The Bermuda Trap

About the time that William Canning was settling down behind his desk, grease spotted newspaper full of fish and chips in front of him, the ceremonies were due to start.

He watched her from the back, sitting next to Molly, her son leaning against her. It wasn't right, but there was nothing he could do to stop it. Not now, not so late in the game. And she was just ready to move onto someone new. That he knew for sure. She could push that kiss away, tell herself that he was just a friend, that both of them were in the wrong situation, but she'd come to the realization soon enough. Lord, he hoped she would. He had the moment his lips met hers. Before that, he hadn't admitted it to himself. Now he had no choice; she was on his mind all the time.

There must have been a thousand people there. Not to mention that it was broadcast over the Wireless Wizarding Network. I wasn't nervous as James and I climbed into Ron's Ministry car, or when Ginny straightened my wide-brimmed hat just before we found our seats. I wasn't nervous when people pointed and whispered as James and I passed by. I wasn't nervous when I saw Draco and felt a near overwhelming urge to kiss him. Again. So much for 'just a friend'. So much for 'it meant nothing'. Who was I kidding? He was the first man I'd been that close to in six years. Six years. And I needed him just as much as I wanted him.

I wasn't nervous when my name was called. But after I was done, that's another story entirely. It's one of my stranger qualities - I'm never really nervous until after I'm finished speaking. I've always been that way.

As I fiddled with the note cards in my lap, Molly leaned over and squeezed my hand. I looked up at her with a watery smile as James let out a soft snore, his head leaning against my shoulder. Lochlan was still prattling. Little did I know that yesterday Ginny had fixed it with the Minister himself that I should be allowed to speak today. Molly was convinced he was after either Ginny or I. As I watched Lochlan, taking in his rather exaggerated coat tails and gleaming chestnut hair, I was certain that it was me he was after. What wizarding politician would dress as a Muggle on a Remembrance Day Ceremony unless he had an ulterior motive?

The shiny black shoes, the crisp collar, the yellow pin on his lapel, everything was a show of force, a show that wizards could function in both worlds. Added to this was the fact that Ginny would rather chew her foot off than date a politician. Publicity, I assumed, for I was certain it wasn't genuine affection. I tipped my head back, imagining the headlines - "Minister Dates Potter's Widow" and "Potter and Lochlan: A Battle For the Girl". Oh yes, the Daily Prophet would come up with something just as revolting if not more so. Molly thought my speaking today was my first step in. She was more paranoid than Ron, but at least hers was with good reason.

As Lochlan's speech wound down, I found myself thinking, once again, of Harry. Six was such an . . . unnatural number. Not like seven, the most magically powerful number, or five, the strong Roman Numeral V that commanded armies. Thing is, he was right there, in my mind, as clear, as real and as handsome as ever. The last time I saw him . . . I swallowed hard. It wasn't getting any easier, it was just becoming more normal. More mundane. The sliver you just can't pull out of your finger. The one that just sits and festers until the festering becomes second nature, and it doesn't hurt...would it ever not hurt?

It was the clapping that roused me. Whilst I was thinking of Harry, Lochlan had introduced me. I hadn't heard a word. Gently tipping James's head onto Molly's shoulder, I stood up and took my first steps towards the raised platform. Lochlan gave me his hand as he assisted me up the stairs. Once I was safely on stage, he removed himself with a dignified step back of the podium.

I had not opening joke, no quote, no touching story other than that of my own. I had nothing to lose, so I plunged in.

"Thank you, Minister, for allowing me to address the gathering today," I began, looking back at Lochlan. He flashed me a brilliant smile. I clenched my teeth in return and turned my gaze back onto the audience. "I know most of you are here to remember friends, relatives and comrades," I continued, "but put those loved ones aside, if you will, for one moment." The people stirred, obviously taken aback by my unexpected turn. "You are also here to remember Voldemort." At this there was an audible gasp. Lochlan cleared his throat and remained standing, and I picked up my position once again. "Whether you want to forget him, or you want to praise his downfall, he is in some aspect of your thoughts. On this sixth anniversary of the fall of Mr. Thomas Riddle, we must count our blessings. First, we now live in a safe, peaceful world. Second, we were privileged enough to know those who died trying to keep it that way. And we must remember them.

"Albus Dumbledore," I said after a deep breath, "was one of the greatest modern wizards of our time. His ideals of strength, courage, intelligence, love and honour will live on forever in the hearts of those who knew him. And now they will live on forever in the hearts of all. If you would look closely at the yellow pin that many of you are wearing," I said smiling, "you will find those five words engraved around the outside. And yes, it smells of lemons. As those of you close to him will remember, Dumbledore was a great fan of Muggle lemon drops." There was a ripple of laughter as people relaxed and allowed themselves to smile.

"Many of you knew my husband, Harry Potter. This day also marks the sixth anniversary of his disappearance. I know you all must be thinking that I have to learn to move on, learn to embrace his memory and put my energies to a use." I glanced at Molly; her face was full of apprehension. "And I assure you that I am trying, and as of late, through the help of close family and friends, I have been able to." At this I searched the crowd for Draco, but the familiar face evaded me. "Although he has never been located, there is one thing I refuse to give up, and that is hope. The hope that he is in a better place, in a good place, in a safe place. And I urge all of you to do just as I have, to move on and to hope. For if there is even the slightest chance, hope exists.

People in the audience were nodding and speaking quietly amongst each other. I saw my chance - I had them - and took it. "We may know them," I said with some presence, winding down my speech, "but so many don't. So many are out there right now, with no regard for the people who made the ultimate sacrifice. My son . ." I began, swallowing hard. "My son will never get the chance to know his father. So many people never had the opportunity to meet any of the fine men and women who made this world what it is today. The task now falls to us. We must take their torch, hold it high, and tell all the people who know nothing about our fallen heroes everything about them. It is our duty to them, to make their message heard, to make their lives count."

At this point my hands were shaking so hard I could barely see my notes. But I didn't need them now. I was done. Stepping back, I backed straight into the Minister, who motioned for me to stay on stage. It was impossible for him to speak over the applause.

"As you can see," Lochlan began, his deep voice quieting the commendations, "this young woman has made quite an impression on all of you. I would like to thank her for taking the time to write that rather inspiring speech," at this he turned to look at me, his eyes smiling in admiration, "on such short notice. Thank you all for coming today to commemorate our fallen heroes." His voice became all the more serious, a frown creased his forehead and he leaned on the podium as though for support. "Only when we learn from the past can we truly shape our own futures. I feel that that has been done today. Please try to find time next year to attend."

The crowd erupted into applause once again, whether for Lochlan or myself I was not quite sure. The Minister spun on his heel and offered me his arm, which I accepted because my knees were shaking so very terribly.

"I do hope, Mrs. Potter, that we may see each other again," began Lochlan very quietly after he had escorted me down the stairs. "I feel that you could make a very big impact on our Veteran's Affairs Department. We're missing someone with your kind of experience and compassion. Let me know if you're interested."

I looked straight into his shocking blue eyes and smiled. "I'd love that. And call me Hermione, please. No one's called me Mrs. Potter in . . ." I paused, gathering my thoughts, "a long time."

"Of course, Hermione. I must leave you now, I fear, before your family does tear you away. Good Afternoon, Hermione." He nodded, almost bowed, and strode off.

"And you say you can't give a speech," grinned Ron, pushing his way through a crowd before wrapping me in a bear hug. "You were fantastic," he whispered. I glowed at the compliment. I knew he truly meant it.

"Mummy!" cried James, hurling himself against my leg. I bent down and kissed his cheek, just as a flashbulb went off. I stood up, ready to fight off whoever was taking pictures, but Ginny already had it handled.

"Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen, but Mrs. Potter will not be taking any questions until her press conference, which will be held in the Longbottom Room on Level Three. Anyone who tries to harass her before then will be dealt with by her personal fleet of aurors." At this, Ginny turned and grinned at me before diplomatically shoving off the reporters. "Thank you for your patience, and we'll see you in an hour."

Without hesitating Ron wrapped his arm around mine, Ginny took hold of James's hand, and five black-cloaked wizards escorted us the lift. Several minutes later we exited on the fifth level and Ron took James and I to his office. It was small, yet comfortably furnished with a large desk and matching swivel chair, a small couch and several filing cabinets.

"Welcome to my humble abode," snivelled Ron in a terrible attempt at what he thought was a posh voice. I laughed and sank down onto the couch, tears pouring from an inner well that I thought was dry.