A Long Way from Home

Chapter VI

December 12, 2003

Bright orange flames licked the bricks lining the fireplace in the living room of 27 Hemlock Lane. A lone figure stood before the hearth, moving the logs around with a long poker. Her profile was forlorn, hair down and hanging limply around her face. She sighed and set the poker down before settling herself amongst a few pillows in front of the flames.

This is how Harry found Hermione when he returned from a day interviewing prisoners at the Ministry. He had been working overtime as a Ministry contractor and was still conducting his own private investigation with the aid of several Order members. He had left the Ministry just after five and had met Arthur Weasley at the Leaky Cauldron. Arthur had given him several parchment rolls of notes about potential suspects and it would take Harry a couple of hours work to get through everything.

“Hermione?” Harry said quietly, not wishing to startle her.

“Oh, hi,” she said slowly, turning to look at him. “How was your day?”

He held out a hand to help her off the floor. “It was busy. If you’re free tonight, I have some notes I’d like your help with.”

She nodded and led him into the kitchen, where a roast was waiting for them in the oven. She busied herself with the side dishes while he explained his newest information.

“We got a name today.”

She rested a large serving spoon on the counter and turned to look at him. “Who is it?”

“Oistin Beryan. He’s an American wizard with family ties in Ireland.”

“The name’s not familiar,” Hermione replied, returning her concentration to the mashed potatoes.

“It wouldn’t be. He’s only 25 and I’m pretty sure the only reason he has any power is because he’s rich. Something to do with Muggle investments in America.”

“He doesn’t sound like a very serious threat.”

Harry shrugged. “He really isn’t. I think he’s just taking advantage of the situation to wreak havoc. His methods aren’t very well thought out and his plans are very amateur.”

“That’s good news, I suppose," Hermione replied as she set a knife to chopping tomatoes for their salads. "I guess it means we aren’t going to have to do much else.”

“Probably not. We’ll keep watch as usual, but I think the Ministry can handle this one. I imagine that Scrimgeour is going to have to answer for all the uneasiness he caused. People have been pretty panicked.”

“What else is known about him?” Hermione asked as she floated the food over to the table. She settled across from Harry and they began to make their plates.

“Not much, really. I get the feeling that the Aurors don’t consider him a major threat.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Hermione said, slamming her water glass onto the table. “He’s caused some major incidents. He may not be the next Dark Lord, but he’s still responsible for the deaths of several people. That can’t go unpunished.”

“And it won’t,” Harry replied. “He’ll be found, captured and punished. Thankfully, this means the Ministry won’t be rolling out those damn safety flyers again. I couldn’t bear to know what Molly and Arthur’s secret questions are again.”

Hermione groaned and laughed for what Harry figured to be the first time in several days. Harry smiled at her. “What do you have planned tonight?”

“Not much. I need to go over some notes that Dr. Tyler sent today, but other than that, I’m open.”

“Excellent. I’m in the mood for a game of Exploding Snap later, before we start going over those notes.”

“Well that sounds like a whole bunch of fun, Harry. Are we going to put our old Hogwarts uniforms on and pretend we’re in the Gryffindor common room?”

“Sounds kinky,” Harry replied, grinning wickedly at her.

Hermione flushed and quickly took an oversized bite of her dinner roll.

Harry snickered and stabbed at a piece of meat with his fork. They ate in comfortable silence for awhile and had barely finished dinner when the doorbell chimed.

“Hello?” a familiar voice called out. “Anybody home?” Harry wondered idly why they even bothered to ring the doorbell; the wards were set to allow them immediate admittance.

“We’re in the kitchen!” Hermione replied, standing up to greet Ron and Andie. The pair occasionally dropped in unannounced, but neither Harry nor Hermione ever really minded.

“Hullo, Harry, Hermione, what’s going on?” Ron greeted them enthusiastically, picking up Hermione in his arms and giving her a huge hug. She laughed and patted him gently on the shoulder before turning to greet Andie. Harry greeted his friend and they went to the refrigerator to get beverages. Harry pulled out a bottle of wine to pour Hermione a glass and Ron took out two bottles of ale. Harry offered a glass to Andie, who refused immediately and grinned wildly at him.

Hermione noticed the look and smiled. "Oy, what's all the grinning?” she asked as Andie seated herself at the island in the center of the kitchen. Hermione stood on the other side, hands on hips.

It was Ron who answered. “She’s pregnant!” Andie rolled her eyes and slapped Ron’s arm.

“Way to keep the secret, Weasley.”

“Are you really?” Hermione asked, as Ron took a seat next to Andie. Harry moved to stand next to Hermione and rested his elbows on the high counter-top.

Andie nodded. “About six weeks, actually. I’ve only known a few days though.”

“That’s wonderful; congratulations, mate,” Harry said, reaching across the island to slap Ron on the back. Hermione repeated his sentiment and squeezed Andie’s hand.

“Cheers,” Ron replied, looping his arm around his wife’s shoulders and smiling goofily.

“Did you tell your mum yet?” Hermione inquired, smirking.

Ron laughed. “No way. I don’t think I’m ready for that much emotion just yet. You ought to have seen her when Charlie told her that they were expecting Isaac. She was crying and all this nonsense.”

“I wanted to keep it a bit of a secret until the pregnancy was further along,” Andie explained.

Hermione nodded, “That’s sensible, I think.”

“But we had to tell you, of course,” Ron said.

“Oh, come on, Ron, you have to tell everyone. You’re no good at keeping secrets,” Harry replied.

Ron agreed and took a swig of his ale. At this, Harry was prompted to toast Ron and Andie and they all clinked glasses.

"So, is anyone up for a game of Exploding Snap?" Harry asked, grinning. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Actually, mate, we can't stay too long. Andie just had a question for Hermione about a lesson tomorrow and I wanted to catch up with you on a couple of things."

Harry pouted mockingly before nodding his head. "Alright then, let's go into my office."

Hermione settled in to talk to Andie and Harry led Ron to his office. Ron shut the door behind them and sat in a chair facing Harry's desk.

"What's going on?" Ron asked, his voice low.

Harry's face was suddenly serious as he sat next to Ron. "We don't know an awful lot right now. We've a name, and I think he's the leader of the whole thing." Harry filled Ron in on everything he had told Hermione and his best friend listened carefully.

“Do you perceive him as a threat?” Ron asked, after Harry had told him the Ministry’s position on Beryan.

Harry considered his friend carefully. “I’m not sure yet, hence the extra notes. I don’t feel we have all the information required to make that assumption, so I’ll continue running a side investigation for the Order.” The Order remained together, albeit in fairly informal circumstances. Dumbledore had all but officially dissolved the group between the last two Voldemort wars, but Harry, as chosen successor, had opted to keep it running so that they could be more prepared the next time.

"When do you make a report?" Ron asked, after Harry had finished his explanation.

"Your dad gave me a list of possible suspects, Beryan's followers. I need to go over those and investigate any leads before I make any further assumptions," Harry replied, motioning to the notes he had brought home.

"Do you need help?" Ron asked, eyeing the stack of papers wearily.

"Not really. Hermione is going to help me go through them later."

Ron seemed relieved at this and Harry cracked a smile. "Do you think they're done yet?"

Ron shrugged. "I don't even really know what they're talking about. Just because my wife is a Transfiguration teacher doesn't mean I care anymore about the whole subject than I did when I was a student."

Harry laughed and patted Ron on the back. "Good to know some things never change," he said. Ron smiled at him and Harry felt a rush of warmth for his long-time friend. His amazement had not yet ceased over what a truly great friend Ron was.

"How are you feeling, by the way?" Harry asked suddenly, deciding there wasn't really any easy way to broach the topic.

"Do you mean in general or in regards to, well, you know, the other day?" Ron replied quietly, looking down at his hands.

Harry sighed, thinking of their conversation in Ron's office only a week prior. He had read Ron's owl and walked right over to his friend's house. He had discovered Ron sitting stilly in a chair, staring straight ahead and looking ghostly pale. He had roused him and coaxed Ron into telling him what was wrong.

It was the first time Harry had ever really heard Ron's full account of his role in the ritual preparations. Hermione had shared her story easily enough, considering all she had seen. Ron, however, hadn't mentioned it once. Apparently, something McGonagall had said sent him to remembering and the two best friends spent over two hours talking through everything. Harry had felt the familiar guilt settle on his shoulders, but Ron had recognized this and had admonished him to let it go.

"The other day," Harry said.

"Alright. Had a couple of rough nights of sleep, but I'm feeling better. It's hard to be upset when there's so much good happening," Ron answered, smiling slightly. The smile turned quickly to a frown, however, as his gaze met Harry's. "You didn't tell Hermione about it?"

Harry shook his head. "It's not my story to tell, is it?"

After a long, silent moment, Ron nodded once and stood up. "Shall we check on the girls then?"

Shrugging, Harry stood as well and followed Ron back to the kitchen.

Andie and Hermione were still sitting in the kitchen, their heads bent close together in quiet discussion. Hermione was mapping out something carefully on a roll of parchment and Andie was asking pointed questions about her spells.

"I didn't think that would work?"

"Well, it wouldn't if you were using the passive form of the spell, but if you use the active 'ire', you'll get the correct result."

Andie sighed. "Seems simple when you put it that way."

Hermione just smiled and turned to look at Harry and Ron. "Alright, boys?"

Harry nodded as Ron went to wrap his arms around Andie's shoulders.

"Are you about ready to head home, love? Tomorrow is going to be a long day."

"Ugh, you're right. We'd better head out then. Cheers, Hermione, for your help," she said.

"Any time," Hermione replied kindly.

Harry walked the couple to the door as Hermione began to tidy up the kitchen. He wandered back in after checking that all of the wards were up properly. His heart leapt into his throat as he watched Hermione filling the sink with hot, soapy water. She was leaning on one hand against the counter and the other hand was rubbing at a spot on her neck. Her posture was tired and he could tell that her somber mood from earlier had returned.

Moving noiselessly across the room, Harry reached around Hermione and turned the water off. He lifted his hands to her shoulders and began rubbing them gently, feeling her immediately relax under his grip.

She moaned softly and let her head roll forward. Harry allowed his gaze to travel down to her bare neck and longed to kiss the soft, pale flesh there. She was suddenly too close to him, but he restrained the instinct to jump back from her. He settled on giving her shoulders a few more squeezes and stepping back slowly.

"I need to get started on those notes. If I don't get everything together tonight, I won't be able to look at them again until I return from New York."

"Do you still need my help?"

"I think you should sleep."

Hermione turned fully around to look at him. "I'm fine; I really want to help you with this."

Harry considered her carefully. "I'll make you a deal. You've been working a lot lately, so take a break for tonight and I'll leave you half the list to look at while I'm gone. I have the Greater Pensieve to use for the next long while, so you can work without me."

Hermione's face brightened. "How did you get hold of that?"

Harry grinned over her excitement of the new toy. The Greater Pensieve preserved memories of all Ministry records and reports. Any known information on Beryan's group members would be in it. "The Minister loaned it to me."

"Excellent. You've got yourself a deal, Potter, so I guess I'll head to bed after I finish these dishes." She leaned up and kissed him soundly on the cheek. "What time do you leave tomorrow?"

"After lunch. No sense in rushing off to the States so early when the time difference is what it is."

"Lovely. Then I'll see you at breakfast." She turned back to the sink and began waving her wand over the dirty dishes.

Harry took himself back to the office and settled down with the rolls of parchment.

***

Hermione waited until after she heard the tell-tale pop of disapparation before she hurried up to Harry's office and settled down at his desk. A large, carved stone bowl was resting there, filled with a multi-colored fog of silver, gold, copper, lavender and white. She had seen it only once or twice before, during their studies of Horcruxes in seventh year. It was still a new device then and had been full of bugs, but this looked like a newer bowl and had different runes. The individual colors in the fog gave her hope that the magic had been much improved.

She took out her wand and stirred the contents softly, watching the colors swirl. She concentrated her thoughts as she held her wand in the Pensieve and soon an onyx thread slipped from the tip, swirling opposite the other colors. Mesmerized, Hermione watched as the shimmering shades slipped away, leaving only the copper and onyx threads. She leaned forward and let herself fall into the Pensieve.

A large band struck up a merry little fanfare as the Trio entered a large Ministry ballroom. Foreign dignitaries, government higher-ups and countless friends and family members dotted the crowds edging the room. Harry looked dashing in black and burgundy dress robes. On his arm was Ginny, wearing a dark green gown. Hermione knew now that it was the last time they would be together for five years. She watched as a younger version of herself glided onto the dance floor behind Harry and Ginny, clutching happily to the arm of Ron. They were fresh from the war, still reeling with everything that had happened. For one night, however, they were happy and forgetful of everything that had transpired. For the last time, and maybe even the first, they were free to be young and innocent. The music changed to a dance and they were surrounded on all sides by countless witches and wizards, all fresh-faced and gleeful after such a spectacular victory.

Hermione was able to wander freely about the room, witnessing things she had missed the first time around. The Pensieve allowed for collective memories of an event and Hermione noticed how uncomfortable Ginny and Harry eventually grew in each other's arms. They hadn't been together, as Harry had so wished, since the previous June, but Molly prodded Harry to take Ginny to the Ministry Celebration Ball. He had agreed and thus, they were arm in arm and fairly miserable as the evening wore on. For her own part, she and Ron looked blissful, completely ignorant of the fights they would have over the coming weeks, as the other shoe finally fell. She remembered her own delight at the evening's events. Voldemort had fallen only two days prior and her whole future was stretching out before her. She was comfortable in Ron's arms and her parents were in view, dancing and occasionally turning to watch her dance.

Her father looked handsome in a tuxedo and her mother was wearing a long navy-colored dress. They looked much younger than she remembered them to be. Their only daughter was safe, the evil in her world vanquished for good. They didn't know the whole story, no one did, but it was enough to know that no harm could come to her anymore and that she was a hero.

It was a glorious night indeed; everyone was unaware of what awaited them in less than forty-eight hours. The overhead ceiling had been Vanished and in its place was simply the night sky. Owls zoomed across the starry expanse, carrying joyous words and loving missives far and wide. Shooting stars and magical fireworks blossomed like wild flowers. Reality could wait 'til morning, this night was theirs.

Hermione was crying softly as her feet touched the solid floor of Harry's office. Those few days of happiness had a steep price, as they soon found out. If only they had known, if someone could have told them that it was too soon to celebrate.

Sighing, she settled herself down to go through Harry's notes, trying to push the relived memory out of her mind.

Several hours later, a light tapping came at the window and Hermione moved to let the local delivery owl in. It dropped the latest copy of the Evening Prophet on the desk and held out a leg for her to deposit the fee. She fished a few Knuts from her pocket and dropped them in before picking up the paper and flipping through it casually. The front-page news was fairly mundane, but there was a long letter on the Letters Page that was about her. She sighed, debating whether or not she should even bother reading. Probably the same old drivel that it had been for weeks. She looked to the byline and paled slightly. Dr. Tobias Viridian was a renowned Healer at St. Mungo's and she had used a great deal of his research as a jumping off point for some of her own work. Knowing that she might regret it, she went ahead and read his Star Letter.

Dear Madam Editor,

Your continued coverage and editorials of the paper published by Ms. Granger on Magical Genetics is getting to be a bit repetitive. I personally do not agree with her tactics in publishing such a paper, as we are so fresh from a war fought largely over the differences between Muggleborns and Pureblood witches and wizards.

I believe her paper is unnecessary, as it should go unsaid that these two groups are anything but equal. Her paper eschews the importance of wizarding tradition and it is exactly the sort of thing that just stirs up trouble. By hypothesizing that wizards could not survive without Muggles, Ms. Granger has opened the floodgates for more animosity within our ranks. A careful balance has been achieved in recent years and I do not support this most recent attempt to usurp it.

Ms. Granger lost family and friends in the last war. Surely she of all people should understand the importance of maintaining the peace? We don't want a recurrence of the Last Battle so soon and if any of the recent attacks are evidence, it isn't likely that we'll get our wish. This is a time when we should be united, not divided. Shame on you, Ms. Granger.

Dr. Tobias Viridian
Healer and Keeper of General Well-Being
St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries

Please note: Letters submitted via this forum are not considered the official opinions of the Evening Prophet, even if we happen to agree.

Hermione glared at the Evening Prophet briefly before she let her temper get the better of her. Picking up her wand, she blasted the paper, not really caring if Harry's desk was damaged. Her anger, frustration and hurt did not abate and she quickly left Harry's office, storming down the stairs and into her own study. She slammed the door, looking at all her papers and work materials. She had spent nearly five years working on this theory, hoping to better understand how magic worked. When she began working harder from a genetic angle, she had honestly believed her work would be for the better. It would prove once and for all that no particular group was better than any other. They were all pieces in a larger puzzle, each necessary for the other to survive.

Clutching her hands in her bushy hair, Hermione let out a strangled cry and began pushing all her papers into a cardboard box. She was done with this whole thing. If the whole damned world around her wanted to stay in the 16th century that was just fine by her.

Damn them all, she thought as tears slid down her face. Every frustration, every fear of the last five years was coursing through her veins as she placed files, rolls of parchment and loose notes into the box. She waved her wand finally, collecting the papers into a cyclone. She watched as her work spun wildly before shrinking itself and settling into the cardboard box. She shoved the whole mess into a cabinet and slammed the door to that as well. The tears continued unabated as she sat herself down on the floor, watching a few orphaned papers flutter towards the floor. She flicked her wand and each of the pages burst apart, scattering little white pieces of paper like snow.

Her mind skipped around; to the memory she had just watched in the Pensieve, to seeing her father dead in the kitchen, to Harry telling her goodbye, to her last fight with Ron. She remembered Dumbledore's funeral and everything that she had promised herself that day. She would stay by Harry's side and fight for this world. She would spend her life working to make sure that her own children and her children's children would never see what she had.

She knew now that it had simply been her age talking. She had been young and idealistic. Now, she knew there was no fixing any of it, not really. They may be magical, but they were still just humans. There was no fixing that. Sighing, Hermione trudged up to her bathroom and started the tub running as hot as it would go. She peeled her clothing off and sunk down into the hot water, hissing as it lapped at her skin, burning ever so slightly. The water singed at her nerves, stripping away her thoughts of anger and frustration. She was left only with sadness and a feeling of loss. All of that youthful idealism was gone and in its place, she was hollow. The last vestiges of innocence were finally gone and she was surprised at this, thinking it had all left her long ago. Her work had been a product of that innocence and Hermione felt a fool. Her feelings of anger and even betrayal slid away to make room for a new feeling. She wanted Harry. Her frustration welled further at his absence, and not for the first time, she wondered why. The memory in the Pensieve had been a reminder of what her feelings had once been like for Ron, but there was something different about this. She longed for Harry to swoop in and rescue her from her fears and regrets. She wondered when her life had become so complicated. Wasn’t it only a few months ago that she’d been living in seclusion, enjoying her work and her alone time? She had cherished her ability to find inner peace and sanctuary – she hadn’t needed it from anyone else. Now, she felt as if she might suffocate from the sheer need of Harry. She longed for his comforting embrace, knowing that his mere presence would calm her immensely. Her tears dried up and she let out a slow breath. It was by no means the first cry she'd had over the events of her life, but perhaps it was the first that had done any good. She lay in the tub until the water began to chill. It was late then and she was exhausted from her outburst. Sighing, she drained the tub and donned her pajamas and a pair of fuzzy slippers. Fifteen minutes later, she was making her way to bed with a cup of tea and a piece of chocolate, determined to wallow just a little while longer.

She awoke early the next morning to a gray sky and an eerie silence over everything. She walked across her bedroom to the window and pulled back the curtains.

"Oh!" she cried, looking out over the lane stretching to Hogsmeade. The whole area was blanketed in pristine white snow. As she looked out over the virgin, glittering expanse, she felt her frustrations and hurts of the past twelve hours slip away. Her heart softened and she felt herself smiling contentedly for the first time in several weeks. She heard Christmas carolers in the lane, singing "Jingle Bells" and laughed softly. Determined, she quickly went downstairs. In her study, she wrote a quick note to Ron, inviting him and Andie to dinner. She looked at her watch. 8 o'clock. Harry would be home close to dinnertime.

After a quick breakfast, Hermione went to her wizarding wireless and turned the dial until soft Christmas music floated out of the device. She showered and changed into jeans and a sweater. With her wand, she began hanging various Christmas decorations, all the while humming along to the carols. Quite simply, she was determined to enjoy the next few weeks. She pushed work from her mind, purposely forgetting her feelings and frustrations over everything. Her tears the night before had been cleansing and she actually felt lighter. It was her first Christmas among the living (as she had come to call it) and she would not allow events out of her control to ruin that.

She was satisfied with the decorations, including a real pine tree, adorned with various magical ornaments, before she headed out to Diagon Alley to finish her Christmas shopping. Harry, Ron and her mother were all that remained, simply because they were the hardest gifts. For her mother, she stepped in Madam Malkin's, looking for a self-tailoring cloak. She knew that giving it to a Muggle was a legal gray area but she wasn't worried about anyone finding out. She picked through everything on display before settling on a deep emerald green cloak of soft wool. It was practical but still had a luxurious feeling to it. Madam Malkin wrapped it up for her and promised to have it delivered by owl before the end of the day.

Harry's gift was harder still to find. She found him a book, published by Colin Creevy, of moving landscapes. Colin had started selling the series last year and his latest book was seascapes, complete with waves and jumping dolphins. It reminded her of some of the things Harry had told her about North Carolina, which apparently had a far more pleasant, or at the very least temperate, coast than Scotland.

Still, it wasn't the only thing she wanted to get him, so after grabbing a quick lunch, she decided to go after Ron's gift instead. She ended up in Muggle London, looking at men's watches. Ron had a watch similar to the one Dumbledore had carried for years; it had been a gift for his seventeenth birthday. She picked out a silver-banded watch with a sleek black face and headed back to Diagon Alley. She spent awhile longer searching for Harry’s gift before finally deciding to apparate home, leaving it to be purchased at a later time.

Harry greeted her at the door when she arrived on the front walk. He looked comfortable in old jeans and a sweater and she moved to hug him, taking him by surprise. She reached up and kissed his cheek

"Alright then?" he asked, smiling at her.

She nodded. "Absolutely."

"I saw that letter in the Prophet…"

"I don't want to talk about it. You're done working for the next few weeks and so I am. It's going to be Christmas soon and frankly, I deserve a break."

Harry's smiled widened. "Absolutely you do. Need help with anything around here, then?"

"Well, Ron and Andie are coming for dinner, so if you want to help with the food, that'd be great."

Harry followed her into the kitchen and lit a fire in the hearth. They set about preparing a chicken for roasting and Hermione put in a pumpkin pie to bake. After the preparations for the dinner were made, they settled in the living room, with more Christmas music on the wireless and another fire going.

As Harry chatted animatedly about all of the Christmas activity he had seen while in New York City, Hermione's heart fluttered. He was resting in a large easy chair with his long legs stretched out on the ottoman. Remembering her feelings from the previous night, she felt the desire to curl up in the chair with him. As he talked, however, she decided to shelve those thoughts for the next few weeks as well. This whole schoolgirl crush she was slowly developing on him would simply not do, especially since it was doubtful he felt the same way. To be sure, there had been some tense moments in the past few weeks, but those could be easily explained away.

A small tinkling sound issued from the fireplace, where the flames were beginning to turn green. Ron's head popped out of the fire a few heartbeats later.

"Hullo," he said.

"Evening, Ron. Is everything alright?" Hermione asked.

"We aren't going to be able to make it tonight. Andie came home from work not feeling very well, so we're just going to stay in."

"Tell her that I hope she feels better, please," Hermione replied.

Ron smiled gratefully. "Will do. We'll make it over in a couple of days, I promise."

"Alright, mate. Take care," Harry responded.

"Cheers," Ron said as his head disappeared and the flames returned to a normal color.

"Well, it looks as if it will be just us," Harry stated obviously. "Shall we open a bottle of wine then?"

"Sounds like a fine idea," Hermione said. She watched Harry pull himself out of the chair and saunter into the kitchen. He returned after a few minutes with an open bottle and a couple of glasses. He set the entirety of it down on the coffee table and flicked his wand at the bottle, chilling it to the perfect 15 degrees. He poured her glass first and handed it to her.

"A toast. To Christmas and good friends," Hermione said, her voice quiet and serious despite the gaiety of her words.

Harry nodded slightly and clinked his glass against hers. They drank in companionable silence for a while before Hermione stood up to show Harry Ron's Christmas gift. She sat on the ottoman and he looked over her shoulder as she opened the box.

"I like it. He'll get a kick out of it."

"I thought he might. I got Mum's present as well, but I can't figure out what to get you," she said, her eyes twinkling merrily.

"You don't have to get me anything."

"Don't be silly. I have to get you a Christmas gift. I've a streak to maintain."

"Having you here is enough," he said quietly, reaching up to gently brush his fingers against her cheek. She watched as his eyes traced a path from her lips to her eyes and she felt her breath catch in her throat. For the first time in several weeks, she allowed herself to look at him and what she saw in his eyes was a shock. Gone was the friendly love and camaraderie that had lived there. In its place was blatant desire mixed with a bit of fear and uneasiness. The last few weeks had been hard on her, trying to eradicate any thoughts of Harry that weren't purely friendly. It had been sheer agony; at many odd moments, she wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around his neck and snog him senseless, wherever they happened to be standing. She saw now that the time hadn't been very easy on him either.

Perhaps it was the wine, though she desperately hoped it wasn't, but Hermione felt a bit of the old Gryffindor bravery sweep through her. She turned her head ever so slightly to the side and kissed the tips of Harry's fingers gently. His eyes sought hers out again and he leaned forward, bringing his lips within mere centimeters of hers. She moved slightly and felt his breath against her lips. Their eyes met once again before she closed hers and moved in to kiss him.

His lips were soft and slightly dry and they yielded to her advances easily. She slid her tongue gently against them and his mouth opened, allowing her admittance. She smiled lightly around their kisses, reveling in the feelings of his lips, of his hands roaming over her back.

He pulled apart from her and looked at her, his eyes searching. “Hermione…”

She shook her head and kissed him again, for she was unwilling to speak right now, to try and make sense of any of this. She had been floating through her days before this, the last several months a strange blur of work and haunting images of those green eyes. Now, everything was oddly vibrant and she felt light-headed. The mood shifted just a heartbeat after she’d leaned in too kiss him and the intensity of their ministrations increased steadily.

After a few minutes he pulled her into his lap and she adjusted herself comfortably, wrapping her arms around his neck. The times that she had allowed herself to daydream about this moment, she had dreamed that it would be like a whirlwind. That it would happen quickly, without warning, and would tear her apart. This, however, was like a slow burn. She was heady and intoxicated by the smell of him, by the feel of him. Those long seeker's fingers of his were dancing softly over her back, tracing patterns that sent shivers up and down her spine.

She broke away from him for a minute, looking fully at him. His eyes were partially closed and were slightly clouded over. She leaned in and planted a few more quick kisses on his lips and was about to back away, perhaps ready to have a conversation about what exactly was happening, when he snaked a hand into her curls and held her there. They kissed awhile longer, complete with soft moans and whispers of nothingness as they explored each other, pushing their kisses deeper. After awhile, it was Harry who pulled back and looked at her carefully. There was a definite question in his eyes, though she was unsure of what it was. At that moment, she decided it didn't matter. For him, right now, in this moment, she would do anything. He stood up and pulled her after him. She sighed as he wrapped his arms around her waist and leaned into his embrace, trembling slightly as his fingers traced over her lower back and he planted soft kisses along her cheekbones. She felt a telltale hardness pressing against her hip and the knowledge of its presence further intensified the desire that was forming in a tight knot in her stomach.

"Harry? Hermione?" A voice called to them from the fireplace.

Hermione stepped back quickly, blushing. She turned to face Ginny, who looked to be blushing as well.

"I'm sorry – to be busting in on you like this, but Ron wanted me to floo you."

"Is everything alright?" Hermione asked, worried deeply by the tone in Ginny's voice. Harry came around behind her and looked into the fire.

"Andie's gone into St. Mungo's. I don't know anything else – just that."

"We'll be right there," Harry replied. "Is there anything we need to bring?"

Ginny looked flustered. "I'm really not sure – I- I'm just relaying the message, Harry. You can ask Ron when you get here."

Harry nodded and the flames quickly cut back to their normal colors. Hermione turned and looked at Harry, who now looked very sad. He laced his fingers with hers and together, they moved to apparate to the hospital.

***

Ron perched on the edge of an uncomfortable, beige hospital chair. Wizards had the power of the universe virtually at their fingertips, but couldn't seem to advance beyond a hard, generic chair in the Emergency Waiting Room. The doctors were still in with Andie and he couldn't shake the image of her white face as she clutched at her abdomen.

"Ron?" a welcome and familiar voice echoed slightly in the large room. He lifted his head to see Harry and Hermione coming straight towards him. Harry's face was still and slightly pained. Hermione looked beyond worried and if the situation hadn't been what it was, he would have laughed over how much she looked like his mum at that moment.

Hermione reached him first and threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly. "Is everything ok? What's happened?" she asked, pulling back.

"Something with the baby, not sure what's going on just yet. I'm waiting for the Healer to come out."

"Do you need us to get you anything?" Harry asked.

Ron shook his head. "Not yet. I want to wait to hear anything before I even…think, I guess. Have you talked to Mum?"

Harry shook his head. "Just Ginny, and only briefly."

"I imagine they'll all be here soon," Hermione added, keeping her hand clasped with Ron's as she and Harry settled on either side of him. Soon enough, a group of Weasleys arrived, minus Bill. Molly wrapped her son in a large hug and let her husband ask the questions.

They were quieted down by a Healer entering the room.

"Mr. Weasley?" he asked, looking at Ron.

Ron nodded at him. "Go ahead, sir. My family can hear any news."

"Your wife is stable; we've moved her to the third floor. She needs to be watched over carefully for the next few days, but she's going to be fine."

"What about- what about the baby?" Ron managed, panic shooting through him as he asked. No one in the room aside from Harry, Hermione and Ginny had even known that Andie was pregnant and the third floor was the ward for poisons and potion accidents.

The Healer frowned. "I'm afraid, sir, that we weren't able to save the pregnancy. We'll keep a watch over Mrs. Weasley for the next few days to watch for any permanent damage."

"Permanent?" Ron said, his voice low.

"It's a precaution we have to take. We're still unsure as to what caused the termination."

Ron's felt his face burning red and he felt Hermione's hands pulling him away from the Healer as his family closed in on the other wizard, rapidly firing questions at him.

She guided him to a chair and leaned against him, hugging him. He felt tears well up in his eyes and he swiped at his face with the back of his hand.

"Do you want to go up and see her?" Hermione asked him, keeping her voice quiet.

He only managed a brief nod and she instantly was pulling him from the chair and leading him towards the lift. Harry followed close behind and they entered the car, pressing the button for the correct floor. They rode up from the ground floor, where the five year old emergency ward was located, and exited the elevator into a pink lobby. There was a receptionist behind a glass window and she looked at them over thick-framed glasses as they approached.

"Patient name?" she sniped, her voice high and nasally.

"Weasley, Andromeda Weasley," Ron replied.

"Relation?"

"I'm her husband."

The witch looked at a partially rolled piece of parchment. "Ah, yes. Mrs. Weasley may only have one visitor at a time. The others may remain in the waiting room or in the hallway."

She dismissed them with a wave, directing them down a hallway to their left.

Ron led the group to a door about a third of the way down the hall. He pushed the door open gently, leaving Harry and Hermione alone as he heard the voice of his mother coming from the lobby.

Andie was lying in the hospital bed, her eyes closed. Two potion drips hung to the left of the bed and there was a small, ticking talisman next to her head. It monitored her heartbeat and was glowing steadily as he placed a hand on her forehead and leaned down to kiss her cheek.

She opened her eyes, confusion apparent. She looked at him questioningly for a few heartbeats before letting out a low moan. Tears sprang to her eyes and she took in a deep breath.

"Oh, Andie,” Ron whispered, clutching both of her hands between his.

"-so sorry," she mumbled, her speech slurred slightly from the medication coursing through her veins.

He shook his head and kissed her fingers. "You have nothing to be sorry for. I love you so much, Andie."

He reached up and wiped the tears from her face. She returned the favor and they looked at each other, each grieving in their own way. Finally, their hurt got the better of them and he curled against her on the bed, letting his own tears flow freely.

It was two days later, Tuesday, that Andie was released from St. Mungo's. She looked thinner and still quite weak as Harry and Hermione helped them get settled. Hermione left them with several meals, instructing Ron on how long to heat everything for, and promises that she and Ginny would be over the next day to keep Andie company while Ron went back to school.

After his friends left, he settled Andie in their large bed, making sure that her pillows were situated right and that she had enough blankets.

"I can fix my own pillows," she commented dryly, the agitation evident in her voice.

"Sorry," he said. "I'm just trying to make sure you're comfortable."

"I don't deserve to be comfortable," she mumbled, her hands pressing against her flat stomach.

"Andie-" Ron began, his voice tight.

"Just – can I be alone for awhile? Please?" Her voice was controlled, but he saw sadness in her eyes. He merely nodded and kissed her gently. He walked to the door and closed it behind him, hearing the short sobs erupt from his wife. Her tears were long overdue, as she hadn't displayed that much emotion after they took her off the pain potion; her room had a revolving door of visitors. Ron's very heart ached as he listened momentarily, fighting the urge to push the door up and gather her up into his arms. It wouldn't do her any good right now and that knowledge went against the grain of his being. He resigned himself to it and went silently to the living room, his heart breaking with each step away from the bedroom.

True to her word, Hermione arrived in the morning just as a delivery owl dropped an envelope in Ron's lap. Ginny entered the kitchen shortly following Hermione and watched silently as he opened the letter.

He read it carefully, his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

"The Healer says it was a poison, delivered via a drink of some sort, probably at Hogwarts. There's a – we might not be able to have children," he reported, his words catching in his throat.

Hermione gasped audibly and Ron felt the crush of his baby sister's arms around him. She was hugging him furiously as Hermione fidgeted nervously, unsure of what her reaction should be. He held Ginny tightly, feeling all his mental resolve crumble around him. Hermione was soon at the fireplace, calling Harry over.

Ron looked between the two women and realized that the next few minutes would be too much to bear. The questions would be like knives through his stomach and he couldn’t bear to see how Andie would take the news. He had said his goodbyes to her already, so he simply grabbed up his satchel and stormed out of the house, moving determinedly towards the school.

Ginny called after him, but he ignored her as panic raised fresh in his mind. His thoughts were reeling; his wife had been poisoned and they may never be able to have children. All of the events going on, between the Dark and Light forces, had seemed so distant. Once again, however, evil was hitting to close to home. Ron shuddered as he let off an accidental burst of magic, igniting a small patch of wildflowers in blue flames.

Hedwig was waiting patiently in his office, holding a rolled piece of parchment. He took it from her and unrolled the note.

R-,

Received news about poison – OP will reconvene to discuss the ongoing issues. Time and place will arrive in usual manner.

-H

Ron let out a sigh of relief. Harry would take care of this; he always did.

---

Author's Note:

Thanks for reading and thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. Also, many thanks to my beta, Neil.