble on the baby's cheeks again and smiled widely
at her delighted reaction.
"Oh, I love that age," came a woman's voice from up above her, and
Hermione looked up to see who had spoken. The tall witch with her three
children had stopped beside Hermione's table and was looking fondly down
at them. "You be careful, or she'll be off to Hogwarts while you're blinking."
"Hopefully she'll sleep through the night before then," came Harry's dry
response from behind the woman. He was holding two ice cream sundaes
and smiling kindly.
"Never you worry," the older woman laughed. "Before you know it, you'll
have to drag her out of bed in the morning. Merlin, she favors her father
doesn't she?" She looked back down at Delphi, taking in her dark hair and
light eyes. "Except for the curls. Those are all mummy's, aren't they
sweetie?" The last she directed at Delphi. Before Hermione could correct her
about her status in Delphi's life, the woman was wishing them all the best
and traipsing across the room to sit at a table with her three children.
"That was awkward," Hermione said, shifting her gaze down to the sundae
Harry had set in front of her. Delphi craned around to look at it and reached
down to grab a fistful of whipped cream before Hermione could stop her.
"Was it?" Harry's voice was deep and pensive. It took her by surprise and
made something in her stomach flutter.
Hermione cleared her throat and nodded.
"She thought we were a couple," Hermione told him, pulling out her wand
and pointing it at Delphi's hand. " Tergeo ."
"Hmm." Harry didn't say anything else, only took a spoon and dipped it into
his own ice cream, scooping out a minuscule amount and feeding it to Delphi
where she sat in Hermione's lap. The pair of them looked down in interest
for her reaction, and when the baby pulled a face at the cold temperature,
they laughed.
"It will rot your teeth anyway," Hermione said to her.
"I promise I'll brush all four of them very well." Harry smiled and let her
have another taste, this time of his banana which she enjoyed very much.
The three of them demolished their sundaes without speaking, until at last
they were full and simply enjoying the feeling of being out in public rather
than cooped up in the dark interior of Grimmauld Place. Delphi seemed to
love watching the people milling about the parlour, their cones and ice
cream dishes in hand. Hermione found herself wondering whether the baby
had ever been in public before Harry had rescued her. She shut the thought
out before she could dwell on it further. Contemplating Delphi's prior
circumstances would lead to nothing but heartache.
"What's on your mind, Hermione?" She looked up to catch Harry's eyes on
her, their bright green irises charming in the light which filtered through the
window beside them.
"Nothing," she answered.
"There's a lot of that going around today, isn't there?" He was looking at her
as if he could tell she was full of shite, and she forced a smile in response.
"Fine, if you must know, I was thinking about your interview tomorrow."
"My what?" Harry looked confused, and Hermione took it in with satisfaction.
"Your interview," she repeated. "Kingsley fire-called two days ago and
wanted to know whether you'd changed your mind about training this year."
"What? I never spoke to Kingsley!"
"Well, lucky I was there to take the call then. He said if you were interested,
the last round of interviews were this week. I told him you could be in on
Monday."
"Hermione, you didn't."
"I also bought you a pair of plain robes to wear. I understand you're
supposed to be able to move in them, so I stayed fairly basic. I don't think
wizards do the dressing up for interviews that Muggles tend to. Dress robes
would be a bit much."
"Hermione," he said, sounding for all the world as if he were trying to be
patient with her. "I can't just go to an interview. I've got a kid."
"And a live in babysitter until Tuesday," Hermione reminded him. "I fail to
see the problem."
"And after the interview? When I'm an Auror and have to be at work? Do
you expect me to carry her in to apprehend criminals with me?"
"Cocky, are we? What's to say you'll even get the job?"
Harry rolled his eyes and ran a hand over his beard. Hermione was disturbed
by how appealing he looked doing it.
"A hunch," he said at last, his eyes practically twinkling.
"I'm beginning to think you have just as big of a head as Professor Snape
always said." Hermione pretended for a moment to look as if she
disapproved.
"Maybe not the one he imagined," Harry said, and before she had the chance
to be properly shocked at his insinuation, Hermione could see the skin over
his cheekbones beginning to pinken and a mortified expression plastering
itself across his face.
"Shit," he said. "I didn't mean-Fuck. Hermione, I'm sorry, I-"
She started laughing before he could say another word, her face falling
forward as she struggled to bite her lip. Her hair tumbled down to land on
top of Delphi's head and over her face. The baby squaked in response, and
Hermione tossed her hair back over her shoulders as they continued to
shake. The cheek of him!
"Merlin, Hermione. I shouldn't have-"
"Oh come off it, Harry," she said, wiping at tears which had begun to form at
the corners of her eyes. "I've been friends with you and Ron for seven years
now. It's not as if this is the first penis joke I've ever heard. For Christ's
sake, I walked in on you wanking the summer before fifth year. The male
anatomy is not that much of a mystery."
"You walked in on- what ?!"
"You blush very prettily, Harry."
She watched as he struggled to choke down the embarrassment and regain
his composure. As he did so, she bounced Delphi on her knee and began to
speak again. "In any event, I've spoken to Andromeda, and she's assured
me she would love to watch Delphi during work hours. She said-and I am
quoting here-that it would be a pleasure."
Harry watched her in what looked like amazed silence, and Hermione felt
herself beginning to fidget. She had thought she was doing the right thing
when she had taken the initiative, but now, having revealed the extent of
her meddling, she began to worry. What if Harry found it all less helpful and
more intrusive? She knew that he had wanted to be an Auror ever since he
was made aware that the profession existed, and she also knew that since
Delphi's arrival in his life, he hadn't had the time to properly examine his
options. She knew that she had overstepped, but she had hoped that the
risk would yield positive fruit for Harry.
"Of course," she heard herself say, "if you aren't interested in pursuing Auror
work this year, I'm sure Kingsley and Andromeda will both understand. I
only wanted you to have the option if you found you did want to. Pursue a
career I mean." She was beginning to repeat herself now, and she winced,
forcing her mouth closed as she looked down at Delphi. Merlin, she was just
fucking up all of her relationships lately, wasn't she? Swell job, Hermione,
she thought, erase yourself from your parent's lives, break up with your
boyfriend, and alienate your best friend. Sounds like you've really thought all
of this through.
"Okay." Harry sounded more confident than she had expected. "I'll do it. I'll
go in for the interview. I'm not saying I'll take the job-"
"If you're offered the job," Hermione said, fighting to keep her expression
serious.
Harry smirked and leaned down to speak to Delphi.
"Can you believe how oblivious your godmother's gotten in her old age?" He
glanced back up at Hermione. "We both know I'll be accepted. Even if I
weren't Harry Potter, I still got brilliant marks in Defense."
"And so modest."
"Exactly."
Hermione was about to speak again to tell that him he should probably
interview as if he weren't aware there was likely already a cubicle
somewhere in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement with his name on
it, but she was interrupted by a bright, blinding light which came through
the window beside them.
"Harry! Over here!"
She watched as Harry turned to face the source of the voice, looking through
the window and in the direction of several photographers who began clicking
away madly, the bulbous lights on their cameras flashing and making Harry
wince.
"Are you and Hermione a couple?!"
"How are you finding fatherhood?!"
"What does your girlfriend think of your close relationship with Miss
Granger!?"
The questions were shouted on top of one another, and as the flashing lights
continued to flood the room, Delphi began to cry.
" Obscurent !" Hermione's wand tip was pressed against the glass of the
shop window, and as she spoke, the entire pane darkened until nothing was
visible beyond it and no light penetrated from the sunny alley beyond. They
were left in fluorescent lighting, all of the patrons around them staring in
shocked silence as the cries of the reporters beyond the window continued to
echo.
"Let's get out of here," Harry said, his expression nearly as dark as the
glass. He reached out and took the fussing Delphi from Hermione's lap,
holding her tightly in his arms as he turned and disapparated. Hermione shot
a hex through the opaque window and smiled in satisfaction as someone
outside screamed before following Harry out of the shop.
The Burrow
30 August 1998
Molly opened the front door and ushered the three of them to the dinner
table in a flurry. After the afternoon they had had in Diagon Alley, Harry had
been prepared to forgo Dinner at the Burrow completely, but Hermione
would not hear of it. I don't care how uncomfortable it makes us, she had
said, We're not disappointing Molly the Sunday before term.
"I've got a sauce on and it's at a very delicate stage. You sit there and don't
think of letting anyone else hold that baby until I've had my chance." Molly
pushed Harry and Hermione down into their seats and ruffled Delphi's curls
affectionately before turning back to the stove where a wooden spoon was
rotating inside of a small saucepan.
"Harry, Hermione, what a pleasure to see you both! We missed you last
week." Harry looked up at the sound of Arthur's voice, finding the older man
at the opposite end of the table with a wide grin on his face.
"I couldn't miss Molly's cooking two weeks in a row." Harry smiled and set
Delphi onto the empty chair to his left, transfiguring it almost simultaneously
into a simple wooden high chair with a buckle that fit around her waist.
Delphi clapped her hands and laughed from her new vantage point, leaning
forward as far as she was able to and snagging a roll from the plate nearest
her. As she began to bite into the bread, Harry surveyed the rest of the
table. Near Arthur, Andromeda sat with baby Teddy cradled in one of her
arms. To her left, Fleur was hanging on to Bill's arm as she carried on an
animated conversation with Andromeda about the merits of home birth.
Harry wrinkled his nose and moved on to the other side of the table where
he could see a girl he didn't recognize seated between Percy and George.
"Hermione." Harry was distracted by the sound of a familiar voice behind
him. His spine stiffened as he turned to face the source.
"Ron," Hermione said. The word came out on an exhale and Harry watched
as she locked eyes with her ex-boyfriend. Merlin, that was an odd thought.
"Harry."
He flinched, surprised at being addressed by the red-head but nodding in
response all the same.
"Ron," he acknowledged.
Silence fell for several beats until George spoke from the other side of
Hermione.
"Well, there's nothing awkward about this."
"Oh hush, you," Molly said, turning back as the pot she had been stirring
floated to an unlit burner. She leaned down to pick up Delphi from her seat.
"Mind if I have a word?" Ron asked, his gaze trained on his shoes.
Harry glanced sideways at Hermione, waiting for her cue. When she nodded,
Harry stood with her, pausing only to tell Delphi that he would be back soon
before following his two friends out of the kitchen and up to the familiar
room beneath the attic. Ron's bedroom seemed smaller than Harry
remembered it with the three of them packed in. Ron stood awkwardly
beside his bed before motioning for Harry and Hermione to sit. They did,
Harry taking the lone chair in the room as Hermione and Ron sat on opposite
sides of his narrow bed. He could see that though Hermione gave an
outward impression of ease, her hands were clenched tightly in the frayed
quilt which covered the bed.
"What happened to your dresser?" Hermione asked, her eyes trained on the
wooden furniture which was listing oddly to the side.
"Foot broke," Ron said with a shrug, and then bit his lip before shaking his
head. "Merlin, I'm bad at this. Look-" He stood then, his hands tucked into
the pockets of his trousers as his face turned bright red. "I'm sorry, alright?
I said some shit things and I shouldn't have. I lost my goddamned temper-
not that that's abnormal for me-but it was a mistake."
"So calling my daughter a thing was just a mistake, was it?" Harry heard
himself speak before he had time to think through his response.
"Harry," Hermione said sharply. She gave him a pointed look, and he
flushed, staring back down at his lap with the skin beneath his collar
burning. She was right, dammit, the last thing he needed to do was make
this any worse. But he was still so bloody furious!
"Yeah, it was," Ron said, his voice more firm than Harry had expected. "I
shouldn't have said that." Here he paused, face still burning as he looked
down as his hands. "She's your kid now. I know that. I just… It's not an
excuse, but I can't stop thinking about them . I see them when I close my
eyes, when I look at George, when I dream at night, or hear Mum crying
when she thinks we've all gone to sleep. They're in my head, Harry. Do you
know what that's like?"
Harry swallowed, his eyes burning.
"I do," he answered.
"Of course you do," Ron said, as if he'd only just remembered who he was
talking to. He sniffed and wiped at his nose as he turned his gaze on
Hermione. "I was wrong," he said.
"You were," Hermione said. "About Delphi, you were." And a look of
heartache and resignation passed between the two of them that Harry
recognized from his own conversation with Ginny the week before.
"I don't want to lose either of you," Ron continued. "I don't want to walk
away. I've done it once before, and I swore, Harry, I swore I'd never do it
again."
"I don't want that either." Harry stood, tucking his own hands away into his
pockets as he met Ron's gaze. "But I've got to trust you with her if things
are going to be the same as they were. She's the most important thing in
my life, Ron."
"I know." Ron nodded and bit the inside of his cheek.
"You have to know Ron would never-" Hermione began, but Harry held up a
hand in her direction, sending her a pleading look simultaneously. She fell
silent and pressed her lips into a thin line. After several more uncomfortable
seconds spent in silence, Ron looked up, a determined expression on his
face.
"I don't like her," he said. Harry bristled, but Hermione spoke before he had
the chance.
"You don't even know her, Ron."
"I don't like the idea of her," Ron clarified. "Every time I think about her I'm
reminded of things I'd rather forget, but…" His stopped speaking and
frowned as his teeth sank into his lip.
"But?" Harry asked.
"Well, I don't like that I don't like her."
"The idea of her," Hermione corrected.
"I don't like that I look at a baby, my best friend's daughter, and all I can
think about are a pair of dead arseholes." Ron's brows were knitted together
as he continued, and Harry watched in anxiously as he spoke. "I can't
promise I'll be able to put it all behind me today, Harry… I just can't, but I
can tell you I'm trying, and that I'd sooner Avada myself than do anything to
hurt you… or Delphini."
Harry's heart pounded as he stared as his friend. In a rush, he remembered
every argument they had ever had, every caustic remark Ron had ever
made, but the memories were soon followed by the truly remarkable things
the redhead had done. They had been friends for a very long time, and there
was a reason for that. Ron was a good person. Harry felt ashamed at how
unyielding he had been towards his friend, how obtuse. Harry knew he was
not the only person who had lost someone in the war, not the only person
still affected by it. He couldn't regret keeping Delphi safe, but had she ever
been in real danger from Ron?
"I'm sorry too," Harry said, and heard Hermione let out a relieved sigh from
her place on the bed. "I should have trusted you more. It was wrong of me
to let you find out the way you did. I don't regret Delphi, and I can't regret
anything that will help to keep her safe, but I shouldn't have kept you in the
dark…" His throat tightened, and he blinked several times before continuing.
"You're like a brother to me, Ron."
Hermione sprang up from the bed with a tearful sounding cry and wrapped
one arm around each of their necks before pulling both Harry and Ron in
close for a tight hug. Harry winced as he felt all three of their heads collide
before Hermione loosened her grip.
"I love you both so much!" Hermione cried, and Harry felt himself blush
again as he hid his face in her bushy hair. As they stood there, he felt Ron's
arm come around his own shoulder, squeezing tightly as Harry returned the
embrace.
A knock on the door made the trio jump apart, dropping their arms
awkwardly as they blinked back stray tears.
"Mum sent me to bring you three down. I hope you're not doing anything
inappropriate in there." George sounded as if he thought that was unlikely.
"Piss off," Ron said. "We'll be down in a minute."
"By which point mum will have fed Harry's kid a whole cake and three sugar
cubes. By all means, take your time."
Harry laughed as Ron rolled his eyes and Hermione frowned.
"She'll give her a stomach ache," she said.
Harry smiled, meeting Ron' gaze as he shrugged, and they both laughed
aloud.
"Come on, we should go down," Hermione said.
When they reached the table, Delphi was perched back in the high chair with
a fistful of steamed carrots and a face covered in what looked like gravy.
Harry watched as Ron took his seat beside her, his expression unreadable as
he watched the baby coat herself in food. Delphi seemed to eye him
speculatively in return before losing interest and reaching for the half eaten
roll on the table in front of her instead.
"Where has Ginny gone this evening," asked Fleur, her thick French accent
coming from the other side of the table before she winced as Bill shifted
forward in his seat. Harry had a sneaking suspicion the man had just trod on
his pregnant wife's foot.
"She's accepted an invitation to eat with her Aunt Muriel this evening,"
Arthur said, but Harry caught the quick flicker of his eyes upwards and felt
the same crushing guilt which had been assailing him for the past week.
Perhaps he ought to seek Ginny out, to talk with her to make sure she-
A warm hand on his forearm drew his gaze and he followed it back to its
source. Hermione was giving him a meaningful look, and he nodded in
response. This isn't your fault, her expression seemed to say, and Harry
was very grateful for her support.
"Tell me, Harry," Andromeda called, "are you nervous for tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow? Blimey, Harry, have you decided to interview?" Ron sounded
surprised, but pleased, and Harry nodded his confirmation.
"I have," he said. "I've got to be there at ten tomorrow morning."
"I'll see you there," Ron said, a broad smile on his face. "Mine's at nine.
Then the physical portion at one."
"And I'm sure you'll do splendidly," Molly beamed. She was the picture of a
proud mother as she flicked her wand casually at the table, sending several
slices of roast floating onto Ron and Harry's plates. "But not if you don't eat
your dinner."
Ron didn't need any further encouragement. As always, he dug into his meal
with gusto. Harry, too, began to load his fork, anticipating the taste of what
he knew would be an exceptional meal. Just as he was about to take the first
bite, he felt the press of a leg against his beneath the table. He paused,
glancing inquiringly at Hermione, who gave him a brilliant smile.
"Eat up, Future Auror Potter" she said, and then turned back to her own
plate. Harry felt something warm burning in his chest and did as he was
told.
5 September 1998
Dear Harry,
Hogwarts is boring without you and Ron trying to get me killed. I've had so
much time to revise that I think I might actually be overdoing it. I know, I
know, shocking, isn't it? But even I can admit that revision isn't everything,
and that sometimes it's necessary to-and I am quoting Professor McGonagall
here-"let one's hair down." I know you probably already remember, but my
birthday is coming up. I was hoping our first liberty weekend would coincide,
but it hasn't. So, in lieu of actually seeing you and Delphi, I demand
copious amounts of photographs that I can plaster above my bunk. I miss
seeing her, you know. I wasn't anticipating how painful it would be to be a
away from her. Do all god parents feel this way, you think? And I miss
seeing you, of course.
Classes are just as they ever were. Professor Slughorn has retired, and we
have a new Potions teacher. Her name is Lucinda Burke, and she doesn't
seem a bad sort. There's not as much looming and point taking as there was
with Snape as Potion's Master. Is it odd that I almost miss not being able to
make a comment without being called a know-it-all? There's a new
Transfiguration teacher as well. You've met her actually, it's Mrs Catermole
from the Ministry. Professor Catermole, I suppose. She's brilliant, actually.
Other posts have been filled as well, though I haven't had as much chance
to get to know the other teachers.
And you'll never guess where little Ruth ended up in the sorting. She's a
Slytherin! Can you believe it? I was shocked. Imagine, a slytherin, admiring
me. She's a sweetheart, though. When she sees me doing rounds in the
evening she blushes and follows me for five minutes or so, telling me all
about what she's learning. And because I know you'll want to know, yes,
Malfoy did show up on the first day of term. He's behaving himself so far,
but I'll continue to keep an eye on him.
Hagrid sends his regards and this horrid box of rock cakes. I'm sorry, but he
insisted I send them.
Hoping all is well and missing you terribly,
Hermione
9 September 1998
Dear Hermione,
We miss you too. I forgot the laundry in the wash after all, and it was
starting to mold by the time I found it. Had to chuck the lot. What's the
name of that store you got Delphi's clothes at?
I love your updates on Hogwarts. It's weird seeing it from the other side like
this. Last year the separation didn't seem real because we had no idea what
was going on in the school, but now, with your letters, it's impossible to not
remember I'm done with Hogwarts. It makes me feel old, honestly.
Training is going well. I'm in the same unit as Ron. Things were awkward at
first, I'll admit, but they seem to have gone back to normal. I'm constantly
getting my arse handed to me in training by the head auror, Robards. He's
bloody good at what he does, and I'm glad to be learning from him. Still, it
pricks a man's ego to be stunned so often.
Delphi has started walking, can you believe it! She's absolutely pants at it,
but she looks adorable, and my arms are less tired from having to lug her
everywhere she wants to go. She asks after you at bedtime still. I've had to
start reading her Shakespeare, because it's apparently a part of her bedtime
routine now. Thanks for that.
Thanks for the update on Malfoy as well, but don't feel that you have to
keep an eye on him. I'd rather hear more about you anyway.
Sick of iambic pentameter (and missing you),
Harry
12 September 1998
Harry,
Your complaints have fallen on deaf ears. I am nothing but proud of having
introduced culture into Delphi's evenings. God knows she'll learn more from
the bard than from whichever Quidditch publication you're subscribed to.
The store is called "Baby Mine", which I realize is a somewhat trite name,
but the clothes range from charming to sensible, and you should be able to
replace any items that have been ruined.
Neville says hello. Ginny gave a sort of nod, which is, I think, some sort of
acknowledgment that you exist. She seems to still be upset, which I do
understand. There are still moments I feel unbearably sad over what
happened between Ron and I… but I think I miss the companionship, the
sense of 'us', more than I miss actually being with Ron. Does that make me
awful?
Judging your laundry negligence (and still missing you both),
Hermione.
19 September 1998
Hermione,
Happy Birthday! I've chosen to ignore your judgements and instead
enclosed your presents as planned. I hope they brighten your day a bit.
And you're definitely not awful.
Missing you, as ever,
Harry
PS- Delphi asked me for photos of you as well. Can you believe I haven't
got more than a couple?
20 September 1998
Hermione,
I'm sorry I couldn't stay longer yesterday, and as pleased as I was to have
an excuse to see you, I will thank you to not end up in the hospital wing
again. I know it's a temptation now that you're aware it gets you all sorts of
special attention from the Auror department.
Kidding. I'm kidding. Please don't send me a howler.
Penitently,
Harry (The Chosen One)
22 September 1998
Harry James Potter,
If you think reminding me that a majority of the Wizarding world thinks the
sun shines out your arse is going to make me overlook your overly enlarged
head, you don't know me very well at all. Luckily for you, I am willing to
ignore your conceit (for now) and simply tell you that I did enjoy seeing
you, despite the circumstances.
Would you believe that in a school of nearly a thousand students, I'm
actually lonely without your ridiculously unruly head of hair haunting my
every move?
Magnanimously,
Hermione
PS: As it turns out, one of the first years who blew up the common room is
in possession of a camera, and loaned it to me. You'll find the fruits of my
labor enclosed. Please show them to Delphi so she doesn't forget me.
25 September 1998
Hermione,
Wow. You look brilliant in those photos. Delphi kept pointing at them at
saying "My," over and over again. She really misses you.
I haven't got much to add, unfortunately. Work is continuing to kick my
arse, though training will end Mid-October, at which point I've been granted
a month of family leave. I'm looking forward to spending more quality time
with Delphi, but a part of me is going to miss the feeling I get when I'm
training, or following more experienced Aurors around on simple jobs. As
steep as the learning curve is, I enjoy what I'm doing. That's important,
right?
Missing you,
Harry
30 September 1998
Harry,
Must be quick as my course load seems to have tripled. I'm glad you're
enjoying work, and I miss you both terribly.
Fire-call tomorrow night? I can be in the common room around ten.
Hermione
Yes!
Harry
The nursery was dark when he entered, the charm on the unicorn nightlight
beside Delphi's crib having failed. For a moment, Harry froze. A moonlit
kitchen and a filthy, rickety crib forced their way into his thoughts.
Harry frowned and waved his wand as he made his way into the room,
restoring the statue to its former, glowing glory, before reaching into the
crib and lifting Delphi up and into his arms. She continued to fuss as he
settled her against his chest, with her cheek resting on his shoulder as she
sobbed more quietly.
"Sh, sh, sh," he said, rubbing small circles into her quivering back. For
perhaps the thousandth time since Delphi had come into his life, Harry
cursed Euphemia Rowle for what she had done to his daughter.
He swayed from side to side as Delphi quieted, humming beneath his breath
an old tune half remembered from the short time he had been loved as a
child. He felt the moment she went limp against him and her breathing
evened out once more. He shifted her down, cradling her in his arms as he
stared down at her face, peaceful now in the low light. His eyes traced the
soft curve of her well rounded cheeks, and the cupids bow of her upper lip.
She was enchanting, even in sleep.
Harry tried not to jostle her as he laid her back down in her crib face down-
she seemed to sleep better with the mattress against her cheek- and then
took several quiet steps to the door. He paused only long enough to take
one last look around the room, making sure that all was as it should be,
before he let himself back onto the second floor landing where he and
Delphi's rooms were both located. It wasn't until his feet hit the top of the
stairs that he remembered what he had left behind in the drawing room.
Hermione. A thoroughly snogge d, Hermione, with her lips slightly swollen
and her hair mussed where he had threaded his hands through it.
What the hell had he done?
Merlin, her lips had been so soft and warm and intoxicating against his own.
If kissing Ginny had been pleasant and exciting, than this was a whole other
category of pleasure he had had yet to be introduced to. He hadn't wanted
to stop when the chiming of Delphi's monitor had sounded in his ears, and if
she hadn't woken, he wasn't sure he they would have stopped.
He closed his eyes, remembering the feel of Hermione in his arms, of her
breasts pressed tightly against his chest through her jumper and of his arm
wrapped around her waist, drawing her nearer still. The heat between them
had been consuming, his breath little more than eager puffs as his heart had
seemed to pound between his ears.
Harry shifted uncomfortably where he stood, his hand reaching for the
straining placket of his trousers to adjust himself before hesitating and
withdrawing.
What the hell was he thinking, lingering on that kiss? It had been bloody
fantastic, but he knew-they both knew-it had been a terrible idea. They
were best friends, for Christ's sake, the last thing they needed to do was
complicate things by snogging. Fuck. He was a new father, and Delphi's
interruption had come at a timely moment, reminding him of his duty to his
daughter. He couldn't expect someone like Hermione to become involved
with him now. She had plans for her life, and an unparalleled talent that he
knew would need a great deal of attention to flourish. Kissing him could only
lead to heartache for them both when she was still at Hogwarts and he was
here with Delphi. And it wasn't that he didn't think she cared for her
goddaughter, he knew Hermione loved her a great deal, but if he had
learned anything from Ginny, it was that the life he had chosen was not
something he could expect someone else to want.
No. Things would be better if they stopped this now, if Hermione returned to
Hogwarts and they resumed the easy friendship they had been cultivating
since childhood. There was no risk to their relationship as it stood. If they
both continued on as they had been until now, there was no reason
Hermione would not stay a central part of he and Delphi's life after her
graduation, but if they finished what they had started earlier that night…
well, there was every chance things might go sour, and he and Delphi would
lose the most important person in their life.
Harry's heart sank as he forced himself down the stairs and back into the
drawing room. Hermione sat where he had left her, her hair still a mess as
she stared down at her hands and her heels bounced up of the the floor in
quick succession, shaking her lap.
And then she looked up.
Fuck, her lips were still slightly swollen and he could see pink skin near
them, where his beard had rubbed against her. He fought an instinctual urge
to cross the room, pull her up out of her chair, and begin kissing her anew.
"Everything okay?" she asked, her amber eyes meeting his. Her brows were
knitted together in concern.
"Yeah," he said. "Just a nightmare. She's sleeping now though."
The smile that bloomed on her face was beautiful, and Harry forced himself
to look down as he shoved his hands into his pockets. Her smiles weren't for
him, not until he could get his bloody hormones under control. He shouldn't
be noticing things like that. Friends didn't notice the flush on their friends
cheeks or wish that they would grin at them again. It was like fifth year over
again, and the small crush he had had on Hermione before he had begun to
suspect that Ron fancied her. He had been able to control his thoughts then
and he could damn well do it now. Nevermind the many times he had seen
her during their year on the run, and let his mind wander. That had been
different, a desire born of continuous close proximity and casual intimacy. It
hadn't meant anything.
He looked back up at her.
She patted the seat cushion beside her in invitation.
Fuck .
"Hermione, I-" He paused, unsure of what to say, and then shook his head,
his teeth digging into his lower lip until he tasted blood and winced.
"Oh," Hermione said, her expression faltering as her eyes widened and she
blinked rapidly before looking back down at her lap.
"Harry, I wasn't-"
"I just think we-"
They spoke at the same time and both laughed nervously. A little tension
melted out of the air and Harry sighed before sitting down on the opposite
side of the sofa from Hermione.
"Look," she began, and Harry obeyed, meeting her gaze nervously as his
stomach gave a little flip. "I wasn't suggesting that we… continue. I was just
hoping that we could talk about… it."
Harry felt his traitorous pulse quicken at her reference to the kiss, and
clenched his fists tightly to try and calm himself. It didn't work, and as the
memory of her in his arms returned, he felt himself begin to harden. His
cheeks grew hot, and he leaned forward to try and hide his reaction.
"Okay," he said. "I agree."
"Good."
"Yeah, good."
There was an awkward silence again and Harry watched Hermione for some
sign of what they should do. At last, she sighed and rolled her eyes before
leaning back against the sofa.
"Oh for goodness' sake," she said, "This is ridiculous."
"Ridiculous?"
"We are adults, Harry. We should be able to discuss something as simple as
snogging without blushing like school-girls."
Harry arched a brow.
"You are a school-girl, Hermione."
"Shut up," she said, and he smiled at the way she huffed. This was good,
this was familiar. They had always been able to talk to each other about
anything. This would be no different.
"I only meant," Hermione continued, "That it doesn't have to be a big deal.
We're both grown ups, now. We are at perfect liberty to kiss each other if we
want to, and it doesn't have to mean anything. Not that I'm suggesting we
continue to kiss, or that I didn't like the kiss we had, because that isn't the
case at all. I just want to be clear that we don't have anything to be
ashamed of. People kiss all the time, and when you've got two, unattached,
attractive people who are familiar with one another, there's bound to be
some level of biological attraction that manifests itself between- Harry, what
on earth are you laughing about now?"
He couldn't help himself. She always rambled like this when she was
particularly nervous, and he didn't think he would ever not find it amusing.
"Attractive, am I?" he asked, his full throated laughter softening to a
chuckle.
"Shut it." She scowled and crossed her arms beneath her breasts. Harry
forced himself to keep his eyes trained on her face.
"Sorry," he said. "I just… I wanted to make sure we were okay, that we
hadn't messed anything up." He watched as her face seemed to drain of
emotion, becoming a placid mask. He pressed on. "You're my best friend,
Hermione. I couldn't bear it if we kept doing… this… and messed it all up.
You're too important to me."
"Of course," she said, and her voice was curiously flat as she avoided his
gaze. "You're right." She paused then, and he saw her begin to blush once
more before she spoke. This time, there was a hint of emotion in her voice
that made his heart ache. "Of course it was enjoyable, but like I said, we're
adults. We're more than capable of controlling ourselves."
Speak for yourself, thought Harry. The kiss had been more than enjoyable,
and he itched to pull her into his arms, to remind her of exactly how
enjoyable it had been. It was several seconds before he was able to convince
himself that that would be a bad idea.
"Right," he said instead, refusing to give in to the base desires which
seemed intent on destroying his most important friendship. "I'm glad we
agree."
Hermione cleared her throat and looked away before standing up.
"I'm a bit thirsty," she said, "Walk me to the kitchen?"
"Yes, good." The kitchen had no cozy sofas upon which he could imagine
Hermione reclining as his hands roved over her-
"Coming?"
He jumped out of his seat and nodded, following her out of the drawing
room and cursing himself as twelve kinds of fool as he went.
Chapter 17
A/N: Hello darlings, I'm having a good day, and wanted to spread the the
love. I hope this update brightens a few of your days at least a little. Please
remember that this story is rated M. And thank you again to Shayalonnie
and Oblivionbaby!
Hogsmeade Village
28 November 1998
The tea shop was tiny, but the lack of square footage did nothing to diminish
the lurid pink and purple aura which infested the place. Hermione had once
been proud to say that she had avoided Madame Puddifoot's entirely;
unfortunately, when she had said yes to Ginny's constant pestering about a
double date, she had apparently forfeited that particular vanity. Still, her
friend had been desperate for a familiar and trustworthy face to accompany
her on a highly irregular (and therefore somewhat exciting) date with a
Slytherin. Hermione, knowing how heartbroken Ginny had been over the end
of her relationship with Harry, had agreed to tag along. This was a good step
for Ginny, and Hermione fully supported it because that was what a good
friend should do-not because she felt guilty about kissing the red-head's ex.
Definitely not because of that.
"Pass the sugar, will you?"
Hermione looked up across the table at the man sitting across from her.
Neville looked sick, as if he'd just eaten a flobberworm and it was still
wriggling about in his belly. Hermione didn't think that sugar would do him
any good, but she did not object as she scooted the bowl silently across the
table to him, avoiding the tea-lights flickering in their heart shaped holders
at the center of the table.
"Thanks," he said, and took three large scoops, stirring them into his cup
and then setting his spoon down on the tablecloth.
Hermione risked a look at the table beside them. Ginny sat with her hair
spilling down her back, artfully curled and pinned away from her face. She
had done her make-up that morning-something the Quidditch captain rarely
bothered with-and her eyes popped behind thick lashes and smoky powder.
Even her clothes seemed abnormally neat, with creases where they had
been ironed. But she was smiling, and her eyes shone as she watched
Theodore Nott animatedly discuss his latest potions project. For his part,
Nott- Theo, Hermione reminded herself-seemed to be enjoying himself. He
paused every so often to solicit participation from the girl across the table,
leaning in to listen when she discussed first her team, and then her classes.
She supposed that they made a handsome enough couple; they were
certainly strikingly opposite in their coloring. Theo's close cropped black curls
and dark eyes had long been one of the hidden treasures of Slytherin house,
and Hermione had never once heard him utter the word 'Mudblood'.
"Don't you think so, Hermione?" Startled, she sat up a little straighter at the
sound of her name.
"Sorry, what?"
Theo smiled in her direction and Hermione felt like a child caught lazing in
class. She should have been paying more attention to the conversation at
hand, they were, ostensibly, on a double date, despite the fact that neither
Hermione now Neville had said more than "hello" and "how are you" thus
far.
"I was just saying how Ancient Runes is actually useful," Theo supplied.
"Professor Vector was lecturing about using runes in defensive shield work
last week, and how it can add an element of permanency to even temporary
shields."
"Right." Hermione recalled the lecture in detail. "Yes, I thought that was
fascinating." She would have continued, but the look of panic on Ginny's face
stopped her short. Suddenly, Hermione remembered that Ginny had never
taken Ancient Runes, and would therefore be at a disadvantage during any
discussion of them.
"What about you, Neville?" Hermione asked quickly. "Learn anything new
lately?"
Neville's expression at being drawn into the conversation was almost painful,
and Hermione felt a pang of guilt at having thrown him to the proverbial
wolves. She had not known when she had accepted Ginny's invitation that
Neville would be her date. If she had known, she might have declined, not
due to any failing on Neville's part-Hermione found herself relying more on
his friendship the farther the school year progressed-but because in the past
few months it had become painfully obvious to her that he carried a torch for
the feisty young Quidditch captain. Watching Ginny as she had invited
Neville to come along with them to Hogsmeade had been a train wreck.
When she had asked him on a double date, Neville had not realized he would
not be paired with Ginny, and he had agreed immediately. Hermione had
tried not to take it personally when he had realized that was not the case
and the blood had drained from his face.
"Oh. Um. Nothing, really," he said, his face flushing as he lifted his cup of
tea and took a sip before setting it down and continuing to stare studiously
into its depths.
"I suspect that's fairly common this close to Christmas," said Theo kindly,
and then turned back to Ginny to continue their conversation.
Hermione's shoulders relaxed in relief, and she allowed herself to slump
back in her chair, nudging Neville's foot with her toe and giving him an
apologetic look. Neville only shrugged in response and cleared his throat.
The rest of the date passed in miserable silence for the pair of them, as
Ginny and Theo continued to chat animatedly beside them. The pair were,
apparently, hitting it off, and as the minutes ticked by, Hermione watched as
Neville grew steadily more miserable. Finally, after a full hour of tea time,
Hermione had had enough. She stood abruptly and smiled apologetically at
Ginny, who she pated on the back.
"It's been lovely, Gin, really. I was wondering, though, whether Neville
might walk with me to Scrivenshaft's?" The last she aimed at Neville, still
sitting with downcast eyes in his chair. He looked up at the sound of his
name, relief flooding his face as he nodded three times and stood to join
her.
"Yeah, of course," he said. "Thanks Her- I mean, I've had a really great
time. Thanks for inviting me along."
For her part, Ginny looked suspicious, but not overly concerned, and so
when she gave her consent and waved them off, Hermione fled with Neville
on her heels.
When they were out in the open air, the smell of scented candles and sugary
tea behind them, they both breathed a sigh of relief and slowed their gait as
they walked down the road.
"My God," Hermione said when she was sure they were far enough away
they wouldn't be overheard. "What people see in that place I will never
know."
Neville's chuckle was somewhat subdued, and Hermione nudged him in the
shoulder as they continued.
"Perk up," she said, "it's not the end of the world."
"I don't know what you mean," Neville dodged, and Hermione arched a brow
at him.
"Neville, I don't mean to embarrass you, but we're friends, and I have
noticed the way you look at her."
Neville blushed scarlet again, and Hermione patted him on the arm. "It's
alright," she comforted, "I swear I'm not judging. It just became a little
apparent after the potions accident in the common room. You practically ran
when she showed up. That's what you were going to tell me, wasn't it? That
you fancied Ginny?"
Neville bit his lip but nodded. His shoulders seemed to relax a bit as he
looked up at her.
"That's great, Neville!" Hermione said, feeling excited at the prospect of her
two friends becoming involved.
"It's really not," disagreed Neville. "You were in the same teashop I was just
then, weren't you? She's falling in love with Nott. " He practically spat the
name.
"Oh. Oh, Neville, no. Ginny's just got out of a serious relationship! This is her
first date since…" She gulped. "Since Harry. I'm sure it won't be anything
serious or lasting. Theo's not really her type."
"What, she doesn't like charming, rich, geniuses?"
Hermione laughed despite herself. "I think she may like the idea of them,
but Ginny's like you. She likes to get her hands dirty and to let her hair get
tangled. I can't see her really being happy with a proper bookworm like
Theodore Nott."
"I feel like I just did see it," Neville lamented, and Hermione hooked her arm
through his, still pressing onward toward the quill shop.
"You saw her trying to rebound," Hermione comforted. "I promise, Neville,
one day you'll have your chance. It was you she went to the Yule Ball with,
wasn't it?"
"As friends." Neville sounded miserable.
"I heard you stayed out slow dancing until the professors shut the place
down. That doesn't happen when a couple are just there as friends. I'd
wager Ginny has thought about the possibility at least once or twice. All is
certainly not lost."
They reached Scrivenshaft's without saying anymore, and by the time they
began browsing, Neville looked mildly less like he was about to vomit.
Hermione considered it a success.
The shop itself was, as advertised, a quill shop. Rows and rows of beautifully
manicured feathers lined the shelves on one wall. Another was filled with ink
bottles in a plethora of colors and sizes. Parchment was stacked according to
weight, size, and color, in the back room, and as Hermione was running low,
she went to have a look and restock her school supply. The many letters she
and Harry had continued to exchange since their encounter on Halloween
had not helped the matter.
Hermione sighed as she thumbed through sheaves of blank parchment. She
could not bring herself to regret the kiss they had shared in his Drawing
Room. She knew that Harry did not feel the same, but, damn it all, it had
been the most perfect kiss of her life. How could she not think fondly of a
moment which had brought her such immense joy? Still, the amount of time
she spent reflecting on the kiss was beginning to be a problem, and though
they had agreed that pursuing anything romantic would be a mistake, she
could feel herself continuing to fall for her green eyed best friend. And
whether it was in her own imagination, or a natural byproduct of having
shared a somewhat intimate moment, Hermione could not help but read into
the letters they continued to exchange, seeing conversations charged with
unconfessed emotion where there were probably just updates about a
friend's life. The only peace she got from reading any of Harry's letters was
from his comments about Delphi. At least her relationship with her
goddaughter remained solid and without subtext.
"Hermione Granger, fancy seeing you here."
Startled, Hermione looked up as a short woman with bleach blonde curls and
sparkling glasses called out to her from across the room. Her fists instantly
clenched and her back stiffened.
"Rita." Hermione spat her name without even trying to hide her antipathy.
"What the hell are you doing here?"
"Getting a new Quick Quotes Quill, darling." Skeeter smiled. "Though, now
that I've found you, I'm remembering I did have a few questions-"
"No comment," Hermione interrupted before the reporter had the chance to
finish.
"Really? Not even about your Muggle goddaughter?" There was a quill in
Skeeters hand now, poised above a notepad which floated in the air in front
of her.
"No Comment," Hermione repeated, unwilling to rise to the insect's bait.
"Some people-not me, of course, but some people-are saying the child
ought to have been brought up in the Muggle welfare system. They say that
it was wrong of the Ministry to fast-track her adoption by an eighteen year
old wizard, just because he happened to be famous."
"Get out of my way, Rita," Hermione demanded, but the other woman only
stepped fully into the doorway which led into the front room of the shop.
"Do you think it at all odd that Harry would adopt the child of Muggles he
reportedly hated?"
"What I think is odd," snapped Hermione, "is that you continue think it's a
good idea to pester me after the history we've shared. I've still got a jar on
my shelf, Rita, and if you're not careful you'll find yourself inside of it."
Hermione could see the fear manifest itself in the woman's gaze as she
gulped.
"I'm registered now," she said, sounding hoarse.
"I don't give a good god damn. Leave me alone. Leave my goddaughter
alone. Leave Harry alone. We're not children to be bullied any longer, and
you'd do well to remember that."
She pushed her way past the reporter without another word, fuming as she
set off to find Neville.
28 November 1998
Dear Harry,
It's been a week. I saw the news yesterday and thought of you
immediately. I know you're on leave until next year, and knowing that was
the only thing that kept me from owling immediately. It's insane that a year
and a half after the battle, we're still having to deal with Death Eater
attacks. The only thing I can be grateful for is that the perpetrators were
captured. Especially this one. That Lestrange is behind bars will always be
a comfort to me. Still, I saw a girl sobbing at the Hufflepuff table when she
got the news. Apparently her cousin was one of the dead.
I wish it was all over, that every single one of them was behind bars so that
we could go on living without having to look over our shoulders every few
feet. It's unfair that the end of the war doesn't mean the end of fear or the
absence of danger. I want so badly to bring my parents back, but to do it
now, when there are still Death Eaters targeting the families of
Muggleborns… it would be negligent of me. Selfish.
Sorry to be so maudlin. It's just that I can't always pretend that everything
has resolved itself. I feel like at school I have to be Hermione Granger, the
girl who helped off Voldemort. Talented, self-assured, and endlessly
optimistic. But with you… well, you know. I can be myself when we talk, I
can be scared or unhappy, and you don't hate me for it.
In other news, I went on a date this morning. You'll never guess who with.
Neville! Yes, there is a story there, but I haven't the time to write it all out
now, so you'll just have to wait for my next letter. For now, though, I want
to know all about Delphi.
I love the little drawing of hers that you sent. I know it's all ham fisted
scribbles at this point, but I can just imagine her sitting in her high chair
with crayons scattered around her and this paper at her fingertips. It's a
little piece of her world, and it's perfect. Please remember to tell her I love
her, and to give her one hundred kisses on her round little cheeks from me.
I'm honestly terrified that she'll forget me by the time Christmas holidays
roll around.
Speaking of Christmas, have you got plans? I'm trying to decide what I'll
do. Ginny has invited me to come back to the Burrow with her, but I can't
help but think it might be awkward or unpleasant to live there even for a few
short weeks… Ron still hasn't written this year. I'm starting to lose hope that
he'll ever forgive me. If you wouldn't mind, I'd love to stay with you again
and spend some quality time with Delphi. I understand if you don't think it's
a good idea after Halloween, but I thought I would ask in any case.
Yours,
Hermione.
PS: I wasn't sure whether I should mention this, but I really think I should.
Rita Skeeter cornered me at Scrivenshaft's today. She was asking all sorts of
questions about Delphi… She called her a Muggle. I told her to piss off, of
course, but I know she's confronted you a few times, and I wanted to let you
know that you shouldn't drop your guard where she is concerned. The
vulture is relentless.
The Burrow
12 December 1998
Harry sat cross legged on the grass, Delphi on his lap as she babbled and
pointed up toward the sky and several birds flying overhead.
"That's right, birdies," he replied, and she laughed in apparent delight.
"Birdie," she repeated. "Tweet, tweet." And then she climbed to stand on his
legs, pulling herself up over her shoulders so that she could watch the birds
disappear from view behind him. "Bye-bye, birdie!"
Harry held her steady as she balanced on him, and when she was through,
he turned her round to play in the grass again. Before she had been
distracted by the birds flying overhead, she had been spotting garden
gnomes and pointing them out to him.
A loud crack rent the air, and Harry looked up, his grip on Delphi tightening.
When he saw Ginny appear in the garden he smiled and patted Delphi on the
back.
Ginny paused as she caught sight of them, seeming to stiffen for just a
moment before she made her way forward.
"Hello, Harry," she said as she approached him. She crossed her arms when
she stopped several feet away.
"Hi," he replied. "How was the train?"
"Oh, you know, same as ever. What are you doing out here?" She tossed her
long red hair over her shoulder as she spoke, the strap of her bag which was
perched there, now completely obscured.
"Er, your mum invited us. Should I not have-"
"No, silly," said Ginny, smiling now, "I meant, 'what are you doing sitting out
here?' I know for a fact mum has at least three serviceable chairs inside."
Harry felt relief course through him. He had worried that Ginny would be
upset at his presence, and while he still wasn't sure she wasn't, she was at
least not shouting at him to leave.
"Delphi was getting a little rambunctious inside. I thought some time
outdoors would do her good." The girl in question was sitting firmly on
Harry's lap again, pressing her cheek to his chest as she clung to his arm
and watched Ginny speculatively.
"Doesn't look that wild to me," Ginny said, and she crouched down to be on
Delphi's level. "Bit shy of strangers, love?" she asked the girl.
Delphi turned away, pressing her opposite cheek against Harry and hiding
her face in the process.
"Sorry," said Harry, who began to pat the little girl's back.
"Don't apologize," said Ginny, who was smiling somewhat sadly now. "I'm
sure she'll warm up to me in time. I'll be aunt Ginny before long." And with
that she stood.
"See you inside, Harry," she said, and made her way into the house. When
she was gone, Harry peeled Delphi away from him and looked her in the
eye.
"You're not going to do that with Hermione, are you?" he asked.
Delphi smiled. "My," she answered.
Before long, another pop sounded, and two figures appeared by the front
gate. The larger of the two had their arm wrapped around the other's
shoulders, and the smaller was leaning into his side. Harry felt a sharp stab
of jealousy when he realized it was Hermione next to Ron, and that she
looked quite comfortable there.
"Harry!" She spotted him almost immediately and pulled away from Ron to
dart forward as Harry stood, Delphi balanced on his hip. Hermione wrapped
her arms around the both of them as soon as she reached their sides, and
Harry heard Delphi give an excited little squeal.
"My!"
"Delphi! Oh, sweet girl!" Before Harry had a chance to do much more than
stand there looking stupid, Hermione had relieved him of the toddler and
was holding her close as the little girl laid her head of black curls on
Hermione's shoulder, content.
"Oh, I've missed you so much," Hermione crooned. Behind her, Ron finally
caught up and stared down at the pair, amused.
"Merlin, you'd think she'd come home from the war, not school," he said in
amusement. Harry laughed, but he could not help but feel his heart swell at
the sight. "I'll just leave you lot to your reunion," Ron continued, "I've got to
go get my arse handed to me by mum. Wish she'd never had a girl
sometimes." And then he was off the same way Ginny had gone.
Harry watched for several more seconds as Hermione cuddled her
goddaughter, noting the smiles on their faces and the way Delphi's hand
seemed automatically to twine in Hermione's wildly curling hair.
"Is it my turn yet?" He asked at last. Without looking at him, Hermione held
out one arm, beckoning for him to join her and Delphi in their embrace. He
did not hesitate, wrapping one arm over his daughter, and the other around
Hermione's waist as he buried his face in her hair. He could smell the subtle
hint of jasmine in her locks.
"Glad you're back," he said, and he was rewarded with a mouth full of curls.
"Me too." Her voice was slightly muffled against his shoulder, but he thrilled
at her words all the same.
When at last they separated, it was because Delphi began to squirm.
Hermione laughed, letting the girl down to stand in the grass and tug at her
jeans.
"Hogwarts Express alright?" asked Harry.
Hermione nodded. "Neville kept me company. It was good to just be able to
sit and talk."
Harry felt another sharp stab of jealousy at the mention of Neville. He was
reminded of the letter she had sent to him nearly a month ago now and still
never satisfactorily explained. She had said they had gone on a date . Later,
she had told him that Ginny had invited them to go out with her and Theo,
but she hadn't said much more, and he had not been able to stop thinking of
her smiling beside Neville Longbottom over a cup of horrid tea since then.
"How's the boyfriend?" Harry asked, perhaps a bit too venomously.
Hermione shot him an odd look and nudged him in the arm with her elbow.
" Not my boyfriend," she said.
"Oh," said Harry lamely. "I wasn't sure whether your date went well-or
whether you'd only gone because of Ginny asking…" His voice trailed off as
Hermione looked at him curiously.
"Harry," she said, speaking slowly as if there were a chance he might not
understand. "I thought I explained. Neville and I only went out because
Ginny wanted a second set on her date. We went as friends. We left as
friends too."
Harry let out a breath he had not known he had been holding and smiled.
"Oh. Good. I mean, not that it would have been bad if you'd been dating.
You're welcome to date. I mean, who wouldn't want to date you?" He was
rambling, and he hated himself for it.
"I can think of one person," she said mildly, and leaned down to take a
flower Delphi had picked and was offering to her.
Harry felt a twinge of guilt despite himself.
"Should we go in?" Hermione asked, leaning to the side and taking Delphi's
small hand in her own as the girl seemed to lead her forward toward the
house.
"Yeah," said Harry, and he followed them in.
The Burrow was lively as ever when they entered, and as its occupants
caught sight of Hermione, they all seemed to call out in excitement. Harry
was pleased to see that there did not seem to be any lingering awkwardness
between her and the Weasley family. Even George, who did not say much
these days, seemed pleased to see her and placed an arm over her shoulder
as he greeted her.
They all chatted for several minutes before Ron emerged somewhat
sheepishly from the kitchen, his cheeks red as they often where after a run
in with his mother.
"She says dinners ready," he mumbled, and then disappeared back from
whence he had come.
Hermione, George, Bill and Fleur, Percy, Ginny, and Andromeda-with Teddy
on her hip-all made their way into the kitchen. Harry followed with Delphi,
pleased to see that a chair had been left empty beside Hermione for him. He
took it and watched as Mrs Weasley sent platters of food floating through
the air and onto the table.
It was a cheerful supper, and as they all devoured the meal, the
conversation seemed to lull. Even the children were more quiet as they eyed
the trifle which dominated the center of the table. By the end of the evening
they were all over-full and patting their stomachs in satisfaction, especially
Fleur, whose pregnancy was looking more advanced now to Harry's
untrained eye.
Shortly thereafter, everyone retired to the sitting room to share coffee and
firewhisky, something Molly could no longer disapprove of now that even her
youngest child was legally an adult. Hermione insisted on staying behind to
tidy the kitchen, and when Molly finally agreed, Harry offered to stay and
help. When Ron gave him an odd look, Harry told himself he had only
volunteered to keep Hermione from having to do the dishes alone; he
certainly hadn't done so to spend time alone with her… had he?
Hermione washed, and Harry rinsed. Soft voices came from the other room,
muffled by the closed door between them, and as the stack of dishes
dwindled, Harry felt something inside of him begin to swell, a fragile bubble
growing wider and stronger the longer he tried to ignore it. He stole a glance
in Hermione's direction. Her hair was tucked behind her ear, and the long
strands were wet at the tips where they had dipped into the water as she
had leaned across it. He could see the few light freckles dancing across the
top of her cheek and the bridge of her nose. Her lips were plump, and as her
tongue darted out to moisten them, he felt the sudden urge to lean forward
and kiss her.
No, he thought. He wouldn't do it. She had only just returned for the
holiday, and as certain as he now was that he had made a mistake when he
had turned her away on Halloween, he was almost equally as certain that
kissing her now, here in the Weasley's kitchen, would be a mistake. Ginny
and Ron were both a room away, his daughter was in the arms of the
woman who might have been his mother-in-law. If anyone were to find
them…
"What?" Hermione was looking at him now, her gaze quizzical, and Harry
forced a smile.
"Nothing," he said. "Just admiring the view."
She blushed and looked down at her hands, still submerged in sudsy water.
Shit, he thought. Too much .
"Harry-"
"I'm sorry," he blurted, drying a dish furiously as he felt his own cheeks
begin to burn. "I just-Shit."
"Harry." Her voice was gentle, and he looked up to meet her amber gaze.
"I'm not offended," she said.
"I'm sorry," he said again, not knowing what else he could possibly say. It
wasn't as if he could take back the words, or even as if he wanted to.
"Are you?" she asked? She stared at him, biting her lip with perfect white
teeth. He had a sudden vision of the girl she had been when they had met:
overlarge front teeth, frizzy hair, and no curves. He couldn't help but think
that she had been lovely even then.
"No, not really," he answered.
"Harry…" she seemed to struggle with what to say as she slowly washed
another plate. She handed it to him and he took it, running it under the slow
trickle of the faucet. At last, she looked up. "I like you," she said, and his
heart thrilled. "I like you a lot, probably more than I should."
"I like you too," he admitted, and for once, he did not feel embarrassed or
nervous about it.
"I don't mean just as a friend," she clarified, and God, he could have sung.
"No, me either."
She smiled then, a lovely, brilliant smile than he felt down to his toes.
Christ, he wanted to kiss her.
"Good," she said, and she was still grinning as she turned back to the
dishes, scrubbing at a large pot. She bit her lip, and Harry ached to do the
same.
"Maybe," she continued, "we just go with it. Maybe we stop being afraid of
ruining anything, and just like each other."
He wanted to do a hell of a lot more than just like her, but Harry nodded all
the same, a brilliant, glowing feeling having settled in the middle of his
chest.
"Okay," he agreed. "I'd like that."
She looked up at him then, and her smile was the most beautiful thing he
had ever seen.
"Good," she said.
"Great," he echoed.
They finished the dishes in silence, and when they were done they gripped
one another's hands tightly, just for a moment. Harry marveled at how
delicate she felt in his grasp, at how fiercely the simple touch seemed to
ignite his desire.
"See you in there," she said softly, and her eyes were shining as she looked
up at him before disappearing into the sitting room.
Harry grinned like a fool and followed her.
Chapter 19
Number twelve, Grimmauld Place
24 December 1998
Christmas Eve was the most idyllic in Harry's memory. He had never had a
family for Christmas before-at least not since he had been Delphi's age-and
though he knew that she would not remember the holiday when she was
grown, he could not help but want to pour all of the excitement he felt into
the preparations. They had, of course, been invited to the Weasley's house
for both Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, but Harry had politely declined
all but the invitation to Christmas dinner. He felt strongly that despite his
connection with the Weasleys, that he wanted to develop at least some
traditions with Delphi alone. Christmas Eve, he had decided, would be their
time alone, as a family. Of course, Hermione too was invited. As Delphi's
godmother, it was only proper.
The morning was spent outdoors. The three of them went to a park and then
shopping on Oxford Street. Hermione disappeared for a while and came back
with several bags with tissue paper sticking out of the tops, proclaiming that
she was finally done with her Christmas gifts and that she would need to
spend a great deal of time wrapping that night, which was fine by Harry,
who had himself procrastinated the task.
That evening, they had gone home and prepared dinner together, taking it in
turns to mind Delphi as she tried time and again to open the oven. Harry
had eventually had to use an Auror level ward to box the girl into the safe
half of the kitchen with her mountain of stuffed animals. Still, she had
protested vehemently until Hermione had given up and dismantled the ward
(Harry had been disconcerted by how quickly she had accomplished the
task) and rescued her.
After dinner, Hermione had read Delphi something by Dickens, and Harry
had taken her up to her crib. She had been limp in his arms as she had
drifted to sleep. He had spent several minutes, after he was sure she was
sleeping, conjuring a snowfall above her bed, which disappeared upon
meeting the preexisting climate charms which surrounded her. He thought
she was like to see it when she woke.
Now, sitting in the kitchen with their feet propped on the table, Harry and
Hermione nursed identical mugs of steaming hot cocoa, generously topped
with marshmallows and a sprinkling of nutmeg.
"I don't know how you do it, Harry," Hermione said. "I'm honestly surprised
all of your meals aren't takeout at this point. She seems really dedicated to
burning herself on that damned stove."
"Who says they're not?" Harry took a sip of his drink, coming away with
melted marshmallow on his beard.
"I saw the leftovers in the fridge," she answered. "I assumed some of them
had to be yours."
"Negative. Molly and Andromeda keep me in more food than we could eat in
a month. I have to throw out half the stuff because it goes bad on the
bottom shelf."
"Harry, you don't! That's so wasteful!"
"Come on, who's going to eat month old lasagna?"
Hermione made a tsking noise with a smirk, and Harry took his feet off of
the table, leaning forward as he set his mug down.
"How about these presents then," he said, motioning to the pile of things
covering a great deal of the massive table. "Are you going to help me, or will
I be up all night playing Father Christmas?"
"I ought to leave you to it," Hermione teased. "It would serve you right for
spoiling Delphi so. How many are there?"
"I lost count, to be honest," Harry admitted. He'd enjoyed buying things for
Delphi, and the seemingly endless pile of gold in his vault did not lend itself
to self control. Since he had begun to deposit his new salary into the account
at Gringotts, he had been assigned a financial advisor, a goblin named
Kashek, who prided herself on her investing acumen. Since meeting with the
Goblin for the first time, Harry had learned that not only was he the owner
of the contents of his parent's old vault but also the inheritor or all the
accumulated Black family wealth, a princely sum that had floored him when
he had heard it. Add to that the ruins of the cottage in Godric's Hollow, the
Potter estate he had not even known existed (now in complete disrepair),
the Black family seat in Derbyshire, Grimmauld Place, and the mountains of
ever increasing stock he owned in both Wizarding and Muggle companies…
well, he wasn't sure what the Malfoy's wealth amounted to, but he would
wager all four of his properties that he could best it. It was an odd feeling for
a man who had grown up wearing ill fitting hand-me-downs and eating only
what the Dursley's didn't want.
Hermione laughed and Harry looked up at the sounds, smiling.
"You start at that end," she ordered, levitating an ancient looking pair of
scissors and a roll of Spello-tape with her wand.
Harry obeyed, grabbing a wooden puzzle off of the stack of gifts and using
his wand to manipulate the wrapping paper and tape in the air. The finished
product came out looking a bit like it had been in one of Hagrid's coat
pockets, but it was covered, and Harry supposed that was what mattered. It
wasn't until her set it down beside Hermione's freshly wrapped and perfectly
creased music box that he realized he had done a truly terrible job.
"A little more flourish," Hermione suggested, showing him the proper wand
movement to accompany the spell. Harry imitated her and was not surprised
when his second package came out looking much better than the first.
With help, and with magic, Harry found that the wrapping took only ten
minutes, and when they were done, they levitated the parcels ahead of them
as they traipsed up the stairs and toward the drawing room. The room had
been decorated spectacularly, something for which he had Hermione to
thank. A massive tree dominated the wall where the tapestry hung, and the
air was filled with floating garlands, wreaths, and baubles. They guided the
present beneath the tree, and Harry was satisfied to see that they spilled out
from beneath it generously.
"Well, I think she's going to have quite a morning," Hermione mused, "and
that you're going to have your hands full cleaning up for her from now on."
"Thank god for magic," said Harry, and then they both sat on the sofa side
by side, leaning back to watch the fire crackling merrily in its grate. After a
minute or so, Harry felt Hermione lean into him, and smiled.
"Tell me about work," she said after a while. "Are you looking forward to
going back?"
Harry shrugged. "Yes. And no. I love it, but it means leaving Delphi. It's the
oddest feeling."
"She loves Andromeda, though," Hermione reminded him.
"Of course, and I'm glad. I thought it would be weird seeing them together
at first, because-well, you know why." He stopped, unable to bring himself
to say it.
"Because she's her aunt?"
"Because she looks so much like Bellatrix."
It was the first time he had said the woman's name aloud since he had
become Delphi's father, and it was almost a relief to do so. He had spent so
much time pretending that the woman had never existed, that his daughter
would be nothing like her, that he had almost begun to fear mentioning her.
It was stupid, he thought, he could not avoid thinking of her from time to
time. No matter who she had been, the choices she had made… she would
always be the woman he owed for his daughter's life.
"It's like seeing her where she should have been," Harry said, and his voice
cracked despite himself. He cleared his throat and sat up straighter.
Hermione placed her hand beneath his on the sofa between them.
"She was never meant to be anywhere but with you," said Hermione firmly.
"Yeah. I know." But she could have been. If he hadn't been sitting in the
drawing room at the exact moment her name had appeared on the tapestry,
if none of them had been looking in the right direction… He shuddered to
think where Delphi might have ended up. Would she have survived
Euphemia Rowle? And if she had, would she have known the truth of her
birth and sought revenge on the man responsible for all that had happened
to her? Would she have been his enemy?
"Look," said Hermione, interrupting his thoughts as she turned on the sofa
to face him, her knee pressing against his thigh as she sat with one leg
beneath her. "I know that it's tempting to wonder what might have been,
but it doesn't matter. She's here, just upstairs, sleeping like an angel. You're
her dad, Harry, in every way that counts. She loves you, and you love her,
and that is what makes a family, not blood."
"But if-"
"Shut up," Hermione ordered. "You're her father, not Riddle. No one can
take that away from you. No one would dare. For one thing, you're the
Chosen One-"
Harry snorted in response, and Hermione punched him lightly in the
shoulder.
"For another, you're brilliant at it. A person would have to be blind not see
that."
Harry smiled, reaching up to rub his jaw as he spoke.
"You're good for my ego, you are," he said.
Hermione laughed and reached up to brush a lock of hair away from his eye
where it was hanging. He needed a haircut badly, but every time he looked
in the mirror and saw the untidy mess of black hair, he was reminded of
Sirius and resolved that he would have it cut later. Now, however, with his
return to Auror duty rapidly approaching, Harry was not sure whether he
would even bother, especially if keeping it long meant Hermione would touch
him again.
Her hand moved from his fringe down the side of his face, her fingers
combing through his beard before settling on his jaw. Her eyes were shining,
and Harry felt his heart rate increase. He was reminded forcefully of the kiss
they had shared on this very sofa. She had been so soft against him, all
gentle peaks and valleys that burned hot in his arms.
Should he kiss her again? Now? They had not done more than touch one
another casually since their conversation at the Burrow. Things had been as
they always were since then, comfortable and soothing. But now, with her
hand still lingering at his jaw and her lips caught between her teeth, she
seemed anything but soothing. Enticing, inflaming, arousing… yes, but not
the gentle comfort he had relied on throughout his childhood.
Merlin, he wanted to kiss her.
He felt his eyes flutter shut as he placed a hand over hers on his face. His
other arm reached out for her, wrapping around her waist and drawing her
just a little nearer as he breathed in her scent. There was something
different to it now, something more earthy and sensual.
"Harry," she said, and his cock twitched at the sound of his name on her
lips.
"Hermione."
He was going to kiss her now, could feel her warm breath as he leaned in
and-and-and he froze. His hands were shaking and his eyes seemed to open
of their own accord. She was staring up at him with curious brown irises, her
lips slightly parted as she waited expectantly.
"I'm sorry," he said, and he felt as if he might throw up. What the hell was
wrong with him? He wanted more than anything to kiss her, to run his hands
up her back as he snogged the breath out of her. His stomach was doing
somersaults, and he ached to press his lips to hers and silence every doubt
that was making him hesitate.
What if he kissed her now and lost her, just like he had lost every other
person who had ever been important to him? What if he did something
wrong and drove her away?
"It's okay, really," she said, and she disengaged herself from him, refusing
to look him in the eye now as she stared down at her lap. "I'm actually
pretty tired."
And before he could protest or think of something to say that would salvage
the situation, she was out of her seat and heading through the door. He
watched her go, and his heart seemed to ache.
Hermione was as self conscious as the next girl, a fact that irritated her to
no end. She knew she was smart, and, though she was not as lovely as Fleur
and her veela cousins, she was not altogether unfortunate to look at. Not
that looks mattered, or should matter. And yet despite the sure knowledge
that she was an intelligent, attractive, and well mannered young woman,
she could not help but fall prey to the same insecurities and, on occasion,
vanities, which seemed to plague the young women of her generation. She
had spent nearly three quarters of an hour choosing her outfit that morning
and had only settled upon the midnight blue jumper because she knew Harry
liked the color. It was, frankly, embarrassing.
Still, as silly as she felt basing her outfit choices off of what she thought a
man might like, it was nothing compared to the horror she felt at being so
ridiculously prone to tears.
With an angry scowl, Hermione wiped at her eyes for the umpteenth time.
The backs of her hands came away damp, and she felt another wave of
frustration at her reaction. She had no reason to cry. It wasn't as if Harry
owed her anything, certainly not a kiss. Had she been under the impression
that they had decided to put aside their misgivings and pursue a more
romantic relationship? Certainly. But Harry was entitled to his own mind, and
if that meant that he had changed his mind… well, she would have to deal
with it. She was not one of those silly Hogwarts girls who thought they were
owed a man's attention just by virtue of having a pair of breasts and a
winning smile.
Of course, knowing that Harry was entitled to keep his lips to himself did not
make her feel any better.
She had thought things were going well. God, he had been sitting there, his
arm around her, his hand keeping her palm pressed to his face. She had
watched his eyes flutter shut as he leaned toward her. She could have sworn
she'd seen him breathe in deeply just as her own eyes had closed and she
had leaned into what she had expected would be a repeat of the glorious
kiss they had shared at Halloween.
What on earth had stopped him? Was it more of the same worries that had
put an end to their last encounter? Did he still fear damaging their
friendship, despite what they had, together, decided? Or was it worse? Had
he gotten close and realized that he didn't want to kiss her after all? That
her hair was too frizzy, her teeth too large, or her face not as pretty as his
previous girlfriend's?
Hermione felt another tear escape down her cheek and made a frustrated
noise as she dabbed at it with the cuff of her sleeve. What was wrong with
her? If something had put Harry off, it was most likely something she had
said or done. Could it have been her reference to Riddle? She knew that he
was sensitive about Delphi's heritage, but he had been the one to mention
Bellatrix first. Surely he hadn't been upset by her use of Voldemort's given
name? Harry had, after all, been the one to insist on calling the monster by
it.
Hermione sighed and sniffled, cursing her tear ducts as she blinked rapidly.
Merlin, she'd really messed things up. She shouldn't have been so forward.
She'd pushed him too soon. It had only been days ago that he had admitted
to her that he liked her as more than just a friend. They were still trying
figure out what that meant for the two of them.
"Jesus Christ," she swore, standing and grabbing a tissue off of the desk in
her bedroom. She sounded like a teenager. Granted, she was a teenager,
but she had fought and lived through a war, and that ought to count for
something. She shouldn't be sitting here dissecting her interactions with
Harry and obsessing over whether she had said the wrong thing or not.
She was a witch of infinite worth, and if Harry was having trouble seeing
that, it was his problem, not hers. She would continue on with her life,
despite this dull ache that had taken up residence in her chest. She didn't
need the acceptance of a man to feel worthwhile. She was Hermione bloody
Granger, and she was proud of everything she had and would yet
accomplish.
But god, she wanted Harry. She wanted him to wrap his arms around her
waist again and kiss her. She wanted to feel him pressed close to her, with
his hands tangled in her hair as his lips worked to show her exactly what she
had been missing since Halloween. She wanted it all. Desperately.
And yet here she stood, her face streaked with tears, her hair a mess as she
blew her nose and contemplated Disapparating and sleeping in the tent she
still carried in her beaded bag. She would have considered it more seriously
if it weren't for Delphi. She couldn't bring herself to leave for her own pride
when the little girl she loved so much would be expecting her on Christmas
morning. She only had a short while to be here and to see her goddaughter
before Hermione had to go back to Hogwarts to finish out the year. What
had she been thinking, going back in the first place? Was the fact that she
was a student still what was keeping Harry from wanting to be with her?
Didn't it matter that she was nearly a full year older than him? That she
loved him, and loved Delphi so much she knew she would cry when she had
to leave them again?
She gave another shuddering sigh and finished wiping at her face. Enough,
she thought. Dwelling on the issue would do nothing to solve it. There was
no guarantee it could be solved.
Hermione pulled off her jumper, tossing it into the corner where she had
been piling her laundry, and then began to unbutton her jeans. When she
was fully undressed, she pulled on the simple, thin strapped nightgown she
wore to sleep in. She spent several minutes after that going about her
nightly routine in the ensuite bathroom. Finally, when her teeth were
brushed, her hair combed and tossed into a high bun, and her face freshly
washed, Hermione felt a little better. Whatever it was that had changed
Harry's mind, she could do nothing about it tonight. All that was left to her
was to get a good night's rest and wake up in the morning refreshed… and
less bitter. She would go downstairs when she heard Delphi wake, and
prepare breakfast before suggesting they open their gifts. She would be
calm, collected, and pleasant.
She climbed into her bed, a double with an ornate headboard and bed posts
on each corner. She tried hard not to look at the carvings there, as the few
she had seen had been a bit disturbing. It was the consequence of staying in
a house which had once been a bastion of pureblood supremacy.
She lay there for nearly half an hour, tossing and turning beneath the covers
until at last she threw back her sheets, drew her wand, and cast a Cooling
Charm on the area around her. Comfortable at last, Hermione sprawled out
on her stomach, her nightgown high on her thighs as she held one of her
pillows against her and drifted off to sleep.
When she awoke, she was disoriented. Her room was still dark but for the
faint light which filtered in through the window from the street below, but
something had roused her, she was sure of it. A creaking floorboard from
behind made her freeze, her eyes still shut as she listened intently. A soft,
barefoot step followed, and Hermione reached beneath her bellow, grabbing
her wand and rolling onto her back in one fluid motion as she aimed toward
the door and shouted, "Stupefy!"
"Protego!"
Hermione saw Harry in the flash that accompanied her spell and his shield.
She gasped as the two collided, and her Stunning Spell ricocheted back
toward her. She rolled instinctively again, scrambling to sit up by the wall to
avoid being stunned.
"Sorry!" Harry said, dropping his hand (the Shielding Spell had apparently
been wandless) and rushing toward her. "God, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to
frighten you!"
"What the bloody hell are you doing!?" Her voice was shrill and her
heartbeat erratic as she pressed a palm to her chest.
"Merlin, I'm so sorry," Harry said, sinking onto the bed beside her, his
expression equal parts concern and regret. "I didn't think."
"What did you want, Harry?" she asked, her pulse finally slowing. She
thought she sounded cross, and why not, after the embarrassment of the
evening?
"I-" he hesitated, but then frowned and seemed to come to some sort of
conclusion. "I needed to see you," he said. His voice was lower now, deeper
somehow, and the sound of it sent a small thrill down her spine. She bit her
lip.
"It couldn't wait until morning?"
He met her gaze. She could barely see him in the darkness, but she caught
the glint in his eye and the small upturn at the corner of her mouth before
he shook his head.
"No," he said. And then, "Hermione?"
"Yes?"
He didn't answer, only leaned in toward her, one hand wrapping around to
touch the back of her neck as his lips pressed desperately against hers.
It was like an explosion. His kiss was hot against her mouth, his lips talented
and pliant as he drew her closer. Her pulse was racing wildly now, and her
chest was rising and falling rapidly as she wound one arm around his chest
and pulled him closer with the same fervor he had exhibited. She could feel
his back beneath her hand, bare and smooth as she pressed her breasts to
his chest through the thin cotton of her nightgown.
She moaned, and he kissed her more desperately in response, his tongue
sweeping into her mouth before his teeth grazed her lip.
When he finally broke the kiss she was practically panting, her breaths shaky
as she clung to him, sinking into his embrace as he peppered her cheeks,
jawline, and lips with kisses. She wanted more.
This time, she was the one to press her mouth to his, leaning backward and
drawing him down to lie beside her as she pressed her palm to his cheek and
his free hand began to brush up and down the side of her ribs, making her
shiver.
They stayed there for several more minutes, kissing languorously and
pausing every now and again to lie still, their cheeks pressed together as
they struggled to keep their breathing under control. Finally, when the heat
and the desperation between them was making her want to peel off her thin
gown and press herself completely against him, Harry pulled away.
Hermione whimpered at the loss, and he smiled as he cradled her face,
running his thumb over her lower lip.
"You're amazing," he said, and if it had been possible to melt into his
embrace completely, she would have. "I should probably go, though."
No! No! She thought, but he was already sitting up, his pajama bottoms
slung low on his hips. She could see the evidence of his arousal there, and
she blushed. He stood, looking back at her with a nervous smile.
"Was that- I mean… is this okay?" He asked.
Despite herself, Hermione laughed.
"Yes," she said breathlessly, joy bubbling up within her. "Yes, Harry, this is
okay."
"Good," he grinned, and then leaned in capture her lips with his once more.
After a only a few moments-not nearly enough time, in Hermione's opinion-
he pulled away, still smiling as he squeezed her hand and seemed to force
himself away from the bed and the scantily dressed witch atop it.
"Happy Christmas, Hermione," he said when he reached the door.
"Happy Christmas," she returned, and then he disappeared from view.
She listened as he padded across the landing and down the steps, until she
could hear a door opening and closing on the floor below. She sighed,
sinking back into her bed with a giddy breath. She didn't bother to try and
contain the radiant grin blooming across her face, only clutched her pillow
tightly to her chest and laughed aloud.
He'd kissed her, and it had been everything she'd imagined. He'd kissed her,
and she hadn't done anything wrong after all. He'd kissed her… and she
wanted him to do it again.
Chapter 20
A/N: I am so sorry it's taken me this long to get another chapter out. That
seems to be the way I work. Regular posting schedule until half way through
the story, and then long hiatuses before wrapping up. This time, I have a
very good excuse though. We've welcomed a third child into the family over
here in Matrona-ville, and it's been a long process. In mid September I took
my older children home to stay with grandparents, and then jetted off across
the country to be there for the birth of my new son, who is sweet and
wonderful, but ultimately a sleep thief. Now, however, we are all home, my
husband's paternity leave has ended, and I am finally feeling settled in
enough to begin writing again. I hope you enjoy this chapter. It's been a
long time coming. Thanks to oblivionbaby and Shayalonnie for beta work
and continued support. And thank you to all of you who have patiently
waited, encouraged, and commented. You make coming back to this story all
the sweeter.
PS: I almost forgot to mention that this story won first place in the Honorary
Marauder category, in the Shrieking Shack's 2017 Marauder Medals. I am so
pleased and honored by this, and grateful to everyone who took the time to
read and vote for this story. thank you all!
Chapter Nineteen
The Burrow
25 December 1998
The Burrow was crowded on Christmas day. The whole Weasley clan and
their various adoptees had gathered, and as Hermione sat quietly on one of
the sofas in the living room, she took pleasure in watching them all
exchange gifts. Fleur-whose pregnancy had finally begun to show-had been
confined to the sofa beside Hermione by Molly, who had taken it upon
herself to pamper her daughter-in-law whether the girl wanted it or not.
"This one is yours, is it not?" The silvery blonde asked Hermione. Her accent
was thick as she handed over a parcel, poorly wrapped in festive paper that
was covered with tiny twinkling wreaths. Hermione took it and checked the
label.
"It's from Ron," she said, pleasantly surprised. She looked up in time to see
Ron waving at her from the other side of the room, his blue eyes crinkled at
the corners as he smiled. The noise level in the room was so loud she
doubted he would hear her thanks, but she called it out all the same. He
nodded and turned back to the pile of presents in his own lap.
"What is it?" Fleur asked, having already opened her own gifts.
Hermione tore the wrapping paper and withdrew a scarf. It was excessively
long, and Hermione had no idea why Ron would have chosen a pastel to go
with her coloring, but she wrapped it around her neck all the same. It was
the thought that counted, after all.
"That looks warm."
Hermione looked up again to see Angelina taking the free seat cushion
between her and Fleur.
"Not quite your color, but not bad. Did Ron give it to you?" The girl's smile
was warm as she reached out to touch the end of the scarf. "Ooh, soft too."
"Hello, Angelina," Hermione said. "He did, and it's good to see you."
"Yeah, you too," Angelina said, leaning back in her seat. "Hello, Fleur."
"Angelina." The veela's tone was inscrutable, and Hermione spoke quickly to
alleviate the awkward silence which threatened.
"I'm glad you came with George," Hermione said. "It's been too long."
"Me too." Angelina smiled. "After Fred I-" her smile faltered as Fleur cast her
a sharp look. "Well. We all mourned. But then George started coming by for
a chat and a pint. It's been nice."
"Are you two…" Hermione let her voice trail off and cocked her head in
question.
"It's complicated." Angelina shrugged as Fleur sniffed audibly.
"Goodness," Hermione said to Fleur, her temper flaring. "It sounds as if
you're getting sick. Let me find you a tissue." She looped her arm through
Angelina's and stood, dragging the girl along with her.
Fleur did not protest, and so Hermione dragged Angelina across the room to
the sideboard which was heavy laden with food.
"I'm sorry about her," said Hermione.
"It's fine, really. We knew it would be awkward, my having dated Fred… but
I couldn't let George come alone."
"I think you're good for him," Hermione said. "He doesn't seem so alone
anymore."
"We're both alone," Angelina corrected. "But now we're in it together. It
makes it more bearable."
They fell silent for a moment, letting the loud chatter of the other people in
the room wash over them and each pouring themselves a drink.
"How 'bout you and Ron, then? Think he'll propose?"
Hermione choked on her pumpkin juice, responding between small coughs
as Angelina patted her back. "I should hope not. We broke up before term."
"Merlin, George never said!" Angelina looked sheepish. "Sorry."
"It was for the best," said Hermione, her gaze finding Harry across the room
and lingering as he chatted animatedly with Charlie.
The girls chatted only a little longer before Angelina went to rejoin George
near the fire, and Hermione found a tissue that she took back to Fleur, who
looked a little embarrassed to receive it. Afterward, Hermione scanned the
room for Delphi, finding her goddaughter in Molly's arms near the kitchen
door. The little girl was clutching a doll half her size that Molly had knitted
painstakingly.
"Are you finished with her?" Hermione asked with a smile as she approached
the older woman.
"Come now, Hermione," said Andromeda, who stood beside Molly, Teddy
cradled in one arm. Her dark, silver-streaked hair was pulled into a bun on
top of her head, and her cheeks were rosy with mirth. "You know it's almost
impossible for a grandmother to tire of her little ones. I think you'd have
better luck prying a tooth from a basilisk."
Hermione chuckled and patted Teddy's head. His hair was black and sticking
out at odd angles over his forehead. "Has Harry been holding his godson?"
she asked, amused.
Andromeda laughed and held the baby out for Hermione to take, which she
did gladly. "He has, and the lad has no compunction whatsoever about
telling the world who his favorite is. Just once I'd like for him to look like the
woman who clothes and feeds him night and day."
Teddy blinked up at Hermione, his eyes a startlingly familiar shade of green.
"Be nice to your granny," she admonished the baby before dropping a little
kiss on his forehead. Teddy cooed and as Hermione pulled away, she
watched his hair morph from overly straight black to a brown and curling
closely against his scalp.
"My," said Delphi, and Andromeda laughed, taking Teddy back in her arms
and him against her hip.
"My!" said Delphi, louder this time, and Molly handed her over to Hermione
with an amused look.
"She's a jealous one," the redheaded matron observed lightly. "Bill was the
same. I don't think he ever really warmed to Charlie until Percy came
along."
"Well, lucky for you, little miss, there are no babies in my immediate future,
only essays and exams." Hermione stopped Delphi's hand as she reached
toward her hair, kissing the pudgy fingers before pulling her wand out of her
pocket and casting a charm which piled her hair high on top of her head in
an elegant top knot. She had learned the spell two days after arriving at
Harry's for the holiday, when it had become apparent that Delphi could not
resist the lure of a fistful of curls.
She chatted for a while longer with Molly as Andromeda left to fix a bottle for
Teddy, who had begun to fuss. She mentioned the awkwardness when
Angelina and Fleur had met, and Molly made a disapproving noise.
"Fleur's hormones are going wild at the moment; her emotions are running
high. I imagine Bill mentioned Angelina and George had started seeing one
another, and I'm sure she came to an unflattering conclusion."
"I don't think think it's like that-" Hermione began.
"Of course not," said Molly. "Angelina's a dear girl, and I haven't seen
George smile so much since May."
Hermione followed the older woman's gaze, watching as the son in question
grinned at something Angelina whispered in his ear before taking her hand,
squeezing it twice, and then releasing her. Angelina's answering smile was
nearly radiant.
"My, Daddy!" Delphi scrambled excitedly in Hermione's arms when she
spotted Harry, wriggling like a cat as she tried to escape. Hermione set her
down on her feet, and the girl toddled toward her father, reaching him at an
ungainly run and wrapping her arms around his leg.
Hermione excused herself to Molly before joining the girl. As she
approached, she let her eyes scan over Harry. He was wearing the deep blue
jumper Molly had gifted him earlier, and the color was quite handsome on
him. Not that he needed a jumper to make him more attractive. His dark
hair was longer than it had been in school, and curled just slightly at his
collar, while his beard seemed to age him from teenager to man. Hermione
felt herself begin to blush as she remembered the feel of that beard against
her.
"Hello, beautiful," Harry said to his daughter as he bent down and lifted her
into his arms. "Did Granny Weasley give you this?" He poked at the doll
whose arm she still held tightly in her fist.
"Granny," echoed Delphi.
Harry looked up at Hermione then, and she felt her stomach give an
unsettling flutter.
"Hey," he said, and then paused, his eyes traveling from her face down to
her toes and back up again. "Nice scarf."
Hermione flushed.
"It's a gift from Ron," she said, and though she couldn't see herself, she was
sure her blush was clashing brilliantly with the pale yellow of the accessory.
"Merlin, he's got poor taste," said Charlie, who was standing at Harry's side.
"I think you'd be within your rights to burn the thing. It does nothing for
you."
"Well," said Hermione, pausing as she struggled to come up with something
polite to say. "It does keep my neck warm."
"Burgeoning politician, you are," Charlie laughed.
"We could use politicians like her," Harry said.
"Well, no arguing that, is there?" Charlie agreed. "Kingsley's having a hell of
a time with the bastards sitting in the Wizengamot to hear him tell it."
"I'm not surprised," Hermione said, "after the funding debacle in June. They
couldn't even pass a simple budgetary measure to finance the rebuilding of
Hogwarts."
"Have you thought about taking your seat?" Charlie turned to face Harry
again, and Harry cringed visibly.
"I haven't. They offered, but I'm not cut out for that sort of thing."
"It's a pity you can't give the Potter seat to Hermione," said Charlie, his eyes
glittering.
"I'm sure the rest of the pureblood representatives would revolt if they had
to sit next to a Muggleborn," Hermione said.
"That's why they need someone like you," Harry interjected. "They aren't
going to accept change until they're forced to."
"Granny," said Delphi, and then wriggled out of her father's arms to dash
back toward Molly, who was waving a piece of cake in the toddler's direction.
"Where's she off to?" asked Ron, who came to stand beside Hermione,
watching with a concerned expression as Delphi tore past him.
"Your mum's buying her love with sweets."
"Wish she'd buy my love," said Ron.
Charlie reached over to smack Ron's stomach, one eyebrow arched. "I'd say
you get more than enough sweets. Is that a spare tire you're lugging
around?"
"Shut it." Ron glared down at Charlie, who was several inches shorter and
far stockier than him.
"Ooh, defensive. Have I touched a nerve?"
"Charlie, you're my brother, and I love you, but I will hex you."
"Thanks so much for the scarf, Ron," Hermione interrupted before the two
could move to fisticuffs. "It's really soft."
Charlie snickered and Ron punched him in the shoulder, which only seemed
to increase the elder brother's mirth.
"Welcome. Thanks for the chocolates too."
"Of course."
They fell silent, and Hermione watched as Harry shifted awkwardly on his
feet, his expression a nauseating mix of amusement, anxiety, and guilt.
"I'm looking forward to having you back at work, mate," Ron said, not
seeming to notice Harry's discomfort. "What day do you start back again?"
"The fourth."
"Right. That's coming up quick, isn't it?" Ron glanced over his shoulder at
Delphi, who was perched in Molly's arms and being fed bites of chocolate
cake like a baby bird. "You got everything settled for Delphi?"
"Andromeda's going to be watching her again."
"That's great." Ron replied before looking back at Hermione. "You looking
forward to your last term?"
Hermione nodded in answer but said nothing.
"Well," said Charlie, drawing the word out almost painfully. "I'm off before
you lot bore me to death. Happy Christmas."
Once he had gone, the trio stood for a while longer in silence.
"Oh for heaven's sake," said Hermione at last, "I need a drink. Are you two
coming?"
They followed her into the kitchen which was, for the moment, empty. Ron,
who seemed to know what Hermione was about, crossed to a cupboard
above the refrigerator, opening it and reaching toward the back of the
topmost shelf. He had to stand on the balls of his feet, but when he came
back down he was holding a bottle of firewhisky. Harry conjured three shot
glasses, setting them on the kitchen counter and motioning for Ron to fill
them.
"Just the one for me," Harry said after Ron had finished. "I've got Delphi
still."
"How responsible of you, Harry," Hermione said, her eyes twinkling now as
she raised her glass and drained it. The drink burned on its way down, a hot,
golden trickle down her throat and into her chest. She held the glass out to
Ron again, and he raised his brow but said nothing as he filled it anew.
"Now," she said, once she had disposed of the second helping. "I've got an
idea."
"Have you?" Harry arched a brow in her direction, and Hermione grinned.
"Quiet," she ordered, her chest glowing pleasantly.
"Your idea doesn't involve us getting pissed, does it? Only I think my mum
might murder me." Ron was watching her warily now, and Hermione
laughed.
"Christ, no," she answered. Both men looked relieved, and Hermione rolled
her eyes as she continued. "I was just thinking that Charlie was right, we've
become boring."
"Us? Never." Harry's eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled, and
Hermione fought the urge to grin back at him like a love-sick schoolgirl
smelling Amortentia.
"Really? Fought any basilisks lately, have you?" She turned her attention to
Ron next. "Knocked out any mountain trolls?"
"To be fair," Ron interjected, "our standard for interesting might be slightly
different from the general population's."
Harry nodded in agreement.
"Be that as it may," Hermione continued, "I think it might behoove the three
of us to seek out a bit of adventure every now and again-"
"Merlin, Hermione. Harry and I are aurors now, I think we'll be getting our
fill of dangerous."
"I never said a word about danger," said Hermione. "I believe the word I
used was adventure ."
"Historically, they've meant the same thing in our little group." Harry
sounded amused as he spoke and Hermione made a face at him.
"What I was thinking," Hermione pressed on, as if neither of the two men
had interrupted her, "was that we might benefit from a night on the town
every now and again. Friendships are like brooms, you see: they require
regular investment and maintenance. You forget to polish your broom
handle once and it's not a big deal, but if you consistently neglect it…" she
let her voice trail off for dramatic effect.
"It begins to splinter?" Ron asked.
"Exactly," Hermione beamed. "It looses its integrity, and soon you're off
shopping for another broomstick."
"And we're the brooms in this scenario?" Harry asked, amused.
"Obviously, Harry. Try to keep up."
"And a night on the town is broom polish?"
"It's not a perfect analogy," she huffed, "But you get the point I'm sure."
"You want to be polished more consistently?" Ron's voice was dry and even
as he spoke, and Harry cracked a grin at once, meeting the redheads gaze
before clapping a hand on his shoulder as they both burst into laughter.
Hermione sighed and poured herself another drink, gulping it down as she
waited for the other two to regain control of themselves. When at last they
were quiet and wiping tears from the corners of their eyes, the pleasant
glow Hermione had begun to feel had intensified.
"Are you quite finished?"
"Yeah," said Harry, running a hand through his thick black hair. Hermione
tried not to think about how her own hand would feel taking that same path.
"Excellent," she said, forcing herself to look at Ron instead. Unfortunately,
he was giving her an odd sort of searching look, and she broke his gaze too,
choosing to stare at the bottle of firewhisky longingly instead. Three shots
was far more than her usual, and she would be a fool to go for another.
"So, nights on the town," Harry said. "Just the three of us?"
"Not necessarily. I'm sure significant others could be included, and other
friends occasionally. But the point would be for the three of us to socialize,
yes."
"And socializing… that's the broom maintenance?" asked Ron.
"Exactly," answered Hermione, meeting his blue eyed gaze again with a
smile. "We're not all at school anymore. Or living in the same tent. We're
going to have to work at maintaining our friendship. That means creating
more common memories and time for us to discuss our lives."
"Makes sense," said Ron. "And in the spirit of broom maintenance-"
"Ron, honestly, it was a metaphor."
"I've asked someone out."
Hermione's eyes widened, and she felt a small twang of jealousy bubble up
within her before stamping it back down as fleeting and inappropriate.
"Good for you, mate," Harry said, and Hermione found her voice again.
"Wow, that's great," she said, hoping she sounded enthusiastic. She really
was happy for Ron, but there was an awkwardness surrounding the topic
that she found hard to shake. "Anyone we know?"
At her question, Ron blushed.
"It's not Luna, is it?" Harry asked, sounding curious.
"Circe, no. Luna's nice, but not really my type."
"Who is it, then?" Hermione found herself asking.
Ron's cheeks went more pink than before, and his ears turned scarlet.
"Musssunbsssssoooo," he mumbled.
Hermione caught Harry's eye, and he looked equally as confused as she was.
"Sorry? I missed that," she prompted again.
Ron stuck his hands in his pockets and bit his lip before looking up at the
pair of them. He was smiling despite his embarrassment, and took a deep
breath before answering them.
"Millicent Bulstrode," he said at last.
Hermione's eyebrows shot up into her hairline, and Harry's jaw dropped.
"She started working for Robards, as his secretary," Ron rushed to explain.
"She's changed a ton. I didn't even recognize her at first. The woman about
handed me my arse when I started flirting with her, but when I realized who
she was, and she started really chatting… well, I realized she's quite nice."
"Blimey," Harry said. "Bulstrode? But she's a-"
"A Slytherin. I know." Ron only shrugged, his cheeks still an unbecoming
shade of magenta. "I wasn't expecting to like her as much as I do, but she's
smart, and funny, and quite kind."
"Pretty, too," Hermione said, remembering the girl as she had looked during
their sixth year. By the time Millicent Bulstrode had turned sixteen, she had
lost the baby fat which had seemed to cling to her, and had learned to tame
her hair and apply makeup artfully. She was still a tall girl and would never
be called petite, but she was not unattractive in the least.
"Yeah," said Ron, and he refused to meet Hermione's gaze.
"I'm happy for you," she said, reaching out and pushing his shoulder to draw
his attention. "Really." And she was. Ron deserved to date someone nice,
someone who liked him the way he liked her.
"Thanks," he said, and his blush began to subside.
"RONALD!"
The trio looked up at the sound of Mrs Weasley calling to her youngest son.
Her voice echoed from the sitting room into the kitchen, and Hermione was
reminded of the Howler she had sent Ron in their second year.
"I'd better see what she wants," Ron said, giving his friends another grin.
"Lets plan to meet your first Hogsmeade weekend this term, Hermione.
Harry and I can come to the Three Broomsticks."
"I'd love that," Hermione answered.
"RON, COME TELL ANDROMEDA WHAT YOU TOLD ME ABOUT THE LAST CASE
YOU WORKED!"
"Better get on," Harry said, patting Ron's back again as he turned toward
the kitchen door. "See you in a few."
A flood of sound entered the kitchen as Ron opened the door, and then
quieted again as the hinges swung shut. Hermione and Harry were left alone
in room, the smell of Molly's excellent cooking still hanging in the air and
their mouths tasting of firewhisky.
"Bulstrode," said Harry at last, shaking his head with a bemused looking
smile on his face.
"Are you more shocked because it's Millicent, or because it's a Slytherin?"
Hermione asked.
Harry shrugged.
"Both? Either way, it's the last person I would have guessed."
"I hope they're happy together," said Hermione. Beginning to feel a bit light
headed, she closed her eyes and put a hand to her head, leaning back
against the counter before pressing her free hand to the cool surface there.
"You okay?" Harry took two steps closer until he was at her side, one hand
reaching around to settle, open palmed, against her back. She could feel the
heat of him through her jumper, could smell the firewhisky still on his
breath.
"Mhm," she said, and she let her eyes flutter open to focus on his. They
were twin emeralds sparkling down at her, and she resisted the urge to
reach up and run her fingers through his hair.
"You're sure?"
The truth was that she wasn't sure, and whether it was because of the three
shots she'd downed in quick succession, or the proximity to Harry here in
the Burrow's otherwise deserted kitchen, she could not tell.
"I think so," she said at last, and her voice sounded raspy even to her own
ears.
Harry didn't move. He was staring down at her, his jaw set as his gaze grew
more intense and he let out a soft puff of breath. Hermione was reminded of
the way he had looked on Halloween, right before he had kissed her.
"Hermione…" The way he said her name-drawing it out and groaning all at
once-made her quiver.
"Harry."
"I want to kiss you."
Her stomach gave a sort of happy somersault, and she smiled.
"Why don't you?" She bit her lip, hoping she sounded more seductive than
brash and tipsy.
Harry really did groan this time.
"Merlin, I want to. Shite. I'd love nothing more than to snog you senseless
right now."
"I won't stop you," Hermione invited, and Harry looped his arm around her
waist, drawing her close. She rested her face against his clavicle
contentedly.
"Hermione, you're a menace."
"Excuse me?" she said, her voice the tiniest bit shrill as she tilted her head
to look up at him.
"Aside from the fact that you're a complete lightweight, and half senseless
already-"
"I resent that," Hermione argued, though she knew he was probably closer
to the truth than she.
Harry continued. "I don't think it's the wisest choice to kiss you here in the
middle of Molly's kitchen, with Ron and Ginny roaming about."
It was Hermione's turn to grumble now.
"Stupid Ron," she said.
"You don't mean that."
"No, I don't. But still."
Harry laughed again, and the sound warmed her as much as the drink had.
"I like it when you do that," she told him, pressing her cheek against him
again and letting her hand find his.
"Tell you what you mean?" Harry teased.
"Laugh."
"Oh, that. Delphi likes it too. She's come to expect a laugh any time she
says 'boo.'"
"God, she's a sweetheart." Hermione took a deep breath, drawing in Harry's
scent before she released him and leant back against the counter once
more. "I'm going to miss her so much. Being with the two of you for the
holiday has been wonderful."
Harry blushed and nodded his agreement. "We love having you." He paused,
and then- "You're a part of our family."
Hermione punched him half-heartedly in the shoulder.
"You're supposed to be making our impending separation less difficult, you
prat."
Harry's gaze grew unexpectedly serious as he caught Hermione's eye. She
bit her lip in response.
"I'm going to miss you," he said.
Hermione swallowed. "Me too. But it's only one more term before
graduation, and perhaps this will be good for us."
Harry tilted his head to the side in question.
"We've been friends for so long, maybe distance is what we need to start out
with if we want to build something… different." Hermione grew suddenly
nervous. "That is, if you still want to have something aside from friendship.
I'd understand if you had changed your mind or if you wanted-"
"Hermione," Harry interrupted her before she could say any more. "I
definitely want more than friendship with you. Not to be a cad, but after last
night, I can barely think of anything other than you in that nightgown. Or
the way you felt when I-" He paused, swallowing hard as he stared down at
her, his pupils wide and black as pitch. "When I ran my hands down your
side and you pressed your breasts up against me."
Hermione felt herself melt, felt a fire building in her stomach and a slick heat
begin to travel from inside her, down to the secret place between her thighs.
"I want you so much it hurts," Harry continued. "I want to kiss you and feel
you until neither of us can breathe. You're all I want, Hermione, and I can
guarantee you right now that there's no chance at all I'm going to change
my mind about that."
"Oh," was all Hermione was capable of saying after that, but the look they
shared was so full of heat and promise that neither of them was left
doubting what the other wanted.
A loud bang echoed through the kitchen, drawing the pair back to reality as
they jumped apart and Molly Weasley bustled into the kitchen.
"Excuse me, dear," she said, sounding distracted as she brushed past
Hermione to lift a pie off of the counter behind her.
"Sorry," apologized Hermione instinctively. But Molly didn't appear to hear
her. She was shouting over her shoulder again and into the sitting room,
apparently still carrying on a conversation with Andromeda.
And just like that, she was gone again, leaving Harry and Hermione to stand
somewhat guiltily beside one another in the once again silent kitchen.
Feeling instantly sobered, Hermione cleared her throat.
"Well," she said, her tone light still. "I'm rather glad you didn't kiss me,
now."
Harry arched a brow and nodded.
"I feel the same, you know," Hermione blurted after a short silence. "About
you."
"That's a relief," said Harry, and his voice was simultaneously teasing and
enormously pleased.
"And that's why I think this term is going to be good for us," Hermione
finished.
"What? Why?" The confident expression on Harry's face melted into one of
alarm, and Hermione had to consciously stop herself from laughing at the
change.
"I just think that being apart will allow us to wrap our minds around things.
To talk more and to get used to the idea of us . Because it's not just us, is
it? If we jump blindly into a relationship, Delphi's along for the ride. We need
to be able to consider what steps we want to take, and how it will affect her.
Get to know one another on a different level, and then decide whether this-"
she motioned between them, "-is something we want to pursue in view of
your daughter."
By the time she looked up to gauge Harry's reaction, he was smiling, his
teeth white and straight as he stared down at her, a warm look in his eye.
"I don't think I've ever been more attracted to someone talking so logically,"
he said.
Hermione rolled her eyes and punched his shoulder again.
"I'm serious, Harry."
His smile grew wider, and he reached for her hand again, enveloping it with
his own. She could feel the calluses on his fingers from where he gripped his
firebolt.
"Me too."
His voice was deep and soothing, and Hermione blushed and grinned at him
in return.
Chapter 21
A/N: To make up for my long absence, I've written you all an epistolatory
chapter. I hope you enjoy it! I look forward to your reactions. And many
thanks, one again, to Oblivionbaby and Shayalonnie, who keep this story
afloat.
4 January 1999
Dear Harry,
I rarely find it as difficult to write as I do now. It's hard to find the words
without sounding blunt when you're putting quill to parchment. As you're an
Auror now, you'll likely already know, but a Hogwarts student was murdered
with her family over the holiday. Headmistress McGonagall told us all at
dinner. You'd think I would be less affected by death, after what we've been
through, but I find myself preoccupied by the news.
She was a first year Slytherin. Ruth. I'm sure you'll remember her. She was
the little girl who asked me for my autograph at King's Cross in September.
She was so sweet, so eager to learn and to prove herself. She reminded me
of myself at her age. And now she's gone. All of them are gone. Her mother,
her father, even her baby brother.
It's not fair, Harry. What the hell did we fight for if not for safety from this
kind of evil? You were nearly killed. I was tortured. Hundreds died in the
war, and still they're out there, biding their time and hating anyone who isn't
exactly like them. What are we supposed to do now? I'm tired, and I'm
afraid, and I'm not sure I have it in me to do it all over again.
I'm sorry for the maudlin letter, but between leaving you and Delphi this
morning, and the news this evening, I'm not feeling very cheery. Hopefully
tomorrow will be a better day.
Hermione.
5 January 1999
Dear Hermione,
I'm not nearly as eloquent as you are, but I want you to know how sorry I
am. And furious.
We're going to catch the bastard who did this. I've been assigned to the case
along with about a dozen more Aurors, because apparently having been
hunted by Voldemort for my entire life gives me a 'valuable' perspective.
And we're going to catch them, Hermione. I promise you, I won't let them
get away with it. Because that's what we do in the face of it all. We press
on. We seek justice. We make the world a bleak place for the remaining
Death Eaters, and any other Dark Wizard who thinks they can kill without
consequences.
I miss you already, and I'm so sorry the beginning of term wasn't peaceful
and happy like it should have been.
Harry
15 January 1999
Harry,
Sorry to owl you at work, but we've just gotten the date of our first
Hogsmeade weekend. Any chance you and Ron can make it on the twenty-
third?
Please give Caliban a treat and send him back with your answer.
Expectantly,
Hermione
PS: I'm sorry I haven't had a chance to respond to your last two letters. I
promise I'll write you a novel tonight!
15 January 1999
H-
I'd love to, but I've already promised Andromeda that I'll take Teddy that
day. She's got a date, apparently. Ron says he's free, though, and will meet
you if you're up for it.
Please let me know the moment you find out when your next free weekend
is.
Looking forward to your novel,
H-
21 January 1999
Dear Harry,
Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, Transfiguration, and Charms today. Ancient
Runes and Transfiguration were actually combined, as both Professor
Babbling and Professor Altermann wanted to introduce us to the practical
application of runes in transfiguration. The class was fascinating, and I plan
to make a study of the subject on my own. The opportunity for
interdisciplinary application of runes is honestly staggering, and one of the
reasons I love the subject so much. I'm sure you're well aware of their
application in defense, especially where wards are involved, but did you
know that combining certain runes with transfiguration can allow for
permanent transmutation? Well, nearly permanent. The magic attaches itself
to the rune rather than the magical signature of the caster, and as such can
last beyond the caster's life span. I'm including copies of some of my class
notes with this letter, which I think will help to illustrate my point.
In other news, Professor McGonagall posted the next Hogsmeade weekend
date yesterday evening. If you haven't any other plans for the Valentines
weekend, I'd love to see you and Delphi on the thirteenth. Perhaps we can
all go to Madam Puddifoot's.
Joking. I'm only joking. About tea, not about wanting to see the two of you.
I had a dream the other night that we were all at Grimmauld Place again,
and I've been missing you ever since. Sometimes I think coming back to
Hogwarts was a mistake. I feel so out of step with everyone else. I'm older,
of course, but the real difference is that I've been on my own before, and a
great many of the students here never have. The last year of the war
changed me, made me more independent, and being here again, having to
be in my room by a certain time, or not being able to leave whenever I like…
well, it chafes a bit. Especially when I realize it means rarely getting to see
you.
And perhaps this is superficial of me, but I really miss kissing you. Our
letters are lovely, they give us a chance to talk without relying on physicality
to define the romantic aspect of our relationship, but it feels like there's
something missing, and now that I've experienced it, I can't just pretend it
isn't an option.
Yours,
Hermione
23 January 1999
Dear Hermione,
Thanks for the notes. I looked over them, and I've sent them back with
some questions. I'm curious about the potential applications for my work.
Can, for example, my uniform be imbued with a protection rune, which links
to an inert transfiguration spell which, once activated, transforms a piece of
the uniform into a physical shield that could block the Killing Curse? We
know fabric doesn't stop the curse, but harder materials like stone and steel
do. Anyway, I'm probably way off base, but it would be nice to hear your
thoughts.
Christ, I'm glad you were brave enough to bring it up first, because I am
apparently the most cowardly Gryffindor in existence. Not to overstate
things, but it's been agony not touching you. And I dream about you too,
but unlike your dreams, mine definitely don't involve Delphi. I wake up in
the morning, disappointed that you're not here, and after I put Delphi to
sleep at night I wish I could apparate to Scotland and sneak into your
dormitory just to see you smile.
Merlin, I miss you.
Love,
Harry
23 January 1999
Dear Harry,
For your information, your letter came while I was at lunch with Ron, Ginny,
Theo, Neville, and Luna. For your further edification, I blushed like mad and
your ex-girlfriend snatched the letter away from me without asking, and
then proceeded to make a variety of unflattering assumptions about you and
I before telling me I could "cross the river Styx for all she cares" and then
leaving the Three Broomsticks with her boyfriend.
Ron, at least, waited to hear my side of things before he told me he
understood and then left to chase after Ginny.
Luna and Neville are both very happy for us though, so that's something.
Over-all, an eventful day.
Hermione.
23 January 1999
Harry,
I'm sending this with a school owl because Caliban is still out with the last
letter I sent. I just wanted to tell you that despite the drama of the
afternoon, your letter made me incredibly happy. I'll review your questions
soon.
Love,
Hermione
14 February 1999
Dear Hermione,
It's been 24 hours since I last saw you, and I already miss you again. I
probably sound like a fool, but our visit has been the highlight of the year for
me so far. Delphi was so ecstatic when she saw you, and we just felt whole
again. And you looked beautiful. I know I said it then, but it bears repeating.
I spoke with Ron this afternoon at the Burrow. He'd been avoiding me at
work, which is easy to do these days as we're so bloody busy. We talked
about what happened last month, and he admitted it was uncomfortable for
him but that he believed us when we said nothing happened while the two of
you were together. He told me he planned on writing you to clear the air
soon, actually, so look out for that. I hope Ginny's not still trying to make
things miserable for you. If you want, I can owl her myself. It's not fair that
you have to be the one to deal with the fallout there.
Now I know we said we wouldn't do more than small gifts today, but you
have to understand that I've never had a proper girlfriend on Valentine's Day
before… so I may have overdone it a bit. I hope you'll forgive me in time.
Love,
Harry
16 February 1999
Harry James Potter, you're a menace. You might have overdone it a bit ?
There were so many bouquets of roses I had to put them on my roommates
dressers. If Ginny hadn't received a very expensive piece of jewelry from
Theo, I'm sure she would have murdered me with one in my sleep.
Incidentally, my own gift was exquisite, and I'm wearing it now.
Love,
Hermione
2 March 1999
Dear Hermione,
It feels like there's a mountain troll sitting on my head today. I suppose it
serves me right for drinking my weight in Muggle alcohol last night. But it
was Ron's birthday, and the other aurors kept buying him shots, and we
both knew we had to work today, so he shared his drinks with me so that we
would both only get half as pissed. It was, perhaps, a flawed plan in
retrospect. Mulligan, Ron's partner, noticed what we were doing, and the
whole team chipped in to buy Ron double rounds. So we both ended up
getting completely pissed anyway. Serves me right for trying to do a good
deed.
Delphi's been incredibly cute lately though. She's talking more and becoming
very demanding, which is honestly the most adorable thing I've ever seen.
Yesterday I was giving her a snack before bed and went to snatch one of the
little biscuits for myself. She looked at me said, with a scowl on her face:
"Daddy, no have biscuit. Delphi's biscuit, Daddy." I laughed for a solid five
minutes after that, because she kept hopping between glaring and
demanding more biscuits, and laughing with me because she knew she was
amusing. She's bloody charming, that girl. Sometimes when I look at her,
and I see her figuring out how the world works, and how to bend it in her
favor… I know it's a common toddler trait, but it reminds me of him. And I
pity him, because he made all the wrong choices, and he'll never be able to
know Delphi the way I do, never be able to laugh with her, or comfort her
when she's upset. She's part of him, and she'll never know him. I can see
the little things she inherited from the both of them, and all I can really feel
is relief that they'll never touch her again, never be able to twist her natural
tendencies the way they themselves were twisted. Is that wrong of me?
Well, I think that's quite enough introspection for my half-drunk lunch hour.
Love you, Hermione.
Harry
3 March 1999
Oh Harry,
You are a magnificent father, and if it is wrong of you to be relieved that
they are dead, then I am in the wrong too. Delphi is a sweet soul, and you
have become her protector. It's natural to fear the past and to dread what
might have been. But it is important to remember that here and now, she is
safe, and she is loved, and she will grow up knowing both. I'll make sure of
it, Harry, right alongside you.
Love, Hermione.
PS: I'm sending some sober-up potion Neville confiscated from one of the
fifth year Ravenclaws. He sends it with his regards.
17 March 1999
H-
Can't go into detail, but we caught them. I am safe and healthy. Read the
Prophet tomorrow, and I'll write more when I can.
Love,
H-
18 March 1999
Harry, you wonderful, brilliant auror. I got the paper at breakfast and
devoured the article in about a minute. I had to re-read I was going so fast.
I don't know why I'm surprised by the way things seem to have happened-
you always were the one to jump first and look second-but I can only be
grateful that you are talented enough to have escaped harm. Three Marked
Death Eaters, Harry! You could have been killed. Did you realize there was
more than one when you went in? Please tell me you had back up. When I
think of what might have happened-well, it doesn't bear writing. The
important thing is, you caught them, and now there can be justice for Ruth
and her family.
Please write again soon. Tell Delphi I love her. And stay safe! I don't know
what I would do without you.
Love,
Hermione.
20 April 1999
Dear Harry,
I had a dream last night, and as you were so kind as to share one of yours
with me, I thought I might return the favor.
We were out on a date. You and I were sitting beside each other, and Neville
was sitting across from us next to Ginny. (Have I told you she's finally
started speaking to me again?) Anyway, Neville was talking about plants,
and I was completely lost because I could feel your hand on my thigh. You
were stroking me through my skirt, and your hand was warm. When I
looked up at you, we were alone, and you smiled at me before leaning in
and kissing me. While your lips moved over mine, I began to feel hot, and
your hand starting moving from my thigh, up my leg. I was so aroused,
Harry, and when I woke up I nearly cried because none of it was real.
I never thought the distance would be this difficult to deal with. As much as
I appreciate our letters… you can't kiss a scroll, at least not the way I want
to be kissed. You'll help me with that, won't you? Next time we see each
other?
Love,
Hermione
21 April, 1999
Hermione,
You've nearly killed me. I can't think of anything but your letter today. I
close my eyes, and I imagine my hand on your thigh, traveling upward. I
imagine where it might have gone if you hadn't woken up. I'm sorry if that's
too forward. I'm going mad missing you today, and you can rest assured I'll
help you with whatever you want the next time I see you.
Yours,
Harry
2 May 1999
Dear Harry,
I know today is going to be hard. It's normal, I think, for those of us who
survived-who carved our way from the brink of loss-to mourn. We won, but
we did not do so without cost.
As you attend the Ministry's gala tonight, know that though I am not with
you in person, I am thinking of you. You are not alone. You are loved. You
did the right thing. You are brave, and kind, and wonderful. And I love you.
Our world owes you so much, Harry. I know it makes you uncomfortable to
hear it, to acknowledge this gratitude strangers feel toward you, but we
would not be here if it weren't for you, and your unfailing goodness. Thank
you for making the choice to be a kind, fair, brilliant man. You're my hero,
Harry, in more ways than one.
Love,
Hermione.
2 May 1999
Dear Hermione,
It's early morning, and I'm missing you today more than most. I know that
you understand how days like this make me feel. When others feel the
victory, I feel loss. It doesn't feel like a day to celebrate. But despite it all, I
can't help but be glad that we did what we had to, that we fought and we
bled and we won. It brought me Delphi. It brought me you, Hermione. I owe
everything I cherish to this day, a year ago.
Think of me today, Hermione. Know that I'm here, imagining you smiling at
me. Know that I would not be alive to feel conflicted today if it weren't for
you, and that you are a brilliant, strong, brave, and beautiful woman that I
cannot fathom my life without.
You're my best friend. The girl I love. Thank you, for everything you are.
Love,
Harry
3 May 1999
Dear Hermione,
You've no idea how much your letter yesterday meant to me. I'd just sent
mine off when yours arrived, and I'm not ashamed to admit I read it three
times and then carried it with me throughout the rest of the day.
The gala was predictably chaotic, but somber enough to be respectful. They
gave me an Order of Merlin First Class, which apparently comes with a
stipend. I'm trying to figure out what to do with that. I want it to go toward
the orphans of the war, but I'm not sure exactly how to go about that. Any
insight you might have would be great.
Oh, and Fleur had her baby! Molly fire called me last night after the party to
share the news, and I went to the hospital after work today with Delphi. It's
a girl, and she's tiny and bald with the roundest cheeks I've ever seen.
They've named her Victoire, because she was born on the anniversary of the
victory. Bill's ecstatic, of course. He grinned the entire time I was there, and
Fleur just sort of watched him indulgently as he showed off the baby.
They're going to be great parents. And Victoire is going to be the warmest
baby in all of England. I spotted three different hand knitted Weasley
blankets lying about the hospital. I think Molly is trying to make her one in
every color.
On an unrelated note, if you have a few spare moments, I'd like your
thoughts on a case I'm currently working. I'm having trouble with the runes
found in some old wards we're having to work around. The brains in our
office are apparently unequal to the task, because not a single one of them
recognizes it. I'm sending the renderings along with this letter.
Have a wonderful night, Hermione. I'll be thinking of you.
Love,
Harry
15 May 1999
Dear Harry,
I'm sorry you couldn't make it to Hogsmeade today, but I was grateful for
the owl you sent warning me that that might be the case. I hope whichever
dark witch or wizard you're currently apprehending rues the day they
prevented you from seeing me. And that you stay safe. Don't take too many
risks Harry, for my nerves. (Have you ever read Jane Austen? I can't picture
you with a copy of Pride and Prejudice, but if you do decide to revisit Muggle
literature, you might understand my little joke there.)
Our day was pleasant enough. I spent several hours at Tomes and Scrolls
with Neville, who was incredibly impressed with their Herbology section. Did
you know it's Neville's aim to teach Herbology here at Hogwarts in the
future? He might one day be Delphi's professor! After the bookshop, we met
Ginny and Theo at the Hog's Head Inn. Their public displays of affection
have gotten to be a bit nauseating, but, even so, I can't help but envy them
the ease of it. Poor Neville was so uncomfortable, though. He's still
desperately in love with Ginny, and she barely notices anyone but Theo
these days. I wish I knew him better and could be confident he was really
good for Ginny. But they're so wrapped up in one another that it's hard to
get close to either of them. I'm sure in time that will pass, I'm just afraid
she's thrown herself into this relationship as a way to cover her own
disappointment and loneliness. Of course, it's not really my business, but I
want her to be happy. She's been my friend for such a long time, and I care
about her.
On a happier note, Luna has apparently discovered a new species of nargle,
and has told me she will be sending you a kit to help disperse them. She's
already taken the liberty of clearing my dormitory and the Gryffindor
common room.
Love,
Hermione
6 June 1999
Dear Hermione,
You would have loved yesterday. I had Teddy with me for the day, and I
took him and Delphi to the zoo. I had to buy a double pram for the occasion,
but it was worth it. Teddy's one now, and he and Delphi were both
absolutely in love with the animals. Teddy was obsessed with the Lion. He
kept saying "Roar, roar!" and trying to bite me. Not sure where he learned
that, but Delphi thought it was hysterical. She loved the snakes though. The
reptile house was humid, but she wouldn't let me leave for the longest time.
I think she may have been speaking parsletongue, actually. I couldn't
understand most of it-I think when the piece of him that was in me died, it
took that with it-but I do remember the sound of it, the way it felt on my
tongue. And maybe I should be more concerned about the fact that she can
speak with snakes, but it feels like something that connects her to me, not
to him.
And I had a thought, Hermione. Please tell me if it's daft. I was thinking
about the similarities between us a few weeks ago. Really I've been thinking
about them since the beginning. People tell me she looks like me, and I've
always chalked it up to the color of her hair, but what if she does look like
me? I know that biologically, I'm not her father. Magically, yes, but I didn't
make her. But I did make Voldemort. He used my blood to build his body in
that graveyard. Voldemort after he returned looked nothing like Voldemort
in his youth. What if the spell they used literally built his body with my
blood and his father's bone and Wormtail's flesh? What would that mean for
Delphi's genetics? If we tested her blood the Muggle way, would it show that
she is related to me after all? I suppose in the end, it doesn't matter, but it's
been on my mind.
I have to go now, and I want this letter to go out tonight, so I'll end it there.
I love you,
Harry.
PS: Good luck with your N.E.W.T.s! I know you won't need it, because you're
brilliant, but I'm sending it anyway!
9 June 1999
Dear Harry,
I'm sad to have missed the zoo. Please tell me you took photographs, even
Muggle ones.
I've thought about what you said, and I did a bit of research in the
Restricted Section last night. From what I was able to find, I think you might
be right. If your blood-and with it your family's magic-flows through Delphi's
veins in any capacity, it would certainly explain your magic's attraction to
her, and your steadfast concern over her even before you had met her. I
think it might be worth testing, if you're not adverse to a bit of Muggle
science.
No matter what you decide though, it doesn't change the fact that she's your
daughter in every way that counts and that you are her father.
I love you too, Harry.
Yours,
Hermione
PS: I'll take all the luck I can get. Any felix left?
23 June 1999
Dear Hermione,
Tomorrow is the day! I can hardly believe you'll be graduating in the
morning. I'm sorry I've been so quiet this past week, but I've done
something that has required quite a bit of attention. I'll tell you all about it
tomorrow evening.
I'm coming to the school first thing in the morning to see you. I've taken the
day off of work and plan to make the most of it. Thankfully McGonagall's
given me permission to visit. I'll leave you right before the ceremony, and
be waiting for you on the other side of the lake when it begins.
I love you so much, Hermione, and am so incredibly proud of you, and proud
to be yours.
Harry
Chapter 22
A/N: Hello, friends! As always, your reactions continue to astound me and
make me incredibly happy! I hope you enjoy this chapter, dears! Remember
to send all you thanks to Oblivionbaby and Shayalonnie! And if you feel up
for it, leave a comment with your thoughts/feelings/frustrations/joys.
Hogwarts
24 June 1999
The castle was quiet when she rose for the day, a warm glow in the center of
her chest. She dressed slowly, taking the time she never had before to
glance around the room and soak up every detail of her surroundings. Ginny
and the other seventh year girls were still abed, their curtains drawn; the
velvet, burgundy curtains of the four poster beds formed islands throughout
the room, each one inhabited by a different person. From where she stood,
Hermione could see the trunks, bedside tables, and armoires belonging to
each of her dorm mates. A couple sets (hers included) were incredibly tidy,
while the rest were still strewn with bits of parchment, makeup, and other
odds and ends that seemed distinctly feminine.
Hermione sighed. If the other girls weren't careful, they'd be too late
packing and miss the ceremony altogether. Waving her wand through the
air, Hermione conjured an alarm clock which she set to go off in another half
hour, and then made her way out of of the room. She paused at the
doorway, gave one last sweeping glance around, and then descended the
spiral staircase to the common room.
She was pleased to see that Neville was already below, sitting in one of the
good arm chairs beside the fire. She thought at first that he might be
reading, but as she drew nearer, she realized he was leaning forward in his
chair and staring intently at the seat across from him.
"Really?" he asked, an animated expression on his face. "That's brilliant. I
always knew you'd do well."
"Neville?" Hermione tried to keep her expression neutral, but at the look of
surprise on the young man's face, she was sure her own features slipped
into obvious concern.
"Hermione!" he said, and then smiled. He leaned back in his chair, his right
hand resting on the arm as he glanced back at the seat across from him and
then up at Hermione. "We've been waiting for you. Just been having a chat."
"We?" She looked back at the empty armchair, squinting to try and make
out the tell-tale shimmer of a disillusionment charm.
"Yup. I'll leave you two alone now though. I fancy one last Hogwarts
breakfast. My Nan's elf doesn't cook nearly as well as the ones here. Mind
you, she's ancient, so she doesn't do much anymore, which is a blessing,
really. I've never met a more exacting house-elf in my life."
And with that, Neville stood, ignoring Hermione's bewildered expression and
leaning in to give her a single, chaste peck on the cheek.
"You'll come round for a meal sometime, won't you?" he asked, and
Hermione nodded uncertainly.
"Neville, are you sure you're-"
"Excellent. I'll see the both of you then. If I miss you at the ceremony."
And then he went, leaving Hermione standing in front of the merrily
crackling fire, seemingly alone in the Common Room. A bit spooked,
Hermione glanced about. Neville had been speaking to someone, and unless
her friend was losing his mind-which was a possibility too grim to consider
properly-that meant she might not be completely alone.
"Hello?" she said, and her voice echoed throughout the room. Nothing
around her stirred. The Gryffindor banners on the walls and the sofas and
tables she'd covered every inch of with books and parchments throughout
the year stayed blessedly silent. She let out a sigh, though whether it was of
relief or consternation she was unsure. And then, quite out of no-where, she
felt a large, warm hand wrap itself around her own, and a low voice whisper
in her ear.
"Hello."
She yelped and drew her hand back as if it had been burned, looking wildly
about for the source of the voice until at last she saw a floating head in the
air beside her. She gaped for several seconds before she found her voice.
"HARRY!"
"Shhhh!" He winced, glancing at the exits and then grinning at her before his
head disappeared once more.
"Harry what are you doing here?" she screeched, her voice unnaturally high.
He spoke, and his voice sounded amused. "Visiting my girlfriend, of course."
Hermione's belly flopped at his words, and she grinned despite herself. She'd
never heard him use the word in person before.
"You're not supposed to be here," she said, half happy and half horrified at
his sudden appearance. She hated to think how many rules he'd broken to
sneak into the common room under his Invisibility Cloak.
He twined his fingers through hers again, and this time she didn't pull away,
only watched as her hand disappeared beneath the cloak.
"I couldn't wait to see you until the ceremony," he confessed, his voice
rasping slightly.
Hermione's smile widened, and she glanced around the room again. Seeing
no one, she was happy to leave her hand in his, feeling his thumb stroking
over hers.
"Come with me," he said, and she felt him begin to tug her toward the
portrait hole. "Just for a while."
She allowed herself to be drawn out of the common room, her cheeks
flaming as they passed a group of fourth year boys jostling down the hall.
Harry released her hand only long enough for them to pass before taking it
in his own again, and leading her to an empty wall down another corridor.
"The Room of Requirement," Hermione breathed, and she felt Harry give her
hand a little squeeze before releasing it. Several moments later, a door
appeared in the wall, opening of its own accord.
"Come on." Harry spoke very close to her ear, and Hermione shivered,
taking several steps into the room and watching as the door closed behind
her. She took in the room, noting the wide window on the far wall, the sofa
opposite a crackling fire, and the red and gold rug beneath her feet.
"Goodness," she said. "It's lovely.
"Not as lovely as you."
This time when she looked up, she could see him. He'd dropped the Cloak
into a silvery puddle on the floor around his feet and stood with his hands in
his pockets. His hair was a mess. He'd tied it back, but being under the cloak
had brushed a great deal of it free, and it hung around his face in disarray.
His beard was thick and neatly trimmed, and his emerald green eyes
sparkled as he stared down at her. God, how she'd missed him.
"Harry, you can't just sneak into the school."
He laughed.
"I can, and I did." The confident look on his face seemed to melt just a bit as
he added, "Do you really mind?"
Exasperated, Hermione shook her head. "Of course not, daft man. But if
we're caught they'll likely keep my diploma on display as a lesson to any
other rule-breaking graduates. And that'll be on your head."
His grin bloomed again. "I think I'm willing to risk it."
And then, because she couldn't help herself for a moment longer, Hermione
reached for him, pulling him closer by his upper arm and noting the hard
muscle there beneath his jumper as she did so.
"I've missed you like mad," she confessed.
"Have you? Well, that makes one of us." His teasing voice was low, and she
hit his stupidly muscular shoulder in retribution. Harry only laughed and
wrapped his arms around her waist, drawing her in for a hug.
"Christ, what do they feed you Aurors?" Hermione groused, her words
muffled against his chest.
"Am I gaining weight?"
"You know very well what I mean."
She felt his breath on her ear as he leaned down to answer her, and the
sensation made her shiver pleasantly.
"I'm flattered you noticed."
"Don't get too cocky," Hermione ordered, "I could still take you in a duel."
"No doubt about that."
His hand began to rub circles on her back as she pressed her cheek the spot
just below his collarbone. Without meaning to, Hermione made an
embarrassing noise, and then froze. Harry only chuckled low in his throat
and breathed in the scent of her hair. She was suddenly very glad she'd
washed it earlier that morning. She hated to think of the state it had been in
by the time she'd finished her N.E.W.T.s.
They stood in one another's arms for a full minute before Hermione pulled
back, smiling at the resistance Harry manifested to the separation.
"Where have you left my goddaughter, then?" She asked, taking his hands
in hers as she looked up at him. Had he always been this handsome from
close quarters, or was it a new development?
"Delphi is happily being spoiled at the Burrow. Molly insisted I let her stay
the morning, until it's time to head to Hogsmeade… And I had plans of my
own, so I didn't much object."
"Plans?" Hermione prodded. "Plural? So there's more for you to do this
morning than just sneaking into Hogwarts and corrupting an otherwise
exemplary student?"
Harry practically snorted at this, and if Hermione weren't very aware of her
own track record with rule breaking, she might have been offended.
"Let's just say there's more to your surprise today than getting to snog the
Chosen One in the Come and Go Room."
"Getting to-Harry your ego has become-"
Before she could finish her sentence, Harry laughed exultantly and leaned
down to capture her mouth with his.
His kiss was magic. And heat. And joy. She'd never felt anything so glorious
as the way his lips warmed against hers, pouring fire directly into her veins
as his hands wrapped around her waist and he pulled her tight against him.
She'd missed this more than she had wanted to admit, but here in his
embrace there was no point in denying it. His fingers brushed against her
lower back and she thrilled, a shiver racing from the point where he stroked
her, up her spine, making her back arch and the kiss deepen.
She moaned against him, and his tongue traced the seam between her lips.
And because she wanted to be closer to him, to feel as much of him as she
could in these few moments of glorious, untempered wildness, she opened
her mouth for him.
This time it was Harry's turn to groan, and Hermione gloried in it, one of her
hands reaching up to tangle in his long hair. The bit of elastic, which had
failed to keep his coal black locks neat, fell to the floor, and as she gave
another little shiver of excitement, Harry seemed to redouble his efforts.
His tongue swept against hers, hot and so enticing she wanted nothing more
than for the kiss to deepen, for his hands to wander and explore the planes
of her until she was a quivering mess. His teeth nipped at her lower lip,
sharp and exciting, and Hermione felt as if she were on fire.
Minutes later, still locked in one another's embrace, Harry pulled away.
Hermione heard herself whine at the loss of contact but couldn't bring
herself to be embarrassed by the sound.
"Merlin, Morganna, and Circe." His voice was hoarse and his eyes shut tight
as he pressed his forehead down and against hers. "Hermione, you're going
to kill me."
"Only if you don't start kissing me again soon," she heard herself say.
Harry chuckled, the sounds rumbling low in his chest where she could feel
him pressed against her.
"Christ, I'd never stop if I didn't have to go soon."
"Go?" she asked, and even to her own ears, her voice sounded forlorn.
"Not because I want to," Harry clarified, "but I have a promise to keep. And
your surprise needs tending."
"I like this surprise," she pressed.
"I promise you'll like my next one better."
Hermione sighed and nodded, and Harry leant down to press a single, close
mouthed kiss to the tip of her nose.
"I love you, Hermione," he said, his voice warm and so sincere she thought
she might cry.
"I love you too, Harry."
He kissed her cheek and released her. The room felt cold outside the circle
of his arms.
"I'll see you at the ceremony," Harry said, leaning down to retrieve his cloak.
"We'll talk more after. Or another day, if there isn't time."
Hermione arched a brow.
"I find it hard to imagine I wouldn't have time for you."
Harry grinned and shrugged.
"We'll see," he said, and then kissed her once more before disappearing
beneath his cloak. "Have a good breakfast," he said once the door had
opened. "Promise me."
Confused, Hermione nodded.
"I promise," she said. And then she listened the the telltale sound of his
trainers on the flagstone floor as he disappeared from the corridor.
The lake glittered under the morning sun as the graduating seventh and
eight years gathered outside the castle, standing on the grassy slope which
overlooked the entirety of the black lake and the mountains and hills
beyond. Hermione was struck by the natural beauty of the scene. Perhaps it
had been her ambition which had kept her from appreciating the loveliness
of Hogwarts' surroundings over the past eight years-or, more likely, the
strain of trying to fit into a world where she was undervalued and often not
wanted-but the last time she remembered marveling at this scene she'd
been eleven and arriving at school for the first time. Then, it had been dark.
The lake had shone with hundreds of lights streaming from the castle's
windows, and from the twinkling stars overhead. She'd felt breathless,
sitting beside Neville and Harry and Ron, as the life she had known became
a distant memory and her future laid itself open before her.
"You ready?"
Hermione looked up at the brown haired man who stood beside her. He'd
certainly grown out of the baby fat and the uncertainty that had marked his
childhood.
"Almost," she said. They turned together to glimpse the castle again, and
Hermione reached out to loop her arm through Neville's.
"It looks just as it did when we came," she said, marveling.
"A miracle, that. Considering last year."
"Magic covers a multitude of sins," Hermione mused.
"You two almost done gawking?" Ginny called from near the top of a long
flight of stone steps at the edge of the green lawn. Theo was several paces
ahead of her, his head just barely visible beyond the line of the cliff upon
which Hogwarts stood.
"We're coming," Hermione called back at her. "Save us seats!"
Ginny nodded and followed her boyfriend down the steps. Neville watched
her go with a resigned expression on his face. Hermione said nothing, only
gave his arm a gentle squeeze before releasing him and turning to follow the
redheaded girl.
"We'll miss the boats if we don't go now," Hermione told him. She waited as
Neville took one last look at the castle and its grounds, his gaze lingering on
a familiar spot she knew still haunted him before he turned and gave her a
thumbs up.
"Ready," he said.
"Cheer up," Hermione ordered. "You'll be back before you know it, future
Professor Longbottom."
"Don't jinx it."
Hermione smiled and led the way down the steep stone steps which curved
down the side of the cliff and into a stone passage that descended deeper
into the rock face. The narrow walkway was lit by sconces every few yards,
and as they made their way downward, the hum of a hundred or more
voices buzzed through the tunnel, echoing around them in a happy jumble.
At last, they reached a pebbled beach Hermione had seen only once before.
The little harbor encased in stone was flooded with seventh year students
and seemed far more crowded than it had when they were all first years.
"All aboard now! Everyone onto a boat! The Headmistress is waiting!"
Hagrid's voice boomed around them, and the excited students took turns
scrambling onto the fleet of boats waiting in the water. Once they were all
aboard-Hermione sitting beside Neville once again, this time with Ginny and
Theo sitting behind them-the boats moved in unison until they reached a
dark tunnel, at which point they floated, single file, through the darkness,
emerging on the other side through a curtain of ivy which concealed the
entrance from the outside. When it was her boat's turn to go through,
Hermione closed her eyes tightly, letting the sun hit her face and warm the
skin there before she opened them again.
The lake was wide and lovely, reflecting the blue sky and sparse clouds as
the boats cut a path through the mirrored surface. Hermione took only a few
moments to look over her shoulder at the castle as it began to recede into
the distance. She could just barely make out the window of her dormitory
and of the Gryffindor common room.
"Look!" Ginny called over her shoulder, and Hermione followed the line of
the girl's arm and pointed finger to see the banks at the other end of the
lake coming into view. The rocky beach was flooded with people, and
alongside the joy Hermione felt, there was a small pang at the thought of
those who would not be there waiting for her.
"Is that my gran?" asked Neville, squinting. Hermione thought she might
have been able to make out a vulture atop a hat, but couldn't be sure it
wasn't just a large, beak nosed man.
"I'm not sure," Hermione said, spotting a clump of people with bright red
hair, "but there are the Weasleys."
The closer they grew to the edge of the lake, the closer the boats grew to
one another, until at last, they were single file again, and Hermione's view of
the beach was obscured. After several seconds of stillness, Professor
McGonagall's magically magnified voice boomed across the lake for all to
hear.
"Welcome, honored family and friends, to the leaving ceremony. Each year,
we teachers are delighted to meet our newest students, to see the talent
and the promise that they all show, first hand. We celebrate with them
though their triumphs-" Here, she paused. "And we mourn with them
through their sorrows. This class, more than most before it, has honored our
school with their courage, cunning, kindness, and keen intellect. I have
never been prouder than I am today of the fine, upstanding young men and
women we have had the privilege of educating."
Hermione felt her throat begin to grow tight as the Headmistress continued.
"Now, as these young men and young women leave us, we honor them and
their achievements, as well as the memory of those who should be among
them today."
Professor McGonagall cleared her throat and began to read a list of names
aloud. Each name was like a sharp sigh on the air. Some, Hermione had
known better than others, but she had met and walked amongst each of the
students whose names were spoken, and she mourned with all of her peers
as their sacrifices were honored. When the reading was done, the boats
were motioned forward, one by one, and the graduates began to disembark.
Hermione listened to their names and to the words the Headmistress spoke
to them, the weight of this moment sinking in as her turn grew nearer and
nearer. After some graduates disembarked, there was a loud cheer from
their families and friends. Others, such as Draco Malfoy, were met with
silence. When it came to Ginny's turn, the noise was so riotous Professor
Mcgonagall had to quiet them with a sharp look, and Ginny laughed before
winking at the scandalized older witch. Theo went next, to more sedate
Weasley applause, and was followed by Neville, for whom much of the crowd
cheered happily.
When at last it was Hermione's turn, she stepped carefully onto the beach,
letting Professor Slughorn help her down with a beaming smile before
approaching her old Transfiguration teacher. When she had reached her,
Professor McGonagall smiled warmly and held her wand in front of her,
slightly raised in Hermione's direction. Having been instructed the evening
before on the particulars of the ceremony, Hermione raised her own wand,
pressing its tip to that of the older witch's.
"Hermione Granger." The Headmistress' voice shook just slightly as she
spoke, her eyes shining. "Your magic is strong and true. May it serve you
well as you continue to grow in wisdom."
"Thank you, Professor," said Hermione, feeling very much as if she might
burst into happy tears.
"Oh my dear, it has been my pleasure."
From there, Hermione made her way down the line of professors, shaking
each of their hands in turn until at last she was standing with the other
graduates, all beaming and holding their wands in their hands as they stared
up at the castle which had been their home for almost half of their lives. The
place where many of them had fought and bled and suffered; where they
had felt joy and made friendships and fallen in love.
After the last student had disembarked, Professor McGonagall turned to face
the crowd of assembled witches and wizards, smiling broadly.
"Your time at Hogwarts has come to an end," she said, "but your education
never will. Each decision you make, every step you take, will add to your
experience as you walk forward through life. You have all made us
immeasurably proud, and we are delighted to recognize you as witches and
wizards of merit, and as our peers in magic. Leig le do ghliocas
àrdachadh !"
With that, the ceremony was ended, and the students let out a whoop,
cheering and crying and hugging one another all at once. Hermione was no
exception, clutching Neville and Ginny tightly as she grinned like mad,
before looking for Luna in the sea of graduates and throwing her arms
around her. When they were done, the former students turned to face the
crowd on the rocky beach, all standing and cheering for their loved ones,
calling out names and waving to catch each other's attention.
Hermione was the first to spot Molly fighting her way through the crowd
toward Ginny, and she smiled at the sight. She watched as they embraced
and Molly fussed over her daughter's hair before giving her another tight
squeeze and passing the girl off to Arthur, who had just arrived-wheezing-
behind her. Once her arms were free, Molly seemed to scan the crowd once
more, only stopping when she caught Hermione's gaze and a wide smile split
her face.
"Come here, you!" she shouted across the crowd. Hermione laughed softly
and elbowed her way past several reunions to get to the Weasley matriarch,
and soon she found herself scooped into a warm, surprisingly strong hug.
"Good gracious, I couldn't be prouder if I'd birthed you myself," Molly
beamed, slackening her arms just enough for Hermione to look her in the
eye. "I am so happy for you, dear! So very happy." And she pulled her close
once more for another bone cracking hug.
"S'cuse me," said a deep, laughing voice from behind her, and when Molly
had had her fill, Hermione turned to face Harry. He was beaming down at
her, an excited, squirming Delphi in arms, her black curls shoulder length
now, and bobbing from side to side over her round, dimpled cheeks.
"Harry!" Hermione cried, and then catapulted herself at the man and child,
wrapping her arms around the both of them and raining kisses down on the
top of the little girl's head.
"Delphi, darling! Oh, sweet girl! I'm so happy to see you!"
"Do I get a kiss too?" Harry asked, amused. Hermione gave him a look but
stretched onto her toes to kiss his cheek all the same. Against her lips, his
beard was warm from the sun and much softer than she had expected.
"Now," she said, "hand over my god-daughter or I'll be forced to hurt you."
Harry's smile faltered for only a moment before he shook his head.
"Not yet," he told her.
"Harry," Hermione frowned up at him, pretending to be severe. "I know a
great many hexes that will make you rue the day you kept her from me."
"Look-" he said, ignoring her threat entirely. "I want you to take a couple
deep breaths, alright? And please, don't freak out."
"Harry, what are you-"
He stepped aside before she could finish her sentence, and her eyes fell on a
man and a woman standing beside him. They were average height, the man
slightly taller than the woman with greying brown hair and smiling hazel
eyes. Beside him, the woman, whose hand he held, seemed to quiver with
emotion, her chestnut curls twisted behind her into an elegant knot.
"Darling," she said, holding her arms out wide.
"Mum?" asked Hermione. "Dad?" And then she fainted dead away.
Chapter 23
A/N: Your reactions give me life. Please send love to Oblivionbaby and
Shayalonnie for their continued support and work where this story is
concerned.
PS: I accidentally uploaded an unedited version of this chapter first, so if you
happened to click into the update within the first minute of it being posted,
i'm sorry for the rough version! It has since been updated with the correct,
edited version.
16 July 1999
The Granger Residence
It was not the home Hermione had grown up in-a young couple with two
small children lived there now, and had painted over the doorframe where
Hermione's height had been marked each summer-but the presence of her
parents made the new house just as wonderful as she remembered her
childhood home being. Each morning when she woke, it was to the smell of
coffee. Her father still needed it to wake up properly, and her mother woke
each morning to brew it fresh for him. Every afternoon, her mother served
tea, just as she had on her days off when Hermione was small. And every
evening, they gathered in the family room to read a chapter of a classic.
Shakespeare, Machiavelli, Homer, Dante, Wilde, Burns, Shelley, Bronte, and
Austen. Their tastes were as varied as their conversations afterward.
Still, despite the familiar rituals of a past life, there was a tension that still
hung in the air over all of their heads. It was a subtle thing, only half noticed
if one squinted in its direction, but it was there, and when it manifested
itself, it was palpable. For the most part, it lay dormant, but at certain times,
when Hermione would allude to the life she had led while her parents were
away, or the war, or to the house they had lived in before… well, it hadn't
been easy on any of them.
One evening, after her father had gone to bed, Hermione had worked up the
courage to broach the subject with her mother.
"Mum?" she asked.
"Yes, love?" Helen closed her book and set it on her lap, peering over jewel
encrusted reading glasses in her daughter's direction.
"Are you and daddy very angry with me?"
"Angry?" the older woman looked confused for a moment, but the longer
the question sat between them, the more she seemed to understand.
"We're not angry, dear."
"But I- what I did was so hard. The hardest decision I've made in my life. I
thought I was doing what was right, and it hurt so much, Mum. I knew, I
knew you wouldn't have agreed to it, but I thought I knew best." Her voice
broke. "And if I were you, I'd be livid."
Helen sighed and took off her glasses, setting them aside along with her
book before leaning forward in her seat and propping her elbows atop her
knees.
"Hermione, we're not angry with you… It's hard to describe what we are. It
sounds so cliche to say that we're disappointed, but that's part of it. Not all
of it, but a part."
Hermione felt tears prick at her eyes and bit her lip, the sharp little jolt of
pain keeping the them from spilling over.
"I'm so sorry," she said, her voice barely audible now.
"Thank you, darling… But it's not just about the choice you made. I'm not
sure you can understand what it felt like remembering what had happened…
or how it felt to realize how much you'd kept from us. It was… difficult."
"Oh, mum." Hermione raised her hand to her mouth now, pushing the back
of it hard against her lips, as if she could keep in her sobs.
"We love you so much, Hermione," Helen continued, "And we were so
disappointed when we realized you hadn't been able to trust us. It felt as if
we'd failed."
"Mummy, you didn't fail," Hermione cried, sounding frantic. "I didn't want to
see you hurt. I was trying to protect you!"
"But you see, love, we may just be Muggles, but we're your parents, too. It
was our job to protect you."
They had talked deep into the night, and by the end, they had understood
one another a little better. Not only that, but they had been able to share
the bits of their lives that had been missed in the intervening years. They
spoke about Harry and Delphi and the Weasleys. About the practice her
parents had started and then abandoned in Australia, and the feeling they
had lived with for two years, that they were forgetting something important.
"And Harry explained? About why I couldn't come and get you sooner?"
Helen nodded, smiling sadly.
"Death Eaters. He told us they were targeting Muggle families still, and that
your police had found signs of them at the old house. He told us the lot had
been captured now, though."
"They have," Hermione said with relief. Harry was on the team that brought
the last of them in."
Helen gave Hermione a look that made her blush. "He's a clever young
man, that Harry. And quite dedicated to you, it would seem."
"He's very clever," she answered.
In the end, they had left the conversation feeling better than they had when
they'd begun. And perhaps it was only her, but the following morning, the
smell of coffee hadn't filled her with dread. Now, while it still seemed that
the trust they had worked a lifetime to build between them had cracks large
enough for her to step through, it felt as if they were closing, millimeter by
millimeter. At the very least, she felt that she could resume her life in some
capacity-which was what had brought her to this.
"Dammit," she swore, peering over her shoulder and into the full length
mirror behind her. She'd been through four dresses at least, and still nothing
fit. She knew it had been a long while since she'd had occasion to really
dress up, but she hadn't realized her chest had grown quite that much in the
past two years. Sighing, Hermione discarded the dress and reached for
another. This one looked a bit less fitted at the top, and she thought that
might be her saving grace. Why she hadn't thought to plan her outfit for the
evening sooner was beyond her, and she could only suppose it had to do
with readjusting to being someone's child again. She had been on her own
for such a long time now that answering to someone seemed a whole new
experience.
"Dammit, dammit, dammit."
"Everything alright in here?" Hermione jumped at the sound of her father's
voice as he appeared in the doorway, a cup of tea in his hand.
"Sorry," Hermione said, grimacing. "I didn't mean to disturb you."
"Fashion trouble?" said Frank, ignoring her apology and stepping into the
room.
Hermione nodded with a frown. "It seems my wardrobe hasn't been
expanded recently… and certain portions of my anatomy have."
It was her father's turn to grimace now, but he walked toward her wardrobe
all the same, peering inside and rifling through the outfits there.
"Are you married to the idea of a dress?" he asked.
Hermione shrugged.
"I want to look nice," she said.
"I'd wager the boy would think you look nice in a guinea sack."
"Still."
Frank made a noncommittal noise and continued his search, pausing on a
silk sheath dress she didn't recognize.
"You know," he said, his voice thoughtful, "I'm not much one for fashion, but
your mother always seemed to ask my opinion, so I like to think I've
developed an eye for things."
"I'm sure you're brilliant at it," Hermione agreed.
"Yes, well. Point being, I think you ought to give this one a try." He pulled
out the dress, a knee length number in a bright shade of blue.
Hermione's nose wrinkled instinctively, and her father rolled his eyes.
"Isn't it a bit… bright?" she asked.
"You and your mum look good in this kind of thing. Comes down to coloring.
Or something."
"I don't even remember buying this dress," Hermione told him.
"You wouldn't. I bought it for mum before you were born. But fashion's
cyclical, isn't it?"
Hermione studied the dress. The cut wasn't modern, but her father was
right, it was fashionable enough, with a boatneck collar and little else to tell
its age.
"I'll try it," she agreed, and Frank nodded, satisfied.
"I'll see you down stairs in a few then," he said, and left her alone with the
dress.
He was right, it looked lovely, and it fit her to boot.
It took only a couple minutes more for Hermione to empty a bottle of
Sleekeazy's over her hair and to add some mascara to her lashes, and once
that was done she was ready.
Both of her parents were waiting in the sitting room, Helen with one of her
ever present books on her lap, and Frank with his cup of tea and a
crossword puzzle.
"All ready?" asked her father, and Hermione nodded.
"Don't I look it?"
"Of course you do," her mother said, eyeing the dress Hermione wore. "Now
that looks familiar."
"I found it in my things."
"Well, I'm glad. The bloody thing hasn't fit me for ages. And the color suits
you very well."
"That's what I said," her father interjected.
"Of course you did." Helen looked fondly over at her husband. "You've an
eye for that sort of thing."
"You two haven't changed a bit," Hermione said with a laugh, and then
glanced at the clock above the mantel.
"Still got a few minutes yet, darling," her mother chimed, and Hermione
blushed.
"Where are you headed tonight anyhow?" Helen continued. "Someplace
fancy?"
Hermione shrugged. "It's a surprise. Considering his last surprise made me
faint, I'm not sure what to expect."
"Boy's putting me to shame," grumbled her father, penciling something into
his puzzle. "Your mother'll be expecting me to serenade her in the middle of
Harrods next time I turn around."
"Rubbish," said Helen, winking at Hermione. "I'd settle for Covent Garden."
"Dad singing… Now that would be a surprise."
"Ladies," he said, setting his puzzle down and leaning back in his chair, "be
nice."
"We're always nice, Frank."
"I'm only teasing, Daddy."
"Hmmph."
A knock at the door sounded then, and Hermione jumped.
"I've got it," her father said, standing and making his way toward the
hallway which led to the front door.
"Oh, that's not necessary-' Hermione began, but she was waved off as he
made his way out of the room.
"Let him have his fun," her mother advised. "This is the first time a boy's
come calling at the house for you, you know."
Hermione made a face. "I'm aware."
"Hello, Mr Granger." Harry's voice came floating from the hallway into the
living room, cheery and slightly uncertain.
"Harry," her father answered. "Can I help you?"
"Dad!" Hermione shrieked, rushing into the hall as her mother's laughter
chased her out.
Her father was standing in front of the door, and when he turned to look at
Hermione his face split into a wide grin. "Only teasing," he said, and
Hermione gave him a pleading look.
"Thanks for getting the door, Daddy," she said.
"Daddy," Frank echoed, turning to Harry. "You'll find with time, son, that
they only call you that when they're trying to get into your good graces."
"Yes, sir," Harry said, and his expression was part confusion, part panic.
"Leave them be, Frank!" called her mother from the other room, and her
father sighed theatrically.
"Right. You two enjoy yourselves. Not too much, but an appropriate amount
that you won't mind telling us about later."
Harry blushed pink across his cheekbones and Hermione's eyes went wide
with mortification.
"Frank!"
"Coming dear!" He leaned down and planted a kiss on Hermione's forehead
before winking at Harry and retreating to the other room.
"Let's go," Hermione said, voice strangled as her cheeks burned.
Harry cleared his throat and nodded.
"See you soon, Mr Granger. Mrs Granger."
Hermione grabbed his hand before he could say anything more, dragging
him forcibly onto the front step. Before the door swung shut behind them,
Hermione could hear her mother's voice.
"-Such a polite young man."
"God," Hermione breathed once they were alone. "Wherever we're going, I
hope there's a stiff drink waiting."
Diagon Alley
They apparated into the Alley hand in hand. Harry's heart was beating wildly
as they made their way through the evening crowd of robed witches and
wizards. They all stared, of course, though Harry was relieved to see that
the object of their attention was not him but the the ridiculously attractive
woman at his side. Hermione looked outstanding, and when he had seen her
in the entryway of the Granger's home, he had lost his train of thought
completely. The cerulean of her dress made her skin glow, and her long
brown hair hung in sleek curls down her back. Add to that the fact that the
outfit hugged her every delectable curve… well, it was a very good thing he
hadn't been expected to carry on a conversation with her parents.
"Are we nearly there?" Hermione asked, her hand tightening in his as she
glanced around them furtively.
"Just a bit farther," said Harry, and then he shot a scowl at a middle aged
wizard who had stopped haggling with the proprietor of Eeylops Owl
Emporium to leer in Hermione's direction.
"Everyone's staring," Hermione whispered, and he watched as she noticed
the man staring at her and gave him a look that would have caused even the
most lecherous of men's nethers to wither.
"I promise, we're almost there. Just a few more yards," Harry assured her,
catching sight of the place he was taking her and sighing in relief. "Here we
are."
They came to a stop in front of Flourish and Blotts, and he heard Hermione
make a small, excited noise at his side.
"Here?" she asked, and he smiled in response.
"Let's go in."
"But the sign says they're closed," Hermione protested, sounding
disappointed. Harry only arched a brow in her direction and reached for the
handle of the door, twisting it and pushing it inward to admit the both of
them.
"Harry, what are you doing?" she whispered, looking around as if to check
that no one had noticed him breaking and entering.
"Come and see," Harry invited, and then stepped through into the shop,
holding tight to Hermione's hand and drawing her through behind him before
he shut the door again. His stomach did a little flip at the tinkling of the bell.
"Ah, Mr Potter. You're right on time," came a rasping voice to their left.
"Mrs Blott," Harry said, spotting the tall, grey haired woman sitting in a chair
at the end of the nearest shelf. "Thank you for waiting, and for all your
help."
"It's our pleasure," the woman said, smiling. "And you must be Miss
Granger. What an honor." She stood and extended a hand toward Hermione,
who let go of Harry and shook it with a bemused look on her face. "I've seen
your name on more invoices than I can count. It's lovely to finally make your
acquaintance."
"Likewise," Hermione responded.
"Wonderful." Mrs Blott turned to face Harry again. "Everything is set up, just
as we discussed. The shop is yours."
"What?!" Hermione practically screeched her voice was so high, and Harry
smiled at the reaction.
"For the evening," Harry clarified. "Thank you Mrs Blott. We'll take good care
of it."
The older woman smiled in response and then left through the front door.
Harry listened as she locked up behind her, leaving him alone with Hermione
in the store. He took a moment to watch her, the way she bit her lit as she
stared in wonder around the empty shop, her eyes devouring the shelves
upon shelves of books she was itching to explore.
"Harry, how on earth did you manage this?" she breathed, half exasperated
and half impressed.
He shrugged. "Turns out the Goblins are more than just caretakers for older
accounts. They build wealth as a hobby, and they've had free reign over the
Potter accounts for almost twenty years now. Even after I paid to rebuild the
bank, there's more gold than even my grandchildren will be able to spend."
Hermione arched her brow in his direction, less impressed by far than Ron
had been when Harry had mentioned the news to him.
"So not only are you wildly famous, you're also independently wealthy?"
"Doesn't seem very fair, does it?"
Hermione shrugged. "It seems like a great deal of responsibility," she
answered, and then turned back to inspect the shelves.
"Yeah," Harry agreed. She was right. Being the caretaker of so much wealth
was insane at his age, but he didn't have much of a choice, so what he was
left with was deciding where to donate a great deal of the gold, and being
able to make excessive gestures to the people he loved.
"Nice though," Hermione added at last, turning to face him with a smile as
the worry in the pit of his stomach seemed to melt away. "As far as first
dates go, I don't think anyone could ever top it."
A slumbering beast in Harry's chest seemed to rumble at the thought. As far
as it was concerned, Hermione need never have a first date again.
"Are you hungry?" he asked, before he could dwell on the thought any
longer.
"A bit. Have you rented a restaurant as well?"
Harry laughed and shook his head, taking her by the hand again and
relishing the warmth that emanated from her fingertips, dancing across the
surface of his skin. He led her further back into the shop, behind several
rows of shelves where there was usually a sofa and several end tables for
patrons to use. Now, however, there was only a picnic blanket spread over
the floor, heavy laden with food.
"How-You know what, never-mind," Hermione said, her laugh tinkling
through the air like a caress. "I'll just assume it had something to do with
your excessive spending from now on."
"You have Molly to thank for all of this, actually," Harry corrected. And
though he did insist on paying her a caterer's rate… which he had then
quadrupled behind her back, Hermione didn't need to know.
"Is that Banoffee Pie?" Hermione asked, her eyes practically glowing as she
dropped to sit on the blanket, folding her knees to the side. Harry was sure
she didn't notice the way her dress rode up her thigh when she did it, but he
could hardly tear his gaze away from the smooth expanse of skin exposed
there.
They ate only briefly before Hermione was up again and leading him to one
of the nearby stacks of books, where she proceeded to give an impromptu
lecture about one of the Defense texts available there. Harry listened
eagerly, enchanted by the way she looked when she was deep in thought,
trying to translate her inner world into words. When she was done, she
shook herself, as if she were waking from a dream, and the smile she gave
him was radiant.
"Thank you for letting me prattle, Harry," she said affectionately. "When I
was with-Well. I'm not used to someone letting me go on like that."
Harry just took her hand again and brushed his thumb over the back of it.
He heard her breath catch and remembered that she'd made the same noise
when he had kissed her at Grimmauld Place. He wondered if he could make
her do it again if he pushed her against one of the nearby bookshelves and
wrapped his arms around her waist before leaning down to kiss her. Don't
be a cad, Harry, he told himself, and refocused his gaze from her lips to her
eyes, which were wide and fringed by dark lashes.
"I like listening to you talk," he said at last. "Besides, defensive theory is
hardly likely to bore me."
"But if I were giving a speech on arithmancy?" she asked, and her
expression looked vulnerable.
Harry shrugged. "I imagine I'd understand about as much as you do when I
go on about Quidditch… but that wouldn't stop me from listening."
She glowed at his answer, and Harry had the strangest feeling he'd passed
some sort of test before her hand was back in his and she was leading him
toward the picnic again.
They finished their meal amidst engaging conversation and heated looks that
set Harry's blood on fire as it coursed through his veins. They talked about
Delphi, and about Teddy, who was walking now and an adorable terror. They
talked about Harry's work, and his ongoing training which had been put on
hold when he had been placed on the task force in charge of tracking down
the remaining Death Eaters. Now that it had been disbanded, he was back to
having his arse handed to him by the head of the department several times
a week. They talked about Hermione's plans for the future: she was intent
on working at the Ministry and had been invited by Kingsley to interview for
a position the following Monday. She still hadn't decided whether or not to
go, though. With her parents so newly returned, she was afraid that a jump
back into the Wizarding World would distance them further from her.
"I don't think your parents would be put off by you having a job," Harry told
her, thinking of the way her father had teased them earlier that night.
"Maybe not," Hermione acknowledged, "but what about if I decided to move
out and into a Wizarding community? They're Muggles, Harry, and that
means that they can't really be a part of our world. I have to be in theirs,
and the more of my life that's based around the Ministry, or magical society,
the less time I'll have to spend with them. I've only just got them back, and
I'd hate for things to stay the way they are."
Harry thought for a moment. He knew why she was worried. She'd sent him
a tearstained letter the day after she'd spoken with her mother, outlining her
struggles and fears. The last thing she wanted was to lose her parents again,
but Harry had a feeling they wouldn't be so easily shaken off.
"They love you," he said, his voice soft. "And no matter what you decide, I
think they want you to be happy. That's what I want for Delphi."
Hermione sighed and leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his middle
and pressing her ear to his chest.
"You're right," she said. "I just can't help but worry."
"Well, I think I might be able to help you with that." Harry let his hand begin
to trail up and down her spine, fingertips light over her dress as he felt the
silken fabric warm to his touch. She let out a contented sigh against his
chest, and Harry grew hard at the sound. The feel of her hand trailing up
and down his side didn't help matters either.
"Is that so?" she asked.
Harry responded by tilting her chin up and leaning down to press his mouth
to hers.
Kissing her would never grow old, he thought-or unexciting. Her lips were
lush and full and pliant beneath his own, and as she crushed herself to him,
he could feel her breasts heaving against his chest with every breath she
took. He ached to let his hand trail from her cheek down her neck and
onward to the supple flesh beneath the bodice of her dress. But Merlin, he
was a coward. He wouldn't risk scaring her off when she was here and she
was pressing herself to him so sweetly, her mouth parting beneath his to
allow him entrance as she made gorgeous, content, pleading noises that
spurred him on. He wouldn't risk her stopping her hand from wrapping
around the back of his neck to hold him just so, or keep her from clutching
his upper arm as if he were keeping her afloat in a stormy sea.
"Harry," she breathed, breaking the kiss and pulling away just barely so that
she could look him in the eye. Her pupils were wide with desire and her lips
pink and swollen. Harry throbbed at the sight. "Please," she begged with
that stunning mouth. "Touch me."
Hell, he thought, Maybe I can risk it after all .
Chapter 24
A/N: So The Last Jedi came out last night, and I'm a BIG shipper of a
certain ship which shall remain nameless to prevent spoiling anything for
anyone… but basically I am all aflutter and will probably disappear into a
glorious space-void for a time, to revel in the beauty of my own inter-stellar
imagination. All this to say, here is a chapter, and I'm sorry if another
doesn't come for a while. Thanks to Oblivionbaby and Shayalonnie, who
continue to be glorious, grammatical and support geniuses.
Oh and plus also, I got a guest review mentioning that they didn't love the
descriptive make out, and that it read like a romance novel. I know it wasn't
meant as a compliment, but thank you ! This story is a romance, and I was
channeling my inner Tessa Dare when I wrote that, so I'm glad it came
across. I'd avoid reading any scenes with kissing in the future if it's not to
your taste. This first part of this chapter, for example, may not be your
cuppa. Cheers!
The Burrow
31 July 1999
Harry had barely made lunch with Hermione and her parents that afternoon,
arriving in his work uniform and a layer of sweat and dirt that he hadn't had
time to wash off. Gratefully, the Granger's hadn't seemed to mind, though
the waiter at the restaurant they had met at had shot him several
disapproving looks during the meal. Hermione's mother and father had
delighted in turning the lunch into a celebration, ordering a chocolatey
dessert and insisting on singing to Harry as it was presented. Hermione had
joined in, and Harry had relished the high sweetness of her singing voice. It
wasn't something he had the opportunity to hear often. Even Delphi joined
in, and though her rendition of "Happy Tu-tu" was perhaps not the most
easily understood, it was appreciated and fawned over.
When the meal had ended, Harry had hugged both of Hermione's parents
goodbye with a warm glow in his chest. Being with them was nearly as easy
as being with the Weasleys, and ever since the awkwardness of retrieving
Hermione for their date weeks ago, the older couple had taken to treating
Harry much the same as they did Hermione.
Afterwards, Harry had kissed Hermione goodbye and taken Delphi to the
Burrow for a nap. Hermione would join them when the party began, but
Harry had promised Ron a game of Quidditch. Unfortunately, the orchard
where they normally played was taken up by the great white marquee Molly
had taken to using for every large gathering. Harry had showered and
changed into a spare set of clothes he kept at the Weasley's, and then they
had played chess instead. Ginny had joined them at one point when Theo
had taken himself to the loo, but the visit had been short lived and when the
dark haired slytherin had emerged she had jumped out of her seat and
joined him for a trek up the stairs. Harry tried hard not to imagine why they
could be going up there, because frankly, what Ginny did with her boyfriend
was none of his business.
Finally, the guests had begun to arrive. Neville had arrived first, and by the
way he glanced up the stairs every so often during their conversation, Harry
guessed that he was not as zen as Harry was about Ginny snogging Theo in
her secluded bedroom. Soon after, the house was near to bursting.
Hermione had slipped in beside Andromeda, pecking Teddy on the cheek and
then sliding down to sit beside Harry on the sofa.
"Alright, you lot," Molly called as she emerged from the kitchen, platters of
food hovering in the air behind her. "Out to the tent!"
Everyone trooped together to the orchard. Bill and his family, Charlie with an
unfamiliar young man's arm draped around him, Ron with his date for the
evening (a busty blonde who worked at St Mungo's), Neville beside Ginny
and Theo, Luna with George and Angelina. Even Percy had come for the
evening, and was standing next to Kingsley and Minerva. Beyond that,
several mates from Harry's work had been invited, and the Granger's had
been brought by Floo. Arthur was monopolizing the both of them, but they
didn't seem to mind.
The tent was glowing with little lights that twinkled overhead, and the
pleasant hum of conversation as yet more people seemed to arrive. His
birthday party was not as well attended as Bill's wedding had been, but
Harry did recognize every single surviving Gryffindor from his year, as well
as several from Ginny's. Even Oliver Wood was in attendance, though he
seemed nonplussed and kept throwing dirty looks in Charlie's direction. The
older people seemed to congregate in one corner, thoroughly entertained by
the babies and conversation with one another. Harry spent nearly half an
hour there chatting with Andromeda, Neville, and Minerva. Neville had,
apparently begun working as an apprentice under Professor Sprout the week
before, and was animatedly relating the story of how he'd nearly been
poisoned by a mature Venomous Tentacula.
"Harry," said a deep voice from behind him, and Harry smiled as he looked
up at Kingsley, a glass of butterbeer in the older man's hand.
"Minister, it's good to see you."
"I'll never miss an opportunity to experience Molly's hospitality," said
Kingsley. "Congratulations, by the way. Robbards told me you did excellent
work this morning."
Harry blushed but was pleased to hear it.
"And where is your Hermione this evening?" Kingsley continued.
Harry let his gaze rove over the occupants of the tent until it landed on
Hermione standing beside her parents and chatting animatedly with Percy.
"She's making sure her parents are comfortable," he answered.
"I look forward to seeing her at the office on Monday. So does Kettleburn,
from what I've heard him say."
"Kettleburn?" Harry asked, surprised. The name was familiar but he couldn't
quite place it.
"Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Animals,"
Kingsley explained. "He used to teach at Hogwarts, but that might have
been before you took the class. He came out of retirement for me, and thank
Circe he did. The cretin handling the department before was barely worth
the knuts that rounded out his pay each week."
"Care of Magical Creatures, that's right," Harry said, remembering. He'd
seen the old man walking around outside sometimes when he'd visited
Hagrid in first and second years.
"He's very hands off," Kingsley continued. "I don't think he has plans to stay
for much longer, to be honest."
Harry filed the information away for later. He thought Hermione might be
interested to hear it.
"What about you, Harry? What are your plans?" Kingsley peered at him.
They were almost the same height now, with the Minister just an inch or so
taller, and Harry felt very grown up suddenly.
"To learn lots and keep the bad guys from making too much of a mess,
Minister."
"Kingsley," the older man reminded, and then patted Harry on the back.
"You've got quite the future in front of you, Harry. I can't wait to see where
it takes you. Happy Birthday." And then he turned away, catching Minerva's
eye and winking before heading toward the food table.
"Harry!" He looked up at the sound of his name and spotted Ron waving at
him from the other side of the tent, his arm around the blonde he'd been
flaunting all night. Beside them, Hermione now stood with Neville, and she
was smiling in an unrestrained way that Harry knew meant she was content.
She looked gorgeous tonight. She was wearing a new skirt, or at least one
he had never seen before, because if he had seen it-and the acres of
smooth, tanned leg below-he would certainly have remembered. It was short
and pleated, and above it she wore a simple sleeveless blouse that tucked
into her waistband and left just enough buttons undone that he could see a
hint of the valley between her breasts. Harry felt his cock give an eager little
twitch in his trousers and bit the inside of his cheek. He didn't know how, or
when, but at some point tonight he was going to snog her senseless.
He crossed to join them, stepping between Ron and Hermione and slipping
his arm around her waist. His hand settled on her opposite hip, and she
hummed contentedly as she leaned her head against him.
"Harry, you've met Dahlia, haven't you?" she asked, motioning with her
other hand toward Ron's date. The woman must have been at least twenty
five, but she seemed happy to be on Ron's arm. Whether it was due to his
fame or the fact that he'd put quite a bit of muscle on his lanky form in the
last year, Harry wasn't sure, but he hoped for Ron's sake it was his
personality that had attracted the medi-witch.
"I have," he said. "Pleasure to see you again."
"Pleasure's all mine," said Dahlia, fluttering her lashes and grinning.
"Enjoying yourself, mate?" asked Ron, his fingers idly stroking his date's
bare shoulder. The woman seemed to shiver and looked up at him with wide
eyes. Harry bit the inside of his cheek again and looked down at Hermione,
who had one brow raised at the scene and was sipping what looked like elf
wine.
"Absolutely. Loads better than this morning, for sure."
"What?" said Ron, a smirk on his face, "don't you like being tossed across
the room by angry old women?"
"What?" Hermione looked up. "Who tossed you across a room?"
"No one," Harry soothed. Beside him, Ron laughed. "It was just an
exceptionally strong shielding charm."
"That our dark wizard's mum cast when she realized we were about to bust
in. Harry didn't have time to duck and got knocked on his arse."
"Yes, well," said Harry, "good thing it's a shapely arse then. I barely feel it
now."
"Harry, you've got to be more careful," Hermione chided.
"That's nothing," said Ron. "You should have seen how disgusting his arm
looked when it got dislocated."
" Dislocated ?" Hermione's voice was shrill, and Harry threw Ron a dirty look.
"Ron popped it back into place right away," Harry assured her, trying to pull
her back against him as she crossed her arms and stepped away so that she
could glare at him properly.
"Ron? You should have gone to hospital, Harry!"
"No need," said Ron, shaking his head. "Something that minor? We all know
basic healing for a reason, Hermione."
"To save lives," she hissed, "not to injure people further. What if there had
been a fracture?"
"There wasn't," said Harry, and he grabbed her hand to prevent her from
drawing her wand and running a series of diagnostic charms she'd insisted
on learning after they'd found Delphi. He pulled her against him, trapping
her hands between them and grinning down at her. She scowled up in
return, but it didn't stop him from leaning down to whisper in her ear.
"I'm fine," he murmured, letting his lips brush the spot between her ear and
her jaw. He felt her shiver in his arms. "I promise."
"You'd better be," she said fiercely, and then pulled away again, keeping
hold of his hand and squeezing it tightly.
"If you two are quite done, I think it's time for a little dancing," said Ron,
and he pointed his wand at the wizarding radio nearby, spinning the dials
until a tune Harry recognized came on and Ron dragged Dahlia to the dance
floor at the open center of the tent.
Harry, who felt self-conscious for the first time in a while, looked down at
Hermione to gauge whether or not she looked interested in dancing.
Apparently, she was, because when Neville spoke up and asked her if she
wanted to dance with him, she smiled up at Harry, gave him a quick kiss on
the lips, and then said yes. Harry watched as more couples filtered onto the
floor. Molly with Frank, and Arthur with Helen. George and Angelina
alongside Kingsley and Andromeda. The song on the radio was, thankfully,
not overly sentimental, and the couples dancing looked as if they were
having a great deal of fun.
"Fancy a dance, you?"
Harry smiled at Ginny when she held a hand out to him. "Where's
Theodore?"
"Had to go early," she responded. "Some family thing. Do you want to dance
or not, Potter?"
"As I seem to have been abandoned, I can't see why not," he told her, and
then followed her. Dancing with Ginny turned out to be fun. He wasn't sure
why he was surprised-she had always been fun-but dancing with her seemed
to break down walls that had been erected between them after she'd broken
things off. When the song ended and Hermione came to retrieve him, he was
laughing, his long hair a mess around his face and caught in his beard in
some places. Ginny had fallen silent and seemed on the verge of saying
something when she spotted the other witch.
"Hermione," she greeted, shaking her head slightly and then grinning. "I've
been keeping him warm for you."
"Thanks," said Hermione, and she sounded genuinely grateful. "Fancy
dancing with me?" she then asked.
Harry took her hand and spun her out and then back into his arms, and
Hermione giggled. Ginny faded into the background as they danced, and it
wasn't until an hour later when Delphi came twirling onto the floor that he
released the brunette witch and danced with his daughter instead. Hermione
didn't seem to mind. In fact, she was busy pulling an ancient looking
wizarding camera out of her purse and taking photographs of the event.
As the night came to an end and guests began to disappear, Hermione
approached him again, slipping her hand into his and stepping close to
whisper in his ear.
"I haven't had a chance to give you my present yet," she told him. Harry's
whole body seemed to glow with warmth as she stepped yet nearer.
"Don't worry about it," he told her, and stroked his fingers over her hip,
loving the way she smiled at his touch.
"Come with me," she said, and then stepped just far enough away from him
that she could tug at his hand.
"Let me just get Del-"
"Molly's got her. I ran through the bedtime routine with her already. I gave
Delphi a kiss and told her you'd be by to do the same in a few minutes, but
that after that you'd see her in the morning."
"In the…" His voice trailed off, and he hated how confused he sounded.
"The morning," Hermione said again, and then she took a step toward him,
pushed up onto the tips of her toes, and kissed him. Her mouth was hot and
enticing-a sensual promise that if he were to do as she suggested, there
would be many more drugging kisses in his immediate future.
"Okay," he said, voice hoarse, cock now standing at attention. "I'll be right
back."
"See that you are," she whispered. "Your present needs unwrapping, Harry."
And then she smiled at him, a sexy, inviting smile that he wasn't sure he'd
ever seen on her lips before. God, he wanted her desperately. Now. In a
variety of ways. But she stepped back and nodded toward where Delphi sat
on Molly's lap. Harry understood and took his first step away from her with a
groan. He loved his daughter, but right now, the only thing he could think of
was the present Hermione had made clear he would be getting in private
tonight, and he wanted more than anything to find out what exactly it was.
Chapter 26
A/N: Don't forget to thank Oblivionbaby and Shayalonnie. And don't forget
this fic is rated M.
Ron walked Hermione out of the interrogation room, his expression far less
jovial than when they had entered. She allowed herself to be led through the
desks, buzzing with activity as she avoiding the gazes of their occupants and
considered Ron's final words to her. It wasn't until she heard a familiar name
on someone's lips that she faltered.
"Potter?" she said aloud, turning with furrowed brow to face the auror who
had spoken.
"Harry?" asked Ron, looking confused.
"Haven't you heard yet, boy?" said a thin, grizzled looking Auror from across
the bullpen. "Potter got himself sent to St. Mungo's. Robards just received
word."
Chapter 29
A/N: All hail Queens Oblivionbaby and Shayalonnie, Beta and Alpha
extraordinaire.
Malfoy Manor
10 August 1999
Hermione was going to kill him: as he Apparated onto the lane outside of
Malfoy Manor, it was the only thing he was sure of. When she found out
where he had been, she would murder him and string his body up for any
future lovers to find, probably with the word "liar" etched onto his cock in
boils. And, honestly, he would probably deserve it.
Unless, of course, he was right, and he had been known to be right about
the Malfoys a time or two before. When he had been convinced that Malfoy
was a Death Eater, for example. Or when he'd felt the urge to travel to
Wiltshire over a year ago to find the girl he had known only by her name on
a faded old tapestry.
In the distance, Harry heard a peacock crying. He exhaled, steeling himself
for the confrontation he knew lay ahead, and then made his way toward the
sound. Trekking to the front doors of Malfoy Manor had never been a
pleasant experience, and this time was no difference. For as lovely as the
grounds were-and they were lovely-they did little to make him forget being
dragged through them in the dead of night, his face so swollen he could
barely see and a persistent stinging beneath his skin that refused to abate.
And fear. The sensation had been so palpable he could have choked on it:
fear for himself, for Hermione, and for Ron. He had almost thought they'd
been going to their death.
He reached the front step in record time, taking a few moments to survey
his surroundings (had there always been a fountain there?) and then
adjusting his crimson, Ministry approved jacket before lifting the knocker on
the door in front of him and letting it fall once, twice, three times.
The door opened before the last knock had finished reverberating through
the air. Harry stepped back, wand in hand before he realized it was not a
Malfoy standing there, but a house-elf.
"Tottsy, isn't it?" said Harry, recognizing the elf from his last visit. The
creature's bulbous eyes widened for a moment before she nodded and then
spoke.
"Mr Potter. Mistress is not expecting company." The house elf almost looked
regretful, and Harry was very nearly sorry for what he was about to say to
the poor thing.
"You can tell your mistress there's an Auror here to ask her some questions,
and that if she doesn't answer them to my satisfaction, I won't be the only
Auror in her home today."
Tottsy didn't even quiver, only nodded once and disappeared with a crack of
Apparition. She left the door open behind her, and as he had done before,
Harry stepped into the entrance hall. This time, the gilded sconces on the
wall were already lit, and Harry took a moment to study the room. Two long
tables sat opposite one another against the walls, floral centerpieces
overwhelming the already intricately carved wood. Behind the towering
flowers, a posh looking paneling covered the walls from floor to ceiling.
"Mr Potter."
Harry turned at the sound of his name. Narcissa Malfoy stood at the foot of
an elegant looking staircase. She was dressed to perfection, her hair
meticulously coiffed and her dress without a single visible crease. Behind her
stood her husband. Lucius Malfoy was not nearly so well put together as his
wife, and Harry wondered whether he was still recovering from his time
spent in Azkaban, or if this was simply what a Lucius Malfoy who had had his
wand snapped in two looked like. His hair-though tied back at the nape of
his neck-was in disarray, his finely made robes were creased, and there was
a hint of stubble at his jaw.
"What an unexpected pleasure. Can we offer you some tea?" Narcissa's
voice was cordial, and Harry narrowed his eyes.
"No," he said. "I'm not here for your bloody hospitality." He reached into his
robes, grabbing hold of a crumpled piece of parchment and then flinging it in
her direction. "Is this how you repay your debts?"
Narcissa flinched at the motion and Harry watched as Lucius stepped down
beside her, reaching into the pocket of his robe with one hand while
simultaneously reaching across his wife with the other, as if to protect her.
Harry noted the bitter look on the man's face when the wand he hand been
grasping at was nowhere to be found.
The letter hit Narcissa's skirt and fell to the floor at her feet.
"What is it?"
"You should know," Harry spat. "It was you who sent it."
Lucius made an impatient noise and Narcissa laid a hand on his arm. The
man stilled at her touch and then crossed his arms imperiously, looking
away.
"I assure you, the last thing either myself or Lucius would wish to do is
enrage you," she said at last, bending down to retrieve the parchment and
then straightening again as she unfurled it to read. Her eyes flitted quickly
across the surface of the paper, and Harry watched her intently for any sign
that she recognized what was written there. Finally, when she looked up at
him with wide eyes and a disturbed expression, Harry was forced to admit
that her reaction seemed genuine.
"What does it say?" Snapped Lucius after several seconds.
Narcissa cleared her throat and handed him the letter. "It's a blackmail note,
darling."
This time, Harry studied Lucius. He nearly swore when the man betrayed
nothing.
"And you thought we had sent this?" Lucius looked up, his expression both
arrogant and pitying. "I assure you, Mr Potter, even with the loss of all that
the Ministry has seen fit to abscond from my vaults, I am perfectly solvent.
I've no need of your meager ten thousand."
"You're the only ones who know," said Harry, struggling not to scream and
seem a complete lunatic.
"Certainly Euphemia is aware that you-"
"Rowle?" Harry cut in as Narcissa objected.
"Yes. A cousin of the Black family."
"Everyone's a cousin of the Black if you go back far enough," Harry
dismissed. "And I Obliviated the bitch, so that still only leaves you."
If the Malfoy's were shocked by his language, they didn't say anything, only
made their way toward him from where they stood by the stairs and then
motioned him into a room to his right. Harry followed them grudgingly into
an ostentatiously decorated room perhaps half the size of the drawing room
he remembered from his first visit to the estate.
"Please, sit." Narcissa motioned to a low settee with gilded feet and took the
opposite seat. Lucius didn't sit at all, choosing instead to make his way to a
sideboard with crystal decanters and bottles of expensive looking Wizarding
liquor on top.
"I'm not here for the pleasure of your company," Harry said bitterly.
"No," said Narcissa, her voice both saccharine sweet and bitterly sharp.
"You're here to accuse us of blackmail and threaten us by virtue of your
position at the Ministry. But there's no reason you can't do all that and drink
tea at the same time." She looked up then, her stare hard and unyielding as
she waited for him to oblige her.
Harry, angry but slightly convicted by her words, sat.
"Tottsy!" Narcissa called into the room. The small house elf appeared at her
mistresses words, waiting for a single word-"Tea."-before disappearing once
more. It was the work of a minute for the creature to prepare and serve the
hot drink to all three of the rooms occupants, though Lucius's cup was left
untouched in front of a wingback chair as the man began to drink by the fire.
"Now," the woman said once the house elf had gone, "aside from my
knowing about Delphini-" Harry bristled at the woman's use of his daughter's
full name, but she persisted nevertheless. "Have you any other reason to
believe we wish you ill?"
Harry scoffed. "Aside from the fact that I killed your Dark Lord and you hate
everything I stand for?"
It was Lucius's turn to make an impatient sound from where he sat, half
turned away from the scene.
"Something to say, Malfoy?"
"Potter, I would have sent you bloody bouquet of unicorn horns for your
trouble had I not been rotting in a cell soon after that abomination died."
Lucius took another drink and Narcissa made a small noise of disapproval
before turning back to Harry.
"We were not very… enthusiastic supporters, there at the end. You might
say we were shown the error of our ways."
Harry rolled his eyes and pulled his wand, checking his tea for any
tampering before he lifted it to take a sip. "Isn't that the excuse you lot used
to stay out of Azkaban after the first war?"
"The difference being," spat Malfoy, turning to face Harry now, "that the last
time, that bastard hadn't tried to murder my son!"
Harry fell quiet as Narcissa sipped her tea, her expression inscrutable. He
felt a sharp stab of sympathy and hated himself for it, but now that he was a
father himself, Harry understood what the Malfoy's must have felt when
Voldemort had threatened their son. The sensation had probably been very
much like how he felt now, knowing that someone, somewhere, held the
power to throw Delphi's life into complete disarray.
"Look," Harry said at last, "I appreciate that your position after the war was-
difficult… but I can't just forget what you did, not to me, not to Hermione,
not to Ginny, or Dobby, or any of the multitudes of people that you
controlled, tortured, or killed. You deserve to be in Azkaban, Malfoy, and the
only reason you're not still rotting there is because your wife-for some
bloody reason I'll never know-wanted you here."
Lucius's eyes were gray, Harry realized, as he met the man's gaze. Was that
regret in their depths?
"I'm very aware of my circumstances," the man said, taking another drink
from his glass before turning back to face the fire.
"Yes." Narcissa sipped her tea and then set the delicate china cup back down
on its saucer. "Point being, Lucius and I have very little reason to wish you
ill, given you liberated us and our property out from the hands of a mad
man. Besides, the oath I gave you at our last meeting would have prevented
me from sending you a letter such as the one you received. Your Miss
Granger saw to that." She paused, her head tilting to the side as she
watched him for a moment before continuing. "Of course, you did kidnap my
niece, so I suppose I can see why you might be wary."
"Kidnapped your-" Harry saw red. "Are you fucking kidding me?"
"Watch your language with my wife, whelp," Lucius growled.
"Fuck you," Harry returned, perhaps more petulantly than he would have
liked, but who was Lucius Malfoy to tell him how to behave?
"You took her from a home where she was cared for, for no other reason
than your own spite of our family," Narcissa continued, and Harry thought
he might actually curse the woman if she didn't shut her mouth soon.
"Cared for," echoed Harry. "You call what Rowle-You call how I found her…
cared for? You're more twisted than I could have imagined."
"The home was clean and the woman had more than enough means to meet
the child's needs," objected Narcissa. "She assured me that she had always
wanted a child of her own, and was happy to step in after… after Bella."
At the mention of Lestrange, Harry's blood boiled. After all this time, despite
the gift the woman's existence and choices had given him, he still could not
help the reaction. And as for the load of hippogriff shit Narcissa had just
spouted… Harry didn't even know where to begin.
"Did you even check on her, after you dropped her on some stranger's
doorstep?" He asked, voice strangled. "Did you bother to make sure she was
okay, or did you cast her off the same way you would a pair of shoes you
wore once?"
Narcissa bristled. "If you'll recall," she said, "my entire family was arrested
days after the battle. We had barely enough time to find a safe place for
Delphini before they were on our steps. Can you imagine what the Aurors
would have done if they had found her here? It wouldn't have surprised me
if that lot had killed her to save themselves the trouble of the paperwork."
"And after you were released?" Harry said, his voice growing louder with
every word. "You couldn't have taken ten bloody minutes to make sure she
was still breathing before you went back to your ball gowns and teacups
and-"
"I was sentenced to house arrest without the privilege of a wand, a state
which persisted until well after you absconded with the girl!"
Harry deflated just a bit at her words, because no, he hadn't remembered
that. Even if she had wanted to check on the state of Delphi's care, she
wouldn't have been able to. And then a thought occurred to him.
"Why not send Draco?" He asked, bitterly.
Narcissa's gaze turned scornful. "Draco was… unaware of the child's
connection to the the Dark Lord. He thought she belonged to Rodolphus. We
told him the man killed the girl before he was captured." Harry couldn't think
of what to say in response, which was just as well, as Narcissa didn't
seemed to have finished. "Why do you care so very much about whether or
not we saw the girl between Bella's death and your kidnapping anyhow? It's
not as if you've any interest in bringing the girl around to get to know her
family-"
"I'm her family," interrupted Harry. "The Weasley's are her family. You're
just someone who abandoned her."
"We saved her," Narcissa hissed, her manicured nails looking more like
talons as she clutched her teacup tightly. "If the world knew-"
"I SAVED HER!" Harry bellowed. "You left her to rot in her own filth!"
Narcissa's grey eyes widened and she set her teacup down on the table with
a loud clink. Lucius stood and came to stand beside his wife, putting a hand
to her shoulder and glaring down at Harry.
"We left her more than enough," Narcissa said, voice cold. "Gold and clothes
and toys and Draco's own crib."
"Rowle sold it," said Harry flatly, "or vanished the lot when you had gone.
When I found Delphi she was sitting in a rickety old crib, covered in shit and
piss and bruises. Her skin was red and raw, and she was bloody well near
hypothermic because the woman you paid to care for her, had left her naked
under an-" his voice broke and Harry blinked back tears that were
threatening to obscure his vision. "She'd left her under an open window and
hadn't fed her in at least a day." The memory of her-his precious daughter-
screaming silently into the night air, nearly overwhelmed him. He fought
until he'd managed to shove the vision back down with the hell that was his
own childhood.
"So I don't know about any gold, or clothes, or things you might have left
her. I don't know what Rowle told you to make you think she could care for
Delphi, or even wanted to… but the bitch would have killed her if I hadn't
gone looking for her, and if she had died, you can believe I would have
made you suffer for it."
When Harry forced himself to look back up at the Malfoy's, he noticed the
stricken expression on Lucius's face, and the sorrow on Narcissa's. Good, he
thought. They deserved to feel badly about this. They'd left their own blood
with hateful, abusive old woman, and had trusted that their name and their
money would keep the child safe. They'd been wrong, and they should feel
the same horror he had when he had found her. And Harry didn't care if they
hadn't been able to check on her, or if they had been right to find her a
home elsewhere, where the secret of her birth couldn't haunt her… they'd
chosen wrong. They were the reason his child had suffered. He hated them.
"Y-you're lying," stammered Narcissa. Were those tears in the woman's
eyes?
"God, I wish I were."
The blonde woman blinked rapidly, her lashes fluttering as she looked away
toward a window, hiding her face from Harry's view. She stayed there for
nearly a full minute as Harry tried to convince himself he shouldn't curse
these people over what had happened to his daughter. By the time she
looked back at him, her gaze was steady and her eyes were bright with
conviction.
"It seems, Mr Potter, that we owe you yet another debt," she said. Her
words took Harry by surprise. "Not only did you free us from servitude, but
you saved the life of one of our own."
"Delphi is not one of you," said Harry.
Narcissa shrugged, and Lucius shifted uncomfortably beside her.
"Semantics," she said. "The girl was my niece before she was ever your
daughter. I was there when she was born, Potter. Your bond with her may
have made her yours, but it did not erase her place in my heart, cold as it
may be."
"If you think you have some sort of claim on her, you've bloody well got
another thing coming," Harry began, but Narcissa cut him off with an
impatient toss of her head.
"No claim but one of affection," she said, and then paused before continuing.
"Bellatrix was not always so… deranged. Once, we were sisters. And when
she was with Delphi… It felt almost as if my sister had returned to me."
"Delphi is nothing like her," Harry protested, but even as he spoke the
words, they rang false in his ears. He saw the resemblance any time he
looked at the girl, and while he knew the color of her hair looked to the
casual observer like his own contribution to the child, he knew where those
curls had really come from. He knew when she laughed where he had heard
such a laugh before.
Narcissa gave him a pitying look but said nothing.
They sat there in uncomfortable silence as Harry inwardly cursed the Malfoys
and Bellatrix Lestrange and Rowle and bloody fucking Tom Riddle for what
they had done, and when he had run out of people to hate and questionable
language to think toward them, he sighed. What he was left with, was the
sure knowledge that without these people, he would not have Delphi, and he
would be a million times poorer for it. And then, because his curiosity had
always been stronger than his sense of self preservation, Harry heard
himself ask, "How did it happen, anyway? Between your sister and… and
Riddle."
Lucius choked on his drink, and Narcissa gave Harry a withering look.
"The usual way, I would imagine. Bella was never one for girlish gossip."
"Merlin. No. NO. I meant, how did they…" He struggled to find a phrase that
fit. "Get to the point where Delphi was even a possibility? Bellatrix was
married. How did they hide the fact that they were- I mean how do more
Death Eaters not know about Delphi?"
To Harry's surprise, Narcissa looked up at her husband, who had righted
himself and was draining the rest of his drink.
"Lucius, perhaps you might be more equipped to answer the boy's
question?"
Harry bristled at being called a boy, but before he could protest, Lucius was
speaking.
"Bella was always the Dark Lord's most fervent admirer," he said. "Whereas
I and many of my compatriots were offered into service by our own fathers,
Bella came willingly."
"Was she in love with him?" Harry asked.
From her seat, Narcissa nodded, face blank.
"Certainly," said Lucius. "But the Dark Lord had little interest in anything so
banal as marriage. He used her in the ways that she offered, but tradition
dictated she marry, and though he was attracted to her… charms… he would
not deny Cygnus the prestige of a daughter married into the Lestrange
family. Officially, their liaison ended with her engagement, but…" His voice
trailed off, and Harry imagined he could fill in the blanks.
"No one knew?" Asked Harry.
Narcissa scoffed. "Everyone knew," she said, her disdain evident. "Bella had
no shame."
"Then why don't more people suspect-"
"Because you defeated the Dark Lord, idiot child," snapped Lucius. "He
disappeared, and Bella went to Azkaban. Years passed. A decade. More. By
the time the Dark Lord returned Bella was mad and hideous to behold."
"So they were a perfect match then," said Harry.
Lucius almost smirked. "Quite. But they were more discreet this time. The
Dark Lord was more private. I don't like to imagine why."
"Lucius, don't be crass," Narcissa chided.
"In any case, once Bella became… enceinte… she was hidden away here. The
Dark Lord took great pains to make clear that his involvement in the
unfortunate development was to be kept secret. Those who knew of her
condition were told that the child was Rodolphus's get. Rodolphus, of course,
knew better, but was pleased to give his wife over to our master's service, in
whatever way he desired."
"Death Eaters," muttered Harry, and Lucius glared in his direction.
"I would never have allowed such a thing," the man spat. "To use ones wife
in such a manner to curry favor-the man was despicable."
"Using your child's okay though?" snapped Harry.
"You have no idea what you're talking about, you stupid-"
"Lucius, darling," cautioned Narcissa, "calm yourself before you say
something you're liable to regret."
Lucious swore and strode back across the room, filling his glass with more
brandy and taking another sip.
"The information about Bella's pregnancy was tightly controlled," said
Narcissa, ignoring her husband's outburst. "Only a very few in the inner
circle knew that she was pregnant, and of those who knew, only three knew
the truth of the child's parentage. We believed…" her voice trailed off again,
as if she could not decide whether to tell Harry exactly what it was that they
had thought.
"What? What did you believe?"
Narcissa sighed. "We thought that he was waiting until the war was won,
and that once it was, if he had a son, he was planning to claim the child."
"Not a daughter?"
Narcissa gave him another pitying look.
"What use would a man such as he have for a daughter?"
Harry brushed off the anger on Delphi's behalf that her question provoked,
focusing instead on the other piece of what she had said.
"So no one, aside from the two of you and Lestrange, knew the truth?" he
found that hard to believe.
"If they knew, they gave no indication," she said. "Rodolphus received many
congratulations once his brethren came more frequently to the manor, and
saw Delphini for themselves."
"And Rowle knew," Harry added. "Before, you said that Rowle might have
sent the letter. She must have known the truth."
Narcissa nodded stiffly.
"We told her," she said. "The woman's brother was a true believer. In
Azkaban now. We thought that if she knew, that she would be more likely to
care for the girl. We were, obviously, wrong."
Harry's mind began to work through the problem. If the Malfoys and
Lestrange had been the only ones to know aside from Rowle, then his leads
were gone. The more he spoke with the Malfoys the more evident it became
to him that they had not been the ones to send the letter. That left
Lestrange-who he knew for a fact was dead-and Rowle, who he had
Obliviated. If he'd performed the charm correctly the woman wouldn't even
have remembered that a child named Delphini ever existed… If he'd gotten it
wrong though… But then why would the woman have waited this long?
"Mother, I got the robes you ordered at Twilfitt's. Should I have Tottsy take
them up, or would you like to see them first?" Draco Malfoy rounded the
corner into the sitting room just as he finished his sentence, and then he
caught sight of Harry sitting in front of his parents. He reached for his wand
almost instantly, and Harry mirrored the Syltherin's movements, standing at
the same time.
"What are you doing here, Potter?" Malfoy spat, edging toward his parents
as if they needed protecting.
Harry scowled at the man in return.
"I don't see how that's any of your business, Malfoy," he said, keeping his
wand steady and trained on the ferret's stupidly pointed face.
"Draco, lower your wand," hissed Lucius from beside the fire.
"You can't take him back," Draco said, ignoring his father and finally
succeeding in inserting himself between Harry and the elder Malfoys. "We
were promised he could fulfill the sentence here. He hasn't broken any terms
of his parole."
"I can do whatever I want," said Harry, feeling spiteful toward the boy who
had taken it in turns to bully both of his best friends. Never mind that that
boy was now a man grown, who Harry knew had been under a terrible strain
during the war… the bastard was still an arse.
"Leave my house, Potter," said Malfoy.
"Draco, really," Narcissa cut in, her voice taking on the same placating tone
he remembered Aunt Petunia using on Dudley when he was threatening to
throw a tantrum. "We're all being perfectly amicable here. Mr Potter was
only-"
"Leaving," said Draco. "He's leaving. I don't care if you're an Auror or not,
you'll be welcome in my home over my dead body after what you put my
parents through!"
"Your father was a Death Eater," said Harry, keeping his tone even. "His
sentence is well deserved."
"You arsehole," Draco swore.
"Draco!" said Lucius.
"Piss off, Malfoy. You were a bully in school, and you're a bully now. I doubt
you'll ever amount to anything more."
Malfoy's grey eyes flashed, and his grip tightened on the handle of his wand.
"Is that what this is, Potter? You coming for revenge because I called your
girlfriend a Mudblood in school?"
Harry wanted to punch the fucker, but instead, he heard himself shout,
"Stupefy!" Unfortunately, he was too slow. Trained Auror though he was, the
slur Malfoy had uttered had blinded him with rage, and so he had missed the
small hand mirror that the pale blond hand conjured wordlessly. Harry's
spell, which had been aimed at Malfoy's chest, rebounded when it met the
glass, shooting back at Harry, who almost managed to get out of the way.
Unfortunately, he was just too slow, and the ricocheting spell hit his right
shoulder, sending him spinning through the air and toward the wall behind
him.
At once, Harry was aware of a searing pain in his gut. His eyes fluttered shut
as he began to lose consciousness, and he thought he saw something sharp,
pointed, and coated in thick dark liquid protruding from a spot below his
ribs. Before he could ponder the meaning of such a sight, everything went
dark.
Chapter 30
A/N: Hello lovelies. I realize its been a couple months since my last
update, and I do apologize for that. I was majorly stuck on this chapter. I
knew what was going to happen (I'm a major plotter) but for some reason
the words wouldn't flow. i finally got them out though, and here they are.
Also, a word on reviews: I do read every review as it comes in, though I
don't often have time to respond to everyone. I appreciate those of you who
take the time to tell me you're enjoying the story more than you can know. I
also appreciate gentle corrections of particularly egregious grammatical
errors, but please keep in mind if you do decide to point these out, I am not
writing this story professionally. It is a hobby of mine and I share it here to
enthuse with other fans of Harry Potter. I prefer that kindly worded
grammatical corrections be sent via PM if you are able. I hope you have an
excellent day!
Granger Residence
20 August 1999
Harry was late, and by the time Hermione answered the door they had
missed their reservation. Harry felt terrible, and he was about to explain
himself when Hermione took one look at him and Delphi and began to fuss
over them.
"Oh Harry, you two look awful. What happened?"
Peering down at the little girl clinging to his leg, he had to agree. Her face
was still red from the tantrum she had thrown that evening, her cheeks
covered in streaks of drying tears and snot that he had missed when he had
tried to wipe her face with a damp flannel. Her hair, which he normally
managed to keep looking as if he had at least tried to tidy it, was in
complete disarray atop her head and around her shoulders. And her
pyjamas, which had been the last clean pair in the house, were covered in
the evidence of the dinner she had upended over herself.
Of course, he wasn't looking much better. The robes he had meant to wear
had also been casualty to his daughter's massive fit, and he had not had the
time to get the smell of marinara sauce out of them. Instead, he had donned
a pair of denims and a button up shirt that had grown a bit too tight around
the shoulders.
He really should have done laundry the day before.
"Someone wasn't interested in getting ready for bed," he answered at last.
"My!" shrieked Delphi, when she finally got the courage to look up. The little
girl catapulted herself into Hermione's arms, and Harry watched as she
scooped the child up into a big hug that made his heart twinge.
"Daddy mean!"
Harry winced and then gave the girl a disbelieving look when she threw a
scowl over Hermione's shoulder in his direction.
"Was he, darling?" Hermione cooed. Was that a smirk on her lips? "Shall I
talk to him about it?"
"Yes. My talk Daddy. Daddy calm down. Time out, Daddy!"
"Certainly," Hermione assured the girl, patting her on the back and then
pulling her back so that she could look her in the eye. "Now, are you ready
to play with My's Mummy and Daddy? They're very happy you've come to
visit."
Delphi seemed to think about it for a moment and then nodded.
"Yes. I play." She paused, looking back at her father with a frown. "No bed.
Bed go away."
Harry held up his hands in surrender and watched as Hermione grinned
broadly and stepped back into the house. He followed them into the kitchen
where Helen and Frank sat at the table with twin cups of tea. Hermione sat
Delphi on the counter and proceeded to clean her face and pull off the
pyjama stained pyjama top she wore.
"Do you have a spare change of clothes in that bag?" she asked, pointing at
the diaper bag Harry at slung across his back. He nodded. "Hand it over, will
you? She can wear it until this stuff's done in the wash."
"Hello, Harry," Helen greeted, looking amused. "Rough night?"
He blushed and nodded, handing the little yellow sundress over to Hermione.
"Evening, Mrs Granger. Mr Granger."
"Good to see you, Harry," said Frank. "You've got something on your cheek
there."
Harry flushed again and leaned to check his reflection in the shining surface
of the nearby window. More spaghetti sauce. It had dried into his beard.
"Do you mind if I clean up a bit in the bathroom?"
"Not at all," Hermione said, tickling Delphi and making her giggle as she slid
the dress on over her head. "I'll get Delphi settled with mum and dad and be
ready in a minute or two."
By the time Harry had finished making himself presentable and made his
way back into the kitchen, Delphi was sitting on Frank's knee and happily
munching on a biscuit. Sensing that it was now or never, Harry leaned down
to give her a kiss, said goodbye to her and thank you to Mr and Mrs
Granger, and made a hasty retreat with Hermione. Once they had reached
the porch he breathed again, ignoring Hermione's tinkling laughter and
choosing to enjoy the moment instead. He loved his daughter fiercely, but
some days it was a relief to see her fall asleep at the end of the day, or in
this case, settle happily into someone else's care for a few solid hours.
"Feeling better?" Hermione asked. Harry met her gaze, noting the sincerity
and the amusement both, and then nodded.
"She has some temper," he confided. "I wasn't sure we were going to make
it, honestly. She refused to let me touch her for nearly an hour. Kept bloody
apparating and terrifying herself whenever I got close. It's a damn good
thing I have those wards around the house, or she might have ended up
Merlin knows where."
"Poor thing," said Hermione, looking concerned. "Is that common?
Accidental Apparition as a form of early magic?"
Harry shrugged. "I think I did it once. Ended up on top of a building when
Dudley and his gang were chasing me. Point is, though, I did it when I was
scared. In danger. What if-"
"NO," said Hermione at once. Her voice was firm. "That girl is not at all
scared of you, and you are no threat to her. Accidental magic doesn't just
happen when we're in danger, Harry. It happens any time we can't channel
our strong emotions. It's more common in children because their magic is
trying to protect them, but it can't tell the difference between a temper
tantrum and a real threat, or even a child's desires and needs. When I was a
little girl, the neighborhood cats used to find their way into my bedroom at
night. Through locked windows and doors and solid walls. My parents didn't
think I was ready for the responsibility of a pet, and I thought it was terribly
unfair that I couldn't have one. My magic used to conjure the poor things in
the dead of night while I was sleeping. It kept on until half way through first
year. There was a reason I knew Millicent Bulstrode had a cat." Hermione
got a sad little look in her eye and Harry wondered whether she was thinking
about Crookshanks. The giant ginger cat had died peacefully in Australia just
a month before Harry had retrieved Helen and Frank. Hermione had seemed
devastated when her parents had told her.
"Thanks." Harry smiled at her, hoping that the look would pull her out of her
thoughts. It worked, and she returned the expression, linking her fingers
through his and giving his hand a squeeze.
"So, now that we've thoroughly missed our dinner reservations, where will
we go?"
Harry laughed and leaned down to kiss her cheek, and then her mouth.
"We're war heroes," he said, his lips brushing over hers as he spoke. "If they
haven't kept our table open, I'll eat my shirt."
Granger Residence
19 September 1999
Birthdays in Hermione's world, Harry had learned, were a thing of tradition.
While his own celebrations had run the gamut between non-existent, and
over the top, Hermione's had always been what she had termed
"comfortable." And now, as Harry sat at her family's dinner table with a
glass of red wine and a slice of Hermione's favorite spice cake on a plate in
front of him, he finally understood what birthdays were meant to be like. Her
mother had made the cake herself, and the gifts that Helen and Frank had
given to their daughter, while not plentiful, had been thoughtful and had
made Hermione smile. A simple but stunning set of diamond earrings, a set
of Muggle law books she had been coveting, and a framed photograph of the
three of them they said was for her to take with her to her new home.
For Harry's part, he had thought long and hard about what he might give
Hermione for her twentieth birthday. In the past, he had always given her
books, and while he knew she enjoyed them, (and he had set up an account
for her at Flourish and Blotts that drew from his personal vault) they had
seemed a little lacking now that she was more than just a friend. Still, he
knew her, and he knew that books were her first love, and so he had
compromised.
"It's not a telescope, is it?" Frank teased as Hermione began to open the
long, cylindrical package.
"No sir," Harry answered, and Helen tittered as she took a sip of her wine.
"How many times do we have to ask you to call us by our names, Harry?"
He flushed. A million more, if he had his way. It wasn't that he didn't like the
Grangers-he liked them a great deal-but he was shagging their daughter,
and he wasn't sure he would ever be able to address them as Helen and
Frank while he was simultaneously picturing their only child naked.
Finally, Hermione was opening the tube she had uncovered, and drawing out
a large, rolled paper.
"Harry, what is this?" she asked, looking curious.
"Looks like blueprints," Frank noted astutely.
"Here, let me help." Helen took hold of the paper and began to unfurl it as
Hermione pushed aside her dessert.
"It is a blueprint," said Helen, "Very good, Frank. Did Harry tell you?"
"Are you questioning my intelligence, young lady?" Her husband gave her a
mock stern look, and Helen laughed.
Harry watched as Hermione leaned over the drawings, her curious gaze
moving over the surface until at last she seemed to comprehend what she
was seeing.
"Harry, is that a staircase?"
"In a secret passage, yes," he answered.
"Leading to the study?"
Harry shook his head, grinning.
"To the library," he corrected.
"The-are you serious?" Her eyes were shining with excitement, and Harry
nodded.
Hermione squealed and launched herself sideways to wrap her arms around
him in a powerful hug, then released him to pore over the blueprints once
more.
"Are these expansion charms?"
"Yes. I hired an arithmancer, so they could be-"
"Built into the wards. Brilliant."
Pleased but not at all surprised that Hermione had understood so quickly,
Harry looked up to explain to her parents, only to see them exchanging a
worried look. His own expression faltering slightly, he looked back down and
swallowed. Had he done something wrong?
"More cake. Please!" Down the table, Delphi had finished her slice of cake
and was licking frosting off of her fingers. Harry, who was in no mood for an
argument with his two year old, slid the remains of his cake over to her, and
she happily began to stab at the small piece with her fork.
Hermione looked up at last, the excitement she felt still evident in her wide
smile.
"It's amazing Harry. It's going to be so wonderful!"
"What is?" asked Helen, and Hermione didn't seem to notice the little
stiffness in her voice
"Harry's building me a library in the new house! He's expanding the old
study magically, building shelves, adding a second story, and then adding a
staircase that connects it all to the master suite." She laughed. "It's perfect!"
"Dear me," said Frank mildly. "That sounds like quite a project."
Harry blushed but forced a smile. "It's not too difficult," he said. "Most of it
can be done with magic."
"I see," said Helen. It was then that Hermione seemed to notice that
something was going on.
"Something wrong?" she asked, her tone light.
"As a matter of-" began Frank, but his wife interrupted.
"No," she said, voice firm as she gave her husband another look. "Everything
is wonderful."
"Mum-"
"Really, Hermione. It sounds like something you'd very much enjoy."
An awkward silence descended after that, and Harry had the distinct
impression that all was not wonderful. Hermione stowed away the
blueprints after giving him a kiss, and they all finished their desserts in
silence, with the exception of Delphi, who began chattering and humming to
herself. When they were done, Helen stood, gathering everyone's plates and
motioning to Hermione.
"Help me in the kitchen, will you, dear? I can't manage the wine glasses and
the plates."
Hermione stood at once, her brows furrowing for a moment in a sure sign
that she was feeling apprehensive, before she collected the glasses and
followed her mother into the kitchen.
Harry was left with Frank and Delphi for company. Delphi was busy singing a
song about garden gnomes that Andromeda had taught her, and Frank sat
reclined in his chair, hands clasped over his stomach.
"So, Harry," said the man, "a library."
"Yes, sir."
"In your house."
Harry tried to keep his expression neutral.
"Our house, Mr Granger."
Frank made a noise and frowned.
"Which you're paying for and will own by yourself," he said.
Harry gulped.
"I didn't think it was fair Hermione should have to pay. When she agreed to
move in with me, I already had a house I'd inherited. Moving elsewhere was
something I wanted, not her."
"Hmm." Frank didn't sound impressed. "That's considerate of you."
Harry smiled awkwardly and looked back to Delphi, hoping fruitlessly that
she would choose that moment to need something. Unfortunately for him,
she was perfectly content.
"Kind of an odd gift though, isn't it?" Frank continued at last. "A little
Disney?"
Harry shrugged, not understanding the reference. "I don't think so, sir."
"Giving her a library in a house that doesn't belong to her? It's not really a
gift, is it? More a loan."
Harry felt offended for the first time that evening. "I'm certainly not building
it for myself, sir," he said, sounding more sharp than he had planned.
Frank arched a brow.
"Forgive me, I'm not familiar with what magic is capable of. Will she be able
to take it with her when she buys a house of her own?"
Harry bristled.
"I'm sorry, is there a problem here?"
Frank's tone stayed even when he answered. "Not if you give me a straight
answer."
"No," Harry said through gritted teeth. "She couldn't take the library with
her. Or the spiral staircase. They'll be part of the house."
"Which belongs to you."
"It will be ours," Harry said again.
Frank sighed.
"Let me be clear, Harry. I'm father to an exceptional daughter." He glanced
in Delphi's direction and smiled softly. "One day, not to far from now, you'll
understand what that's like." His expression hardened again as he turned his
steely gaze on Harry. "Hermione is going places, son. She's smarter than
Helen and I combined, and has plans for her life that don't include being
some rich wizard's paramour."
"Hermione is not my-I would never stand in her way!"
"Good," Frank said, his shoulder seeming to relax slightly. "That's good.
Because a young lady like her… Well, she needs more than just someone to
shag-" Harry blushed at the man's words. "She needs a partner. Someone
who won't just make decisions without her, or expect her to bend to their
will. She needs someone who wants the same things out of life, and is
committed to-"
"I AM COMMITTED!" Harry shouted, and then winced. At the table, Delphi
stopped her singing and looked up at him in concern. In the other room,
Harry heard Hermione say something, and her mother cut in. He took a deep
breath.
"I am committed. To her. To the things she wants in life. She's going to be
Minister for Magic one day, Mr Granger, and I'm going to be there, cheering
for her when they swear her in. I'm going to keep her safe so that she can
accomplish everything she wants to accomplish in life. I love her."
Frank gave Harry a hard look.
"So you're planning to marry her."
The statement took Harry by surprise. Honestly, he hadn't given much
thought to marriage. He knew that he loved Hermione, that he wanted to be
with her always and raise his daughter with her, and share a life together…
but marriage? A ring and a ceremony and sharing a last name? Harry was
shocked by how right the thought felt. Not for today, or tomorrow… but
someday.
"Yeah, I am."
Those three simple words seemed to be all the assurance Frank was looking
for, because he relaxed completely after Harry spoke.
"Well, that's all squared then. Did you want another slice of cake?"
Later, after a slightly awkward game of charades and Delphi passing out on
the couch, the evening ended, and Harry found himself on the Granger's
front porch, a sleeping toddler resting over his shoulder, and Hermione
looking up at him anxiously.
"I'm sorry about earlier. I don't know why Mum and Dad were being so odd."
"It was fine, really," said Harry. "I think your dad just wanted to make sure I
was being…" He searched for a word. "Respectful."
"Oh, God." Hermione covered her eyes with her hands and blushed. "He
didn't."
Harry laughed, finding the scene at least a little amusing in retrospect.
"He did."
"I'm going to kill him."
"What about your mum? Were you really just helping with the dishes?" he
asked.
Hermione met his gaze and shook her head. "She was being nosy."
"Well," said Harry, "I suppose that's something parents do. Make sure their
children are alright."
"You would know." Hermione reached out to brush the curls from across
Delphi's cheek. Harry watched the way her annoyed embarrassment melted
into tenderness, and his heart burned in his chest.
He leaned forward without thought, and his lips captured hers. Hermione's
eyes widened for a moment, and then fluttered shut as she melted into his
kiss, and he crowed inwardly at being here, now, with her responding so
sweetly to him. He used his one free hand to cup her cheek and then wrap
around to twine in her hair.
They kissed until Delphi stirred and Harry was forced to withdraw, his hand
trembling with the effort of leaving her.
"Six more days," she said, smiling. "Then, I'm afraid, these porch scenes will
be a thing of the past."
"Sad?" asked Harry.
"Not even a little."
"Daddy?" Harry glanced down at Delphi. Her wide grey eyes were opened
but bleary, and she seemed confused.
"Shh, I've got you," Harry assured her, kissing her forehead as her thick,
dark lashes fluttered down to rest on her cheeks once more.
"You should go," Hermione told him. "Get her to bed. I'll stop by the DMLE
tomorrow at lunch, and we can talk more then."
"Okay," he agreed reluctantly. "I love you."
Her smile was radiant.
"I love you too, Harry."
He disapparated soundlessly, and as he climbed the steps of number twelve
toward Delphi's room, he looked forward to Saturday, when he'd be settling
his daughter into her new nursery and then heading upstairs with Hermione,
where they could continue what they had begun on her parents porch and
not have to worry about being parted again.
Chapter 33
A/N: Many thanks to Shayalonnie and Oblivionbaby, who continue to
waste their valuable time with my inexpert writing. They're saints, seriously.
That night, long after the guests had gone home and the three residents of
number four Cerridwen had gone to bed, Harry woke with a start.
There was someone after him, someone who meant him harm. They wanted
to kill him and to take Delphi and… God, they were going to hurt Hermione.
"No!" he shouted, and the sound rent the night air like a slicing hex, startling
him to full wakefulness as he sat bolt upright in bed, bent over and clutching
the spot over his heart.
"Delphi," he breathed.
"Its okay, Harry, it's just a dream." Her voice was soft, and her hand drew a
soothing circle over his bare back.
"Hermione?" He glanced to his right and saw her there. She sat beside him,
legs crossed beneath her and silky nightgown a puddle around her waist.
Her hair looked silver at the edges with the moonlight filtering in behind her,
and her features were cast in shadow. "Did something happen?"
She paused before answering, her shoulders rising and falling just slightly
with each breath before she finally nodded.
"Delphi. Is she-"
"Asleep in her room. I was just there, checking on her… I think I woke you
when I climbed back onto the bed." She sounded guilty, and Harry furrowed
his brow.
"What's wrong? Is it your parents?"
"No. Everyone is fine, Harry. I promise. We just… we got an owl while you
were sleeping. It woke me screeching at the window."
"Oh," his shoulders relaxed at the news for a moment before he began to
wonder why an owl would have her so worried.
"Who was it?" he asked, wiping the sleep from his eyes with the back of one
hand and then peering at her again. He tried to make out her expression but
the shadows hid her face.
"I don't know," she answered at last. "They didn't sign their name."
Harry's heart dropped to his gut.
"Shit."
"Harry, they want more money."
"Lumos." Light poured from the end of his wand where it sat on the
nightstand, and Harry swung his legs from the bed. The hardwood floors
were cold beneath his feet-the rugs they had ordered from some Muggle
shop hadn't come in yet-but he couldn't bring himself to care. He turned on
his bedside lamp and waved a hand at the switch by the door. It flipped
upward and the overhead light came on as well, flooding the room with a
cold fluorescence.
"Where's the letter?" he asked, struggling to maintain some degree of calm.
He knew that these letters, the fact that he was being blackmailed, wasn't
Hermione's fault. He didn't want to take his frustration out on her-she didn't
deserve that-but he was so bloody mad he could feel himself beginning to
shake.
"I left it on the little table there," said Hermione, pointing toward their
private sitting area. Harry stepped down off of the dais and crossed to pick
up the parchment and read what was written there.
ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND GALLEONS.
YOU KNOW THE DRILL.
YOU HAVE UNTIL THE FIFTH AT MIDNIGHT.
Beneath the block letters, a silver sickle was sellotaped to the parchment-a
portkey, Harry knew. Untraceable.
"I was going to show you in the morning," Hermione said. "I thought at least
one of us should get a decent night's sleep."
"The bastard wants ten times what I sent last time," Harry said. "What's
changed?"
Hermione stood, crossing to join him beside the coffee table.
"Greed? Maybe they know you can afford more?"
"Then why not ask for more the first bloody time?" Harry snapped,
crumpling the note in his hand. Hermione froze beside him, and he swore
beneath his breath. "I'm sorry," he said, "It's not you I'm mad at."
"I know." Her voice was so soft he could barely hear her, and so Harry
looked up, meeting her gaze and reaching out to pull her into a tight hug.
"I swear, Hermione. I'm not mad at you. I'm sorry if it seems that way."
She relaxed into his embrace, and Harry breathed in the scent of her floral
shampoo as he tried to sort through the things he was feeling.
God, he was so angry. Angry at this anonymous blackmailer and at his own
inexcusable inability to do a damn thing to protect his child from the threat
they posed. He was a fucking Auror, he'd defeated Voldemort! He, of all
people, should be able to keep his daughter safe from the pain the truth
would cause her and from this invisible, unknowable threat. How could he be
so useless.
"Harry?"
"Hmmm?"
"Are you crying, love?"
He shook his head fiercely, because the hot streaks on his cheeks weren't
tears. He was angry, that was all.
Hermione held him more tightly, her arms wrapping around his ribs and
pulling him closer. She said nothing, and Merlin he was grateful for her silent
strength, for the solid presence she gifted him as he raged inwardly.
It took several minutes for him to compose himself, and once he had, he
pulled away, wiping his damp face with the back of one hand and clearing
his throat. Hermione was kind enough not to look at him until he spoke
again, and when she did, her own eyes were sparkling with unshed tears.
"We'll have to pay it," he said.
Hermione nodded her agreement and then paused.
"I think…" and then her voice trailed off, as if she weren't quite sure how to
phrase her thought.
"What?" asked Harry.
Hermione frowned and then met his gaze.
"I think we need to check in on Rowle."
Harry's fists clenched again at the sound of the woman's name. How he
hated her.
"If something went wrong with your memory charm… she might know. Or at
least be able to tell us who else does." Hermione's frown had turned into a
scowl now, as if the mere mention of the woman was distasteful enough to
sour her mood further. Harry had to admit that she was right about that.
"You're right," he agreed, nodding. "We have to know."
They sat with their decision in silence for half a minute more before
Hermione spoke again.
"I'll arrange something with my parents. I'm sure they'll watch Delphi for us
soon. We can go then."
Harry nodded and raised his hand to touch his temples, putting pressure on
either side of his face to help relieve the headache he could feel coming on.
"Let me help," Hermione offered. She led him back to the bed and sat him
on the edge before climbing up behind him. Her fingers twined through his
hair, dancing across his scalp and massaging away the pain which had,
moments ago, been threatening to overtake him.
"Jesus Christ, where did you learn that?" he asked absentmindedly.
Hermione chuckled softly.
"Lavender," she said. "Sometimes when I couldn't sleep, and my tossing and
turning was keeping her up, she'd do it for me. She said it was easier than
waking up with bags under her eyes."
Harry felt a twinge at the mention of a housemate he hadn't been able to
save but pushed it aside.
"Well, thank Circe for Lavender."
Hermione continued her ministrations for several minutes more, until Harry
was feeling a little more relaxed and the splitting headache which had
threatened to overtake him had waned.
"Thank you," he said when she was done.
Hermione didn't answer, only settled her hands on her shoulders and kissed
the top of his head. At the feeling of her pressed against his back, all silken
and warm, Harry moved instinctively. He raised a hand, grabbing onto her
her wrist and pulling it forward until he could turn to the side and kiss her
palm. She made a tiny, satisfied noise behind him, and Harry felt himself
begin to grow stiff beneath his pants.
It was crazy how much he could want her, even after the drama of the
newest threat, and by the way she was wrapping her arms around his neck
and kissing the shell of his ear, he reckoned she wanted him as well.
What the hell, he thought, denying himself this connection would do nothing
to bring the perpetrator to justice, or to change the fact that he was
responsible for a secret that could destroy Delphi's life. And maybe, just
maybe, for the time it took him to bring Hermione to an ear-splitting
orgasm, he could forget about the axe hanging over his head.
"Harry," she whispered his name and he felt her breath on his neck. "Are
you sure you want to-"
His answer was to turn quickly, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her
onto his lap so that she could feel his arousal against her arse.
"Oh," she said. Her lips were slightly parted-inviting-and as his gaze
travelled down over her flushed neck and to the thin satin of her nightie, he
could see her nipples pebbled there beneath the fabric, aching for his touch.
"I want you," he said, leaning in to rub his bearded cheek against hers and
drop a kiss at the corner of her mouth before speaking again. "I want to
bury myself inside of you until I can't remember my own name."
She gasped, and he thrust his hips upward, pushing his rock-hard cock
between her thighs for a moment and feeling the heat of her through his
own underthings for barely a second before she groaned and then pushed
him backward, swinging one leg over his so that she was straddling him. Her
hand trailed from his chest, down over his midsection as she sat up straight,
her hips over his and the head of his cock kissing the top of her pubic bone
as it strained against its cotton confinement. At last, her clever fingers
dipped beneath the elastic band slung low over his hips, and she tugged it
up and over his length, exposing him to the night air.
Harry swallowed, watching her as she licked her lips and then rose up, tilted
her hips, and sank back down onto his cock, encasing his length in hot, slick
velvet that clenched and made him hiss as his back arched and he thrust up
into her.
She rode him then, and Harry settled his hands on her hips, keeping his
eyes riveted on her rose tipped breasts as they swayed and bounced above
him with every move she made. She was delicious, a goddess with a body
he could worship for ages and never tire of. Everything, from the sweat
dampened curls clinging to her breasts, to the wide scar cutting across her
ribs and belly… Every inch of her was perfection.
And Merlin but she was tight. He could feel the walls of her pussy clenching
around him as she descended, and then fluttering as she rocked on top of
him, leaning forward and bracing herself against his chest to find that
perfect, satisfying angle of pressure.
Her curls fell down on either side of his face, a perfect veil that kept out the
world with all of its worries and trouble, and showed him only her sublime,
blushing face as she came on top of him. She bit her lip tightly, and Harry
groaned at the sight of her pleasure, reaching out to wrap an arm around
her waist and then pull her down so that her breasts were pressed to his
chest, their bodies were flush and he was still rock hard inside of her as her
breathing slowed and she began to nestle her face into his chest. She made
soft, satisfied little moaning sounds, and he bit his lip to keep from flipping
her immediately onto her back and fucking her with abandon.
"You haven't…" she said, leaving her sentence unfinished.
"No."
"Do you want-"
"Fuck, more than anything."
She giggled, and the sound warmed him-made him ache even harder.
"Go on then," she whispered into his ear, her lips grazing against him as she
spoke. "Have your way with me."
And he did.
Over, and over again until he could hardly remember his own name, let
alone a crumpled note sitting on the floor halfway across the room.
Chapter 34
A/N: This chapter is for all of you patient souls who waited for an update
and encouraged me to get back to it. I've finally settled into my new house
(though I'm not yet completely unpacked) and am feel the writing itch
again, so hopefully I can write the last several chapters of part one and have
them posted soon! Thanks to Oblivionbaby and Shayalonnie, who continue
to encourage me and help me not look like an idiot on the internet. Love you
ladies!
Content warning for this chapter, by the way. Child abuse.
Ron found her in the back garden when he arrived back at the house. She
was sitting with her back against a tall tree and a notebook over her knees,
writing furiously with muggle pen. Merlin she looked frantic. One of her lips
was bleeding from where she had bit it too roughly, and her hair, which had
been upswept when he had arrived and studded with crystals, was now in
haphazard waves around her shoulders, tangled by the wind.
"Hermione?"
She looked up at the sound of his voice, startled.
"O'Brien said you wanted a word."
"Yes," she said. "Yes! Look. Have you got that list I asked you for?"
"The list?" he asked, confused.
Her eyes narrowed. "The one I asked about after the first blackmail note.
You compiled it, didn't you?"
"Oh, that list. Yeah. It's not on me, but yeah."
"I need it," Hermione said at once.
Ron sighed. He'd been afraid of this. However bad having Harry on the case
might have been, he knew Hermione would be ten times more controlling,
and just as emotionally compromised.
"I can't do that."
"Like hell you can't," she said, standing more quickly than he'd been
expecting and advancing on him. "That's my daughter out there, and I'm
going to do everything I possibly can to find her. Are you going to stand
there like a useless wretch and make me go through you, or are you going
to help me, Ronald Weasley?"
She looked wild in her anger, and for a moment Ron thought she looked
very much like his own mother, when she had fought in the Battle at
Hogwarts.
"The list is being examined now," he said. "At the Ministry. We've got four of
our best Aurors going over it with a fine toothed comb, and a couple more
Unspeakables to boot. I promise, Hermione, we're narrowing down the
suspects."
"Good for you," she snapped. "But I'm not interested in narrowing down
anything. I want to find Delphi."
"We all want to find-"
"Tell me, Ron," Hermione interrupted. "Is Ginny on your list?"
"Excuse me?" She was mental, that was the only explanation. Her grief and
heartache were making her lose her damn mind.
"Is. Your sister. On. That. List?"
"You need to calm down, Hermione. The more time I spend here talking to
you, the less time I have to actually-"
"Right," she interrupted again, sounding brusk now, and she turned to grab
her notebook off of the ground and then brushed past him toward the side
gate. "Off you pop then."
"Hermione!" he called, shaking off his stunned surprise and moving to follow
her. As soon as she'd gone through the gate, however, she disapparated.
Ron swore.
Malfoy Manor
Narcissa was cold. She was always cold these days. The big, drafty house
that had once been her pride and her joy was less crowning glory now, and
more dank prison. She supposed it was her own fault, having let the place
go rather than spend too much time dwelling on it. She had meant to
cleanse the space ritually after the end of the war, but when Lucius had
been sent to Azkaban, she hadn't had the heart. Now, every time she tried,
she was petrified by one memory or another that popped out of the
woodwork to terrify her. Morganna, the place was a house of horrors more
than a home now, despite its sumptuous decorations and the house elves
who kept it spotless.
She shivered, turning over in her large bed and staring out of the open
window. She could see stars in the sky, and the last quarter moon beginning
to rise. Was it already so late? She sat up, swinging her feet out of the bed
and into a pair of silk slippers waiting on the floor. She couldn't shake the
sense that something was wrong, that she had forgotten something
important. No wonder she couldn't sleep.
A small pop sounded in the corner of her room, the familiar sound of a house
elf appearing.
"Excusing me, Mistress."
"What is it Tottsy?" Narcissa turned to face the elf, arching one brow
delicately in question.
"The Granger girl is come. She is wanting to speak, Mistress. She is not
leaving even when Tottsy is telling her no."
"I'll come down, Tottsy, thank you."
The house elf bowed and disapparated once more, leaving Narcissa alone to
dress, as was her custom. It was the work of only a few minutes to don one
of her robes and charm her hair up into its usual twist, and when she was
done, Narcissa descended, bypassing the master's chambers where Lucius
slept, and made her way down two flights of stairs to the ground floor.
Granger stood in the drawing room beside a window. She was looking out
onto the lawn, her back perfectly straight as she seemed lost in thought.
Narcissa glanced from the girl to the rug at her feet. There was still a stain
where her blood had fallen after Bellatrix had taken her blade to the
Muggleborn. Narcissa had meant to replace the carpet all together but… it
was a testament to her shame that she had been unable to part with.
"I'm surprised you chose to wait here," said Narcissa at last, breaking the
silence.
Granger didn't answer for several seconds, but when she did, she turned her
whole body to face Narcissa.
"Did you take Delphi?" Her words were sharp in the night air, and Narcissa
drew in a breath.
"Is she missing?"
"Answer my question, Narcissa."
"Naturally, we're your first stop afterward. Things never change, do they?"
"You're not, actually. Answer my damn question."
"No. I haven't seen her outside of the newspapers since just after the end of
the war."
Granger let out a sigh. She sounded relieved.
"What has happened?"
The girl sank onto one of the armchairs near the window and buried her face
in her hand for a moment before meeting Narcissa's gaze.
"She's been taken. The Aurors are out in force, looking for her. It wouldn't
surprise me if they showed up here eventually."
Narcissa's heart began to race.
"Is that a threat?"
The Granger girl's chuckle was hollow.
"No. I need your help, Mrs Malfoy."
Narcissa's brows arched up in surprise.
"My help? What help could I possibly give that the Ministry in its infinite
wisdom cannot?"
"Tell me about the night Delphi was born," she demanded. She was sitting
up straight again, holding a little booklet that Narcissa hadn't noticed which
was open on her lap.
"Excuse me?"
Granger looked tired, and she rubbed her temple with one hand before
looking down at her notebook and then up at Narcissa.
"I've been going over it in my head for an hour now. You told Harry no one
knew about who Delphi's father was except for you, your husband, and
Rodolphus." She seemed to be reading off of a list that she had made. "But
if you didn't take her, someone else must have known. All of the Lestranges
are dead, and Thorfinn Rowle is in prison, so even if Euphemia told him, he
couldn't have done it. Euphemia herself can't remember what she did for an
entire year, so she's not the culprit either." She lowered the booklet, training
her gaze on Narcissa, who still stood at the edge of the carpet on the other
side of the room. "That means we're missing something."
"The Dark Lord was specific about who should know," said Narcissa. "He
would have killed anyone who broke his trust, and believe me when I say he
would have known."
"Well," said Hermione, "If you lot were too cowardly to tell anyone-"
Narcissa's nostrils flared. "Then someone else must have discovered the
secret for themselves."
"Impossible." Narcissa dismissed. "Delphini never left the manor, and the
Dark Lord had no interest in her. He saw her once on his own, after she was
born, and then he left her to the house elves. No one would have
suspected."
"Not even the elves?" Hermione asked, her head tilting to the side now as if
she were curious. The question took Narcissa aback. Would the house elves
have known? There were only four in residence at the manor, and Tottsy
was one of only two in the house. Picksy was a kitchen elf, which left only-
"Tottsy!" Narcissa's voice was sharp in the dim room.
"Mistress?"
The house elf appeared behind her, and she whirled to face the creature.
"Tell me what you know of Delphini Lestrange."
"Potter," Granger corrected.
Tottsy bowed slightly as she began to speak. "Miss Delphini is daughter of
Mr Potter and Granger Girl."
"Before that," said Narcissa impatiently.
Tottsy paused for a moment before speaking again.
"Miss Delphini is Missy Bella's baby."
"Who was her father?" Granger asked. Tottsy gave Narcissa a questioning
glance.
"Answer her," the blonde demanded.
"The Dark Lord," Tottsy whispered.
"There, you see?" Granger said. "At least one person discovered the truth."
"Tottsy, have you told anyone what you suspect?!" Narcissa knew her voice
was overly sharp, but if the house elf had told anyone…
"No, Mistress. Tottsy keeps the secrets of the house of Malfoy." The little
house elf was bowing low now, so low that her ears nearly touched the floor.
"I forbid you from ever speaking the truth of Delphini Potter's birth again. To
anyone, even myself. Is that understood?"
"Yes, Mistress."
"You are dismissed."
"Thank you, Tottsy," said Granger as the house elf popped out of view
"Merlin," swore Narcissa, as she crossed to sit in front of Granger on a
slightly faded floral settee.
"Who else might you have over-looked, Narcissa? Are all the help house
elves?" Granger's notebook was open again, and she held a Muggle pen at
the ready.
"Yes, of course they are," Narcissa snapped.
"Even on the night Delphi was born?" the girl pressed.
"Yes," answered Narcissa through gritted teeth.
Granger sighed. "Okay, take me through the night. What happened?"
Impudent, outrageous girl.
"A child was born."
"Very clever."
"I don't know what you expect me to say. My sister felt the pains early in the
morning. They lasted for hours, and she hid herself up stairs in her room.
The Dark Lord got word and summoned Lucius and Rodolphus to his side,
there to await the birth of his heir. I helped her through the pains until it
was time to send for the midwife. She was summoned and-"
"The midwife?" Granger interrupted. "What did she know?"
"Nothing. That she had been called to attend the Dark Lord's Lieutenant."
"So, she knew that Voldemort"-Narcissa flinched at the name-"was here."
"Everyone even remotely close to the inner circle knew."
"What happened next?"
Narcissa sighed and leaned back in her seat, covering her eyes with one
hand. "Shouting, groaning, blood and water. The usual aspects of birth… not
that you would be familiar with them."
"No," Granger agreed, "I wouldn't be. Did anyone else come into the room?"
"No."
"Did Voldemort-"
"Circe, no. He sent Lucius with a message."
Granger grew still. "What did he say?"
"That she belonged to him, or some nonsense." Narcissa remembered being
perturbed at the message herself. Her sister had been laboring for hours, in
pain and desperation, and the Dark Lord had not had the decency to come
himself to see her. She had known that his views were more antiquated, but
she had thought he might have at least wanted to see for himself whether
the child was male or female.
"Did the midwife hear?"
"What?" Narcissa snapped. "No. She couldn't have."
"Not even when you relayed the message to Bellatrix?"
"No, absolutely…" She paused, thinking.
"Ah," said Granger. "She could have."
"Yes." Narcissa swallowed. How much had the woman heard before…
"Might she have suspected?"
Narcissa shrugged. "It hardly matters. She lived less than a week after the
birth. The Dark Lord ordered her dead to protect his secret."
"And in that week, who might she have told?" Granger was leaning forward
now, her elbows on her knees and her brow furrowed.
No one, if she knew what was in her own best interest, Narcissa thought.
"I can't imagine she would have gone about bandying her suspicions. She
was from a good family and would have known better."
"When you say a 'good family' do you mean they were Death Eaters?" There
was no venom in the girls voice, which surprised Narcissa, only an intense
curiosity and determination.
"Yes," Narcissa whispered.
"Which one?"
"She would not have told anyone," Narcissa repeated.
Granger sighed.
"Look, Narcissa. I don't like you. I think you're vicious and vain and too
wrapped up in your own existence to give a damn about me… but Delphi, my
daughter, is your niece. She's your blood, and I know blood means
something to you. You fought a war because mine wasn't good enough. So
please, I'm begging you, find it in your properly cold heart to help me find
her. Tell me who the midwife was."
Narcissa glared at the girl… the young woman. She was a little older than
Narcissa had been when she had married Lucius, and Narcissa recognized
the same sort of fire and determination that she herself had held for
different ideals once. And above all, love. Narcissa Malfoy knew what it was
to love a child so much she would risk everything for them, and there in
Hermione Granger's eyes, Narcissa saw a mirror.
"Her name was Cartesia," Narcissa began. "She was several years ahead of
me at school. She married a Rosier but he was killed in the first war."
"And before she married?" Granger asked.
Narcissa sighed and told the young woman everything she knew.
Chapter 38
A/N: Another long wait, and I am so grateful for you patient souls,
especially those of you who reached out to me with words of
encouragement. They were dearly appreciated.
Later, Harry found himself alone in the library. It had only been finished the
week before, and Hermione had spent much of the time since nestled in one
of the bay windows with a book and a cup of tea. Harry could see a half
drunk cup even now, set precariously on top of an inkwell. He crossed the
room to it, lifted it up, and threw it across the room. It shattered with a
satisfying crash, exploding against the side of a tall bookcase and drenching
a row of Hermione's prized textbooks in day old sugary tea. He didn't give a
single damn.
Where was she, anyhow? When he had asked after her before, her parents
had exchanged looks and made some excuse. What was she doing ? Was
she being allowed to help in the search for Delphi when he was not? Was
she hiding it from him to spare his feelings?
Growling, Harry crossed to the opposite side of the room where Hermione
kept her more questionable tomes on a high shelf, warded to keep Delphi
out. He spotted several familiar texts that Hermione had consulted during
the war, and beside them the new books she had acquired 'for research
purposes' before filing them on the shelf behind a fairly strong Notice Me Not
Charm. He grabbed the first one he could force himself to look at and drew it
down before flipping it open. The pages were thin and worn, and he scanned
them desperately for a few minutes before tossing the book behind him and
grabbing another.
He went through several books like that until he found one with a chapter
title that looked more promising. Ensuring Purity Through Blood Bonds, it
read.
Harry muttered aloud as he scanned the chapter, slowing only when he
came to the spells and curses written within. Most of them were repulsive
and not at all what he was looking for. There was a ritual which would create
a marital bond without the consent of either party, compelling them to
engage in intimacy until they were either willing participants, or the caster
died. Harry assumed this sort of curse had been used to ensure that planned
betrothals bore fruit. Another curse literally made witches and wizards
allergic to non-magical beings, and there was a handwritten note above the
description which read " For Orion."
He forced himself to read through every nasty abuse of magic until finally,
Harry came to a spell that made him pause.
For wandering children, the description read. Harry continued. Speak the
words o'er like flesh, and the wandering child shall feel the same till they
return and pureness claim.
Shivering, Harry turned the page. He didn't want to know any more.
Whatever it did, he was certain it couldn't help him find Delphi.
There was a tap at the library door behind him, and Harry snapped the book
shut instinctively, putting his arms behind him to hold it out of sight.
"Who is it?"
One of the double doors swung inward and a head of light brown hair came
around the corner.
"Harry?" It was Andromeda, and as she entered the room, the few streaks of
silver in her hair glinted beneath the chandelier. "I just came to tell you
Teddy and I are going. He's woken up and is begging for his crib."
"Okay," said Harry, nodding as he bit his lower lip. The book in his hand felt
heavy and hot.
Andromeda took another step toward him, her head tilted just slightly to one
side and her brow furrowed. "I wanted to-" she hesitated, and her voice
sounded cautious.
"Everything alright?"asked Harry.
The woman halted her approach, frowning slightly.
"Harry, is there anything I should know about Delphi?"
His knuckles strained behind him at the force with which he clenched the
book in his grasp. "What do you mean?"
Andromeda, who was usually a self assured force of nature, raised a hand to
her brow and lowered it quickly. "It's only that… She looks very familiar."
Apparently seeing the panicked look on Harry's face, she quickly spoke
again. "I wouldn't ask except- Perhaps others have noticed as well?" Her
voice trailed off for several seconds before she cleared her throat. "You
haven't seen the Malfoys lately, have you Harry?"
"Andromeda," Harry said, his voice carefully controlled. "I'm not sure what
you-"
"Please, Harry," the woman raised one hand toward him, cutting him off
before he could continue. "I promise you I will never mention this
conversation again. I'll swear it over Nymphadora's grave if you require it…
but under the circumstances, I would be a very poor friend indeed if I didn't
come to you with my suspicions."
Harry gritted his teeth. "Is it so obvious?"
Andromeda gave a sad little smile and shook her head. "Only if someone
were intimately familiar with the original, and had memories of her as a
child. Fortunately for you, my sisters and I were sheltered children… but if
Narcissa has seen-"
"I've spoken with Narcissa."
"Well then," said Andromeda, looking relieved. "That's a relief." She turned
to go, and Harry watched in disbelief.
"Don't you want to know more?" he asked, just as she reached the door
again. The woman paused, her hand on the handle of the door as she looked
back at him.
"Do you want to tell me?"
Harry laughed humorlessly, turning as he did so to sit in the nearest chair.
He set the book he had been holding on the end table positioned nearby.
"Not particularly."
"Well then, we'll leave it there."
"Really?"
"Harry," Andromeda said, and she sounded exasperated now, "you are
Teddy's godfather, and that makes you family. That makes Delphi family. I
don't need anything more than that. No one else does either."
"But she's your sister's-"
"Hush!" The woman interrupted. "That girl is your daughter. I'm well versed
in Magical adoptions, boy, and where they are concerned, blood means
nothing . Delphi may have once been something else to me than she is now,
but that life is over, and she's better for it. The Black Family, proud as I am
of my heritage, was poison. She's well shot of it. Not to mention the
Lestranges. Heavens, they were more than a few Sickles short of a Galleon.
No. It's better this way, and you needn't give me any more explanations."
Harry sighed, unsure whether he was more relieved that Andromeda was so
insistent that he keep further information to himself, or that she didn't
suspect the most crucial secret of Delphi's birth.
"Thank you," he forced himself to say at last. Andromeda nodded once and
gave him a supportive smile.
"They'll find her soon," she assured him. "I can feel it. If you need anything
at all, Molly is keeping vigil in the kitchen, and Helen and Frank are resting
in the guest room." Then she left, leaving only a hint of her usual floral
scent, and fresh worries for Harry behind.
He had been a fool not to expect that Andromeda would notice the
resemblance. How often had he-who had only ever known Bellatrix
Lestrange as a waxy, deranged figure-noted the resemblance between her
and his daughter? Of course the woman's sister would have noticed. Her
older sister, who would have seen the woman at Delphi's age. How long had
she suspected? Who else suspected the same? And if they did suspect, did
they also know about Bellatrix's ongoing affair with Voldemort? Suddenly,
the list of suspects which he had been keeping in the back of his mind since
the first blackmail letter had come, grew exponentially. If Delphi's
appearance were such a giveaway. Anyone could have taken a guess and
tried to make money off of the suspicion; a suspicion which he had then
confirmed by paying the first blasted installment.
No, he reminded himself. Whoever had been blackmailing him, whoever had
taken Delphi, had known not just about Bellatrix, but about Voldemort as
well. Not just anyone would have suspected that. Not even the woman's
sister had guessed. But still, Andromeda's suspicion told him that the story
he had spun to explain Delphi's presence in his life was as thin as paper and
just waiting for any observant person with intimate knowledge of Bellatrix
Lestrange to come along and tear it to shreds. Perhaps now, with Delphi so
young, only the Black sisters would be able to see the resemblance, but
what would happen as she grew? When she went to Hogwarts and was the
same age as Bellatrix had been when she entered wider society, would the
entire Wizarding World mark the resemblance and bring his secret out into
the open? Was that to be his punishment for the abduction of a child? For
loving her and trying his damndest to protect her from a world that he knew
from experience had the power to destroy any semblance of normalcy he
could ever give her?
When Ron and the other Aurors found her-if they found her-would her return
only be a short reprieve from the reality of her future? Had he ruined her
life by making her the daughter of one of the most famous faces in
Wizarding Britain? By tying her to perhaps the only man so inextricably
linked with Voldemort, that no one could speak of one without thinking of
the other? Whether the world knew the secret of her birth or not, Lord
Voldemort's legacy would haunt her because it haunted him . She would
never be free of it, because Harry would never be free of it. If he had done
the unselfish thing and found some other home for her, some other family to
keep her and love her and make her their child… could she have lived the
rest of her life safely and in anonymity?
He had ruined her. Ruined her chances at a normal life and put her in danger
that she would never have had to worry about if it had been anyone but him
to rescue her. She deserved more. She deserved better.
Harry rubbed his temples as he leaned forward in his seat, a wave of nausea
roiling up from the pit of his stomach before subsiding as he took a deep
breath.
Delphi deserved better, but he was what she had now. A father so short
sighted he might have condemned her to a life of notoriety. A man who
couldn't keep his own personal shit under wraps long enough to protect her
when she needed protecting… but he would be damned if he'd let his
shortcomings stand in the way of his making it up to her.
The interrogations room was brightly lit and not nearly as crowded as the
room they had just left. The window had been obscured and a wizard and
two witches crowded around a chair on the far side of the room. There was a
child crying, and Hermione's stomach flipped. Harry, who had been by her
side, rushed forward at once.
"Delphi!" he cried, shoving the wizard out of the way dropping to his knees
in front of the chair, his body blocking Hermione's view. It wasn't until he
leaned forward, wrapping his arms around the hysterical child, that
Hermione saw her. Her cheeks were tear stained and her face red at she
cried with eyes shut tight and her dark curls had fallen down around her
face, sticking to her wet cheeks. Hermione wished suddenly that she had
helped Harry beat Nott's face to a pulp.
After only a few moments and enough time to take stock of the room,
Hermione joined Harry on the ground, throwing her own arms arounds both
him and Delphi and letting herself feel the panic and the horror she had
been keeping at bay for the entire night. She hadn't been able to fall to
pieces when Delphi had been taken, no matter how much she had needed
to- but here, with her girl safe in her arms once more-she couldn't stop the
tears from flowing. Merlin, the things that could have happened. If Molly
hadn't mentioned that Ginny and Theo had broken up, with that steely glint
in her eyes that Hermione had seen only once or twice before…
"Daddy,' Delphi cried at last, her tense body relaxing into their embraces.
"Mummy."
"Oh Delphi, darling," Harry was raining kisses down onto her cheeks and
pulling her closer as the girls sobs settled into whimpers at last. Hermione
echoed his words, stroking Delphi's hair and kissing the top of her head.
"We missed you so much," Hermione told her, and then buried her face in
the top of her daughter's head, letting her tears soak the glossy curls.
She wasn't sure how long they remained there, kneeling as they wrapped
their arms around the most important pieces of their life. By the time Delphi
had stopped crying and begun to protest, Hermione's legs had gone numb,
and when she rose it was with Delphi on her hip and Harry's arm thrown
around them both. After several more seconds, Harry tensed beside her, and
Hermione looked up to see what had put him on his guard.
Narcissa Malfoy was standing near the door, her pale robes a wrinkled mess
and streaked with what looked like mud
"What's she-" Harry began, but Hermione interrupted him. Her heart was
pounding in her chest like cannon blasts and her cheeks were wet with tears
in the cool air.
"Thank you," she blurted. "I can't say how much this- It means the world to
us that you-" she swallowed. She couldn't make herself form the words.
There was a lump in her throat, thick and sharp, like treacle that wouldn't
budge. Narcissa nodded all the same.
"I think I've missed something," Harry said beside her, and Hermione tilted
her face toward him. The tense, angry lines that had been there for the last
several hours were gone now, leaving only confused relief in their wake.
"Narcissa is the one who took the Aurors in to Nott's estate," she said at
last, unsure of how she could begin to explain the whirlwind of idea and
action that had led them to their daughter again. "She helped bring Delphi
back."
Narcissa gave a small, bitter smile. She looked so tired there in the
fluorescent light of a room normally reserved for the questioning of dark
witches and wizards. There were thin little lines at the corners of her eyes
that Hermione hadn't noticed before. "As her predicament was my fault in
the first place," Narcissa said, "I could hardly have stood by."
Harry's hand on Hermione's arm tightened and she felt him about to go for
his wand.
"No," she interrupted before he could reach for it. "It wasn't." She looked at
Harry, whose confusion was evident on his face. She wished that she could
say more, but the healers hovering nearby needn't know the details of what
had transpired that night. She had barely had enough time to tell Harry that
it was Nott who had been the one to take Delphi before they had been
hurtling through the Floo and into the ministry. He deserved explanations,
and she wanted desperately to give them… but not in front of strangers.
Several silent minutes later, after the Healers had finished their
examinations of Delphi and urged Harry to bring her to St. Mungo's soon for
a more detailed examination, Ron stepped into the room. He had tidied
himself sometime between Hermione punching his boss in the mouth (her
hand still ached from the blow) and now, but the bruise on his cheek had
continued to darken.
"You lot," he said, pointing to the green robed witches and wizard, "if you're
done here, you can go." It took only a minute or so for them to collect all of
their things and filter out of the room, leaving Hermione and her family with
Ron and Narcissa. Once they had gone, Harry let out a breath and spoke in a
low tone so as not to startle Delphi whose eyes where beginning to flutter
shut as her head grew heavier on Hermione's shoulder.
"What the hell happened tonight?" he asked.
Ron looked to Hermione, who looked to Narcissa. She worried for a moment
or two that she had done the wrong thing that night, going out on her own
rather than waiting for Harry to calm, or stopping to talk through her
suspicions with Ron before going to Malfoy Manor. She had thought, in the
few minutes when she had been left alone in the Malfoy's drawing room
waiting for the lady of the manor to descend, that she had made a mistake.
In her arms, Delphi gave a small sigh and all of the tension in her body
melted away at once as she fell fast asleep. Hermione knew then that
nothing she had done that night could possibly have been wrong, not when
it had led to her daughter breathing gently against her once more.
"I went to Malfoy Manor," she said at last. She watched Narcissa swallow
and fold her arms across her chest. "When Molly said that Ginny had left
Theo…" Hermione remembered the blazing look in the older woman's eyes.
"She looked so angry, Harry. I didn't know what had happened, but I
thought maybe, just maybe, she had found something out about him that
we didn't know, and that if-"
Ron growled by the door, interrupting her. Hermione looked to him: his face
had twisted into a hard scowl. "I'll tell you what she found out," he said,
sounding murderous. "Nott had been drugging her with potions, the bastard.
First a love potion, and then other shite meant to lower her inhibitions so he
could…" he didn't seem able to finish the thought aloud. "Fucker was using
her. Mum caught him dosing Ginny's drink and nearly killed the prick. Once
Gin sobered up she begged Mum not to say anything. Said she was
embarrassed and…" He looked as if he might be sick. "And that she wanted
to forget any of it had happened."
At once, Hermione understood the look that had been in Molly's eye earlier
that night. She'd seen it before when the older woman had told her about
her first marriage… to a man who had been a Voldemort supporter. At last,
Ginny's behavior since they had left school began to make sense. The
sometimes glazed expressions, the preoccupation with Theo at the expense
of her other relationships. The uncharacteristic flightyness that had once
been a fierce joy for life and determination to succeed. She felt sick to her
stomach that none of them had noticed sooner.
"Nott found out about Delphi somehow," Ron continued. "Maybe at the
Burrow he heard something that-"
"No," Narcissa interrupted, "I'm afraid Mr Nott's awareness is my fault."
Harry grew still again, his expression unreadable as he stared at Narcissa.
"You?" he asked, taking a single step toward the woman. He sounded
dangerous. "You told him?"
"She didn't," soothed Hermione quickly, reaching out with her free hand to
touch his arm. She felt him relax beneath her palm.
"Then how the hell did that bastard find out?" Ron looked enraged, as if he
might go and rip the knowledge out of Nott himself. His voice echoed in the
small room.
Narcissa grew still near the door, her chin level with the ground, her posture
poised, and her own expression inscrutable in the way that society wives
tended to master very early on.
"His aunt," Narcissa supplied at last, "was the midwife who attended us
during Bellatrix's confinement. Her brother was stationed at the manor.
Thoros Nott. She… learned more than she ought to have during the labor."
Her face twinged for a moment with what looked like regret before returning
to the unflappable mask she was so famous for. "Before she was killed, it
seems she confided her suspicions in her brother… who we believe shared
the rumor with his son before he was killed at Hogwarts."
"Bloody hell," Ron swore, crossing his arms and frowning. "It's like the
worlds shittiest game of fellytone."
Harry continued to stare at Narcissa, his brows still knitted together. "That
still doesn't explain how he knew that Delphi was the child, or even why he
would have wanted to take her tonight." He was thinking like an Auror
again, Hermione realized. She hoped it was a good sign.
"When we brought him in he was raving about how you'd ruined his life."
Ron spoke slowly now, his frown deepening as if he were trying to find just
the right words. "No one took him seriously when he started ranting about
Delphi being… You-Know-Who's." He shivered, "It was clear he hated you.
Said you deserved to hurt for what you'd done to his father. Then, when we
found Skeeter trying to sneak out the back, she-"
"I should have known that cockroach was involved," Hermione spat, not
bothering to hide even an ounce of her contempt. She should have left the
beetle in its jar to rot. She wouldn't make the mistake again.
"She wasn't until recently," said Ron. Harry looked up at him sharply as he
continued. "And she started spilling her guts as soon as we laid eyes on
her."
"What did she say?" asked Harry, voice honed to a razor edge. Ron
shrugged.
"Nott approached her months ago with questions about you and Delphi."
"She knew?" Harry sounded incredulous.
"Don't think so. Nott didn't bring her into his plans until after she'd been
fired from the Prophet . I'm not even sure he told her what he knew about
Delphi."
"The bitch." Hermione's eyes widened and she looked up to see Narcissa,
who had spoken, her normally cool and controlled features hot with fury.
Ron and Harry gave the woman a surprised glance and Hermione felt
something shift inside of her. She had had only a few moments to consider
the room she had stood in while waiting for Narcissa that night, between
worrying over Harry and longing for Delphi. She had wondered then whether
Narcissa had kept the carpet with Hermione's bloodstain as a trophy, or as a
reminder to torture herself with. She thought she might know the answer
now.
"Yeah," said Ron after the shock had subsided, "that she is."
There were several more seconds of silence before Harry spoke again. "How
worried do we need to be about the truth coming out?" Hermione winced at
the question. "How many Auror's were at the scene?"
Hermione watched Ron as he considered the question before he finally shook
his head and answered. "I can't see anyone taking Nott seriously. He looked
bloody mad, and everyone in the department knows Skeeter's about as
reliable as Peeves. I wager they'll chalk the motive up to revenge and ignore
the details. Nott wasn't marked, but his father was, and that's good enough
reason to let him rot in Azkaban these days." Hermione cast a quick glance
in Narcissa's direction. The woman had stiffened but said nothing. "And after
what he did to Ginny- well, it's clear he was trying to hurt you from the
beginning, and when using her didn't get to you the way he expected, it
makes sense he'd have gone for your daughter."
"So what, he guessed about her connection to Lestrange?"
It sounded laughable even to Hermione's ears when said so plainly, but
behind the absurdity lay the terrifying possibility that is was true, and that
given the chance and the right connections, anyone could guess the same.
"If he knew that a child had been born to Bellatrix, and that the child was
left unaccounted for after war…" Narcissa let out a soft sigh. "It is not
outside the realm of possibility, Mr Potter."
"It explains the blackmail." Hermione met Harry's gaze, her voice raspy.
"Nott was well off, he didn't need the money. But when we paid it…"
She saw the horror dawning in Harry's eyes.
"We confirmed his suspicions." Harry swore, and in Hermione's arms, the
now sleeping Delphi stirred before settling back into stillness.
Ron nodded where he stood near the door. "It makes sense. And with Ginny
doing his bidding, he would have known the circumstances of her adoption."
"It is possible that it was ill luck and vengeance," Narcissa supplied, her
voice soft as she watched Delphi. Hermione could see the emotions whirling
through her eyes, still expressive despite the effort the woman put in to
keeping her thoughts from her face. "And yet…" Her voice trailed off.
"What?" Hermione asked. Delphi's breathe warmed the fabric over her
shoulder, and Hermione stroked the girl's back.
Narcissa looked up at her, those blue eyes full of concern. "Guard her secret
to the best of your ability, Miss Granger… but I would plan for the day when
you can keep it no longer."
"Why?" asked Ron, sounding angry now. Hermione watched as he took a
step toward the blonde woman. "You planning on running your mouth,
Malfoy?"
Narcissa glanced up at him sharply. "I'm confident I know the meaning of
the word discretion far better than you, Mr Weasley. I only mean that
secrets like this-the ones we pray to the gods will never see the light of day-
have a way of surfacing before we are prepared."
"You'd know," Ron retorted, eye's sparking with anger.
"Yes," confirmed Narcissa softly, "I would." The spark in the woman's eyes
dulled just slightly, and Hermione felt pity for her then.
Before anyone else could speak the door to the interrogation room swung
open. Kingsley stood against the backdrop of the bullpen, his arms crossed
and his mouth set into a hard line.
"Potter," he said, "Please tell me Robards was exaggerating when he told me
you assaulted our suspect."
Hermione watched as Harry straightened his spine and his eyes turned into
cold, glittering emeralds. He looked every inch the Auror, even in his tea
splattered cotton shirt and old traveling cloak. "If anything, he was
minimizing the situation, Minister."
Kingsley stared Harry for several seconds, as if he couldn't quite decide on a
response, and then his expression melted into one of tired sympathy and he
ran a hand over the top of his shiny head.
"Merlin's ballsack, I'm too young for this shite."
Beside him, Narcissa looked scandalized.
"Go home, Potter. Take your girl with you and don't come back until after
Nott and Skeeter have been sentenced. You can work again when there's no
one else here you're liable to murder…" he paused, his gaze landing on
Delphi and lingering for several seconds before he looked back at Harry.
"We'll sort the rest then."
They stared at one another for several seconds after that, the Minister for
Magic and the Chosen One, as if they were trying to read one another's
minds. At last, Harry nodded. Perhaps he had seen something to reassure
him in Kingsley's gaze.
Hermione followed Harry out of the room with Ron on her heels and Narcissa
Malfoy at her side. Delphi slept peacefully, her cheek on Hermione's shoulder
and her dark curls tickling her neck. As they made their way through the
Auror's desks and out of the oak doors that led to the lift, Hermione took in
the scene. Skeeter wasn't there any longer, and the flurry of activity had
lessened somewhat since she had gone. The red jacketed men and women
who remained smiled at she and Harry as they passed, a few calling out to
them.
"So glad they found her, Potter."
"Sweet girl will be just fine, don't you worry."
"I'd have killed the fucker if it'd been me, Potter. Robards needs to pull his
head out his arse."
The accusations of two criminals, it seemed, had been wholly ignored by the
Aurors who had apprehended them, and Delphi's secret deemed too
outlandish to be true. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief as the doors closed
behind them and Harry pressed the button to summon the lift.
Thank God, she thought. Thank God for that, and for Harry who had saved
her from sending a deadly Crucio in Nott's direction when he had launched
himself at the scum. Thank God for Narcissa Malfoy, who, under her icy
exterior, had a beating heart… But most of all, thank God for Delphi, safe in
her arms at last, a piece of her soul restored.
The rest of it would be a problem for another day.
Chapter 40
A/N: Heeeeeeey guys. Remember that one time I went eight
months between updates? I sure do. Sorry! On the plus side, I did
manage to write and get most of the way through revisions on my
first original manuscript! It's a paranormal romance and I'm going
to be sending it out to Betas before the end of the month. Feel free
to PM me if you're interested in that genre, and if I still have room
for Beta's I'll add you to the list! You can also PM me if you're not
interested in betaing but would like to know if it ever gets published.
I'll keep a list for that, too.
Thank you to all of you who read and reviewed and stuck with this
story. It meant the whole world to me. A special thanks to
Shayalonnie and Oblivionbaby, and to Zetasgima, who left me the
most PERFECT review and inspired me to finally get this chapter
written. Now, without further ado, I present… the end.
The Burrow
24 December 1999
They didn't leave their house again for weeks, and by the time Harry and
Hermione felt up for another outing, it was Christmas Eve and time for the
annual Weasley party. Harry had been inclined to miss it, but Hermione
understood that his reticence had more to do with taking Delphi outside of
the safety of their heavily warded home than it did any desire to avoid their
friends. In the end, she had been able to convince him to go by promising
another week of reclusivity to follow.
The dinner was well attended, with all the usual guests around the table, as
well as a couple of new faces. Oliver Wood sat next to Charlie, beaming in a
way Hermione had never seen him beam before. His cheeks looked ruddy,
as if he'd only just stepped off a broom, and their color deepened every time
Charlie glanced in his direction, eyes smouldering.
On the other end of the table, to Andromeda's left, sat Narcissa. It had
taken several invitations to make the woman believe she was actually
wanted at the Burrow. In the end, the final invitation had been delivered not
by owl, but in the hands of a determined Molly Weasley, who had brought
with her an entire pie and a bottle of elvish wine. Narcissa had accepted the
invitation a day later, on the condition that she not be expected to stay the
entire evening. The woman's husband was, after all, still under house arrest,
and she wouldn't feel comfortable leaving him completely alone the night
before Christmas, not when their son was spending the holiday in Lancashire
with his fianceé's family.
For her part, Hermione had chosen a trio of seats near the end of the long
table, maneuvering Delphi and Harry until they stood directly beside Ginny,
who looked up, startled.
"Seat taken?"
Ginny stammered and Hermione settled Delphi onto the middle chair as
Harry nodded at his former girlfriend and sank into the seat on their
daughter's other side.
"Ginny," he acknowledged, and Hermione thought the smile on his face was
far more genuine than she had expected. What a relief.
"I-I can go, if you want me to, I mean. I don't want to ruin your holiday."
Hermione sank down into her own chair and gave Ginny a confused look.
"Why on earth would you do that?"
"I just- I mean, I know it can't be comfortable for you with me here." She
swallowed and glanced down at her hands. "After what I did."
"And what was that, exactly?" asked Harry. Hermione shot him a dirty look,
but he wasn't paying attention to her. His gaze was riveted on Ginny,
curious and expectant.
The poor girl nearly swallowed her tongue before managing to get her
answer out.
"I let Theo into your life," she said, voice small. "I'm so, so sorry. I didn't
know what he… And I never meant to hurt anyone."
"That bastard wasn't your fault." Harry's tone was firm, the sort of voice he
used when he was forbidding Delphi to play on the stairs. "He fooled
everyone, and knowing what he did to worm his way in… Well. I'm not sure
I've ever wanted to beat a person so badly in my whole life."
"Try to curb your violent tendencies, Harry, it's Christmas." Hermione
reached over and stroked his arm affectionately, allowing Ginny some time
to collect herself before turning back to her as Harry diverted his attention to
Neville, who sat on his other side.
"He means it, you know," she whispered, once Harry was engaged in
conversation and she was confident he wouldn't hear.
Ginny looked startled. "I don't think-" she stumbled again, and the little
affectation grew monumental in Hermione's eyes. What the hell had Theo
done to her, that she'd gone from the confidant and self-assured quidditch
champion, to this woman who could barely finish a thought without
correcting herself? "I'm not sure why he's not more angry."
"Look," said Hermione. "I realize this probably isn't something you want to
discuss, but Ron told us what he did."
Ginny's face blanched, her freckles growing stark against porcelain skin.
"And I only bring it up because I want you to understand that we could
never blame you for what happened. No matter how you feel about it, Harry
and I know who's really to blame, and right now there are hundreds of
miles, a deadly sea, and enchanted bars between us and him." She patted
Ginny's shoulder as the girl began to breathe again. "Now, help me to eat
some of these potatoes before your mother starts force-feeding the both of
us. I don't like the way she's eyeing me."
It took several more minutes before Ginny seemed to thaw beside her, and
even then the conversation was stilted, the gaps between her words
conspicuous.
Hermione thought Harry might have the right idea about turning Nott into
pulp.
Ginny retired early for the night, and Neville watched her go, Hermione
looking on. She hadn't realized the young man still carried a torch for the
girl, but she hoped desperately that when the time came, and Ginny was
doing better, she would give him a chance. She thought Neville might be
just the sort of man Ginny could get along with after her ordeal. Someone
kind, and good, and completely willing to wait.
"There's Narcissa leaving." Harry's voice was low in her ear and it sent a
pleasant rumble through her. She followed his gaze to see the woman
standing, arms at her sides and a ruffled look on her face as Molly wrapped
her in hug. Andromeda stood and drew Molly's attention, saving her sister
from further contact by handing over Teddy and asking Molly to mind him
while she walked Narcissa out.
"I'll be just a minute," said Hermione, standing to follow them out. "I didn't
get a chance to say more than hello to her."
"We'll be here." Harry smiled at her, and Delphi had a bite of pudding.
The night air was crisp and it sank right through her thin outfit to her bones,
cold as a basilisk's heart and twice as biting. She followed the path the two
other women had taken at a jaunt until she spotted them at the edge of the
garden.
"Hang on," she called. "I wanted a word before you went."
Andromeda was the first to turn, and she smiled when she saw Hermione
hurrying up the path.
"I'm not leaving just yet, dear."
"Oh, I know. I was talking to Mrs Malfoy, actually."
Narcissa turned, her brows arched delicately as her sister tried to hide her
own look of surprise.
"Right, well, I'll be off then, won't I?" said Andromeda, leaning in to give
Narcissa a brief hug and a barely there kiss on her cheek. "I'll see you for
New Years, Cissy."
Narcissa murmured her ascent and watched as her sister retreated back into
the house. Hermione took the opportunity to cast a warming charm over
both she and Narcissa that took most of the bite out of the chill air.
"Thank you."
Hermione nodded and smiled.
"I only wanted to give you this," she said, stowing her wand away and
drawing a small package out of her pocket. She held it out toward the other
woman.
For a moment, Narcissa looked absolutely shocked, but she quickly
recovered her composure and reached out to take the little gift, her cool
fingers skimming the tips of Hermione's as she did so.
"Thank you, Miss Granger." She said. "I'm afraid I didn't think to bring
something in return."
"Oh, there's no need for that." She hesitated for a moment before speaking
again. "Though, you could call me Hermione."
For the second time in as many minutes, the older woman's eyes widened in
surprise. Hermione took a certain amount of satisfaction at the sight.
Narcissa looked back down at the parcel in her hands, as if she were trying
to decide what to do with it.
"Oh, please open it." Hermione urged. "It's not much, but I do love seeing
people open their gifts."
Narcissa nodded and gave her a tight little smile before drawing out her
wand and vanishing the wrapping paper.
Hermione stared, agape.
"Takes a bit of the magic out of it, doesn't it?"
Narcissa looked confused and Hermione didn't elaborate, she just motioned
for the woman to continue.
The small velvet box was open in another moment, and in the second after
that, Hermione had the pleasure of seeing genuine surprise on Narcissa
Malfoy's face for the third time that night.
"We found it in one of Harry's vaults. I recognized the crest from Nature's
Nobility-horrible book, that-and we thought you might appreciate it more
than we could. I'm sorry we didn't get to the shops for something new. I'm
sure if this is a miss we can put it back and find something more-"
"This is my grandmother's ring."
Narcissa, always proper and polite, interrupted Hermione and stared at her
in consternation.
"Is it? I hadn't realized. I knew it was a Black heirloom, of course, but I
thought maybe farther back."
"Why are you doing this?"
"I'm sorry?"
Narcissa looked almost as confused as she did indignant.
"The gift. The ring. Why?"
"Umm." Hermione tucked her hands into her pockets. "It's Christmas?"
"I was under the impression you and your man didn't care for my family,"
Narcissa continued. "So why are you suddenly being… familiar?"
Hermione tried not to be offended at the accusation in the woman's
question. She had to allow for the fact that society ladies like Mrs Narcissa
Malfoy, especially ones with death eater husbands, were probably unlikely to
have had many real friends in their life.
"We're grateful, is all. For what you did to help us find Delphi. I had hoped…"
She looked around, checking the garden for any signs they weren't alone.
Finding none, she continued. "I'd hoped that, as we're connected in some
way, we could be friendly. We'd like to know you better. We'd like Delphi, to
know you better."
"The Minister kept your secret," Narcissa dismissed. "Any connection is
buried deep."
Hermione took a breath and nodded. "Yes, but as you said at the Ministry,
secrets have a way of surfacing before we're prepared." She had known it
was true the moment Narcissa had spoken the words, and she and Harry
had discussed it at length. Kingsley might be willing to keep his mouth shut,
but what if someone else discovered the truth? Anything could happen, and
it made sense to prepare for the day.
"Besides," Hermione continued, "I'm used to liking difficult people. What's
one more?"
And then, in a move that turned the tables completely and had Hermione
looking surprised for once, Narcissa Malfoy laughed.
She giggled and chortled and clutched her side, and Hermione was fairly
certain she heard a snort before the woman was able to contain herself.
When she was done, she snapped the ring box closed and slipped it into the
pocket of her fancy robes, beaming down at Hermione as she did so.
"Thank you," she said. "I shall cherish it."
Suddenly discomfited, Hermione nodded and smiled. "Our pleasure."
They stood in silence for several seconds more before Narcissa spoke again.
"Was there anything else?"
"No." Hermione shook her head and took a small step back. "Happy
Christmas. Please give our best to your family, Mrs Malfoy."
"Narcissa," the other woman corrected. "If I'm to call you by your given
name, it's hardly appropriate for you to do otherwise."
"Narcissa," Hermione agreed, grinning.
"Hermione." Narcissa gave her a look that was almost a smirk, and
Hermione remembered for a moment punching a face that had worn an
expression nearly identical to it.
And then Narcissa strode away, taking the ring box and the almost smirk
with her and disappearing beyond the hedge.
4 Cerridwen Court, Godric's Hollow
24 December 1999
They were still wrapping presents at a quarter to midnight. Hermione had
insisted on doing it the Muggle way, and though Harry was rubbish at
wrapping things, he was an artisan with spellotape, and wielded it with all
the fervor of a man out to stick things together. Hermione cut the paper and
folded it in mysterious ways until the gifts looked pristine, and then Harry
swooped in to tape them up and slap a bow on top. He was beginning to
think that was an excellent metaphor for their entire friendship thus far.
"Just there, below my finger. Mind you don't crinkle it this time. I want a
nice, smooth seal."
"I do know how to tape, Hermione."
"Yes. Excellent job. My you've gotten good at that."
He had a mind to take her into his arms and show her what else he'd gotten
good at, but he thought she might hex him stupid if he didn't let her finish
the last few gifts.
"Bow, please."
He sprang into action and affixed the thing to the top of the present before
carrying it over to set under the tree. And by under the tree, he meant six
feet away from the tree, which was as close as he could get it without
setting it precariously on top of other gifts
"Do you think…" he let his voice trail off.
"What? What is it?" She sounded absent minded, as if all her focus and
considerable concentration were taken up by her task.
"I just was wondering whether you thought we might have gone a bit…
overboard. With the presents."
Hermione paused and blinked up at him before surveying the massive pile of
red and green parcels.
"Looks right to me," she said. We do have presents for one another under
there too. And the gifts for my mum and dad. And Molly and Andromeda
sent their things along tonight as well.
"Right. Don't mind me then."
He could feel her eyes on him still, and he fidgeted.
"You don't have to worry about spoiling her, you know. She's not actually
Duddly's. And besides, I don't think being a demanding git is genetic unless
you're a Malfoy."
Harry laughed.
"I just want her to have everything she needs. Everything she wants, too,
come to that."
"We'll strike a balance." Hermione went back to her wrapping and Harry
watched as her fingers moved over the paper.
How did she manage to look so perfectly lovely at this time of night, in a
thick old Weasley jumper and a pair of pajama bottoms that were dotted in
miniature reindeer and about a hundred tiny sleighs? Her hair was piled on
top of her head, her wand stuck through it and pining it all in place as a few
curls escaped to trail down the back of her neck. On her finger, his ring
glinted in the firelight.
"Don't suppose you want to take a break?"
She looked at him askance.
"I've only got four more, and it's almost midnight."
He moved back to sit beside her leaving his roll of spellotape across the
room and reaching out to toy with one of her loose curls as she continued to
fold and crease the paper.
"They'll keep," he said, and his voice was low… husky. He wanted to shag
her, and he hoped she wanted the same.
She kept folding, but he felt the way her neck went all loose and it gave him
hope.
"You know," she said, all casual like, "when I was growing up my parents
had this tradition."
"Did they?"
"Mhm. We opened a single present on Christmas Eve. It was always
pajamas."
"That's nice." He ran a finger along the shell of her ear and felt the way she
shivered.
"I'll let you open a present tonight too, if you like." Her voice was low and
sultry and he hardened almost instantaneously.
Would he ever.
He leaned in to kiss her neck, but before he reached her, she spoke again.
"As soon as you let me finish wrapping these."
"You minx!"
Hermione laughed, and the sound was music and seduction all at once. She
reached back and tugged at the wand in her hair, letting the curls fall down
in a coil before they sprang back into the somewhat manageable mass she'd
learned how to semi-tame.
A flick of her wand had her gift spellotaped shut, and another had the other
three gifts wrapping themselves in a matter of moments.
"There," she said once they were piled neatly with the rest. "All done."
She stood, and he followed, reaching round with one arm and pulling her
back against him so that she could feel how very much he wanted her.
"Is it time for my present now?"
She hummed. "Now who's spoiled and demanding?"
He kissed the side of her neck, let the tip of his tongue sweep across it until
he reached her earlobe and began to suck. She nestled back against him in
response and gave a little whimper.
"Alright," she said at last, "Since you've been a very good boy this year."
He started unwrapping her immediately, eager to get at his gift.
Merlin, she was precious. One of the two best presents he'd ever received.
He had no idea what he'd done to deserve someone like her.
He tugged at her jumper, turning her in his arms until they were facing each
other. He didn't even bother to look as he tore it over her head and pushed
her bottoms down, he was too eager to kiss her again… But Hermione put
one of her small, warm hands on his chest, right over his heart, and waited.
His eyes fluttered open and the first thing he saw was her smile, genuine
and gorgeous and enough to bring him to his knees.
"What do you think?" She asked.
"What?"
"Of the pajamas."
And then he let his gaze wander, taking in the lace and the satin and the
Gryffindor colors bold against her skin.
Holy God, was that a snitch between her breasts? Merlin's left bollock, it
was. And there, just over the bow of her thong. Another one.
"Are going to be okay? You sound as if you're hyperventilating."
"Fucking hell," was all he could think to say before he had her pulled against
him again, her body warm and flawless as her laughter chimed and Harry
thought he might be the luckiest bastard in the world.
He was blessed beyond measure with a daughter and woman who was daft
enough to want to marry him, and he knew that he could open a thousand
gifts in the future, but none would come close to matching that.