Open Your Eyes Chapter Sixteen
Title: Open Your Eyes (16/?)
Author: Cristofle (Liz)
Characters: Harry/Hermione primarily. Harry, Hermione, and Ron will appear significantly, but this is ensemble friendly, including just about everyone. The Weasley family, Kingsley, Angelina Johnson, Teddy Lupin, Neville, Luna, the Patil twins, and Dean will definitely appear in more than passing appearances.
Summary: "This was not me choosing her over you. But I can’t choose you over her, either." After a hectic day at work and a revealing conversation between Harry and Hermione, Ron and Harry confront each other at last, bringing some of Harry’s own insecurities to light. Later, Harry is stunned by an unexpected visitor.
Spoilers: Heavy and specific spoilers all the way through 'Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows'. Also beginning in Chapter 13, spoilers for ‘The Tales of Beedle the Bard’.
Disclaimer: If I owned anything, would I REALLY have written that DH epilogue? I own nothing, JKR owns everything, please don't sue.
Author’s Note: Not nearly as long as the last time, but definitely something that’s been building, no?
Harry had never actually been in the Ministry when it was in such an uproar as it was on this morning.
It had obviously been an absolute mess of shattered priceless items the night Sirius had died and there had been an underlying sensation of terror in the rigid control after it had fallen to Voldemort, but Harry had never seen so many Ministry officials as absolutely scattered, hectic, and in some cases positively hysterical as they were following the very public murder of Simon Banner. Harry had persuaded Kingsley to make a statement, remembering the public disasters of both Fudge and Scrimgeour. As a result, the press was everywhere and letters were coming from every which direction, including the predictable Howlers. Dawlish had gone from a foul mood at Kingsley listening to Harry’s advice, to a positively enraged one after a Howler singed his eyebrows. He’d spent the rest of the morning glowering silently at Harry from across the Auror office.
“How did he get in and get out so easily?” Hermione mused, for once not even noticing an authority figure’s displeasure as she, Harry, and Angelina sat grouped in the office as usual. “It can’t have been from Simon- he hadn’t worked for the Ministry in years.”
“I’d say an accomplice, but I don’t think so,” Harry admitted, sitting back in his chair. “I think this one likes to work alone. I mean, truly alone, not have followers like Death Eaters. We’ve gotten no hint- other than not knowing how he got in- that he works with anyone else and it’s just as likely that, in the best case scenario, someone has been Imperiused, and in the worst case scenario, we’re about to find another body.”
Hermione winced. “I’m hoping it’s Option A in that case.”
“Anyone checked Dawlish lately?” Harry asked wryly, not troubling to keep his voice low. A couple tables over, Hestia Jones worked to choke back a laugh.
“This was a blatant message,” Angelina sighed. “And yet, we still don’t know exactly what he’s saying.”
“He’s coming out in the open,” Harry said tiredly, a night of no sleep beginning to catch up to him. “He wants us to know he’s there and he wants us to know we couldn’t stop this. The good news is that’s a show of arrogance, which is almost always the beginning of anyone’s downfall. Unfortunately, that isn’t going to be very useful to Simon Banner.”
“Or Padma,” Hermione said sadly. “Or anyone else this man has killed, including people we probably don’t even know about yet.”
The three of them sat there in glum silence for a moment after that statement, a silence finally broken by the sound of Arthur Weasley’s voice.
“Harry, did you see the paper?” he called from the doorway. Harry shook his head and Arthur came over to bring it to him. Hermione craned her neck to see.
Kingsley’s statement was probably in there somewhere, but the Daily Prophet had chosen to use the one statement Harry had made on his way upstairs. A huge picture of Harry glancing over his shoulder, his eyes cold and hard with purpose, flashed from the front page. The headline all but screamed across the page, almost defying the calm with which Hermione had heard Harry make the simple statement.
Harry Potter to Public: We Will Find Him.
“I went down to see the veil myself this morning,” Kingsley announced as Harry and Hermione sat in his office. Harry opened his mouth to protest and Kingsley held up a hand to stop him. “It was my own choice, I happen to agree with Hermione- Dawlish seems to have it out for you and I don’t feel it’s appropriate to keep asking you to go down there.”
Harry sighed. “I have no middle ground with authority figures. They either really like me or really hate me.”
Kingsley smiled faintly. “Well, I’ve seen what you’re capable of accomplishing, and how effective you are at doing it. Dumbledore had faith in you and that’s more than good enough for me.” Harry’s lips twitched in a slight but grateful smile. “And I was friends with your parents, have I ever talked about that?” he added more gently.
Harry looked up in surprise. “No…I could tell you knew my dad, but…”
“I was the other dorm mate in Gryffindor,” Kingsley confirmed, his smile widening just a bit. “Too busy studying to become an Auror to really join in the pranks, but your father was always someone I could rely on if I needed him. I see so much of that in you. Dawlish may not consider it right or fair, but that isn’t what this job is about- I have to do what’s best for all of us, and I believe giving you some free reign- particularly with Hermione at your side,” he added, causing Hermione to blush “will benefit us all in the long run. And people trust you, as is evidenced by the paper today,” he added, nodding at the front page. “I know I told you not to neglect your training, but this murder changes everything. Can I trust this will have your full attention for the time being?”
“Absolutely,” Hermione readily agreed, and Harry nodded.
“I’ve played this close to the vest, but it was not only the public nature of the murder that was a blow,” Kingsley confessed. “I’ve had very little luck to date finding out more than we already knew or suspected about the room, and the veil in particular. You two were right- it appears to have more of an impact on those who have witnessed death. I’m still not sure what that means, though. We’d been assuming Gabriel to be business-like, doing this for some sort of profit.”
“I’m not sure we were entirely right about that,” Hermione mused.
Harry looked at her. “What do you mean?” he asked curiously.
She lifted her shoulders. “The way this murder was committed, the message it sends…there’s rage there. It’s cold rage, but it’s still there. Maybe business-like is more the personality of the man than the actual motive in this particular case.”
“So maybe we’re looking for some sort of contract Dark wizard who feels he has somehow been slighted by the Ministry?” Harry summed it up.
“It’s a theory,” Hermione said thoughtfully.
“Well, we’ll keep that in mind, but for now you two can go on home,” Kingsley told them. “You’ve put in more than full day’s work given how long you’ve been here, and you both look exhausted. We’ll meet back here first thing in the morning.”
Harry and Hermione were quiet for a long moment as they left the office. “Did you get the message from Molly, that Teddy is back with Andromeda and all your presents have been taken to the house?” Hermione finally asked.
Harry had, but when he opened his mouth, he found he couldn’t even answer, couldn’t say anything other than what had been haunting the back of his mind off and on for hours.
“Ron knows.”
Hermione stopped and almost dropped the parchment she was carrying as she looked up at him stunned. “What? How?” she sputtered. “Are you sure?”
Harry gently took her by the arm into a quiet corridor. “It was last night- I went to talk to him, and the way he was looking at me…and the way he said I was right, we did need to talk…he figured it out. I know he did. I know him.”
Hermione carefully stowed the parchment in her cloak as she sighed heavily, then ran her hands over her face. “What are you going to do?” she asked softly.
Harry lifted his shoulders. “Be honest with him. It’s all I can do.”
“And…” her voice shook, just slightly. “And what will you say?”
“The truth.” Harry touched her chin, gently urging her to look back up at him. “I’ll tell him that I’m in love with you.” Hermione’s eyes widened; now she stared as if transfixed. “I’ll tell him I didn’t plan it, and you didn’t plan it, but it happened and we’re all going to have to figure out a way to deal with it.”
Hermione bit down on her lip, wishing nothing more in this moment than for it to be simpler, for her to be allowed this moment she’d never actually believed would happen- to hear that Harry had fallen in love with her too.
So this time when she kissed him, it wasn’t with that hint their few stolen kisses so often had, of the fear of finality. This time when she kissed him, it wasn’t as if it was going to be their last.
He kissed her back, one hand tangling in her hair, the other going up her back, the brush of his fingers causing a sensation she felt all the way to her bones. When they stopped, he closed his eyes and kissed the top of her head, like he’d done so often when they were still ‘just friends’ but with a deeper emotion behind it. He brought his hands to cup her face; she closed her eyes too and clasped her hands over his wrists. They stayed there for a long while, quiet, mindless of where they were.
At last, Harry cleared his throat. “I should get home,” he said softly, his right index finger and thumb playing gently with her ear lobe.
She bit her lip. “Would you like me to come?”
He smiled a little sadly. “It probably wouldn’t be a good idea.” He kissed her forehead, then released her abruptly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He took another step back, then vanished on the spot.
“I’ll see you,” she whispered to the empty air.
Harry knew it was coming, so he was altogether unsurprised when he opened his door and found Ron sitting on the couch. Ron obviously had to have heard him come in, but by neither movement nor words did he acknowledge him. Harry closed his eyes briefly, just briefly, to brace himself.
This is it.
Harry closed the door behind him. “I thought you might be here,” he said simply, unfastening his cloak and hanging it, then coming around to sit on the chair directly facing the couch.
Ron had never been particularly skilled at hiding his emotions- tonight was no exception. The colorless tone of his voice when he spoke just barely covered the seething mass of emotions underneath. “When I ask you this…I’ll only ask it once.”
Harry could not have locked eyes with Ron if he wanted to; Ron very deliberately wasn’t looking at him. He looked down at the ground. “Ask, then.”
Ron took a shuddering breath, then the words came out in a jumbled rush, almost on top of each other. “Is there something going on between you and Hermione?”
“Yes.”
Ron exhaled harshly at the simple, quiet response. Belligerence took the place of the thin emotionless veneer that had previously coated his voice. “Are you in love with her?” he challenged.
“Yes.” Harry looked up just as Ron was finally stunned enough to look over, and bright green collided with blazing blue as they locked eyes. Harry knew Ron could read the truth of it in his eyes. He’d thought he was too exhausted to fear what that might mean, but a chill ran up his spine nonetheless.
Ron exhaled again, looking away as if disgusted. “Y’know…I think I thought you’d lie,” he muttered, the dull tone temporarily returning. “Dunno why, but I did. I knew you were…the way you looked at her last night. But some part of me thought it would be easier if you just…lied to me, and I never asked again.”
“And if I’d lied?” Harry asked quietly. “What would that have done?”
Ron shot to his feet in one agitated motion. “Dammit. Why does it have to be her? Of all the ones you could ever have, the Boy Who Lived,” he fairly spat out. “Why is it Hermione?”
Harry swallowed hard. “I didn’t choose this,” he murmured, his voice shaking just slightly. “I didn’t plan this. Neither did she.”
If Ron heard that, he utterly disregarded it. “How long?”
Harry scrubbed his hands briefly over his face, struggling to collect his thoughts. His mind didn’t seem to be working properly. “There’s no one easy answer to that,” he said at length. “Since we both acknowledged it…since the night I saw her leaving the Leaky Cauldron without talking.”
“Who started it?” Ron asked bluntly.
“That’s private.”
The cool resolve in Harry’s voice surprised even him. Ron’s head jerked back, just slightly, in reaction.
“Private,” he scoffed, laughing without a trace of humor. “It’s private.” He shook his head. “So it was her, then. You’d be more willing to take the fall if you’d made the first move- you’re trying to protect her.”
Harry stood up too. “No, I am saying that even though I know all this is hard for you to hear, even though I’m sitting here more than happy to let you dissect my personal life more than I’d ever let anyone else as a result, there are things between Hermione and me that I’m not going to share.”
“Are you kidding me?” Ron shouted, and at the sheer volume it was all Harry could do not to jump. “You’re sneaking behind my back with my ex and you stand there and act like you’re doing me a favor, some courtesy, by allowing me to ask a couple questions?” He kicked at a side table; Harry barely noticed.
“No. No, that’s not what I was saying, I don’t mean that I was doing you a favor,” Harry said in agitation, running his hands through his black hair. “I know that there is…some code here, some best friend ethic, that I’ve broken. I didn’t mean to, I wasn’t trying to, but I did all the same and if that means I hurt you, then you have to know that I’m sorry.”
“I don’t know anything,” Ron snapped back scathingly. “I thought I could trust you. Best friend ethic? I thought we were brothers.”
Harry flinched. “We are,” he mumbled. But he said it to the floor, and even to his own ears it sounded almost pleading, like he was a small child begging for the words to be verified.
“Then you couldn’t have stopped this? Brother?” Ron challenged bitingly.
Harry took a shuddering breath. “If I’d thought, for one second, that you were still in love with her, I would have. If I’d had to move heaven and earth to do it, I would have.” He looked up again. “Are you still in love with her, Ron? Have I gotten all of this wrong?”
Ron clenched his jaw. “That’s not the point of this.”
“Because I truly don’t think that you are, and the look on your face only tells me I’m right,” Harry pressed.
“That doesn’t change the fact that you promised me you weren’t!” Ron hurled at him. “Over and over and over again! You promised!”
“That was years ago!” Harry fired back, raising his own voice now. “I wasn’t then!”
“How do I know you’re telling me the truth?” Ron sneered. “How do I know you weren’t just waiting?”
Harry couldn’t resist rolling your eyes. “You must be joking,” he snapped. “You think I waited throughout nearly two years of a relationship and more than a year after you broke up, just lying in wait, in love with her all along, planning my attack? Hear how ridiculous that sounds.”
“Hear how ridiculous it sounds that you’ve known her for ten years and you’re only just now falling in love with her!” Ron retorted, insult now mixing in with the fury.
“We were children!” Harry protested. “We didn’t look at each other like that when we were kids. But we…grew up, and we grew up together. We spend so much time together, we work together, we plan holidays together…she didn’t have anyone else.”
For the first time, something like taunting flashed through Ron’s eyes. “Well, if you’re only here because no one else was, mate, that doesn’t sound so romantic.”
It hit Harry like a sucker punch, because somewhere in the back of his mind, he’d thought it. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t looked at her like that either for so long, not when it came to insecurities. He didn’t know what she saw in him, other than that he was simply there. He didn’t know how long that would convince anyone to stay. “My point,” he said evenly “was that this did not start when you two were together, or right after you broke up, or anything like that. I meant what I said. If I’d believed for a moment you still had feelings for her, I never would have gone near this.”
“Fine,” Ron snapped. “I’m not in love with her. You’re right. And now more than ever, I’m remembering why that is.”
Harry felt his jaw clench, but was unaware of his green eyes flashing so dark they almost looked black. He almost missed Ron looking slightly uneasy for the first time. “Do not do that,” he said coldly. “Your problem is with me, keep it with me.”
“You think THAT’S true?” Ron asked incredulously. “You seem well and determined to split the three of us up into little sections tonight. You and her, you and me. But I thought it didn’t work like that, Harry, I thought we were a package deal, right? I’ve known her about as long as I’ve known you, been friends with her for about as long, and SHE was the first girl I ever loved, who has now seen fit to fall in love with my best friend.”
“How long has it been since we’ve been a package deal?” Harry shot back. “And whose choice was that, because it wasn’t mine. You think I don’t know what you want, why part of you wanted me to lie? You want me to say ‘Okay, Ron. I’ll step back. I’ll never touch her again’. And it puts me exactly where I’ve been for maybe half the time I’ve known you, feeling like I have to choose.”
“You’ve already made your choice,” Ron said icily.
“This wasn’t a choice!” Harry protested.
Ron raised his brows sardonically. “I thought you were Dumbledore’s biggest man. I thought everything was a choice.”
It was shockingly insightful, and all too painfully true. “Fine,” Harry said quietly, deflating. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe there was…some moment, where I could have gone one way or the other, and without even fully knowing I was doing it, I came this way. And I could give you all the reasons I might have done that and it’ll only make you more pissed off. I could tell you I regret it, and in a lot of ways, that would be a lie.” He sat back down again. “I wasn’t In love with her back then. That’s the truth. But I did love her. I’ve always loved her. She’s always mattered to me, just the way you always have, and maybe I didn’t make that as clear as I could have because you always seemed so convinced she’d like me more. This was not me choosing her over you. But I can’t choose you over her, either. This…happened. It’s here.”
“And what do you expect me to do about that?” Ron muttered, staying where he stood.
Harry, despite all his best efforts and despite not knowing how he might feel if the situation was reversed, couldn’t stop the bubbling resentment that had flickered to life when they were fourteen and Ron had accused him of lying about the Goblet of Fire. He couldn’t help but wonder, code or no code, if they would be in this position if he were not ‘The Chosen One’ and Ron had not grown up the youngest of six brothers. “Whatever reaction you have, I guess I can’t stop you from having it.”
Ron sat down suddenly, surprising Harry. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he muttered.
Harry sighed. “I was going to, I really was going to last night. That’s why I came up to you. I didn’t know what you’d seen until after I’d already made up my mind.”
“Before that,” Ron snapped. “When it first happened. When you first realized.”
Harry looked up at him. “Whether you believe it or not, you WERE a huge reason why, when I realized it was happening, I tried to pretend it wasn’t. This friendship…it matters. More than you know.”
Ron stared off into nothing. “But you can’t anymore. Pretend, I mean.”
“No,” Harry said quietly. “I can’t.”
Ron stood up again. “I have to go. I can’t…I just have to go.”
“Ron,” Harry protested.
“Look, I’m not going to be all dramatic and say this is the last time we’ll see each other or something,” Ron mumbled. “I just…need to think.”
There was nothing else to be said that Harry could think of to say. He just nodded silently, and stared into the fire as Ron walked out.
It felt like he’d been staring there endlessly, frozen in a moment that may well have changed the course of one or both of the two most important relationships in his life, when he felt fingers brush over his hair.
“Kreacher sent a message,” Hermione said softly. “That there was shouting, and that now you were alone.”
Harry nodded, motioned with his hand for her to sit beside him. Before he could speak, a tentative croak sounded.
“Is Master Harry very angry? Kreacher did not mean to interfere with any affairs…Kreacher could use the iron…”
Harry turned around, surprised. Kreacher had occasionally forgotten that not only was he not magically bound to Harry but that Harry didn’t approve of punishments, but he hadn’t done it in years. “Kreacher,” he protested. “You aren’t forbidden to do anything, you’re a free elf. And if you listen to one command from me, it’s that I don’t allow you to punish yourself in my house.” Kreacher bowed low, looking deeply relieved. “Besides, you were right to call,” he added. “She should be here, she has a right to know what happened.” Kreacher bowed again and departed.
Despite her fear of what had happened, Hermione had softened at seeing Harry and Kreacher interact. “I wish more people were like you about elves,” she said quietly. Harry didn’t answer. “How bad was it?” she ventured.
Harry sighed heavily. “He hasn’t sworn me off forever, but to say he’s not happy is somewhat of an understatement.” He looked sideways at her. “He isn’t happy with either of us, just to be forewarned.”
Hermione winced. “I wasn’t really expecting anything different.” Tentatively, she rested her hand on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault,” he said quietly.
“If it’s yours, it’s mine,” she pointed out. “We got in this together.”
Harry ran a hand over his face. “I don’t mean to sound arrogant, or diminish what you two had. I know this would be hard for him no matter who it was. But I can’t help but feel that who he’s really angry at is me.”
“You don’t sound arrogant, but if it’s true, it’s not fair,” Hermione said gently.
“I fell in love with the first girl he ever loved, what’s fair about that?” he muttered.
Hermione sighed. “It wasn’t done to hurt him.”
“Does that matter? If it did anyway?” Harry wondered painfully.
“I don’t know,” she nearly whispered. She glanced at him sideways, then her eyes narrowed slightly.
‘Did he say anything else to you?”
Harry laughed hollowly. “He said a whole host of things to me.”
“Specifically that’s bothering you now,” she prompted.
If you’re only here because no one else was…
Harry shifted uncomfortably. “I guess he just got under my skin.” He hated that part of him was relieved when the door bell rang. He brushed his fingers lightly over hers, then got up.
He was half-expecting a range of Weasleys to be standing there ready to punch him.
Whatever he was expecting, it wasn’t the one who was standing on his doorstep now.
“Malfoy?” he said incredulously, taking in the familiar white-blonde hair. Physically, his old rival looked no different than he had the last time he’d seen him, years ago now. What WAS odd was the lack of drawling arrogance- in its place was a distinctly nervous manner. Harry turned to gape at Hermione, who was looking equally stunned as she stepped forward to take in the sight of the young man on the stoop. Still without words, he turned back.
“I need to talk to you,” Draco Malfoy said quickly. “Right now.”
Author: Cristofle (Liz)
Characters: Harry/Hermione primarily. Harry, Hermione, and Ron will appear significantly, but this is ensemble friendly, including just about everyone. The Weasley family, Kingsley, Angelina Johnson, Teddy Lupin, Neville, Luna, the Patil twins, and Dean will definitely appear in more than passing appearances.
Summary: "This was not me choosing her over you. But I can’t choose you over her, either." After a hectic day at work and a revealing conversation between Harry and Hermione, Ron and Harry confront each other at last, bringing some of Harry’s own insecurities to light. Later, Harry is stunned by an unexpected visitor.
Spoilers: Heavy and specific spoilers all the way through 'Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows'. Also beginning in Chapter 13, spoilers for ‘The Tales of Beedle the Bard’.
Disclaimer: If I owned anything, would I REALLY have written that DH epilogue? I own nothing, JKR owns everything, please don't sue.
Author’s Note: Not nearly as long as the last time, but definitely something that’s been building, no?
Harry had never actually been in the Ministry when it was in such an uproar as it was on this morning.
It had obviously been an absolute mess of shattered priceless items the night Sirius had died and there had been an underlying sensation of terror in the rigid control after it had fallen to Voldemort, but Harry had never seen so many Ministry officials as absolutely scattered, hectic, and in some cases positively hysterical as they were following the very public murder of Simon Banner. Harry had persuaded Kingsley to make a statement, remembering the public disasters of both Fudge and Scrimgeour. As a result, the press was everywhere and letters were coming from every which direction, including the predictable Howlers. Dawlish had gone from a foul mood at Kingsley listening to Harry’s advice, to a positively enraged one after a Howler singed his eyebrows. He’d spent the rest of the morning glowering silently at Harry from across the Auror office.
“How did he get in and get out so easily?” Hermione mused, for once not even noticing an authority figure’s displeasure as she, Harry, and Angelina sat grouped in the office as usual. “It can’t have been from Simon- he hadn’t worked for the Ministry in years.”
“I’d say an accomplice, but I don’t think so,” Harry admitted, sitting back in his chair. “I think this one likes to work alone. I mean, truly alone, not have followers like Death Eaters. We’ve gotten no hint- other than not knowing how he got in- that he works with anyone else and it’s just as likely that, in the best case scenario, someone has been Imperiused, and in the worst case scenario, we’re about to find another body.”
Hermione winced. “I’m hoping it’s Option A in that case.”
“Anyone checked Dawlish lately?” Harry asked wryly, not troubling to keep his voice low. A couple tables over, Hestia Jones worked to choke back a laugh.
“This was a blatant message,” Angelina sighed. “And yet, we still don’t know exactly what he’s saying.”
“He’s coming out in the open,” Harry said tiredly, a night of no sleep beginning to catch up to him. “He wants us to know he’s there and he wants us to know we couldn’t stop this. The good news is that’s a show of arrogance, which is almost always the beginning of anyone’s downfall. Unfortunately, that isn’t going to be very useful to Simon Banner.”
“Or Padma,” Hermione said sadly. “Or anyone else this man has killed, including people we probably don’t even know about yet.”
The three of them sat there in glum silence for a moment after that statement, a silence finally broken by the sound of Arthur Weasley’s voice.
“Harry, did you see the paper?” he called from the doorway. Harry shook his head and Arthur came over to bring it to him. Hermione craned her neck to see.
Kingsley’s statement was probably in there somewhere, but the Daily Prophet had chosen to use the one statement Harry had made on his way upstairs. A huge picture of Harry glancing over his shoulder, his eyes cold and hard with purpose, flashed from the front page. The headline all but screamed across the page, almost defying the calm with which Hermione had heard Harry make the simple statement.
Harry Potter to Public: We Will Find Him.
“I went down to see the veil myself this morning,” Kingsley announced as Harry and Hermione sat in his office. Harry opened his mouth to protest and Kingsley held up a hand to stop him. “It was my own choice, I happen to agree with Hermione- Dawlish seems to have it out for you and I don’t feel it’s appropriate to keep asking you to go down there.”
Harry sighed. “I have no middle ground with authority figures. They either really like me or really hate me.”
Kingsley smiled faintly. “Well, I’ve seen what you’re capable of accomplishing, and how effective you are at doing it. Dumbledore had faith in you and that’s more than good enough for me.” Harry’s lips twitched in a slight but grateful smile. “And I was friends with your parents, have I ever talked about that?” he added more gently.
Harry looked up in surprise. “No…I could tell you knew my dad, but…”
“I was the other dorm mate in Gryffindor,” Kingsley confirmed, his smile widening just a bit. “Too busy studying to become an Auror to really join in the pranks, but your father was always someone I could rely on if I needed him. I see so much of that in you. Dawlish may not consider it right or fair, but that isn’t what this job is about- I have to do what’s best for all of us, and I believe giving you some free reign- particularly with Hermione at your side,” he added, causing Hermione to blush “will benefit us all in the long run. And people trust you, as is evidenced by the paper today,” he added, nodding at the front page. “I know I told you not to neglect your training, but this murder changes everything. Can I trust this will have your full attention for the time being?”
“Absolutely,” Hermione readily agreed, and Harry nodded.
“I’ve played this close to the vest, but it was not only the public nature of the murder that was a blow,” Kingsley confessed. “I’ve had very little luck to date finding out more than we already knew or suspected about the room, and the veil in particular. You two were right- it appears to have more of an impact on those who have witnessed death. I’m still not sure what that means, though. We’d been assuming Gabriel to be business-like, doing this for some sort of profit.”
“I’m not sure we were entirely right about that,” Hermione mused.
Harry looked at her. “What do you mean?” he asked curiously.
She lifted her shoulders. “The way this murder was committed, the message it sends…there’s rage there. It’s cold rage, but it’s still there. Maybe business-like is more the personality of the man than the actual motive in this particular case.”
“So maybe we’re looking for some sort of contract Dark wizard who feels he has somehow been slighted by the Ministry?” Harry summed it up.
“It’s a theory,” Hermione said thoughtfully.
“Well, we’ll keep that in mind, but for now you two can go on home,” Kingsley told them. “You’ve put in more than full day’s work given how long you’ve been here, and you both look exhausted. We’ll meet back here first thing in the morning.”
Harry and Hermione were quiet for a long moment as they left the office. “Did you get the message from Molly, that Teddy is back with Andromeda and all your presents have been taken to the house?” Hermione finally asked.
Harry had, but when he opened his mouth, he found he couldn’t even answer, couldn’t say anything other than what had been haunting the back of his mind off and on for hours.
“Ron knows.”
Hermione stopped and almost dropped the parchment she was carrying as she looked up at him stunned. “What? How?” she sputtered. “Are you sure?”
Harry gently took her by the arm into a quiet corridor. “It was last night- I went to talk to him, and the way he was looking at me…and the way he said I was right, we did need to talk…he figured it out. I know he did. I know him.”
Hermione carefully stowed the parchment in her cloak as she sighed heavily, then ran her hands over her face. “What are you going to do?” she asked softly.
Harry lifted his shoulders. “Be honest with him. It’s all I can do.”
“And…” her voice shook, just slightly. “And what will you say?”
“The truth.” Harry touched her chin, gently urging her to look back up at him. “I’ll tell him that I’m in love with you.” Hermione’s eyes widened; now she stared as if transfixed. “I’ll tell him I didn’t plan it, and you didn’t plan it, but it happened and we’re all going to have to figure out a way to deal with it.”
Hermione bit down on her lip, wishing nothing more in this moment than for it to be simpler, for her to be allowed this moment she’d never actually believed would happen- to hear that Harry had fallen in love with her too.
So this time when she kissed him, it wasn’t with that hint their few stolen kisses so often had, of the fear of finality. This time when she kissed him, it wasn’t as if it was going to be their last.
He kissed her back, one hand tangling in her hair, the other going up her back, the brush of his fingers causing a sensation she felt all the way to her bones. When they stopped, he closed his eyes and kissed the top of her head, like he’d done so often when they were still ‘just friends’ but with a deeper emotion behind it. He brought his hands to cup her face; she closed her eyes too and clasped her hands over his wrists. They stayed there for a long while, quiet, mindless of where they were.
At last, Harry cleared his throat. “I should get home,” he said softly, his right index finger and thumb playing gently with her ear lobe.
She bit her lip. “Would you like me to come?”
He smiled a little sadly. “It probably wouldn’t be a good idea.” He kissed her forehead, then released her abruptly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He took another step back, then vanished on the spot.
“I’ll see you,” she whispered to the empty air.
Harry knew it was coming, so he was altogether unsurprised when he opened his door and found Ron sitting on the couch. Ron obviously had to have heard him come in, but by neither movement nor words did he acknowledge him. Harry closed his eyes briefly, just briefly, to brace himself.
This is it.
Harry closed the door behind him. “I thought you might be here,” he said simply, unfastening his cloak and hanging it, then coming around to sit on the chair directly facing the couch.
Ron had never been particularly skilled at hiding his emotions- tonight was no exception. The colorless tone of his voice when he spoke just barely covered the seething mass of emotions underneath. “When I ask you this…I’ll only ask it once.”
Harry could not have locked eyes with Ron if he wanted to; Ron very deliberately wasn’t looking at him. He looked down at the ground. “Ask, then.”
Ron took a shuddering breath, then the words came out in a jumbled rush, almost on top of each other. “Is there something going on between you and Hermione?”
“Yes.”
Ron exhaled harshly at the simple, quiet response. Belligerence took the place of the thin emotionless veneer that had previously coated his voice. “Are you in love with her?” he challenged.
“Yes.” Harry looked up just as Ron was finally stunned enough to look over, and bright green collided with blazing blue as they locked eyes. Harry knew Ron could read the truth of it in his eyes. He’d thought he was too exhausted to fear what that might mean, but a chill ran up his spine nonetheless.
Ron exhaled again, looking away as if disgusted. “Y’know…I think I thought you’d lie,” he muttered, the dull tone temporarily returning. “Dunno why, but I did. I knew you were…the way you looked at her last night. But some part of me thought it would be easier if you just…lied to me, and I never asked again.”
“And if I’d lied?” Harry asked quietly. “What would that have done?”
Ron shot to his feet in one agitated motion. “Dammit. Why does it have to be her? Of all the ones you could ever have, the Boy Who Lived,” he fairly spat out. “Why is it Hermione?”
Harry swallowed hard. “I didn’t choose this,” he murmured, his voice shaking just slightly. “I didn’t plan this. Neither did she.”
If Ron heard that, he utterly disregarded it. “How long?”
Harry scrubbed his hands briefly over his face, struggling to collect his thoughts. His mind didn’t seem to be working properly. “There’s no one easy answer to that,” he said at length. “Since we both acknowledged it…since the night I saw her leaving the Leaky Cauldron without talking.”
“Who started it?” Ron asked bluntly.
“That’s private.”
The cool resolve in Harry’s voice surprised even him. Ron’s head jerked back, just slightly, in reaction.
“Private,” he scoffed, laughing without a trace of humor. “It’s private.” He shook his head. “So it was her, then. You’d be more willing to take the fall if you’d made the first move- you’re trying to protect her.”
Harry stood up too. “No, I am saying that even though I know all this is hard for you to hear, even though I’m sitting here more than happy to let you dissect my personal life more than I’d ever let anyone else as a result, there are things between Hermione and me that I’m not going to share.”
“Are you kidding me?” Ron shouted, and at the sheer volume it was all Harry could do not to jump. “You’re sneaking behind my back with my ex and you stand there and act like you’re doing me a favor, some courtesy, by allowing me to ask a couple questions?” He kicked at a side table; Harry barely noticed.
“No. No, that’s not what I was saying, I don’t mean that I was doing you a favor,” Harry said in agitation, running his hands through his black hair. “I know that there is…some code here, some best friend ethic, that I’ve broken. I didn’t mean to, I wasn’t trying to, but I did all the same and if that means I hurt you, then you have to know that I’m sorry.”
“I don’t know anything,” Ron snapped back scathingly. “I thought I could trust you. Best friend ethic? I thought we were brothers.”
Harry flinched. “We are,” he mumbled. But he said it to the floor, and even to his own ears it sounded almost pleading, like he was a small child begging for the words to be verified.
“Then you couldn’t have stopped this? Brother?” Ron challenged bitingly.
Harry took a shuddering breath. “If I’d thought, for one second, that you were still in love with her, I would have. If I’d had to move heaven and earth to do it, I would have.” He looked up again. “Are you still in love with her, Ron? Have I gotten all of this wrong?”
Ron clenched his jaw. “That’s not the point of this.”
“Because I truly don’t think that you are, and the look on your face only tells me I’m right,” Harry pressed.
“That doesn’t change the fact that you promised me you weren’t!” Ron hurled at him. “Over and over and over again! You promised!”
“That was years ago!” Harry fired back, raising his own voice now. “I wasn’t then!”
“How do I know you’re telling me the truth?” Ron sneered. “How do I know you weren’t just waiting?”
Harry couldn’t resist rolling your eyes. “You must be joking,” he snapped. “You think I waited throughout nearly two years of a relationship and more than a year after you broke up, just lying in wait, in love with her all along, planning my attack? Hear how ridiculous that sounds.”
“Hear how ridiculous it sounds that you’ve known her for ten years and you’re only just now falling in love with her!” Ron retorted, insult now mixing in with the fury.
“We were children!” Harry protested. “We didn’t look at each other like that when we were kids. But we…grew up, and we grew up together. We spend so much time together, we work together, we plan holidays together…she didn’t have anyone else.”
For the first time, something like taunting flashed through Ron’s eyes. “Well, if you’re only here because no one else was, mate, that doesn’t sound so romantic.”
It hit Harry like a sucker punch, because somewhere in the back of his mind, he’d thought it. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t looked at her like that either for so long, not when it came to insecurities. He didn’t know what she saw in him, other than that he was simply there. He didn’t know how long that would convince anyone to stay. “My point,” he said evenly “was that this did not start when you two were together, or right after you broke up, or anything like that. I meant what I said. If I’d believed for a moment you still had feelings for her, I never would have gone near this.”
“Fine,” Ron snapped. “I’m not in love with her. You’re right. And now more than ever, I’m remembering why that is.”
Harry felt his jaw clench, but was unaware of his green eyes flashing so dark they almost looked black. He almost missed Ron looking slightly uneasy for the first time. “Do not do that,” he said coldly. “Your problem is with me, keep it with me.”
“You think THAT’S true?” Ron asked incredulously. “You seem well and determined to split the three of us up into little sections tonight. You and her, you and me. But I thought it didn’t work like that, Harry, I thought we were a package deal, right? I’ve known her about as long as I’ve known you, been friends with her for about as long, and SHE was the first girl I ever loved, who has now seen fit to fall in love with my best friend.”
“How long has it been since we’ve been a package deal?” Harry shot back. “And whose choice was that, because it wasn’t mine. You think I don’t know what you want, why part of you wanted me to lie? You want me to say ‘Okay, Ron. I’ll step back. I’ll never touch her again’. And it puts me exactly where I’ve been for maybe half the time I’ve known you, feeling like I have to choose.”
“You’ve already made your choice,” Ron said icily.
“This wasn’t a choice!” Harry protested.
Ron raised his brows sardonically. “I thought you were Dumbledore’s biggest man. I thought everything was a choice.”
It was shockingly insightful, and all too painfully true. “Fine,” Harry said quietly, deflating. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe there was…some moment, where I could have gone one way or the other, and without even fully knowing I was doing it, I came this way. And I could give you all the reasons I might have done that and it’ll only make you more pissed off. I could tell you I regret it, and in a lot of ways, that would be a lie.” He sat back down again. “I wasn’t In love with her back then. That’s the truth. But I did love her. I’ve always loved her. She’s always mattered to me, just the way you always have, and maybe I didn’t make that as clear as I could have because you always seemed so convinced she’d like me more. This was not me choosing her over you. But I can’t choose you over her, either. This…happened. It’s here.”
“And what do you expect me to do about that?” Ron muttered, staying where he stood.
Harry, despite all his best efforts and despite not knowing how he might feel if the situation was reversed, couldn’t stop the bubbling resentment that had flickered to life when they were fourteen and Ron had accused him of lying about the Goblet of Fire. He couldn’t help but wonder, code or no code, if they would be in this position if he were not ‘The Chosen One’ and Ron had not grown up the youngest of six brothers. “Whatever reaction you have, I guess I can’t stop you from having it.”
Ron sat down suddenly, surprising Harry. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he muttered.
Harry sighed. “I was going to, I really was going to last night. That’s why I came up to you. I didn’t know what you’d seen until after I’d already made up my mind.”
“Before that,” Ron snapped. “When it first happened. When you first realized.”
Harry looked up at him. “Whether you believe it or not, you WERE a huge reason why, when I realized it was happening, I tried to pretend it wasn’t. This friendship…it matters. More than you know.”
Ron stared off into nothing. “But you can’t anymore. Pretend, I mean.”
“No,” Harry said quietly. “I can’t.”
Ron stood up again. “I have to go. I can’t…I just have to go.”
“Ron,” Harry protested.
“Look, I’m not going to be all dramatic and say this is the last time we’ll see each other or something,” Ron mumbled. “I just…need to think.”
There was nothing else to be said that Harry could think of to say. He just nodded silently, and stared into the fire as Ron walked out.
It felt like he’d been staring there endlessly, frozen in a moment that may well have changed the course of one or both of the two most important relationships in his life, when he felt fingers brush over his hair.
“Kreacher sent a message,” Hermione said softly. “That there was shouting, and that now you were alone.”
Harry nodded, motioned with his hand for her to sit beside him. Before he could speak, a tentative croak sounded.
“Is Master Harry very angry? Kreacher did not mean to interfere with any affairs…Kreacher could use the iron…”
Harry turned around, surprised. Kreacher had occasionally forgotten that not only was he not magically bound to Harry but that Harry didn’t approve of punishments, but he hadn’t done it in years. “Kreacher,” he protested. “You aren’t forbidden to do anything, you’re a free elf. And if you listen to one command from me, it’s that I don’t allow you to punish yourself in my house.” Kreacher bowed low, looking deeply relieved. “Besides, you were right to call,” he added. “She should be here, she has a right to know what happened.” Kreacher bowed again and departed.
Despite her fear of what had happened, Hermione had softened at seeing Harry and Kreacher interact. “I wish more people were like you about elves,” she said quietly. Harry didn’t answer. “How bad was it?” she ventured.
Harry sighed heavily. “He hasn’t sworn me off forever, but to say he’s not happy is somewhat of an understatement.” He looked sideways at her. “He isn’t happy with either of us, just to be forewarned.”
Hermione winced. “I wasn’t really expecting anything different.” Tentatively, she rested her hand on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault,” he said quietly.
“If it’s yours, it’s mine,” she pointed out. “We got in this together.”
Harry ran a hand over his face. “I don’t mean to sound arrogant, or diminish what you two had. I know this would be hard for him no matter who it was. But I can’t help but feel that who he’s really angry at is me.”
“You don’t sound arrogant, but if it’s true, it’s not fair,” Hermione said gently.
“I fell in love with the first girl he ever loved, what’s fair about that?” he muttered.
Hermione sighed. “It wasn’t done to hurt him.”
“Does that matter? If it did anyway?” Harry wondered painfully.
“I don’t know,” she nearly whispered. She glanced at him sideways, then her eyes narrowed slightly.
‘Did he say anything else to you?”
Harry laughed hollowly. “He said a whole host of things to me.”
“Specifically that’s bothering you now,” she prompted.
If you’re only here because no one else was…
Harry shifted uncomfortably. “I guess he just got under my skin.” He hated that part of him was relieved when the door bell rang. He brushed his fingers lightly over hers, then got up.
He was half-expecting a range of Weasleys to be standing there ready to punch him.
Whatever he was expecting, it wasn’t the one who was standing on his doorstep now.
“Malfoy?” he said incredulously, taking in the familiar white-blonde hair. Physically, his old rival looked no different than he had the last time he’d seen him, years ago now. What WAS odd was the lack of drawling arrogance- in its place was a distinctly nervous manner. Harry turned to gape at Hermione, who was looking equally stunned as she stepped forward to take in the sight of the young man on the stoop. Still without words, he turned back.
“I need to talk to you,” Draco Malfoy said quickly. “Right now.”