The Show That Never Ends

HARRY POTTER AND THE SHOW THAT NEVER ENDS

Chapter 2: Love is a Battlefield

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January 27, 2008

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Hermione paced back in forth in Harry's office, which Napoleon had been using during his absence. It didn't make sense for him to try and cram all of the responsibilities that had fallen upon him into his own tiny office when Harry had everything set up.

"What we need to do is think," she was saying.

"And what do you bloody think we've been doing for two months, luv? Sitting on our bleeding arses watching Noddy on the telly?" Napoleon said, shoving papers hither and yon on the desk. His hair was a relatively mild forest green color today, and he hadn't even bothered with one of his extensive repertoire of intricate spiking arrangements, it just lay across his forehead like an oddly domed putting green.

"We need to examine the body for trace evidence."

"It's been done. Nothing, not so much as a hair or a bit of tobacco ash," Remus said from his chair against the wall.

She kept pacing. "Of course, taken on first principles we cannot with complete certainty state that whoever sent the body are the same people who may or may not have taken Harry."

"How's that?"

"Well, think about it. Say you're a member of the Circle. You hear that your most annoying nemesis has suddenly gotten himself lost, and he's been gone long enough that the odds of his return are small and dwindling fast. Is there some way you can take advantage of this situation to demoralize your enemies and help make sure Harry is never found by halting the search for him?" Remus was nodding. "They didn't necessarily have to create the situation, they may just be responding to it."

"Well, that really leaves us a bit nowhere, doesn't it?" Napoleon muttered.

"We don't even know that Harry is anywhere," Remus added. "If he's suffered some sort of time-travel attack he may be skipping over periods of time and could rejoin our timeline at any moment."

Napoleon shook his head. "Blimey. I feel a nightmare coming on."

Hermione flopped into the beat-up leather armchair that sat facing the desk. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. "Whatever the truth may be, it's safe to say we're no closer to it than we were yesterday."

Silence fell in the room as the three agents pondered this disheartening statement. Napoleon took a deep breath and stood up, gathering some papers under his arm in a disorderly sheaf. "Well, I'd love to stay and chat but I've got a roomful of agents who need something to do."

Hermione smiled up at him. "You know, when Argo told me you'd be taking over CCO I was actually happy about it."

"Why's that?"

"Because I thought that if there was anything on this earth that could bring Harry back as soon as possible, it would be the thought that as long as he stayed away, you'd be in charge of his little kingdom."

**********

September 15, 2007

**********

Hermione followed her Bubble to a small narrow door set into a brick wall. She looked at it, doubtful. Deciding that she trusted her Bubble, she grasped the knob and opened it.

The door gave onto a narrow viewing gallery that was a blank wall on one side and an unbroken sheet of glass on the other. Seats were set in rising rows, theater-style, for observers...at the moment they were all empty. Remus was standing in front of the window, his arms crossed over his chest. He looked up at her entrance. "Oh, Remus...I was looking for Harry."

"You've found him," Remus said, nodding towards the window. Hermione moved to stand next to him and look through the glass.

The gallery looked out over a gymnasium, square and blank and floored in a shiny black substance that looked slightly padded. The walls were mirrored on one side, and the gallery was set about two meters above the floor so that the observers looked down onto the scene before them.

"Training facility," Remus said in response to her unasked question. "It's for fighting classes, wizardly and otherwise. The students sit here and watch Nix and his assistants. They usually sit out here when they're not practicing because the gym is surrounded by a safety charm that protects the fighters, and it's more effective when fewer people are within it." He smiled. "Though at the moment, they might not wish to be protected."

There were two men standing in the middle of the gym. One was Harry, the other was a stranger to her but he was certainly odd-looking. He was wearing combat boots, thermal underwear leggings, a neon green t-shirt with the sleeves ripped out that bore the slogan "A Stiffy For Susan B. Anthony" over an arrow pointing towards his crotch, a piece of steel-link chain around his neck and black gloves with no fingers. His hair was twisted into dozens of tiny spikes all over his head which were dyed an eye-popping combination of alternating turquoise and neon yellow, and there was enough metal sticking through his face to build a small Erector set or at the very least a few bitchin' guitar picks.

Harry was far less elaborately apparalled, barechested over jogging pants and sneakers. His hands were taped and a bandanna was tied around his head to keep his hair out of his face. He was just standing there with his hands on his hips and one eyebrow cocked as he watched his opponent, who bounced around on the balls of his feet with a big shiteating grin on his face, jabbing his fists in the air like a kid imitating a prizefighter. "Who the blazes is that?" Hermione asked, nodding towards the stranger. "Some Circle stooge Harry's working on?"

Remus snorted. "We should be so lucky. No, I'm afraid that that, Hermione, is Harry's new deputy."

Hermione's jaw dropped. "That's Napoleon Jones?"

"None other."

She stared, amazed. Harry hadn't ever really described him. "My God, I've been hearing nothing but whineging about this guy for days." She bust out laughing. "Merlin's ghost, he looks like Sid Vicious exploded all over him." She cocked her head. "What are they doing?"

"Harry's putting him through his paces. Napoleon was a registered regulator and therefore doesn't have to go through training after joining up here, but his abilities need to be established. I admit I don't have much faith in his skills. He always let his wand do the talking. Normally Nix would carry out testing like this but Harry insisted. He was rather adamant about it."

"He just wants the chance to pummel him senseless without actually hurting him," Hermione said, for this was the purpose of the safety charms. Fighters need not pull their punches nor worry about hurting their opponents, the charms caused all blows to be harmless and painless...though the instructors did, on occasion, adjust the charms to let the pain through.

"That thought did cross my mind."

In the gym, Harry spread his arms. "Are we going to do this or not?"

"Ready when you are, guv," Napoleon said in a very thick Cockney accent. He didn't seem to be paying much attention, just goofing off.

Harry gave him no warning, just darted quickly forward. Hermione winced in anticipation, but though Napoleon looked anything but ready he responded quickly. He ducked Harry's fist and jabbed his elbow into his new boss' ribs. Harry stumbled but recovered quickly to block a kick at his jaw.

"Bloody hell," Remus whispered. Hermione just watched as they fought. She was hardly an expert but even she could see that Napoleon had never been taught how to fight, as Harry had. He must have learned it on his own out of sheer necessity. It was like watching Bobby Fischer play chess with Johnny Rotten. Napoleon's wild punches, crude blocks and flying leg kicks seemed to work up to a point, perhaps just by virtue of being so unschooled as to be upredictable. Finally he leapt in the air and punched his foot into Harry's chest, sending him flying a good three meters across the padded gym floor to land with an "oof!" noise. Napoleon stood over him, grinning even wider, if that was possible.

"So, boss...what's the verdict?"

Harry glared up at him from the floor. "All right, you pass."

Hermione opened the door into the gym and walked in. Both men looked up upon her entrance. Harry flushed and jumped up off the floor. "Oh!" he said, appearing surprised to see her there. "How...what...were..."

"Yes, I was watching." She smiled at him. "A valiant effort."

Napoleon approached her, all affability and gleaming white teeth. "And who is this enchanting lady?" he said. "And can I have the honor of her name before she succumbs to my wit and charm and falls swooning into my skinny yet oddly muscular arms?"

Harry cleared his throat. "Jones, this is Hermione Granger, my fiancee. Darling, this is Napoleon Jones...my new deputy," he said, the last phrase laced with I-can't-believe-it-myself sarcasm. He was clearly trying to make a point to the erstwhile assistant; he never called her 'darling' except in jest.

Unfazed, Napoleon swept one of her hands to his lips with a gallant bow. "Charmed. Your fella has been running me a bit ragged but I refuse to let him put me off my game."

"Very well, very well," Harry interrupted him, shooing him off towards the locker room. "Off you go, then, there's a good chap. You've got Tactical Assessment in an hour. Don't let me hear you've skipped out again."

"Breathe, Harry," Napoleon called over his shoulder as he trotted across the floor, his boots thudding against the mats. "You'll pop that vein in your forehead again."

Harry just shook his head, hands on his hips. "Interesting person," Hermione commented neutrally.

"Bloody idiot is what he is. I can scarcely stand the sight of him."

"I thought he was charming...and he seems to like you well enough."

"Don't start with me, please. You'd find him disagreeable too if he'd cost you three important missions."

"Oh, cry me a river. It's in the past. Let it go." He grumbled something, bending to pick up his t-shirt. "You're just hacked off because he beat you."

"He didn't beat me," Harry said quickly. "He just...took advantage of a slight lapse in my guard to end the fight in his favor."

She thought for a moment. "And...that'd be the definition of 'beating you.'"

He headed for the door out to the hallway, slinging an arm around her shoulders as they left the room. "So he's learned some street fighting in his misspent life, it's not important." He sighed. "I rather wish you hadn't seen it, though."

"Why? Worried about impressing your woman?" she said wryly.

"Ahem. Not the way I would have put it, but essentially correct."

"Come by my room around eleven this evening and I'll give you another chance to impress me."

**********

January 27, 2008

**********

Hermione Apparated to the old stomping grounds in Shepherd's Bush, ten minutes late to meet Ginny for dinner at their favorite Thai restaurant. Clutching her coat around her in the brisk winter wind, she trudged through the streets with her eyes on the pavement so she wouldn't have to see the clubs where she and Harry used to dance, and the bars they used to visit, and the building where they'd lived for all those years. Every step was familiar, every chink in the pavement and ripple in the air reminded her of that simple time when they had gone about their individual lives blissfully ignorant of absolutely everything. Attempting to forge other relationships but blocked by the inescapability of their relationship to each other. Dodging the uncomfortable thoughts and feelings that had at times surfaced.

The restaurant stood warm and inviting just ahead, throwing a square of soft light onto the darkening street. She pushed inside, a gust of chilly air coming inside with her, and the hostess waved to her...they came here often enough to be considered regulars. Ginny was at a table waiting for her. Hermione shrugged out of her coat and made her way to the table, Ginny rising to hug her as she came to the table.

"Sorry I'm late," Hermione said, taking her seat.

"It's all right. I only just got here myself, ready to apologize to you for being late." Ginny looked tired, and a little thinner than she normally was. Harry's absence had affected her, too. She still harbored a lot of affection for him, Hermione knew, and considered him a close friend. They sat in silence for a moment.

"How are you?"

"Managing. You?"

"The same." Hermione turned her water glass in slow circles on the tabletop. "I had a great chat with Laura the other night, about Harry."

"Really?"

She nodded. "We didn't talk about the disappearance, just about him. It felt really good, almost as if he's still here with me."

"He is. He's always with you."

Hermione smiled at Ginny's simple sincerity. "I know. Sometimes I can almost feel him."

"Me, too."

"I suppose we're unique, we members of the Harry Potter Girlfriend Club, one-half of which is represented here at this table."

"More like two-thirds. Can you really consider Allegra a girlfriend? It was all a big plot to help her finish him off!"

"True, but he didn't know that. And then there's Ronin."

"Have you seen her recently?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, not for ages. I heard she'd gone off to Venezuela or some such place to find her inner tranquility."

"She needs some inner tranquility. She'd want to know about this, though."

"That relationship always just left me puzzled. I never knew what he saw in her, or vice versa. She never seemed terribly attached to him."

"She was, though. And I think...well, as to what he saw in her..."

"She reminded him of Allegra. Yes, I've thought of that. At least she wasn't all evil."

"Just creepy."

Hermione's smile faded and she lowered her eyes to stare at her placemat, her fingers fiddling idly with the edge of her napkin. "I'm..." she began, almost too softly for Ginny to hear. She leaned closer to listen. "I'm starting to believe it," she finally managed.

"Believe what?"

"That's he's gone forever."

"Oh, no. No, Hermione, you can't. We need you to keep us hopeful."

"What hope is there left? Ginny, I can't get away from the fact that even if he's held somewhere very secure, he could get me a message. With his mental abilities, he could compel some person there with him to send me a message and no one would ever know. He'd find a way. The fact that I've heard nothing...I can't reconcile it with my hope that he's alive." Her voice cracked but she kept it together.

"You're not being logical. He may be unconscious, or otherwise incapacitated. And who's to say he's being held anywhere? The time-travel theory has a lot of support, it seems. He could have skipped over all this time."

Hermione nodded, tracing her finger around the rim of her wineglass. "I know all that. But still...I have to think about what I'll do if he's dead."

"What will you do?" Ginny asked quietly.

"Well, first I'll probably scream, then I'll cry. Then I'll go home, curl up in a ball on my bed and cry some more. But eventually I'll have to get up and face a world without him in it." She sighed. "I'll tell you what I won't do. I won't ever love anyone else."

"Don't say that. It's never..."

"I won't," Hermione cut her off. "So many people have trouble in their marriages because they married the first man they fell in love with. It's a big mistake. The first man you love isn't the important one. It's the last man you love that matters. When you can look at your partner and honestly say that he is the last man you'll ever love, then you're ready for a real commitment." She smiled at her friend across the table, but it was more sad than anything else. "Harry was the last man I'll ever love. The first time we kissed I think we both knew that we were done. That was it for us. It doesn't matter how it ends with him, no one will ever come after him. Of course, I didn't think it would end until we both lived long, long lives and then died at the samemoment so neither of us would have to grieve. If it doesn't work out that way, well...there are things that people just don't recover from. I've never really gotten over Ron's death, and if Harry is dead too then I will never be the same. I will find a way to deal with it, but I'll never recover."

"We'll all have to deal with it. I don't like to think what it will do to people if it comes out that he's dead. If the dark forces can kill Harry Potter, than what chance does anyone have? It'll be like the Dark Times all over again."

Hermione nodded. "I know all that, but I can't worry about the world and the larger consequences. I'll run mad. I'm already halfway there." She fell silent and for a few minutes no one spoke. "I'm so afraid, Ginny," she finally murmured. "Of never seeing him again."

Ginny sighed. "I can't imagine being in your situation, I really can't."

"You loved him once."

She shook her head. "Not like you do. It was different."

"How so?"

"Because Harry and I were always just friends, and we convinced ourselves that we felt more. You and Harry were always in love, and you convinced yourselves you were just friends."

**********

October 30, 2007

**********

Hermione chatted with Shay Daley, her friend and training partner, as they followed the Training bubble down the corridor to their new rotation. The I.D. trainees were rustling with anticipation.

The I.D. training program, Hermione had learned upon enrolling, was six months long. Two of their classes met for the entire duration of the training. Combat Training met every day first thing in the morning so the trainees could wake up to being pounded into the floor mats by their instructors and learning how to Stun each other for varying durations and severities. Intelligence Techniques was a more academic class that met three times a week for an hour. In addition, the trainees had a series of eight three-week rotations of intense study in a particular subject area with a teacher from within the Division. They never knew which rotation they'd be beginning until they arrived; today was the first day of their third rotation. They'd begun with Surveillance Methods taught by Grace Chow, then Disguises and Concealment taught by a team of assistant wizards under the supervision of the mysterious Sabian, who always spoke to them via Baubel bubble.

Hermione was vastly enjoying her training. She paid particular attention during their Surveillance Methods course, knowing that she'd be assigned later to a six-month apprenticeship in the SIR division before graduating and earning her commission.

The current class of trainees numbered twelve wizards and witches from all over the world, chosen by the Deck for recruitment. "I hope it's Strategy and Logic," said Lloyd Llewellyn, a cheerful American wizard who bore a striking resemblance to Ichabod Crane. "I hear Henry Ubigando is a really cool teacher."

"He's very nice," Hermione said. "I've met him a few times. He's always smiling."

They came up to the door of their new classroom. It opened before them and revealed a large chamber with a circle of chairs in the center. The students began to take their places.

"You know what I heard?" said Shay. "I heard we might have a rotation with Harry Potter. For Counterintelligence or something." Every eye swiveled to look at Hermione, who froze and looked back at their inquisitive eyes. "Well, Hermione? Is that true?"

"Why are you asking me?"

"Oh, no reason," Shay said, her sarcasm lilting through her words. "You only sleep with the guy, why should we ask you?"

Hermione flushed and laughed. "Believe me, I'd be the last one to know. It's all a big secret, and he'd make doubly sure not to tell me just to avoid anyone accusing him of favoring me." She sat down in one of the chairs, the other students following suit with their eyes still largely fixed on her. Though they were all aware of her more personal connection to the I.D. so far no one had brought it up. She had a feeling her reprieve was just about over. She sighed and spread her hands. "Okay, go ahead. Ask away."

The deluge knocked her back a bit. She held up her hands. "All right, one at a time! Yes, Lloyd, we were at Hogwarts together."

"You were Head Girl, right?"

"Yes. Harry was Head Boy."

"I've heard he's really good at Quidditch."

"Yes, he is. He was the Seeker for our House team for all seven years we were there, and captain of the team for the last two. He had a lot of offers to play professionally, but chose not to pursue Quidditch as a career."

"Do you play too?"

"Merlin's ghost, no. I'm just happy to be able to stay on my broom."

"Was he like the smartest wizard in school?" Hermione smiled at her fellow trainees, reminding herself that most of them were a good deal younger than she was and had no more knowledge of Harry than the average person had about Elton John. Naturally they were curious. To her, Harry was just her best friend and life partner. She was so used to him that it didn't even faze her anymore. To them, he was the ultimate celebrity.

"Harry'd be the first one to tell you that he wasn't. If I had a Knut for every time I nagged him to do his homework I could retire."

"What, and miss all this?" came a new voice. Everyone jumped and turned around. Harry was standing in the doorway, a box tucked under his arm and his robes hanging askew. "Undermining my authority with embarrassing tales of my youth?" he said, dropping a wink at Hermione. She colored and shifted in her seat, feeling suddenly awkward. He looked at the rest of the students. "Good morning," he said, walking across to the desk at one side of the circle. He set his box down and began taking papers out of it.

The trainees managed a feeble "Good morning," staring at their new instructor.

"That didn't sound too enthusiastic. Welcome to your third rotation, Covert Operations. My name is Harry Potter, I'll be your instructor. I'm the Chief Wizard of Counterintelligence and Covert Operations." A murmur ran through the students. Harry took a breath. "Let me try to say this without sounding full of myself. How many of you had heard of me before you came here?" Every hand shot up. "Ah. And you surely noticed that there is perpetual speculation about what I do for a living? Yes. Well, you all just found out. However, as members of the I.D. community you are required to keep this confidence, with regards to me and every other person who works here. Understood?" They nodded. "Good. Well, then let's continue. This is the fifth time I've taught this rotation, so I think I've got it down pretty well by now." He turned and began to write on the blackboard.

"Uh...sir?" said Gregor Radetich, another of the trainees.

Harry turned and made a face. "Please, I beg you, don't call me 'sir.' It makes me feel about a thousand years old. Call me Harry. If you're not comfortable with that you can call me Chief Potter. If you're really attached to protocol I suppose you can call me Major Potter though I may not answer, I'm not used to being called that. You had a question, Gregor?"

He blinked. "You know my name?"

"Well, what sort of a spy would I be if I couldn't find out such a simple piece of information? What's your question?"

"Yes. I hate to bring this up, but I have some concerns about the possibility of fairness in the marks for this course." The other students goggled at him, amazed at his cheek. Hermione shut her eyes, cursing under her breath. Gregor was one of those people who was very into procedure and making sure everything was "in order" as he called it.

Harry crossed his arms over his chest, not seeming the least bit perturbed. "This wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that I am engaged to one of you, would it?" Gregor spluttered for a moment, unsure how to respond. "Now, now, don't fret. It's a valid question. If there's a question of a conflict of interest I'd rather settle it now." He sat downbehind the desk. "If he's voiced a concern about my impartiality then more of you must have it in your minds. First of all, I believe that I can be impartial. Second of all, and I can appeal to anyone who knows her for corroboration on this, Dr. Granger is far and away the smartest person I know and therefore doesn't need any favoritism from me to achieve success here. Third, I do have a teaching assistant. His name is Galino Mayzel, he's one of my agents. He will be helping me with the coursework and exercises, and I have already asked him to grade Dr. Granger's papers for me. Does that satisfy you, Gregor?" Gregor nodded. "Good. Now let's..." He broke off, looking around at them. They were all staring at some point over his eyebrows. He sighed. "All right, let's get this over with." He pushed his hair off his brow. "See? There it is. Big scar. Have a good look. Go on!" The students craned their necks, except Hermione who sat with her hand over her mouth to hold back the chuckles. He had clearly been through this many times before. "All right?" He let his hair fall back into place. "Now. Let's get started."

**********

"Code Zanzibar Red."

"Enemy acquisition of protected talismans, level four."

"Which is?"

"Highly dangerous, fatal if misused."

"Reaction plan A."

"Deploy response teams to points of egress, containment charms to predetermined perimeter and activation of the artifact's identification charms."

"Plan B."

"Activation of infiltration teams undercover to re-acquire the item, development of anti-talisman charms and countermeasures."

Hermione puffed through her answers as they jogged through the long trails that ran through the woods around Bailicroft. He was relentless...but it did take her mind off the stitch in her side. She wasn't quite up to his level yet. He usually did five miles a day; she was up to three after two months. It was chilly and damp on this morning, they were both bundled up.

"Okay, good. Entry protocols for hostile situations."

"Uh...two-wizard teams. Summoning of enemy wands and other weapons. Entry one at a time, check the corners, low and high."

"Undercover contact procedures, go."

She stopped for a moment, jogging in place as if she were considering her answer. He did the same, waiting for her. She turned quickly, grabbed his arms and swept her leg behind his knees. They both fell to the ground, her knees landing on either side of his chest. "Ha!" she said.

"Cor, I can't turn my back on you for a second."

"That'll teach you."

"Have you had much practice with takedowns?"

"No, just a bit of...oof!" In the middle of her sentence Harry suddenly brought his knee up between them and shoved her off, then flipped himself back to his feet. Hermione scrambled up.

"Never let an opponent distract you with conversation," he said. "It's the oldest trick in the book."

She smiled, tensing. "Wanna try it again?"

"Oh, you want a piece of me, is that it?"

"One guess which piece I want."

"Well, come on then. Nix tells me you're doing very well. So prove it."

A little gleam came into her eye. She knew that her measly six weeks of training would never allow her to actually hold her own against him, but the competitor in her relished the opportunity to give it a go. She took a deep breath and advanced, throwing her fist at him. It looked very small. He deflected it easily.

"Good," he said. "Now the other...yeah, good. Down, watch the leg. And through, and again...keep an eye on my right side, I tend to leave it open. Good. Ow!" he exclaimed as she landed a somewhat clumsy kick in his kidneys. He backed away with a hand to his side.

"Oh, Harry...are you okay?" she said, leaning over him.

"Yeah...but we'd better save the practice for the gym. No safety charms out here." He looked up at her. "What's with the big grin?"

She tried to hide it but failed. "Well...I actually got you," she said.

"Yes, you did. Nix wasn't lying to me."

"I'll never be really good at this, though."

"You won't need to be, in your division. Every agent needs the basic skills." He stretched. "C'mon, let's get going." He set off jogging again, Hermione hurrying to catch him.

**********

January 27, 2008

**********

Laura came into the study with a magazine, worn out from another gut-wrenching day in the diplomatic trenches of her office. The study was her favorite room in the house. Huge and cavernous and lined with tapestries and books, the six desks placed around the perimeter didn't seem at all crowded. The walls undulated with corners and nooks for the desks to nestle into, so that each of them felt as if they had their own private workspace. The fireplace was large enough to roast a full-grown boar and sported an elaborately carved marble mantlepiece. Today, as on most winter days, it was filled with a blazing fire that radiated warmth into the room.

Hermione was sitting at her desk, her head propped on her hand as she stared off into space, facing away from the door. Laura came up behind her unnoticed and saw that she was looking at a picture of Harry that sat on her desk in a gold frame. It was odd as wizard pictures go because it didn't really move...in it, Harry was asleep. Justin had gone through a shutterbug phase last summer and had captured scores of awful pictures, but this one couldn't be called one of them. Harry had dozed off in the wicker chaise lounge on the rear verandah and Justin had snapped his picture. In it, he was lying propped up in the lounge with his arms crossed over his chest and his chin tucked down on his shoulder. Justin had caught only his face and his upper chest clad in a white t-shirt. Laura privately thought that Harry was good-looking, but in this particular picture with his glasses off and his face composed in the peaceful tranquility of sleep, he looked downright beautiful.

"Hey," she said softly.

Hermione gave a little start and looked up. "Hey." She shuffled the parchments on her desk in a futile attempt to make it look as though she'd been working.

"How was dinner with Ginny?"

"Fine. Did you know she's been dating Draco?"

Laura's eyes widened. "Get out."

"No, really. They sort of hooked up a few weeks ago. I hope it's not a rebound for him."

"Well, he and Quinn broke up when? October? That's a few months."

"I suppose." She sighed and picked up the picture again, holding it before her and looking down at it.

"Are you all right?"

"Why does everyone keep asking me that?" Hermione said, tracing one finger down Harry's image under the glass. "They know the answer, and if I say I'm fine they know I'm lying. Why bother?"

"I'm not just asking, you know. Seriously. Are you all right?"

Hermione smiled up at her. "I'm all right. And I'd tell you the truth. I've gotten pretty good at pushing the sadness away so I can function." She put down the picture and looked at her friend. "How do you do it? You must be getting accustomed to having Sorry gone for long periods of time."

Laura sat down in a nearby chair. "I never get used to it. I once added it up and figured out that in our ten-year relationship we've actually been in the same place at the same time for only fifteen months."

"Wow."

"I suppose I am used to having him for a few weeks at a time and then being on my own for months."

"Don't you get...you know. Frustrated?"

Laura grinned. "If you mean what I think you mean, then of course I do. But there are other ways to take care of that."

"Ever been tempted to...um..."

"Cheat? Sure. But I never have. Hey, temptation to cheat isn't restricted to those of us with absent boyfriends. Even when they're around we're tempted. And you think they're not? Ha! It doesn't matter how much you love your partner, there will be times when you'll meet some really hot guy and start fixating on what he might look like in Speedos."

Hermione laughed. "I've been too distracted to think about men in Speedos."

Laura sobered. "I'm not suggesting that our situations are similar, honey. I know where Sorry is, I can talk to him or owl him any time I want."

"And you know he's coming back," Hermione finished in a whisper.

Laura cleared her throat. "Any news on that body? The fake one?"

"No trace evidence or hints as to its source. But it's definitely not Harry, the dragonhounds and the Oracle confirmed it. I'm amazed that they thought it would fool us. Fool me. I mean really, I know every inch of him!"

"Well, the evil ones aren't known for their dizzying intellect."

"At least I know it wasn't Allegra. She'd never make such an idiotic gesture. Must have been some of her minions bored on a Saturday night so they decided to torment us."

"Yeah, nothing on the telly." They fell silent.

"Can I tell you something?"

"Of course."

"It's stupid."

"I'm sure it's not."

Hermione took a deep breath. "All right. I've told you how we fought that morning? Yeah, well...when he didn't come home, the thought did enter my mind that he may have left me."

Laura looked stupefied at this reveleation. "Don't tell me that you actually believed he'd leave you over some trifling little fight?"

"No, of course not. But the mind does funny things in that situation. You can't control the thoughts that pop in there uninvited. Harry isn't always predictable, and sometimes he's too emotional, so I..."

"It's not stupid. Illogical, but understandable. You were probably grasping at straws to explain things."

"Yes! That's it, exactly! If he'd left me it'd be awful, but at least he'd be somewhere."

"He is somewhere. He has to be. No one can actually be missing, it violates the laws of physics."

Hermione laughed. "Well, he's missing from here, and that's all I care about."

**********

December 25, 2007

**********

Laura woke up before dawn, threw on a sweatsuit and hurried across to wake George. "Whazzzuhss," he said, turning over.

"George! Wake up! It's Christmas!"

He sat up, rubbing his eyes. "Is she awake yet?"

"No. C'mon, we've got work to do. Everyone's getting here at eight. I kept her up after midnight and got her to drink a bunch of wine, she should sleep past then." George swung his legs out of bed. "I'll knock up Justin and Cho, you get downstairs and start lighting the fires." She swept through the hallways as quietly as possible to wake the rest of the household.

Laura had been planning this Christmas morning for weeks, for Hermione. Being alone on what should have been her first Christmas with Harry would be terrible for her, but Laura was determined that her day be as full of love and friends and family as possible. Hermione thought that she'd be going to the Weasleys as usual and meeting her parents there, but when she came downstairs she'd find a houseful of people. Expected were Sirius and Cordelia and the kids, Hermione's parents and an aunt and uncle, Molly and Arthur, Bill and Charlie and their assorted families, Fred, Draco, Quinn, Remus, Sorry, Neville and Amelia, and Percy. It would be a full celebration but if Laura could have dug up more people to cram Bailicroft to the rafters she would have done so. They were getting up early so George could start the feast, which they'd have to actually serve in the dining room to accomodate all the people, and the others could set up the gargantuan tree they'd procured, decorate it and the rest of the house, and place all the presents.

Laura tiptoed up to the Cloister door and put her ear to it, just able to make out Hermione's even breathing. She set up a Silencing Charm so Hermione wouldn't hear Justin lugging stuff around and generally making as much noise as possible.

The sun began to peek over the horizon as Laura and Cho trimmed the tree. Justin was sweeping his wand over the entire house, leaving trails of holly, bright bows and ribbons, tinsel and lights wherever he went. He went from fireplace to fireplace, sweeping his arms wide and shouting "Incendio!" with a flair and a kicky little flourish, ignoring Laura's shushings. The presents were retrieved from their hiding places and piled high...all the guests had sent their gifts ahead of time so everyone would be opening their loot at the same time.

At seven o'clock people began to arrive. First was Ginny, bearing a large pie and looking rosy-cheeked and festive from the cold. Draco and Remus were close behind her. Sirius and Cordelia came carrying sleepy children bundled up in quilts. Hermione's parents arrived with Claire's sister Julia and her husband, looking a tad nervous to be surrounded by wizards and witches.

By eight o'clock everyone had arrived and the front living room, despite its hugeness, was almost full to capacity. George passed around cocoa and stickybuns while Justin played the piano, unconcerned with the noise as long as Laura's Silencing Charm held.

Finally Laura stood up. "I'm going to wake Hermione, everyone. Shush, now. It's supposed to be a surprise. Justin, you're the lookout. When we start to come down, quiet everyone down."

She headed up the stairs, quickly removed the Silencing Charm, and knocked on the Cloister door. "Come in," came a voice.

Laura pushed the door open to find Hermione sitting on the windowseat, fully dressed, staring at her hands...or more accurately, at her engagement ring. "Merry Christmas, honey," she said, coming to sit beside her.

Hermione sighed. "I'll just stay up here all day and pretend it's tomorrow if that's all right with you."

"It is not all right with me. C'mon, George made cinnamon rolls. We'll have some tea and open our gifts and brace ourselves for festivity." She took Hermione's arm and stood her up.

"I can't, Laura. I can't face it."

"You can. Hermione, you're going to have to live through this day. It's Christmas, and I know it's horrible, but we love you and we want you as part of our holiday. Think how disappointed Molly will be if you don't show, and your Mum and Dad. All right?" Hermione managed a wan smile. "Good. Now let's go."

She walked her down the stairs, pleased to hear absolute silence from below, and steered her around the front into the huge formal living room that they hardly ever used. Hermione didn't seem to notice until they were standing in the doorway. She looked up and her eyes widened at all the people.

On Laura's cue, everyone shouted "Merry Christmas!" and rushed forward to hug her. Her mother got there first. Hermione's mouth dropped wide open as she hugged her back, blinking in surprise. She drew back and looked around at their faces.

"Great Caesar's ghost," she said. "What are you all doing here?"

"We're all having Christmas at Bailicroft this year, luv," said Molly Weasley. "It made sense."

Hermione smiled, and to Laura's relief it looked genuine. "Oh, this is wonderful." She turned to Laura, tears standing in her eyes. "You did this, didn't you?"

Laura flushed. "Seemed like a good idea. For you."

Hermione reached out and pulled her into a fierce hug. "Thank you," she whispered into her ear. She drew back and kissed Laura's cheek, then stepped into the excited gaggle of friends and family, now relieved of the burden of silence and chattering excitedly and hugging anyone in sight. Laura watched her, feeling a tremendous weight lifting from her chest. Sorry stepped up and slipped an arm around her shoulders.

"You did good, Chant."

"Yeah," Laura said, looking up at him with a happy smile. "But it won't make any difference," she added, her smile unwavering.

Sorry frowned down at her. "What do you mean?"

"It doesn't matter how many people I bring here, she'll still feel alone."

**********

The gifts were opened in an exuberant hurricane of flying wrapping paper and bows. Everyone staked out a chair or piece of floor and then Cho played Santa's Helper, handing out the presents until everyone had a stack at their feet or in their lap. On a count of three they all dove in, shouting thanks across the room and holding up new acquisitions to be admired. Charlotte ran here and there finding bows to put in her hair, which was apparently far more interesting than her presents.

Hermione, installed in a central position in a large wing-backed crushed velvet chair, opened gift after gift. A new cloak from Sirius and Cordelia, some New Age CD's from Cho. A new briefcase from Laura and Sorry, a rakish felt fedora from Justin. All her gifts were lovely, but she could see that they were carefully chosen to avoid reminding her of Harry. No cookbooks with joking inscriptions about her status as a bride-to-be, no swing music, no wedding planners or sentimental books. Her own gifts to her friends appeared well received. Her mother wept over the pencil portrait she'd had done of herself and Harry, Remus exclaimed over the antique Dark Arts Defense textbook she'd found in a store in Liverpool, and Charlotte immediately sat on the floor and started in on the basket of books she'd received from Aunt Mina and Uncle Harry.

Every gift she gave was marked as Charlotte's was, from Hermione and Harry. No one remarked upon it, and everyone thanked her and her alone. It was simply understood in the room that she could no more omit his name on the From tag than she could start dating other men and throw her engagement ring in the river. It was an affirmation that he was with them in spirit and would be back.

Finally all the presents were open and everyone was quietly chatting and exchanging thanks when Sirius stood up and gestured for quiet. "I have one more gift to present," he said. "I debated whether to do so, but I think I must." He reached into his cloak on the chair and drew out a flat dark blue velvet box about twenty centimetres square. Slowly, he made his way across the paper and box-strewn floor to stand before Hermione's chair. "Harry bought this last fall and he asked me to keep it for him. He was afraid you'd find it. It's your Christmas present, honey. From Harry." He handed her the box. You could have heard a pin drop in the room. Even the young children seemed to sense the need for quiet.

Hermione just stared at the box for a moment, steeling herself. She shut her eyes tight and opened the lid. She heard Laura gasp from the chair beside her. She took a deep breath and opened her eyes.

Nestled in its cut compartment was a delicate silver necklace with matching earrings. The necklace was a fine filigreed chain dotted with small emeralds and diamonds. The earrings were short silver pendants with an emerald on the end. "Oh," she sighed. "It's beautiful." She touched it, tears slipping down her cheeks. She snapped the case closed and clutched it to her chest, shutting her eyes tightly. She blindly handed the case to Laura and stood up to embrace Sirius. "Thank you," she said. He hugged her tightly. She drew back and looked around at the sympathetic faces of her loved ones. "I only wish I could trade it in to have him here," she said quietly. She sat down again, the awkward silence weighing down on her.

Charlotte stood up, unmindful of everyone's discomfort. She waded through the wrapping paper and stood in front of Hermione, putting her small hands in her Aunt Mina's. "Aunt Mina? Do you miss Uncle Harry?"

Every eye in the room flicked from Charlotte's small round face to Hermione's. She looked down at the innocent questioning face of her honorary niece, trying to smile and failing. "Yes, honey. I miss him very much."

"Daddy said he's gone on a trip." Hermione's eyes shifted to Sirius' face. Hearing Charlotte's words his features crumpled and he turned away, putting a hand to his eyes.

"That's right, honey."

"Don't cry, Aunt Mina. He'll be back soon. He always brings me a present." She patted Hermione's hand like a grownup comforting a friend. "And if we talk about him enough it'll seem like he's here!"

Hermione smiled. "That sounds like a good idea, Charlie." She hugged the little girl tightly, surreptitiously wiping the tears from her cheeks. She looked around at the gathered company. "Well? Is this Christmas or isn't it? Justin, let's have some Christmas carols, and George? Where's that egg nog? I can smell it!"

**********

Hermione stood at the front window watching the kids playing in the snow outside on the wide expanse of front lawn. Fred and George had set up two armies with snowballs and forts, and though there weren't enough kids to make a really ripping snowball fight, Quinn, Ginny, Cho and Justin were more than happy to make up the difference.

She fingered her new necklace, which she'd put on with her green velvet dress for dinner. It had been a merry affair, with everyone seated around the long and elegant dining table. She'd sat at the head and the foot had remained empty by some tacit agreement amongst the diners. George's dinner had been exquisite and everyone left the table feeling positively stuffed. Later that night everyone would have hot cider and watch "A Christmas Carol" (the George C. Scott version, of course) on the big telly in the living room, and after the kids were put to bed the grownups planned to Apparate to London to attend a huge wizard Christmas party that was held annually at Kew Gardens.

She felt her mother's presence before she heard her voice. "What a wonderful day," Claire said, taking her daughter's hand.

"Yes," Hermione whispered. "Almost perfect."

"Your friend Laura really must love you to have arranged all this."

"I know. Everyone should have a friend like Laura."

"Your friends certainly are a merry lot. And here I thought the Weasleys were outgoing." Claire seemed to draw herself up to say something difficult. "Darling, I've been so worried about you." Since Harry's disappearance Hermione hadn't had much time to spend with her mother despite her frequent requests for a good sit-down.

"I'm all right, Mum."

"Don't give me that. Your husband is missing. I know you're not all right." Hermione looked at her, puzzled. "And don't give me that look, either. He is your husband, in every way but a trifling technicality, every way that really matters."

"I suppose he is."

"Sweetie, a marriage isn't made up of a declaration before and blessing from some sort of official personage. It's an intensely personal agreement between two people and a way of living that they share. You've already started your marriage to Harry even if you haven't said 'I do.'"

Hermione sniffed. "Well, I hope I get the chance to actually say 'I do,' if my so-called pseudo-husband ever comes back from whatever black hole he's gotten himself off to." She surprised herself with her own flippancy. "Do you suppose he's lounging on a sandy beach being oiled down by nubile young blondes? You know, that may be the only possibility we hadn't considered."

Claire smiled. "Well, if he is, I'm sure he's thinking of you the whole time."

"I did mention the nubile young blondes, right?"

"Sounds just as likely as anything else. Dispatch all agents to Maui, ASAP!" Claire said, chuckling. "Oh dear, how is it that we're joking about this?"

"Because I'll lose my mind if I don't get periodic respites from the anguish and despair."

"Honey, I..."

"No, Mum, please don't. I can't take any more sympathy right now. It's Christmas day and Harry isn't here." She sighed, crossing her arms over her stomach. "You know, in some secret part of my mind I really thought that I'd come downstairs this morning and find him sitting there with a bow around him and he'd say 'sorry I had to step out for a bit, but here I am again, and Merry Christmas.' I didn't realize how certain I was until it didn't happen. But I'll tell you one thing...this day marks a change. Up to now we might have held out some hope that he'd gone somewhere and just couldn't, for some reason, tell anyone...but not anymore, not after today. No matter what he was doing he'd find a way to get home on Christmas day. The only reason he's not here is that someone is preventing it, and when I find out who they're going to be very, very sorry."

**********

January 29, 2008

**********

Hermione blinked the sweat out of her eyes but didn't let up. She let the punching bag have it for all she was worth. Napoleon stood behind it, holding it steady for her to kick and punch and just generally thrash. She grunted as she pistoned her leg from the hip and slammed her foot into the bag. Napoleon staggered back a step, his face peeking out from behind.

"You've got some righteous rage going today, girlfriend."

"You know...if someone had told me...years ago..." she said between punches, "that I'd be...learning to kick ass...I'd've said they were crazy." She steadied the swinging bag and armed sweat off her forehead. "I used to be such a bookworm."

"And you're not still a bookworm? Luv, you're only doing this because it's required. Given a choice you'd bypass all this physical stuff, wouldn't you?"

Hermione backed up and attacked the bag again. "I don't know...about that...it's kind of fun...and really...cathartic!" she cried, trying out a recently-learned roundhouse kick. "Ow, dammit!" she said, rubbing her outer thigh.

"Don't try that kick on something what doesn't give, luv. You'll strain something. What's with you today?"

"I'm pissed off."

"Good. It's about time you stopped moping and started getting pissed." He got behind the bag again. "What are you pissed about?" he asked, motioning for her to continue. "Tell Dr. Napoleon all about it."

Ignoring the ache in her leg, Hermione stretched her fingers and went at the bag again. "I'm pissed at this job. I'm pissed at the evil people for making my life so damned confusing. I'm pissed at his parents for giving him this stupid genetic aberration and making him a walking target. Most of all I'm pissed at HIM," she cried, "for leaving me!" She backed away, hands on her hips, breathing hard.

"That's okay," Napoleon said. "You go ahead and be pissed, you've been brave enough."

She walked forward. "Kiss me, Napoleon."

His eyes widened. "Huh?"

She grabbed him by the front of the shirt and yanked him towards her. "You heard me! Kiss me!"

"You know, this is sexual harrassmenmmmpppphhh," he began, interrupted as she crushed her lips onto his. He resisted for a second then gave in. Just as he was beginning to enjoy it she shoved him away. "Hermione, what the hell?"

She took a few steps away. "Did you see that?" she yelled at the ceiling. "I kissed him! The assistant you hate with a passion and I kissed him! It was pretty good! You better come back and stop me before I do it again!"

"Hey, now," Napoleon said, coming up behind her and putting a hand on her shoulder. She slapped it away.

"Goddamn you, Harry!" she shouted at the air, her fists clenched at her sides, shaking all over. "What do you think I'm made of? Steel? I can't take much more of this!" She took a step, stumbled and sat down heavily on the padded gym floor. She made no attempt to get up, just sat there with her head sagging down to her chest.

Napoleon sat down next to her. For a moment he said nothing, just listened to her ragged breathing. "Don't let it break you down, luv. Let it toughen you up," he said quietly.

"I don't want to be that tough." She looked up at him. "Sorry, about...you know."

"Oh, think nothing of it. I love getting free snogs from women on the verge of a nervous breakdown who are using me to piss off their fiancees."

She smiled. "I am not on the verge of a nervous breakdown."

"Luv, you're screaming at the ceiling and trying to inspire jealousy in a man who isn't even here. Paging Dr. Freud, please."

"I'm just...getting some stuff out. Odd as it sounds you're the only one I can do that around and not feel embarrassed."

"It's hard to feel embarrassed in front of a man who'd go out in public looking like me," he said. He put an arm around her. "C'mon, let's us have us a good cry, shall we?"

"I don't need a good cry, I need a good shag," she burst out, too worked up to prevaricate.

"I'm a bad influence on you, luv. You know you talk like a bleeding longshoreman when you hang out with me?"

"Sometimes you've just got to be crude," she said.

"Oh and hey, let me know if I can help with that shag business."

"You wish." She stood up and offered him a hand. "The day I shag you will be the day I give up on Harry entirely."

"So you're saying that if and when you do give up on Harry I'll be first in line?"

"Um...no, you'd be in the low teens."

"Oh, bollocks."

"Napoleon Jones, I do believe you fancy me a little."

"No. I fancy you a lot."

"That is not the way to go about endearing yourself to my fiancee, who is the jealous type and could kill you with a thought."

"Ah, but you misunderstand. When I said 'a lot' what I meant was 'not in the slightest.'" He sighed as they picked up their sweatshirts and headed for the door. "But it doesn't matter, your heart belongs to Harry."

"Very true."

"So the rest of you is up for grabs? Ow!" he cried as she smacked him on the back of the head. They left the gym and headed back to their lives. Hermione did not see the sad look on Napoleon's face as he watched her go down the hall, sad because he was sorry for her pain and because he knew she was irrevocably tied to his absent boss, a man whose shoes he could never hope to fill.