Destiny Finds a Way

Chapter VI - Strange Courses

Harry was being sucked into a whirl of color and oil paint... faces were arising from the pigments. Forms that looked like his friends started materializing, laughing at him, molting into each other. They were muttering at him, shoving him with their sticky hands, staining his robes with their glutinous color.

"Not everything that you've dismissed should be dismissed."

"It's good..."

"Abes jugar Cargaburro?"

"Did you snog, Hermione?"

"I miss you, Harry... Harry...Harry..."

They were getting louder... pushing... shoving... screeching... shrieking...

Suddenly he was falling and all the color that once surrounded him had now dissolved into blackness. He was screaming a scream that was left unheard. The darkness mocked his lost, light-seeking eyes as the unforgiving wind rushed through him, his heart threatening to break out of his chest all the while. He did not know how long he was falling. He just kept his hand pressed tight to his heart, praying that the pain it was giving him would cease. But no such thing happened to him.

It was when he was finally giving up hope that this torture would ever stop, that it finally did. Just as sudden as it had began, he felt himself plop down softly on a floor he could not see. Everything was just as black as when he was falling.

Shivers ran up and down Harry's spine, chasing themselves across his body. The eerie emptiness of it all was pressing in on him as if a pillow were suffocating him as he slept.

Then suddenly a figure appeared before him. It was not one of those paint people. It was Liz. Harry felt immensely relieved at her sight somehow. She ran her fingers through his hair and smiled warmly at him. She fitted her hands into his and suddenly colors started appearing in hazes right before his eyes, replacing the void. These colors began taking shape, crisscrossing, colliding and combining. Harry began to realize what was materializing before him. His eyes widened in disbelief and outright confusion.

He turned to Liz, hoping for answers but...it wasn't Liz who looked back at him. Hermione's glinting brown eyes and warm smile was all he saw before she leaned in and kissed him before he could do or say anything. She kissed him as Florean Fortesque's Ice Cream Parlor finally stood solid in the background.

He did not wish for it to end. He had never felt so much intensity in his whole life. The fact that it was Hermione did not matter to him at all. If anything... it felt right. Almost as if this is the way things should have been from the very beginning. It was a completeness Harry had never dreamt possible. And he embraced it as he did her. Shivers ran up his spine and sweet electricity jolted his every nerve as he touched her silken skin, and caressed her soft, cherry lips.

Then everything ripped away from him so suddenly, it took him a while before he realized that she had disappeared. His insides went cold and an evil wind started to blow through the empty parlor. He heard cutlery chinking eerily in the kitchens, glass started shattering all around him, the floorboards were squeaking, the chairs and tables rattling dangerously, and paper started zooming into frenzy as if the place were housing a small tornado.

"WHERE IS SHE? BRING HER BACK!" Harry shouted menacingly. The wind howled more fiercely, and he sensed a cackle in it as well. Rage filled Harry's heart and everything convulsed more profusely around the room.

"You can't have her---you'll lose her like you lost us," said a voice from behind. Harry whirled around to find his godfather staring grimly at him. His grey eyes were lit in an unforgiving light and Harry quailed under them. He looked away and found he was surrounded by forms enveloped in shadow. He saw none of their features but he knew who they were and fear and guilt pressed over his senses, smothering him.

"I---I didn't lose you! It wasn't my fault... I couldn't do anything!" Harry tried to defend himself.

"Look into your heart, Harry. You know these words you speak are false," Sirius said in a deadly tone so pronounced, it was enough to make Harry's ears bleed.

"IT WASN'T MY FAULT!"

Harry's eyes opened in a snap, screaming those last words into the night, drenched in cold sweat, and his heart hammering wildly in his chest. His breathing was short and difficult, and he felt pale and vulnerable. He pressed his shaking hands to his face and took a few steadying breaths.

This was not the first time and he knew what he must do. He opened the drawer of his bedside table and began feeling around it, finding the glass bottle he was searching for fairly quickly. He reached for the cup on the table, poured out a small draught of the potion within the bottle. He drank and felt instantly comforted knowing that dreams would not trouble him any longer tonight. He blinked blearily for but moments, turned over and fell back into slumber, forgetting the dream he just had.

"Wait. Let me get this straight. You came home from practice and fell asleep once you hit the bed?" Ron repeated. It was early afternoon. Harry had just woken up and was having a conversation with his best friend over brunch. There was a hint of acrimony in his best friend's voice especially when he said, "Are you sure you're telling me everything?"

Harry was thrown. Was he being that obvious?

"Yes. Why?" Harry mumbled uneasily. He didn't know why he wasn't telling Ron what happened with him and Liz after practice.

There wasn't anything... bad in it. They kissed. That was all. Ah, but what a kiss... Harry thought vaguely. It seemed as if they were getting back together. But she left for another tour soon afterward, before they could talk about it. And really, with all that happened... it was too much already. It had to be given time. But Harry felt that until everything was official... what happened that day should just remain between him and Liz for the time being.

"You can't be telling me everything, Harry because... what about Hermione?" Ron knitted his eyebrows together in puzzlement, the strange note in his voice getting more pronounced with every syllable he uttered.

"Hermione? What about Herm---" Harry's eyes widened in shock. Hermione! He had forgotten all about her!

"Oh no, you didn't!" Ron clapped his forehead with the palm of his hand. "She's going to be in a right state with you, mate. Hermione really gets touchy with this sort of thing!"

Harry ran the events of last night through his mind once more. He didn't hear a doorbell or a knock... nothing. She couldn't have been there. Hermione wasn't dim enough to just wait around outside a door, hoping it would swing open. She would've called for him. But he had to make sure. Hermione was scary when she was angry.

"I'll talk to you later," Harry said hurriedly and Ron disappeared from the fire.

Harry couldn't believe it. How could he have forgotten? How could he have been so stupid?

He threw some Floo Powder into the grate, muttered Hermione's address and plunged his head into the flames.

"Hermione?" Harry called, looking around Hermione's bedroom. All he could see though was half of it. A small coffee table, a comfortable looking beige sofa, an intricately pattered rug and white walls mounted with more than a dozen framed, moving photographs were all that was before him. The rest of the chamber was evidently on the other side and probably better that it was.

There was a loud thud! that came from somewhere outside Harry's field of vision. Then, "Harry?" screeched Hermione's voice which sounded oddly strangled.

There was a sound of shuffling feet, one more thud! and then the shutting of a door.

"Hermione? Is that you? What's happening?" said Harry, wholeheartedly confused.

"Just a minute!" she yelled. She seemed to have scrambled into the bathroom. Harry rolled his eyes. Girls!

He began hearing lots of little noises like the chinking of metal and wood upon a marble surface, a weird scraping sound and running water. What was she doing in there?

"Hermione, you do remember that it's hard work to keep my head in this position, don't you? It's already getting stiff!" Harry called, using his right hand to massage his neck.

"I'm almost done!" she reassured him.

What was it with girls and getting ready? He didn't see why she had to go through such an arduous ritual just to talk to him. He had known her for eight years and seen her looking her very worst. Surely she didn't think he'd care now?

"HERM--- !" Harry started but just then his friend, at long last, came into view. She was in a white tank top and in a pair of cozy shorts. She had tied her hair in a high pony tail, she looked oddly flushed and her eyes slightly puffy.

"What were you up to in there?" Harry asked, trying to suppress any aggravation he might be feeling at the moment. He was about to ask for her forgiveness, don't forget. Instead, he tried to sound slightly puzzled. Whether he was able to pull it off or not, remains to be a mystery.

"I looked awful a while ago! I was a total mess! I just couldn't bring myself to frighten you with my appearance," she joked.

Harry was about to say that he'd probably seen her in worse and that he didn't really mind if she looked like she climbed out of a dumpster but thought better of it. He felt that there was some sort of an insult somewhere in there.

He pursed his lips and got onto the topic he came to discuss. "Hermione, where were you last night?" he asked.

Hermione's eyes flashed dangerously. Her gaze turned icy but it did not reach her voice. "Oh, I'm sorry! I completely forgot! I had to stay late at the ministry. I knew I was forgetting something! Was it an awful trifle?"

"No, no---not at all! I had my own plans last night as well. I was just checking if you had come and waited for me when I wasn't home!" Harry said in relief.

Hermione muttered something sharp under her breath that Harry didn't quite catch then it was followed by three large sneezes.

"That's a nasty cold," Harry mused.

"It's not a---yes, yes it is. Must be from overwork," Hermione smiled uneasily. "Well, I have to go get ready... so... I'll be seeing you!"

"Yeah. Bye. Don't work too hard; it's draining you of your health."

Pop!

"Well that was... interesting," Harry spoke aloud as he extracted his head from the blaze.

Harry wondered quietly to himself about what could possibly be up with Hermione. He knew she had always been a bit queer but then again, she was also tiresomely good at keeping her queerness in check. But all the same, Harry pondered on what might be wrong with her this time. He was feeling a bit queer himself about the whole affair but all this went unexplained for the day and a couple of other days at that.

Tension was mounting so early on in Harry's week already. Things were weird with Liz. She was still away. He did not know where exactly she was right about now or how best to contact her. And even if he did, he didn't want to bother her when her schedule was full. Things tend to go badly whenever he did that.

His next big game was two weeks and four days away. He knew as well as anybody else that they only had this game with the Wigtown Wanderers and the next one to qualify for playoffs. He didn't have to worry about the other games in between; he could trade positions with Crandlewick for some of them. Harry could feel the burning sensation of competition bubbling inside him. It was the home stretch and the rope was getting taut.

Then he got a visit that afternoon that reminded him of a few other duties he was obligated to see through.

"Lupin?" Harry said, bewildered when he opened his door to find the Marauder there. "What're you doing here?"

"Nice to see you too. Aren't you going to invite me in?" Lupin said in mock hurt.

"Oh right..." Harry grinned embarrassedly and stood aside for his friend to enter.

Lupin stepped inside and headed straight for Harry's living room and Harry followed suit after carefully shutting the door.

"So what are you doing here?" Harry repeated.

"If you've forgotten already, I am getting married. And you're best man," Lupin answered.

"Yeah, I knew that but---"

"So, rehearsal for the ceremony is the day before the wedding, which will be on the Saturday three weeks from now. You're expected to keep the ring and---"

"To throw you a bachelor's party?" Harry guffawed.

Lupin turned scarlet and cleared his throat loudly but to no avail. Harry was already clutching his stomach because of his vehement laughter.

"I wasn't going to say that, for your information," Lupin said as firmly as he could, the scarlet color on his cheeks turning steadily deeper. "I was going to say that you're expected to keep the ring and not loose it as it cost me a good part of my life's savings."

"Of course... whatever you say," Harry smirked as he steadied himself.

"All right, on a further note... you'll need white dress robes," Lupin went on.

"White? Why white?" Harry asked. His own dressrobes (which he bought just a few months ago) were a nice shade of bottle green. It looked almost like a trench coat. It suited him very well and was hoping for another occasion to use them.

"Tonks decided the color. I'm the groom, I'm just supposed to lie back and nod my head while she makes all the arrangements---or so she made perfectly clear."

" Right..."

"Do you have any idea when Hermione might be in? I need to speak to her as well. Unlike you, her dress robes have to be custom made as she's part of the bridal court. She'll need to attend a special fitting or something of the like."

"Oh, she'll be coming over for dinner. You can just wait for her."

"She's coming over for dinner?" Lupin's ears perked up and his eyebrows rose in apparent surprise. Then it transformed into a smugness Harry had never quite saw him wear before. Harry did not like it.

"It's nothing like what you're thinking," Harry explained, peeved.

"I wasn't thinking anything."

Harry rolled his eyes.

And so that night Lupin had dinner with them. Hermione was not wearing muggle clothes today but instead pale lavender silk robes with gold stars and violets embroidered on them. She looked quite bristled and weary to be honest, even wearier looking than Lupin in his ever-shabby robes.

"Hello Harry," she said politely when Harry opened the door that night. She did not look at him when she said this. Was Harry just imagining it or did she seem strangely distant since their talk in the fire?

"Hello yourself," Harry smiled broadly, dismissed the thought and concluded it that must be from her said overwork. He opened the door just enough for her Hermione to glimpse just who was in his house as well.

"L-Lupin? I-Is that you? Oh my---" she said in awe. The rest of her sentence was lost in her squealing. It had been too long since she'd seen him, with her schedule and all. She brushed past Harry in a flurry of rustling cloaks, robes and petticoats and gave Lupin a big hug.

"I've got so much to tell you! Sogie Gord just came up with this fabulous spell that might well revolutionize wizard communication forever! He's amazing, Sogie..." and she lead Lupin into the dining room without so much as a backward glance at Harry. He should've known that even weariness and overwork were not enough to curb her motor mouth. He could already hear her going on about what else her department was up to and the new updates on the Elvish Welfare bill she was trying to get support for.

Harry felt a bit unnerved about being forgotten so easily but he shook his head, closed and locked his door then bustled into the kitchen to serve dinner.

"---that you can talk to each other anytime and anywhere! It's wonderful! We're still working out the kinks. As of now, that emanation it produces turns into a green ball of fire and explodes in your face---Sogie's still being mopped up at St. Mungo's but he's going to be fine. Sogie's been through much worse, if memory serves me correct," Hermione was saying as Harry placed some fried chicken on the table.

"Harry---I didn't know you could cook!" Lupin turned away from Hermione and looked up, amazed, at Harry who was now setting down the mashed potatoes.

"I can only do the simple stuff. I guess I owe Aunt Petunia for that," said Harry, looking as though he had found out something extremely strange as Lupin chuckled appreciatively.

Hermione watched Harry silently, looking slightly pensive behind the smile she was wearing. Harry could feel her gaze as he went back into the kitchen to fetch the refreshments and put the desserts in the freezer. Harry was just again wondering inwardly why she was acting so strange when, as if she could read his thoughts, broke her own silence and went back to her chatter.

Harry knitted his eyebrows together and looked at Hermione through the small pane of glass on the upper part of his white kitchen door. He couldn't explain it but his old friend Curiosity was never more awake and restless in any other time these past two years than it was now. He wanted to know what exactly Hermione was thinking. He wanted to know what she thought about him. He wanted to know what he could have possibly done wrong.

And then he remembered... he could know all these things but... he had to turn to an option he tried not to use unless there was no other alternative as it was a very invasive tactic. But then, he reasoned to himself, he'd just do it this one time and just for a little peak.

He raised his wand, about to put is Legilimency skills to use when the words caught in his throat. What was he doing? Why was it suddenly so important that he know what Hermione was thinking? To know what Hermione felt? He could just ask her... they were friends... they've always been great friends. A knot formed at the pit of his stomach as the kiss he had shared with her pushed its way back into his mind once more.

"Harry? Harry are you all right? What's keeping you?" Hermione's voice called out from the dining room.

"I'm fine! I'm fine! I just knocked something over, that's all," Harry shouted back before they could check up on him.

Harry steadied himself, placed the towel on the counter, picked up the tray he had dropped, placed the refreshments on them, and pushed the three banana splits he made into the freezer. He took a deep breath, plastered a smile that he thought adequately looked to say that nothing close to wrong had happened to him, and took the refreshments out and placed them on the table.

He took the seat beside Hermione and absentmindedly began taking food and putting it on his plate. He felt like his bowels were digesting themselves. He was relieved that Hermione was busy talking to Lupin because Harry was peering at Hermione about every ten seconds as they dug into their meals. He couldn't understand the thoughts that were going through his mind. They seemed to jumble up into an untidy heap inside his brain. What had Hermione done to him? Was it even Hermione? Was it him?

"Harry? Harry are you listening to me?"

Harry jerked out of his insensibility to see that Hermione was looking straight at him, one of her eyebrows arched higher than the other. Harry tried to mumble something but found that he couldn't get it out so he merely nodded.

"What were we talking about then?" she inquired.

"Ah... er... well..." Harry cast around for something that might have entered the recesses of his memory but he knew it was useless. Whatever entered through one ear must've slipped out through the other.

Hermione sighed as if she knew that was coming. "I was asking you if you were coming with us to the cemetery."

"Why would I want to do that?"

At this Lupin's own eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Harry don't you remember?" he asked.

"Remember what?"

"It'll be Luna's second death anniversary," said Hermione quietly, her eyes dimming.

Harry felt even worse at not recalling this. He could've kicked himself and liked it. He felt as if he was being slogged by that bludger again. But the pain seemed to be more drawn out... more lasting. He felt his stomach, almost as if expecting to see a gaping, bloody hole of some sort.

How could he not remember when she still visited him in his dreams when nights were straggled and cold? When the traumas of the years that were, poignantly moved out of their secluded corners in the back of his mind? How could he not remember when she was part of the reason he was still alive?

He felt ungrateful and wretched. The last moments of her life played painfully in his mind like a sick horror movie. His throat began to burn and his eyes were stinging. His hands shook, he felt himself get pale and his own cold sweat run down his body like it did just a few moments ago.

He could not let go of her still. After two years, the option of moving on was still not upon him. But how could he? How could he after what he said to her before she disappeared? How could he when he did not arrive in time to save her... to save her family? He could have. He knew he could have. He saw her... saw him... saw everything...

He shut his eyes forcefully and swallowed hard, refusing to break down. Not now. Not here.

"I'm sorry---I didn't mean to---I should've known---" Hermione looked worried and apologetic. If she had shown any hint of coldness toward him earlier, it seemed to have melted away. Her eyes were filling up, they darted uneasily from face to face, and her voice was cracking.

Lupin had turned away; the color seemed to have drained from him as well.

"It's all right," Harry cleared his throat loudly, wishing for the pain to leave it.

Hermione looked worriedly unconvinced and Lupin looked as if he had just jerked out of a trance. Neither of them knew what to say. Harry could tell that they did not know that he was still plagued by Luna's death. But it wasn't just her...

They did not understand. Not as much as he wanted them to anyway. And he didn't expect them to.

"Really. It's nothing. It's just harder for me, that's all," He found himself saying before he could stop himself. He regretted his rash decision of words because of the looks the two of them were giving him now... those looks were so familiar. Those looks were so familiarly infuriating.

"Don't look at me like that," he said flatly.

"Like what?" Lupin said softly.

"Like I'm some fragile child! I am not fifteen years old anymore!" Harry bellowed, his temper rising.

At this, Lupin's skin proved that it could go even paler than any living human's and tears began welling up in Hermione's eyes. She did her best to hold back any sound that usually would come with these tears. The result of this made her look even more anguished than she already was. Harry was suddenly struck with deep remorse as he saw her weeping silently beside him.

"I---I'm sorry," Harry murmured.

Complete silence ensued throughout the rest of dinner. Lupin reminded Hermione of her fitting somewhere during the end of dessert but that was all. For the rest of it, they ate in an impenetrable silence that was ironically more deafening than Harry's yells.

Harry's eyes kept darting toward Hermione. He somehow felt he should apologize in a better manner. He even considered hugging her or patting her on the back or something... anything. He wanted to take everything back. This was not a nice way of reuniting with Lupin. They hadn't seen each other in a while and he hated blowing up on him when they finally did.

Harry ran his hands through his hair and touched close to nothing of the meal he had prepared. All he wanted to do was run up the stairs and lock himself in his room just to avoid the silence that had enveloped the three of them. It was that bad. Harry's ears were ringing painfully with it.

But suddenly, as if answering his plight, an extremely large Tawny owl shot out from nowhere and landed on Harry's carefully set table. It was a Ministry Owl, Harry noted as his eyes drifted on the seal stamped on the envelope. Harry pondered how the owl had gotten inside since he was pretty sure he had put a very powerful Sealing Charm on his house. But his quiet musings were lost in his relief. Any distraction seemed all too welcome at this point.

"I think it's for you," Lupin told Hermione in a strangely asphyxiated voice. Hermione had been in such a distraught daze that she didn't seem to have noticed the abnormally large, living, breathing, hooting specimen that was now picking at the contents of her plate.

"Oh---right," She mumbled, untying the letter on the owl's leg with shaking fingers. She unfurled the letter and the first time her eyes went over it, it seemed as though she were only seeing the inscriptions written in ridiculously neat cursive on the yellow parchment, but not coming close to understanding them.

She shut her eyes, took a deep, steadying breath and reread it. Then she suddenly stood up and said, "I---I have to go."

"What? Why?" Harry asked all though after he did so, he wondered why even bothered. If he were Hermione, he would have wanted to get out of there right away as well. He hadn't exactly played the good host tonight.

"I can't tell you now. It's ministry business and I think you know how it is over there. I'll tell you when I know everything's in the clear," she said cryptically and strode out of the dining area.

Harry instinctively followed her. He was only dimly aware Lupin had stayed where he was. And Harry felt it was extremely good of Lupin to do so.

"Hermione---wait!" Harry caught her wrist just in time. Her hands were only a few seconds away from grabbing her cloak and disapparating into the night.

She froze then slowly turned to look at him. He could not decipher her expression. He decided it must be mild surprise but he somehow knew that was only half of it. Her body turned cold and her cheeks flushed even though he could tell she was trying to control it.

"I really am sorry," Harry repeated, meaningfully. His brain was scolding him for being so despondently lame.

"It's quite all right, Harry. I'm sorry too. I'll see you tomorrow night, ok?" she said breezily. She then placed her palm on his cheek. Harry expected it to feel cold against his skin but... instead he never even noticed its temperature but the shots of electricity that it sent through his nerves. Then she let go, stepped out of the limits of his house and in one swish of a cloak... she was gone.

Harry stood there on his welcome mat, more stunned than when he found Lupin waiting patiently for him on his sidewalk, and more confused than after he had tried to probe Hermione's mind.

He lifted his own hand to the cheek Hermione had touched. His fingers trembled slightly and the nighttime breeze whipped his hair across his dazed face.