Harry and Hermione -- Their Sixth Year II

Chapter VII

Sunday, December 22, 1996

Hermione Granger stretched slowly and languorously in the huge bed. Since she had first arrived at Hogwarts, Hermione had felt like a fish out of water, no matter where she was. She loved her parents, but once she had gone back to her parents that Christmas of her first year, she hadn't thought of their house as home.

Neither had Hogwarts been her home. The Weasleys, Grimmauld Place the previous year, and the cabin the previous summer, had also failed to fulfill an intense need deep inside her.

It wasn't that she didn't love her parents; she did, intensely. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy being with the Weasleys or living at Hogwarts. She did. Upon months of reflection, over the course of her Third through Fifth years, Hermione had finally realized she couldn't feel at home at any of those places, because they were all one thing or the other -- Muggle or magical. She was now a child of both, and she wanted to live in both.

And she had always known she didn't want to live alone, no matter how alone she had often felt as a child. Ever since she had woken up from being petrified, freed of her crush on Lockhart, Hermione had realized that there was a good chance of her ending up with either Ron or Harry. For the first three years she had felt closer to Harry, but from her Third year through the middle of her Fourth, she had despaired of attracting either boy as more than a friend.

During most of her Fourth year and all of her Fifth, Ron had seemed the more likely candidate -- she and Ron, joined together to help Harry. She had come to decide at the end their Fifth year, however, that Ron was a bit too needy and selfish. Their fights, which she had always hoped would evolve into witty banter, had devolved into petty arguments. Perhaps worst of all, their embraces, although pleasant, had never really turned Hermione on physically. When Ron had blown up about her visiting Viktor, Hermione had let the romantic part of the relationship go without regret.

She had also regretfully written Harry off as dating material long before, which was why Harry's tentative letter had confused her so much. Her mother and Tonks had seen what she hadn't; between her mother's timely advice and Tonk's opportune shove, Hermione had found her true love, then her career and her future. And now Harry only had to look at her and she was tempted to drop everything, even study, to rush into his embrace.

The previous evening had opened Hermione's eyes to other horizons of her future. She had coaxed Harry into dressing up, and she had done the same, and they had played host and hostess. Or at least they had started off that way. By the end of the evening, they hadn't been playing.

Hermione stretched again, and rolled over. An equally nude Harry laid next to her, sleeping quietly. The lines of tension that had been with Harry even during his sleep the previous summer were now mostly gone. Harry had in part grown into his responsibilities, and now had a support network that he trusted whom he could share some of those responsibilities with.

She knew those responsibilities; she had known them for some time. The night before, however, they had merged their magics together. This was an act that wasn't necessarily sexual, although it heightened a person's awareness of the physical contact with the partner necessary for the merging to work. It allowed a glimpse into the magical powers of the other person, and more importantly it allowed the partners to feel the other person's psyche, feelings, and personality, although not any of their thoughts. In its own way, it was as intimate as sex or mutual Legilimency. In some ways, it was more intimate than both together.

Hermione now knew how much Harry loved her, and how powerful, passionate, honorable, and just plain good Harry was. And Harry knew her, too.

As she remembered and watched, Harry woke up. Seeing Hermione, Harry embraced her, and they both forgot that the pair of them had been planning on running that morning, even though the others weren't.

Harry and Hermione managed to get dressed and out of their bedroom by 7:15. They had both been tired the night before, and so Hermione had not been able to look at her and Harry's other rooms. They explored them now.

The floor had a not a not uncommon floor plan for the mid-to-late Victorian period, when the House of Black and the rest of Grimmauld Place had been rebuilt on an old site long in the Black family. There were two bright rooms in the front of the house, and two in the back. There were lightly-frosted transoms over each door, letting some light into the two side rooms on one side and into the two bath rooms and the stairs on the other. Gas lights were everywhere.

Harry and Hermione shared the smaller of the two back rooms (or perhaps the slightly less roomy chamber, since it was still some 20 x 25 feet). A bed, the widest Hermione had ever seen in person, three wardrobes (two for her and one for Harry), two dressers (a high one for Harry; a wider, shorter dresser for her with a silent mirror), a small bookcase, a pair of night stands on either side of the bed, and, between the windows, a stuffed chair with a pouffe, a table, and a padded rocking chair. The plastered walls were painted a dark yellow, the curtains dark crimson. The Persian carpets picked up those colors, and added living greens. There were no magical or Muggle works of art on the walls, although there was room for them.

The room next door was Hermione's study. This was partially set up as a mere study and partially as an office for ROMP. There were wooden Muggle file cabinets as well as rows of pigeon holes for owled letters, and of course lots of bookcases. There were also a pair of large desks. Again, there was no magical or Muggle art work, although here there was little room.

The other room bordering the study was Hermione's library. Some two-thirds of the books which had been scattered around Grimmauld Place had been burned by Sirius or confiscated the previous summer. The remaining books had been collected and filled a small portion of the room. Hermione eyed the empty space with a mixture of sadness and anticipation.

Harry's study was between Hermione's library and Colin's study in the front of the house. It had elements of both Hermione's study and library, although with a very different color scheme. Winky had found three old flying brooms, two pre-dating the development of the modern racing broom. These were mounted over the desk. Dobby had found the true prize in the attic, however -- an unfinished portrait of a fifteen year old Sirius Black. Since it was unfinished, it had no movement and certainly couldn't speak. Harry, finally seeing the actual painting, was very grateful to Dobby.

As for their bathroom, they decided it (and all the others in the house) would have to be remodeled at some point. Still, it was functional.

Harry and Hermione finished dressing and made their way down to the breakfast room. Winky had set up a buffet. Copies of The Daily Prophet, The Sunday Times, and several other Muggle journals were available to read. Over the next half hour, all the others made it downstairs and each, in their own way, were a bit surprised as what they saw.

Grimmauld Place was a slightly chilly, drafty house. Hermione had seen a period clothing store the day before, and she had decided they should dress appropriately for the house. Hermione was dressed in a long violet high-necked dress, wearing a string of pearls. While Harry was wearing khaki trousers and a blue flannel shirt, he had found a dark crimson velvet smoking jacket the day before. It could have looked very silly, but instead it looked right. The rest of the household, as they drifted in, realized that Harry and Hermione hadn't just been playing the night before. They really were in charge.

After breakfast, Hermione led the group into the front drawing room on the ground floor. When Mrs. Black's portrait had fallen the evening before, the tapestry on the first floor had fallen as well. Dobby had previously painted the rest of the sitting rooms and hall ways a bright green. During the night, Dobby had painted over the peeling olive paint and had moved the rolled-up tapestry down to the ground floor.

"What are you going to do with the tapestry?" Ron asked, looking at it standing in a corner.

Harry thought a moment. "When the war is over, we'll give it to Malfoy."

"Why wait?" Henrietta asked, curious.

"You don't know exactly where we are, do you?" Harry asked.

"No, I had to keep my eyes closed." While Henrietta's father was an active and trusted auror, she hadn't been totally filled in on the details of the Order.

"Giving away the tapestry might signal the location to some people," Hermione explained. "The Fidelius charm would still hide the actual location, but they could surround the area and trap us."

"Oh . . . that makes sense."

"Anyway," Harry said, "the reason why we're here . . . give me a hand, Ron." They moved an old empire-style sofa a few feet to the side, opening up the outside corner of the room.

"Alright Winky, signal Dobby."

Winky nodded from the doorway leading to the dining room in the back of the house. An instant later, a tall Christmas tree, its roots in a large clay pot, appeared in the corner. Hermione again signaled, and soon a swarm of fairies swept into the room, and made their home inside the tree, blinking and twinkling.

"Mister Moody?" Hermione asked, "would you care to make the first ornament?"

Moody looked shocked. After a moment, he smiled and hobbled over to the tree, and created a small delicate orange and pink glass ball. Each person added a glass ornament of their own. "The rule is, each person may add one ornament each time they come in the room. We'll finish it off, if we have to, Christmas Eve," Hermione told them. "You'll be with us through Christmas, I hope?" she asked Moody.

"Really?" Moody asked.

"Of course," Harry said warmly.

"Well, if you don't mind, I'll stay through the late evening of Christmas Eve. Then, I'll be taking the shifts of some aurors with families for that night and the next two days."

"Your parents will be here at Eleven, right?" Harry verified.

"That's right, why?" Hermione asked.

"I have an errand to run. Remus is coming along, so I'll be safe. Let me go change."

"Shall I come along, Potter?" Moody asked.

"If you want to," Harry answered, already out of the room. "Wear your coat and bowler!" Ten minutes later, Harry was back, wearing a Muggle suit, a leather driving cap that covered his scar, and an overcoat. "I promise we'll make it back by eleven," he told Hermione, kissing her cheek.

"What's that all about?" Ginny demanded.

"I have no idea," Hermione admitted. "If anyone wants to put gifts under the tree, go ahead. I'm going to get mine."

Harry was as good as his word. He and Remus arrived at 10:40, carrying a small chest between them. Each also had a large garment bag in their other hand, while Moody clomped along behind them with a grin on his face. Harry managed to hide his mysterious burdens and was downstairs just as a pre-Great War Rolls Royce pulled up to the curb. The scene seemed to shimmer for a moment, showing someone had cast a distraction spell, preventing the Muggles from noticing what went on. Mister Diggle popped out, and led Mrs. Granger, her eyes closed, up to the front door. Emmeline Vance, another member of the Order that Harry recognized, escorted Mr. Granger. Mr. Granger had a valise in his other hand, while Hestia Jones, another Order member, carried a larger suitcase and brought up the rear. Harry and Moody opened the door.

As soon as Hestia Jones crossed the threshold, the street seemed to shimmer again, and the Rolls pulled away. As soon as the door was closed, Hermione threw herself into her parents arms, which they happily reciprocated. Harry drew the three Order members into the drawing room and invited them to add a Christmas ornament. Emmeline Vance, a rather stately witch, hesitated, but the irrepressible Diggle and young Jones hurried over to joyfully add an ornament to Harry Potter's Christmas tree. Emmeline then strode over and added a crystal blue star. All three agreed to stay for lunch.

In fact, they had stayed until the Weasleys arrived a little after 5:00. Molly Weasley was a bit put out at first when she found that she had been dispossessed in the kitchen, but Arthur convinced her to look upon this as a vacation. She was also a bit disturbed to learn she was expected to just be a guest. There was no doubt that she was no longer in charge of the house, as she had mostly been the year before. The house was Harry's, and he and Hermione had taken it firmly in charge.

Emma Granger had studied her daughter over luncheon (it seemed far too formal to be called 'lunch') and dinner. Her daughter appeared and acted much more than five months older than when she'd last set eyes on her. It wasn't just that her daughter was now the same height as herself. She seemed more relaxed inside her skin than she had ever been.

If anything, Emma thought, Hermione reminded her of her own mother. Her father had been a Church of England cleric who had married a young Oxford bluestocking while he was in his forties. She remembered the countless times her mother had acted as a hostess much like her daughter was. 'How can you stand it?' she'd asked her mother once, when home from University. 'You had a First in Classics! You had a fine mind!'

Her mother had looked at her with a small smile. 'And I still use that mind every day. I still study, and I apply my mind to solving the everyday problems around us; 'us' meaning the parishioners as well as our family. I'm more than a hostess, as you would know if you ever paid attention. Since you don't pay attention, you may not have noticed I reminded the Mayor of an up-coming meeting and why it was important, settled a dispute about the Hunt Ball, managed to talk three women into chairing committees that will actually get some work down, and convinced your brother that the Beatles look was five years out of date.' Hermione had done much the same sort of work here, making all the guests feel at ease, even some who had seemed determined to feel out-of-place.

It had been even harder to believe the changes in Harry. It had once been hard to believe that Harry, whom she had only previously seen as a skinny, short, poorly-dressed ragamuffin, could be the savior of the wizarding, and perhaps her own, world. He now presented a well-dressed, and even formidable appearance, even if he was still hardly an imposing physical presence. In direct discussion, however, those intense green eyes nearly mesmerized her, and she realized that there was indeed immense power there. Young Harry had played the role of host well, and had first stared down and then consoled the volatile Molly Weasley, who had wanted to take back the role of housekeeper and universal mother.

While Harry had stared down Molly Weasley, Hermione had cajoled both her own mother and Mrs. Weasley into their roles as guests. Hermione had also managed to keep Ron Weasley cosseted when he had seemed bored, kept the three younger teen girls happily helping her, made the three escorts welcome, and made her parents feel comfortable around the disturbing Moody and the two house elves.

It was a bit difficult for the Grangers to grasp that two of the nicest members of the company were werewolves. The point had been driven home with the rather frightening Professor Snape had appeared with the potion which would keep the pair calm at the next full moon, which would be a little after 9:00 Christmas Eve.

It had also been a shock to Mrs. Granger to realize that urchin Harry had done more than transformed his appearance. This house, wherever it was, was large and nicely decorated. It spoke of money and taste (she had been very surprised to learn most of the 'taste' had been Harry's and Dobby's, with only a little input from Hermione). At dinner, the company had been stunned by a totally new set of Wedgewood china and new silver settings, both custom-made. Harry had explained he had had the old china and silver sold off, and had used the proceeds to partially pay for the new (including matching stainless steel settings for Colin and Remus). Still, the trade-off could have cost Harry a few thousand pounds. (It actually had brought Harry a net gain, as there had been many sets of silver, but he didn't think that was anyone's business except Hermione's).

All told, Emma Granger realized that her daughter had decided she had found the love of her life and the niche she wanted to fill. It was always a bit disconcerting for a parent to learn their child has picked out a mate and a career with such a sense of purpose, especially with the child is just sixteen. Emma just hoped Hermione wouldn't be hurt or disappointed.

She sat on the bed with a sigh.

Her husband sat next to her. He understood that sigh. "If it was anyone other than Hermione, I would be worried," he said, easily reading his wife. "I really think she knows what she's doing."

"I am worried about what she's likely doing right now," Emma complained.

"Remember that pamphlet they sent us? If witches are supposed to wait, I'm sure she will."

"I was hoping she'd go to a real university, not some vague apprenticeship," Emma complained. "Now, it's not even certain she'll do that."

"Nonsense! I reminded her she could go to University while living here. She told me was still researching degree programs. She's going to be a rights activist, and isn't certain what degree would help her the most."

"Our daughter, the activist." Emma sighed. "Well, it could be worse."

"We'll sign her up for Greenpeace and Amnesty International, and see where events lead us."

Monday and Tuesday morning went by in something of the blur for most of the inhabitants of the House of Potter. Numerous members of the Order came and went, most stopping by at least once to add to the Christmas tree. (Moody checked it periodically 'just in case'. Luna thought he just liked looking at the tree and having an excuse to add ornaments.) Bill and Fleur stopped in Monday evening for dinner. They were acting as couriers to some Order members on the continent, and would spend part of the holidays with Fleur's relatives.

Mid-Tuesday afternoon, however, Harry and Hermione went for a walk in the back garden. No one had paid much attention to the garden or the large mews behind it during their previous stay. The 'garden' had been a lawn of weeds, and the mews had been probably been abandoned since Sirius' grandfather's time. All were covered by the charm, however.

"This looks a lot nicer than it did eighteen months ago," Hermione remarked. The weeds had been cut back, revealing the gravel path to the mews. Parts of the lawn had been turned over, so that it could be planted to herbs in the early spring.

The mews was a three-sided building, forming a horseshoe pointing towards the main house. It had been repainted and the roof and windows had been repaired. The center would have been the actual stables and carriage house, with a hayloft over the end. The left side would have been the wash house, the right for the groom and coachman.

"I'd originally thought we might turn this either into a separate place for Colin, or a guest house. In the short term, though, it would take way too much time and labor to fix it over for people."

"What did you fix it up for, then?"

"Not for a what," Harry said, opening in the door.

Hermione walked past him and into what had been the carriage area. Thirty-three eyes looked at Hermione, who stared back. "What. . . ?"

"This is the Mistress?" a little, high, nervous voice asked, "the other one who wants us?"

"Harry? Harry, where did these elves come from?"

Eighteen heads drooped in shame. "We's bad house elves." Eighteen hands slapped eighteen foreheads. "Bad! Bad! BAD!" seventeen voices called out.

"Stop that!" Harry commanded. He turned to Hermione. "Some people, when they're angry with their elves, hurt them and then, because they're ashamed at how badly they hurt them, give them clothes and throw them out. I had Dobby pass the word that they could gather here. Some helped out with the restorations, under Dobby's directions." Harry gestured. "They're from all over Europe, not just Britain."

Hermione walked into the group of elves. Three were missing an eye, nine others were missing at least part of one finger, one was missing three. One was on a crutch, having only half a foot. All had scars, from cuts or whips or rope burns -- or all three. The youngest had had an ear mostly ripped off. One of the elves missing an eye had also had his throat cut, and couldn't speak.

"What do free elves want?" Harry asked.

"House elves wants to work!" they chorused.

"And to work, what must you be?"

"Healthy!"

Harry smiled. "That's right. You all work to help each other to become healthy."

"Yes, Master Harry!"

"Is this the other one who wants us?" the young elf with the torn ear repeated.

"We both want you, and we both want to help you," Harry answered.

"And we will help, you and all your kind, as best we can," Hermione promised, tears in her eyes.

"Now I know you don't like wearing clothes," Harry said, "but I want to see those hats and scarves worn! You don't want you to get sick! Doli?"

"Yes, Master Harry?" the eldest elf answered.

"Do you have the correct amounts of medicines available? And everything you need to live as I ordered?"

Doli considered. "Dobby has said the remaining supplies will be here before dusk. Houses elves will have more than enough, enough to make even Master Harry happy."

"Good. Happy Christmas!"

"Happy Christmas, Master and Mistress!" they chorused.

"Harry . . . what IS all that?"

"Exactly what I said it was. I guess right now it's a shelter for rejected house elves. As they recover, I'm hoping we can rent some of them out as domestics, with a reasonable work schedule and a set of reasonable regulations. Then, it'll also be in part a labor exchange."

"I'll start looking into it."

"Just remember, they love to work and need to take care of people. That need has been abused, but they still feel it. You've seen it in Winky and Dobby. They'll always be happy doing three times as much work as any sane person at a fraction of the wages. The trick will be to find some medium that satisfies their needs, pays them at least enough live on, and doesn't allow them to be abused."

"No unionization?" Hermione asked.

"I don't think so," Harry replied. "Come on, let's see if the twins and the Dumbledores have arrived yet. We need to eat before Colin and Remus have to take today's dose of that awful potion."