FIC: Gossip, Harry/Tonks, perhaps others...
Title: Gossip
Pairing: Harry/Tonks, perhaps others…
Prompt: the room where women come and go
Word Count: 1982
Rating: PG
Summary: Everyone seems to be talking but Harry.
A/N: Standard disclaimer applies. The HP universe/characters, etc. = not mine.
“There’s a woman here to see you, Mr. Potter,” says the Healer, who is standing at the foot of his hospital bed, holding a chart and smiling. She shoves her quill into one of her robe pockets, along with her wand.
“This one, I recognize,” she continues, “so I’ll allow the visit, but do keep it brief, please. You aren’t progressing as fast as I would like to see, and I really do think it’s because you aren’t resting enough. Your body needs rest in order to heal- magic can only do so much.”
He raises his eyebrows hopefully at the mention of his visitor, but nods his head to show that he understands her admonition. He tries not to convey his aggravation at not being able to argue or even agree. He wants to feel more grateful than he actually is. Still, his eagerness at the arrival of his guest bests all of his intentions, and he finds himself gazing anxiously at the door.
His Healer gets the point and makes her way to the door, opening it to allow Hermione Granger to step through.
“Remember,” the Healer said as she steps from the room, “brief. Oh, and Mr. Potter, thank you again- for what you‘re doing.”
Hermione pushes the door closed and gives an exasperated sigh.
“Would you believe I had to sit through a fifteen minute visitor’s orientation lecture before they would let me in to see you? As if I don‘t know how to behave in a hospital, or that I‘m going to lose all sense of decorum simply because I‘m here to visit Harry Potter!”
Harry laughs soundlessly and motions for her to come closer. With a broad, genuine smile, she obliges, running quickly to his bedside and wrapping him in a hug.
“I’ve missed you,” she says quietly. She kisses his cheek and then sits in a chair beside his head. He smiles and nods to her as she takes his hand. She looks nervously around the room as if she expects someone else to be there. He gives her hand a reassuring squeeze and places it in her lap. The corners of her mouth rise into another grin, but her eyes are sad.
“It’s good to see you,” she tells him. “I wasn’t sure they would let me in today. I was surprised that the Healer seemed to recognize me at all. I never thought of ‘Hermione Granger’ as a famous person. Have you?”
He taps the ring on the fourth finger of her left hand.
“Oh… right… ‘Hermione Weasley.’ It’s easy to forget, with him like he is. The Healers don’t like to say much about him- only that he doesn’t feel any pain. I guess that’s something, then, isn’t it?”
He shrugs sadly.
“Harry, I’ve heard… about what you’ve agreed to, and I don’t like it,” she continues. Harry leans back against the headboard of his bed, tilts his head back against the wall, and stares at the ceiling. He rolls his head slowly from side to side, as if he is trying to dust the wall with his hair.
“Don’t ignore me- you knew I wouldn’t like this- how anyone could think to ask this of you is beyond anything remotely resembling fair. You’re really going to let them sterilize you because they’re possessed of the ridiculously paranoid notion that some nonexistent portion of Voldemort may be passed to your children?”
He stares at the ceiling with greater intent and concentration.
“After you’ve been through everything you’ve been through- after you’ve seen your best friends murdered and tortured into insanity- after you’ve been starved and tortured and beaten and mocked- after you hunted down and destroyed more horcruxes than even Dumbledore ever knew existed- after you killed Voldemort finally with your own hands…”
Her voice has risen to a shout and she finds that she is standing, her fists clenched in her own hair. Without looking at her, Harry shakes his head and pats the seat of the chair. She takes several deep breaths and acquiesces.
“Harry,” she begins again, more calmly. “This is really too much for them to ask of you- especially with you already being in St. Mungo’s for so long. You deserve a chance at a normal life. Once you’ve finished healing- once these curses have gone away, you can be whole again. I really believe that- you have to believe it, too.”
He looks away for a long moment and then looks at her again, slowly rubbing his nose and raising his eyebrows. She reacts by scratching her own nose mindlessly, but her eyes widen in shock as she suddenly finds herself caught in an heated embrace, being feverishly kissed, and flushing.
She breaks the kiss quickly and pushes his hands away, rising from her chair and backing away, sputtering.
“Harry, what the- why are you doing this?” she cries.
“I’m curious about that, too,” says Nymphadora Tonks. She is leaning, arms folded, against the frame of the open door.
Confused and wincing, Harry wipes his mouth and points to Hermione, scratches his nose and looks back again at Tonks. She sighs lightly as she closes the door behind her and strides across the room. She sits on Harry’s bed, scooting close to him and tousling his hair.
“Wotcher, Harry,” she says with a smirk. “Your glasses are crooked again.”
He blushes and straightens them. He reaches for her hands but she pulls away. He tries again, this time managing to grasp her left hand, which she snatches back quickly. With a look of determination, he throws himself forward and pins her wrists.
She breaks into a mischievous laugh.
“Ok, you’re right,” she capitulates. “You know I’m not angry. I can’t ever fool you for long.”
They kiss for several moments before they remember that they are not alone.
Hermione is standing in the far corner of the room, nervously twisting her wedding ring. Her eyes are tearful and her cheeks are pink.
“I’m…sorry?” she whispers. “I really feel like I shouldn’t be here right now- I guess I’ve missed something. I should be probably be going.”
Harry puts his hands flat on the bed and shakes his head at her violently. Tonks stands and takes her by the arm.
“No, you don’t,” Tonks says. She pulls a bewildered Hermione back to the bedside chair and sits back on the bed next to Harry. “You haven’t done anything wrong- this is our fault. What a stupid signal we’ve come up with, Harry. Rubbing the nose- everybody rubs their nose, for Pete’s sake! What were we thinking? I’m an Auror, for crying out loud- I should have thought of something more subtle.”
“So let me get this straight,” says Hermione. “The two of you are seeing one another, but you don’t want anyone to know, so you’ve been changing yourself to look like different women when you visit?”
Tonks nods.
“You’ve about got it,” she replies. “Only Harry couldn’t ask if it were me because of that stupid curse, so I told him just to rub his nose if he felt unsure, and if it was me, I’d scratch my nose back at him.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Hermione says. “Why don’t you just morph back to yourself once you’re in the room?”
Harry puts his hands together and makes a flapping motion, points to his glasses and then the window. He frowns and mimes writing.
“Harry noticed your friend Rita Skeeter buzzing at his window the first day I visited. We’ve had security tightened up since then, but we decided still that it was better to be safe than sorry. He deserves to have some privacy, and I do too, I guess. I won‘t say it hasn‘t been… weird, sometimes.”
Hermione smiles at the two of them.
“Well, I’m glad for the both of you then, at any rate,” she tells them. “But maybe you could try a different signal from now on, or better yet, just be honest about your relationship. You do realize you’re developing a terrible reputation around the hospital, don‘t you, Harry? I mean, this certainly explains all the odd looks, the orientation lecture…”
Harry raises his eyebrows and looks at Tonks, who laughs in return.
“She’s right,” Tonks tells him. “It’s all over St. Mungo’s, all over the ministry- that’s why I stopped by today, just like I am. I thought maybe you and I had better come clean, at least to the people we care about. I mean- well, Molly Weasley’s pretty distressed that everyone’s calling you ‘St. Mungo’s Casanova.’”
Harry rolls his eyes.
“And,” she continues, “I wanted to tell you that I heard what the Ministry’s asked you to do, and that I don’t like it.”
He lowers his head.
“Thank you, Tonks!” Hermione exclaims. “You see, Harry, I’m not the only one that-”
“But,” Tonks interrupts, “it’s your decision. I’m with you, regardless.”
Hermione’s jaw drops slightly.
“A lot happened while you were in hiding, Hermione,” Tonks continues, her gaze never leaving Harry’s. “Harry’s been through more than you think. For the first six months after he killed Voldemort, he couldn’t even write- it still hurts him to scratch out more than a word or two That‘s why you had to stay in hiding for so long- he couldn‘t communicate to anyone where you were. We still don’t know how this happened- only that when he touched Voldemort, when he put his own hands to Voldemort’s neck, he stopped being able to communicate. It’s always been obvious that there was some connection between the two of them, but since no one knows the nature of it- well, it makes people nervous. More importantly to me, it makes Harry nervous. He has to do what he thinks is best for himself, for once in his life, and if being magically sterilized gives him a little bit of peace, I can‘t really blame him for doing it.”
Harry puts his hand under her chin and pulls her face to his. His kiss is an acknowledgement of her understanding. For the second time today, they forget briefly that they are not alone. She ends the kiss gently and gives him a wink as the Healer sticks her head in the room.
“Visiting time is over,” she calls, drumming her fingernails against the chart she is holding. “I don’t remember approving two visitors, Mr. Potter. This is quickly becoming a problem.”
“Sorry,” Hermione says, leaning in to give Harry a quick, awkward hug, “I’ve got to be going, anyway. I’ll be staying at the Burrow for a while, at least until I’ve decided what I’m going to do with myself.”
“You’ve got a lot to adjust to, and a lot to catch up on,” Tonks agrees. “Will you let Molly know that I’ll be by later? I reckon it’s time to let her in on all of this.”
“Not another woman!” cries the flustered Healer. “How many women does any one man need?“
Tonks and Hermione are as silent as Harry as the three of them exchange quick looks.
“Right, then, goodbye,” Hermione says beneath a snicker as she leaves, brushing past the irate Healer still standing in the doorway. The Healer glances back after her and then reverts her eyes to Tonks.
“Aren’t you an Auror?” the Healer asks, seeming relieved. “Are you here on an investigation? Have you found out anything else about his curse?”
“Nothing you don’t already know,” Tonks replies. “But you and I still ought to have a quick word, I think.”
She is still speaking with the Healer as she guides her out of the room, closing the door behind her.
Harry looks at the door and slowly shakes his head. He puts his hands behind his head, leans back against the wall again, and smiles. In his mind, he imagines he hears himself humming.
Pairing: Harry/Tonks, perhaps others…
Prompt: the room where women come and go
Word Count: 1982
Rating: PG
Summary: Everyone seems to be talking but Harry.
A/N: Standard disclaimer applies. The HP universe/characters, etc. = not mine.
“There’s a woman here to see you, Mr. Potter,” says the Healer, who is standing at the foot of his hospital bed, holding a chart and smiling. She shoves her quill into one of her robe pockets, along with her wand.
“This one, I recognize,” she continues, “so I’ll allow the visit, but do keep it brief, please. You aren’t progressing as fast as I would like to see, and I really do think it’s because you aren’t resting enough. Your body needs rest in order to heal- magic can only do so much.”
He raises his eyebrows hopefully at the mention of his visitor, but nods his head to show that he understands her admonition. He tries not to convey his aggravation at not being able to argue or even agree. He wants to feel more grateful than he actually is. Still, his eagerness at the arrival of his guest bests all of his intentions, and he finds himself gazing anxiously at the door.
His Healer gets the point and makes her way to the door, opening it to allow Hermione Granger to step through.
“Remember,” the Healer said as she steps from the room, “brief. Oh, and Mr. Potter, thank you again- for what you‘re doing.”
Hermione pushes the door closed and gives an exasperated sigh.
“Would you believe I had to sit through a fifteen minute visitor’s orientation lecture before they would let me in to see you? As if I don‘t know how to behave in a hospital, or that I‘m going to lose all sense of decorum simply because I‘m here to visit Harry Potter!”
Harry laughs soundlessly and motions for her to come closer. With a broad, genuine smile, she obliges, running quickly to his bedside and wrapping him in a hug.
“I’ve missed you,” she says quietly. She kisses his cheek and then sits in a chair beside his head. He smiles and nods to her as she takes his hand. She looks nervously around the room as if she expects someone else to be there. He gives her hand a reassuring squeeze and places it in her lap. The corners of her mouth rise into another grin, but her eyes are sad.
“It’s good to see you,” she tells him. “I wasn’t sure they would let me in today. I was surprised that the Healer seemed to recognize me at all. I never thought of ‘Hermione Granger’ as a famous person. Have you?”
He taps the ring on the fourth finger of her left hand.
“Oh… right… ‘Hermione Weasley.’ It’s easy to forget, with him like he is. The Healers don’t like to say much about him- only that he doesn’t feel any pain. I guess that’s something, then, isn’t it?”
He shrugs sadly.
“Harry, I’ve heard… about what you’ve agreed to, and I don’t like it,” she continues. Harry leans back against the headboard of his bed, tilts his head back against the wall, and stares at the ceiling. He rolls his head slowly from side to side, as if he is trying to dust the wall with his hair.
“Don’t ignore me- you knew I wouldn’t like this- how anyone could think to ask this of you is beyond anything remotely resembling fair. You’re really going to let them sterilize you because they’re possessed of the ridiculously paranoid notion that some nonexistent portion of Voldemort may be passed to your children?”
He stares at the ceiling with greater intent and concentration.
“After you’ve been through everything you’ve been through- after you’ve seen your best friends murdered and tortured into insanity- after you’ve been starved and tortured and beaten and mocked- after you hunted down and destroyed more horcruxes than even Dumbledore ever knew existed- after you killed Voldemort finally with your own hands…”
Her voice has risen to a shout and she finds that she is standing, her fists clenched in her own hair. Without looking at her, Harry shakes his head and pats the seat of the chair. She takes several deep breaths and acquiesces.
“Harry,” she begins again, more calmly. “This is really too much for them to ask of you- especially with you already being in St. Mungo’s for so long. You deserve a chance at a normal life. Once you’ve finished healing- once these curses have gone away, you can be whole again. I really believe that- you have to believe it, too.”
He looks away for a long moment and then looks at her again, slowly rubbing his nose and raising his eyebrows. She reacts by scratching her own nose mindlessly, but her eyes widen in shock as she suddenly finds herself caught in an heated embrace, being feverishly kissed, and flushing.
She breaks the kiss quickly and pushes his hands away, rising from her chair and backing away, sputtering.
“Harry, what the- why are you doing this?” she cries.
“I’m curious about that, too,” says Nymphadora Tonks. She is leaning, arms folded, against the frame of the open door.
Confused and wincing, Harry wipes his mouth and points to Hermione, scratches his nose and looks back again at Tonks. She sighs lightly as she closes the door behind her and strides across the room. She sits on Harry’s bed, scooting close to him and tousling his hair.
“Wotcher, Harry,” she says with a smirk. “Your glasses are crooked again.”
He blushes and straightens them. He reaches for her hands but she pulls away. He tries again, this time managing to grasp her left hand, which she snatches back quickly. With a look of determination, he throws himself forward and pins her wrists.
She breaks into a mischievous laugh.
“Ok, you’re right,” she capitulates. “You know I’m not angry. I can’t ever fool you for long.”
They kiss for several moments before they remember that they are not alone.
Hermione is standing in the far corner of the room, nervously twisting her wedding ring. Her eyes are tearful and her cheeks are pink.
“I’m…sorry?” she whispers. “I really feel like I shouldn’t be here right now- I guess I’ve missed something. I should be probably be going.”
Harry puts his hands flat on the bed and shakes his head at her violently. Tonks stands and takes her by the arm.
“No, you don’t,” Tonks says. She pulls a bewildered Hermione back to the bedside chair and sits back on the bed next to Harry. “You haven’t done anything wrong- this is our fault. What a stupid signal we’ve come up with, Harry. Rubbing the nose- everybody rubs their nose, for Pete’s sake! What were we thinking? I’m an Auror, for crying out loud- I should have thought of something more subtle.”
“So let me get this straight,” says Hermione. “The two of you are seeing one another, but you don’t want anyone to know, so you’ve been changing yourself to look like different women when you visit?”
Tonks nods.
“You’ve about got it,” she replies. “Only Harry couldn’t ask if it were me because of that stupid curse, so I told him just to rub his nose if he felt unsure, and if it was me, I’d scratch my nose back at him.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Hermione says. “Why don’t you just morph back to yourself once you’re in the room?”
Harry puts his hands together and makes a flapping motion, points to his glasses and then the window. He frowns and mimes writing.
“Harry noticed your friend Rita Skeeter buzzing at his window the first day I visited. We’ve had security tightened up since then, but we decided still that it was better to be safe than sorry. He deserves to have some privacy, and I do too, I guess. I won‘t say it hasn‘t been… weird, sometimes.”
Hermione smiles at the two of them.
“Well, I’m glad for the both of you then, at any rate,” she tells them. “But maybe you could try a different signal from now on, or better yet, just be honest about your relationship. You do realize you’re developing a terrible reputation around the hospital, don‘t you, Harry? I mean, this certainly explains all the odd looks, the orientation lecture…”
Harry raises his eyebrows and looks at Tonks, who laughs in return.
“She’s right,” Tonks tells him. “It’s all over St. Mungo’s, all over the ministry- that’s why I stopped by today, just like I am. I thought maybe you and I had better come clean, at least to the people we care about. I mean- well, Molly Weasley’s pretty distressed that everyone’s calling you ‘St. Mungo’s Casanova.’”
Harry rolls his eyes.
“And,” she continues, “I wanted to tell you that I heard what the Ministry’s asked you to do, and that I don’t like it.”
He lowers his head.
“Thank you, Tonks!” Hermione exclaims. “You see, Harry, I’m not the only one that-”
“But,” Tonks interrupts, “it’s your decision. I’m with you, regardless.”
Hermione’s jaw drops slightly.
“A lot happened while you were in hiding, Hermione,” Tonks continues, her gaze never leaving Harry’s. “Harry’s been through more than you think. For the first six months after he killed Voldemort, he couldn’t even write- it still hurts him to scratch out more than a word or two That‘s why you had to stay in hiding for so long- he couldn‘t communicate to anyone where you were. We still don’t know how this happened- only that when he touched Voldemort, when he put his own hands to Voldemort’s neck, he stopped being able to communicate. It’s always been obvious that there was some connection between the two of them, but since no one knows the nature of it- well, it makes people nervous. More importantly to me, it makes Harry nervous. He has to do what he thinks is best for himself, for once in his life, and if being magically sterilized gives him a little bit of peace, I can‘t really blame him for doing it.”
Harry puts his hand under her chin and pulls her face to his. His kiss is an acknowledgement of her understanding. For the second time today, they forget briefly that they are not alone. She ends the kiss gently and gives him a wink as the Healer sticks her head in the room.
“Visiting time is over,” she calls, drumming her fingernails against the chart she is holding. “I don’t remember approving two visitors, Mr. Potter. This is quickly becoming a problem.”
“Sorry,” Hermione says, leaning in to give Harry a quick, awkward hug, “I’ve got to be going, anyway. I’ll be staying at the Burrow for a while, at least until I’ve decided what I’m going to do with myself.”
“You’ve got a lot to adjust to, and a lot to catch up on,” Tonks agrees. “Will you let Molly know that I’ll be by later? I reckon it’s time to let her in on all of this.”
“Not another woman!” cries the flustered Healer. “How many women does any one man need?“
Tonks and Hermione are as silent as Harry as the three of them exchange quick looks.
“Right, then, goodbye,” Hermione says beneath a snicker as she leaves, brushing past the irate Healer still standing in the doorway. The Healer glances back after her and then reverts her eyes to Tonks.
“Aren’t you an Auror?” the Healer asks, seeming relieved. “Are you here on an investigation? Have you found out anything else about his curse?”
“Nothing you don’t already know,” Tonks replies. “But you and I still ought to have a quick word, I think.”
She is still speaking with the Healer as she guides her out of the room, closing the door behind her.
Harry looks at the door and slowly shakes his head. He puts his hands behind his head, leans back against the wall again, and smiles. In his mind, he imagines he hears himself humming.