The Joining of the Three

Chapter 9

"Harry?" Hermione called tentatively as she pushed open the door to their apartment. The only response was the soft, sad echo of her own voice. She wiped at the tears that had been coursing freely from her eyes ever since he had walked away from her. If she closed her eyes, she could still see the look of mingled horror and betrayal flash across his face before he replaced it with an emotionless mask.

Then he had stalked away from her at a pace she couldn't hope to keep up with while harboring twenty extra pounds of growing baby Potter.

"Oh, Harry," she sobbed quietly, sinking to the mattress. "Why wouldn't you talk to me?"

"Hermione?" Ginny asked, peering around the door Hermione had left ajar. One look at her tear stained face, and Ginny was at her side. "What is it? Is it the baby?"

"No," she managed before breaking down completely. Ginny, bless her heart, didn't try to stop the tears. She didn't even speak. She just draped an arm around her shoulder and let Hermione cry.

"Thanks," Hermione sniffed once the tide had ebbed.

"Can you tell me what's wrong?"

Two sets of brown eyes clashed as Hermione suddenly realized who was comforting her. It wasn't just her friend Ginny…it was also Draco's wife. She knew that her conscience wouldn't allow her to sweep the details under the rug.

"Gin, there's something I have to tell you," Hermione began, her mind a whirlwind as she tried to think of how to begin.

"Does this have anything to do with what happened between you and Draco just now?" Ginny asked with a smile.

Hermione was glad she was sitting down. The casualness of Ginny's tone would have knocked her legs out from under her otherwise. "You know?"

"Of course I know," Ginny smiled and squeezed Hermione's shoulder with the hand resting there. "He just told me that he kissed you and that Harry saw it. Although I'm not quite sure I understand why Harry stormed off like that. Unless it wasn't just an innocent peck on the mouth."

Before Hermione could even begin to defend herself and Draco, she saw the wry grin and slight eyebrow raise. She sighed and smiled back. "You know it was, Ginny. I love Harry more than I ever thought it possible to love another human being; and Draco loves you so much, it's almost scary. He was just…"

"He was just wishing you well." Ginny paused to gather her thoughts, to phrase them correctly. "Hermione, one of the first things I learned about Draco is that he's a very affectionate man. I don't know if he's making up for the lack of it during his childhood or not, but if I were to get upset every time I saw him kiss another witch, I'd have a pretty miserable life."

"There's something else, Ginny. Something I just found out this morning."

"You mean about your time together in the Caribbean?"

Hermione just barely resisted the urge to pinch her leg. This conversation was almost too surreal to not be a dream. Ginny knew? A little bubble of anger was beginning to well up past the sadness. Why hadn't either of them felt the need to tell her about it? She said as much to Ginny before she could stop herself.

"That was wholly Draco's idea. I've been pestering him on and off for a while to tell you the truth. I've been a bit more vocal this past month now that we've all become so close. He, on the other hand, felt no need to burden you with it. And since the memory charm was still holding, he…well…" Ginny reddened slightly.

"He still felt bad about using it and didn't want to tarnish the new image?"

"In a way. He also just wanted to let the past stay in the past. It's not like you had some torrid island affair, Hermione. You just spent time together, kissed a few times, and generally became good friends."

"I don't remember most of it, just vague little flashes," Hermione said quietly.

"What I really don't get," Ginny frowned slightly, "is Harry's reaction. He seems to be the only one having a problem with it. Would you like me to talk to him, explain about the whole Carribbean thing?"

"Thanks for the offer, Gin. But I think I should talk to him first." The tears were threatening again, but she held them off. "As soon as he comes back from wherever he's gone, that is."

"Well, the offer's open. Or I can get my brothers to beat some sense into him if you'd rather."

Hermione smiled weakly since Ginny seemed to expect it.

After Ginny left, Hermione began to pace the room, trying to figure out where Harry could have gone after she'd lost sight of him. Part of her wanted to go haring after him; not only to find him, shake him, and hug him but also to find out what had upset him so much about an innocent peck on the lips. But she knew that Harry was a brooder, and she had to respect that, no matter how hard it was. She'd give him the space he obviously needed.

Crossing to her writing desk, Hermione removed a file of notes from the Avada Kedavra counter and set to work…and to wait.

Hermione's heart leapt into her throat when she finally heard the door swung open an hour later. Unfortunately, it was Draco standing there, not Harry.

"What do you want, Draco?" Hermione snapped, her disappointment shortening her temper.

"Maybe I should come back when you're a little less hostile. Ten years sound good?"

In spite of herself, Hermione laughed. Draco took that as encouragement and walked over to the chair opposite her at the small table. "What did Harry say?"

"I haven't talked to him yet," she sighed.

Draco looked floored. "What do you mean? You were following him; he was right in front of you."

"Well, I couldn't quite keep up," she indicated her swollen stomach with her hands. "By the time I got to the entrance hall, there was no sign of him. I figure when he's ready to talk, he'll come here."

Their eyes locked in an uncomfortable silence. "Draco, what am I going to tell him?"

"I don't know. Would you rather I spoke to him first?"

"No. He has no idea about the past …all he knows about is the kiss. That's something we need to discuss together first."

Another silence descended, just as uncomfortable as the first. "Why didn't you tell me, Draco? Why leave me to find out this way?" Her temper began to roar into high gear, her discomfiture over the barely remembered past mingling with her hatred of being deceived. "Are you that much of a coward that you couldn't face me with what you'd done? Or were you planning on spending your life obliviating my memory every time I got close to the truth? Because let me tell you, Draco Malfoy, no matter how much you've changed, that was still a low and crass thing to do to someone."

"Are you finished?" Draco quipped, trying to cover his hurt with nonchalance. "Because if you are, I'd like you to put yourself in my shoes for a moment."

"What do you mean?"

"I knew you were close to remembering who you were. You kept referring to the magical world even though you didn't realize it. I knew when that happened, you'd also remember who I was. You'd forget the man you spent a few days touring an island with and remember the Slytherin you hated instead. I couldn't -- wouldn't -- burden you with that because I wasn't strong enough to stay away from you. Besides, I didn't want you going back to your life pining after me."

"Feeling a bit arrogant, are we?" Hermione smiled, but it was more grim than happy. "Why didn't you tell anyone I was alive? Why didn't you tell Harry?"

"I don't know, Hermione. I won't say it didn't occur to me, because it did. And I had a million and one reasons at the time for not informing the rest of the wizarding world. They seemed perfectly rational at the time, but the more I think about it, the more I realize that I was just a coward, just like you said. It was easier to just let it go, so I did. I figured your memory was coming back, so my not informing anyone would just delay the inevitable for a while."

Hermione opened her mouth to agree, and then noticed the hurt swimming around in his gray eyes. And she decided then and there to let it go. There were so many more important things in her mind; she couldn't find the mental energy to continue. Besides, no matter his actions, everything had turned out all right. Harry had found her, and….Harry. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest as his blank face swam before her eyes.

Swallowing the grief, she reached across the table and took Draco's hands in hers. "Shall we agree to let it go, then? Chalk it off to a past mistake that turned out all right in the end and carry on?"

Draco sighed in relief, letting the tension slide off of his shoulders. "You're an incredible witch, Hermione Potter." He raised one of her hands to his mouth and kissed her fingers. Regardless of her protests, he was going to find Harry and at least attempt to explain.

Once she was alone again, staring at the notes in front of her, Hermione admitted to a nagging sense of worry. Three hours later, the worry had started to border on full blown panic.

^*^*^*^

"Ron?" Mariah looked up from feeding Rianne as he walked into their bedroom, his face the same shade as his hair. She could still feel the waves of dread that had come from him one on top of the other. "What is it?"

"This," Ron shook two pieces of parchment in the air. Letting a little of the anger seep out, he kissed both of his girls on their heads and sank to the mattress. "I just got an owl from Ginny, saying that Harry and Hermione have had some sort of disagreement and asking if I'd seen him today. Not two seconds later, another owl drops this one onto my desk."

Ron held the parchment up for Mariah to read.

Ronald. Harry is here…you'd better come quickly. M. Rosmerta.

"Oh dear," Mariah met Ron's beleaguered blue eyes. She saw the flashes of memories in her own mind as they played through his. "Do you want me to come with you?" she asked, knowing he'd be heading to Harry's aid, as always.

"No, angel. You two stay here and get some sleep. I'll wrestle him home and be back as soon as I can. Will you be okay?" Ron stood, clearly wanting to hurry but also not wanting to go.

"We'll be fine, Daddy," she grinned.

Ron winked and kissed them both again before he left. During the five minutes it took him to reach the pub, he kept hoping that he wouldn't find what he dreaded.

His hopes were to no avail.

The Three Broomsticks was almost eerily quiet when Ron crossed the threshold, and there was an audible sigh of relief from the few patrons there. Madame Rosmerta scurried out from behind the bar towards him, wiping her hands on her apron.

"Thank goodness you're here," she nearly panted. "I didn't know what to do. I've kept his drinks pretty well watered down, which goes against my principles, but he's been here since I opened at noon."

"I'll handle it," Ron sighed. As he neared Harry, the déjà vu became so strong, he felt like he'd traveled back in time rather than just down the street. Harry's head lay on the table, a half filled glass of Ogden's Firewhiskey in his hand.

"Come on, mate," Ron echoed his past self. "Time to get you home."

Harry didn't pop his head up in drunken glee the way he used to, though. When the swollen, bloodshot eyes met his, Ron staggered. The last time he had seen sorrow that raw was after Hermione's funeral…in the same eyes that met his now.

"Ron. I can't. Can't go home. Can't see her."

"Sure you can, Harry. You'll grovel, say you were a prat and she'll forgive you. Charlie says it's the theme song of the married man and we all have to sing it occasionally."

"Me?" Harry's voice raised a few octaves in sudden fury, and the pub quieted again to eavesdrop. "What the bloody hell do I have to grovel for? I wasn't the one in Malfoy's arms. I wasn't the one kissing him."

What a story that would make, Ron thought sarcastically. Then Harry's words sunk in and he realized what he was hearing. "Malfoy was kissing Hermione?" Ron said in a hoarse, sinister whisper; outrage for both his sister and his friend spreading through his veins like a virus. "I'll kill the bastard."

"Get in line," Harry slurred, then reached for the whiskey he'd left on the table. "He says to me 'it was an innocent kiss, Harry…doesn't mean anything, Harry…let me explain, Harry'."

Before Ron could utter the spell that would sober Harry up enough to allow them to plot Malfoy's murder, the wizard in question walked in to the pub, hand in hand with Ginny.

Ron left Harry mumbling and staring into his drink. If he told Harry that Malfoy was there, then he wouldn't get a proper shot at him. As he was the sober one, the first punch was all his. He was three steps away, fist raised, when Ginny stepped in between them.

"Hang on, ace," Ginny held up both hands to ward off her brother. "Wouldn't you rather hear the whole story before going off half cocked?"

"That'd sure be a switch," Draco quipped, but dropped the smirk when Ginny glared at him.

Grabbing her brother by the arm, she pulled him out of the Three Broomsticks and proceeded to tell him exactly what had happened early that morning. It took a while for it to sink in that Ginny was more upset by Harry's actions than by Draco's. And as the story unfolded, he couldn't help but agree. Much as his brother-in-law still grated on his nerves, Ron could only hope that his daughter grew up to love as fiercely and as openly as her Aunt Ginny.

Based on what he heard, though, he was having a difficult time figuring out why Harry had ended up here, drunk, over an innocent peck? Ron shook the question from his head. The answer to that would have to wait. For now, he needed to get Harry out of the pub to pass out in his own bed.

Ron sent Ginny and Draco back to Hogwarts. He figured they could prepare Hermione for the state her husband would be in when they returned. And as much as he wanted to use a sobering spell, Ron knew it was the easy way out for Harry. His best friend needed the wake up call of going home to his wife completely pissed…the ignominy of that should keep his arse firmly on the wagon after this little slip.

Ron walked back over to the table and hooked his arm under Harry's, lifting until his friend was on his feet. Ron hoped that being on his feet again would sober him up a little. It didn't. All the fresh air did was bring on Phase Two - Depression. There were several phases to Harry's state of inebriation, if memory served. He desperately hoped that they'd be safely in the apartment at Hogwarts before Phase Four - Unconsciousness set in.

Harry's eyes widened and his steps slowed when he realized the direction they were walking. "I can't, Ron. I can't go back there…not to her. I'll just sleep it off at your place and go back in the morning."

"Not a chance, mate. You need to face this here and now. If I let you put it off until morning, you'll just find another reason tomorrow. The longer you stay away, the harder it is to go home. Besides, Rianne sleeps in the spare room now and there's no way I'm letting my little girl share a room with a drunken sot."

Harry said nothing after that, content to stagger at Ron's side towards the front steps of Hogwarts. Ron cursed under his breath when he saw Draco waiting there for them. He tried to motion the Slytherin away, but Draco stood his ground.

"I need to talk to him again, Weasley," Draco said as Ron continued to wave his hand like he was shooing a fly. If the fire shooting out of Harry's green eyes was any indication, they'd progressed to Phase Three Hostility. Thankfully, that meant he'd be passing out soon.

"Why, because your first conversation was such a resounding success? It'll keep until morning, Malfoy. He's at the end of the drink, and…well, just trust me. Leave it until tomorrow when he's completely sober."

"Quit bloody talking about me like I'm not here, both of you. And Malfoy? You can take your explanation and shove it up your pale white arse."

Maybe Ron should have done more to get Malfoy away from Harry until he passed out. Or maybe he'd hoped that Harry's Hostility Phase had lessened over the years. Or maybe, a little voice whispered in the back of his mind, maybe you wanted to see Malfoy get slugged…just once.

Whatever the reason, Harry's hand rose and flew without any restraint from either of the other men. Draco howled in pain while Ron winced at the sound of breaking bone. And Harry laughed the whole way up to the staff tower singing "I broke Malfoy's nose!"

^*^*^*^

Ron didn't waste any time leaving Harry off with Hermione. He walked into the apartment, dumped a nearly passed out Harry onto the bed and strode out without a word. As much as he wanted to stay with Hermione, he needed to talk to Malfoy more.

"Malfoy?" Ron called as he pushed open the heavy oak door, peering down the long rows of empty beds.

"Over here," was the muffled and slightly nasal response.

Ron stood back as Poppy tended to the break and magicked away the swelling and dual black eyes Harry had given him.

"I need to know, and I need to know now. What happened between you and Hermione?"

"This morning or before?"

"Both."

Draco winced as the last of the break healed. Ron's eyes were doing everything but shooting lasers at him. He knew there was no hope of asking Ron exactly why he deemed this his business. Where the Almighty Trio was involved, if you hurt one, you hurt all. It was comforting in a way to know that hadn't changed.

"Nothing happened, Ron," Draco sighed, hoping that by using his first name he could remind him that they were at least supposed to act like friends. "Hermione took a holiday, I don't know, a couple of months before you and Harry found her. I was amazed at first that she didn't recognize me, or herself for that matter. And I will admit that the Slytherin in me wanted to use that to my advantage. But I got a chance to really get to know her, Ron. The Hermione that you and Harry knew. And I liked her…a lot."

Draco paused, waiting for Ron to rebreak the nose that Poppy had just fixed. He was rather gratified that the other man's arms remained at his sides. Maybe there was hope after all.

"But she was still Hermione Granger, even if she didn't know it anymore. And I was Draco Malfoy. And if there is one thing the Hogwarts class of 1997 knew, it was that Hermione Granger and Harry Potter was the one inevitable thing outside of the rotation of the earth - and that the Gryffindor Trio hated Draco Malfoy with the intensity of a thousand suns.

"She was remembering little things, Ron, and I knew that when she remembered the rest she'd return on her own to the wizarding world. I also knew that she'd hate me forever for the deception. So I sent her away, obliviated her memory of our entire encounter and figured that would be that."

Ron continued to stare at him. He wanted to hate him. He wanted to rebreak the nose that was still a little red with dried blood. But he'd known enough pain in his life to recognize it in another. And he knew that Draco had done what seemed appropriate to him at the time…he could see the sense in the other man's actions.

"And this morning?" Ron prodded, still needing more information. The small part of him that was still leery of his former enemy wanted to hear if the story was the same now that Ginny wasn't at his side.

"This morning, I gave Hermione a brief, sisterly kiss and Harry saw it. As for why he went all cracked about it, your guess is as good as mine." Draco's silver eyes met the blistering blue of Ron's. "I swear to you, Ron. I swear on my love for your sister. The kiss I gave Hermione was no more passionate than the one he gave Mariah after Rianne was born."

Ron remembered that moment vividly. As everyone was passing the baby around, Harry had leaned over and kissed Mariah briefly on the lips. He also remembered being touched that his best friend felt that comfortable with the woman he loved.

Most importantly, though, he believed that Draco was telling the truth. The last vestiges of distrust had died; the boy they had grown up with was well and truly gone. In his place was a man trying to combine a shaky past and a promising future the best way he could.

Ron nodded once then turned to leave the hospital wing. He hadn't gone two paces before he turned back. Overcoming years of conditioning, Ron held out his hand to his brother-in-law and grasped it firmly. "Thanks for telling me, Draco."

After Ron had left, Draco shook his head twice and began to seriously wonder if he'd hallucinated the final two minutes of his talk with Ron. It was either that, he thought wryly, or Weasley was actually beginning to accept him.

Grinning madly at the thought, Draco left the hospital wing to find Ginny and allow her to baby him a bit.

^*^*^*

Harry woke without opening his eyes. Two questions assailed him simultaneously. First, who had stuffed his mouth with Hedwig's feathers? Second, why was his brain attempting to beat its way out of his skull?

A deep, humiliated groan issued from his mouth. It sounded about ten times louder to his addled brain that it actually was. And then he remembered it all with a vivid clarity that surprised him. In the past, he'd awoken with little to no memory of the night before. Not this time. He saw Draco kissing Hermione…his attempt to find Ron…running into Draco…walking into the Three Broomsticks, and, dear Merlin, whacking Draco in the face. He flexed his hand only to find that it hurt marginally less than his head.

"Harry?"

Logically, he knew she hadn't screamed his name, but that's what it had sounded like.

"Harry?" a little louder this time. He opened his eyes a crack and then slammed the lids shut again.

"Too bright," he whispered.

"Honestly. This is nonsense. I don't care what Ron says about letting you recover on your own." He could hear her rummaging through the paperwork on her desk and then her deafening "Ex Inebriatas."

All at once, the pain left his head and his mouth no longer felt like the last resting place of used cotton. Sometimes, wizardry really had its benefits.

"Thanks," he said quietly, sitting up in bed and fixing his glasses on his nose. "Er…Hermione?" he began, then promptly shut his mouth again. He had no idea what to say.

The silence stretched between them. Each second they remained quiet, the chasm separating them seemed to grow another yard wider. Harry stared at his hands, Hermione stared at the top of his shaggy haired head.

"I'm sorry," they said simultaneously.

"Why?" they answered each other, again at the same time.

Finally, as if drawn by a magnet, their eyes met. In Harry's eyes, Hermione saw a wealth of contrition, embarrassment and curiosity. In Hermione's, Harry saw only one thing…sorrow.

And because of that sorrow, the pain he'd caused her, Harry couldn't find the words to make it right. He kept his mouth shut and allowed her to continue.

"I know that I hurt you, Harry, and I am so sorry for that. It seemed like my whole world fell apart when you walked away from me." Tears moistened the warm brown of her eyes and she let them fall from her lashes. "I never want to have that feeling again."

"Neither do I," he managed around his own unshed tears. The emotion was so thick in his throat, he was amazed the words were coherent. But then her next remark dried the emotion, and the tears, in a blinding flash.

"But I still don't quite understand why something so innocent caused you such anguish."

Anger like he hadn't known in years coursed through him. Innocent? He thought. She thought that kissing Malfoy was innocent? What was next? Was he supposed to stand idly by the next time he saw Malfoy examining Hermione's tonsils and console himself with the word "innocent"? Did finding them shagging in the Astronomy Tower qualify as innocent, too?

Hermione waited for Harry to speak, completely unaware of the heat flowing through his veins. If he'd met her eyes, she'd have known, but he kept his eyes on his own clenching fists instead.

"Sorry," he ground out, but couldn't say more without risking an explosion. "What brought it about?" This was the one thing he needed to know more than anything.

Hermione sighed a little and explained about the dreams, and her finding out that she'd met Malfoy before she'd regained her memory. The anger within him reached near boiling. Malfoy knew? He knew she was alive and didn't tell him? The bastard has taken the hand Harry had given him in friendship and used it to stab him in the back. If he lived to be as old as Dumbledore, he'd never forgive that betrayal.

He was nearly turned inside out with all the conflicting emotions rampaging through him -- and he needed to be alone to get them under control. Somehow, he managed to convey to Hermione that all was forgiven. That he was sorry for having caused her worry. They kissed briefly and Harry made a quick escape, claiming he wanted a quick wash before they met the others for brunch in Hogsmeade.

Once in the shower, Harry let the hot water beat down on his skin as he struggled to reign in the rage threatening to overpower him, the sense of betrayal from both Hermione and Draco. But the blind fury that had begun so rapidly burned itself out before long. His rational mind began to chip away at every horrible thought, every unfounded accusation. Once the anger had cooled, all that remained was a lingering, aching numbness. The emptiness that filled him pushed out every other thought, every other emotion until all that was left was the outer shell.

^*^*^*^*^

Ron's eyes fluttered open, the sound of Mariah's not so harmonic voice filling their bedroom. He watched quietly as she rocked in a chair, feeding Rianne and singing to her with a voice that reminded him vaguely of Nearly Headless Nick's orchestra. Not that Rianne cared a whit. Come to think of it, he didn't either. The tableau before him had quickly become his favorite sight upon waking.

Except for the shadows that continued to deepen beneath Mariah's eyes. Once again, he'd felt her toss and turn the night before. As his anxiety over Harry and Hermione had kept him from deep sleep, he was able to soothe her a bit as she slept; but he'd also heard her mumbling. Whatever dreams were assailing her, they weren't pleasant.

Are you going to stare at me for much longer or just ask me?

Mariah's thought in his head jerked him out of his thoughts and their eyes connected.

"What are the dreams about, Mariah? I heard you talking last night, but not enough to know what you were seeing."

"It's nothing, Ron," Mariah responded, casting her eyes downward.

"Don't tell me it's nothing," Ron barked. Rianne jerked slightly in her mother's arms and Ron lowered his voice. "Please, angel. Tell me what's bothering you so much."

"I'm afraid for Rianne, Ron."

Ron felt as though she'd just hit him with a very large, very heavy club. Whatever he'd been expecting, it wasn't this. "Do you mean afraid of making mistakes?" he asked hopefully.

Mariah heard the hope in his words and felt it in his mind. But now that she'd started this, she couldn't lie anymore.

"No, Ron. I'm afraid for her life. The dreams I started having? They're getting worse. Much worse. I see this horrid little blond child; he's throwing things at me, pushing me down - usual kid things. But as he's tormenting me, I hear Sabastian's voice mumbling and Renae's weeping."

"How do you know it's Renae? I didn't think you ever saw her while you were there."

"I didn't, and I'm not sure how I know it's her, I just do. She's crying and saying 'I'm sorry' over and over again. Whatever we believed, whatever we hoped…he's still after the baby, Ron. I'm certain of it."

That last comment sapped what little composure she'd managed to maintain and tears started to leak out from under her lowered lids.

Ron collected the now sleeping baby and whisked her off to the crib in her room. Once Rianne was settled, he returned to their bedroom, took Mariah's hands, pulled her to standing and wrapped his arms around her.

Ever since the baby had been born, Ron had been slowly acclimating to the feel of Mariah in his arms…without the protrusion of their unborn child. And it was getting more and more difficult to hide the unmistakable male response he had to her. He had no idea how long after childbirth a woman was able to make love, and didn't know who to ask. Broaching the subject with Mariah seemed almost crass as they had only made love twice before the Rianne's arrival. A wonderful, glorious, mind-numbing twice…but it made things awkward just the same.

Doesn't matter at the moment, though, mate, Ron lambasted himself, the last thing she needs to deal with is some horny wizard.

"Ron?" Mariah asked into his shoulder, using his bare shoulder to wipe her tears.

"Hmmm?"

"What if I'd rather deal with a horny wizard than a scary nightmare?"

Ron nearly fell to the floor as all the blood rushed from his head. With shaking hands, he reached up to cup her face. Their eyes held, Ron's filled with disbelief, Mariah's bright and smiling.

"Angel," his voice was a hoarse rasp, "I don't think this is the time."

Mariah's smile widened as she dropped her arm from around his neck, trailed her fingers down the solid bare back and rested it at his hip. With a slight pressure, she pulled his hips more firmly into her own until she cradled his need. "Feels like the right time to me."

"Er…" he coughed and laughed nervously, "that's not quite what I meant. We're due across the street for brunch in less than half an hour."

"How long do you need?"

"Long," Ron grinned down into her blue eyes, gratified at the gasp issuing from her mouth and subsequent increase in her breathing.

"Then I say we get to brunch and then get back here as quickly as possible."

Ron kissed her smiling mouth with an aching tenderness that mimicked what he'd much rather be doing with her at the moment. When he was positive that he'd driven her nearly as mad as he felt, he pulled away. "We'd better get dressed."

She panted out a brief epithet.

"I plan to," he grinned, and jumped aside before her hand could connect with his backside.

^*^*^*^

Each of the six people seated at the round table in the Ember Tavern's main dining room wished rather vehemently that they had owled to cancel this little brunch. Of all of them, only Ginny, Ron and Mariah attempted conversation. Harry was as silent as the grave, his face never quite leaving his plate as he poked at the food on it. Hermione poked at her food as well, but kept shooting furtive glances at both Harry and Draco. Draco managed to eat, but only between worried glances at Harry and Hermione.

Ron and Mariah just kept staring at each other and laughing quietly.

After an almost unbearable hour, they stood from the table and made their way through the restaurant to the High Street. There were a few words of farewell; Ginny, Mariah and Hermione all hugged each other goodbye before they all went back to respective homes. The wizards stood watching and waiting impatiently to leave this awkward weekend behind them.

"Harry?" Hermione said quietly as they walked back towards Hogwarts. He was right at her side and holding her hand, but he hadn't said a word in nearly ten minutes. And obviously wasn't planning on breaking the silence any time soon.

"Harry?" she tried again. When he still didn't answer, Hermione stopped walking and jerked on the hand in his until he turned to face her. "Are you ever going to speak to me again?"

Pain flashed briefly in his bright green eyes, but he closed it off rapidly. All she saw in his face now was…nothing. A heartbreaking, discomforting nothing. "I just have a lot on my mind, Hermione. End of term exams are coming up soon, you know."

Hermione watched as he strode back to the school, clearly not intending to finish the walk with her. A frightening tremor of foreboding shivered along her skin, causing goose bumps to form despite the warmth of the early afternoon.

^*^*^*

Two weeks later, Hermione sat in their empty apartment staring out of the window. Never in a million years had she thought that she would ever look back on that awkward brunch with a sense of nostalgia. But she did. That was the last time her husband had said her name. These days, she was lucky to see him, let alone get a word out of him. On the fingers of one hand, she recounted every word he'd uttered to her in the past fourteen days…and not one of them progressed past monosyllabic niceties.

Drastic times now called for drastic measures. She'd sent two owls a few hours ago. The first to Draco, asking him to come back to Hogwarts as soon as possible. A part of her hoped that Draco would be able to crack through the shield Harry had erected around himself.

At first, she'd thought it was just her. But after speaking to Ron, the other students and faculty, she realized that Harry had closed himself off from everyone. Katia had told her that he taught his classes like usual, but left the room the moment the bell sounded.

She didn't know what had caused this reticent behavior, but she was determined to end it before the baby came. And if she couldn't, then she'd have to leave him. Simple as that. The thought sliced through her heart like a sword, but it was her only option. She wouldn't have her baby grow up in such an environment.

The second owl she'd sent was her last hope if Draco failed to get through to Harry.

Wiping an angry tear from her eye, Hermione turned to watch the fireplace next to her as it erupted with emerald green sparks. Draco Malfoy emerged a moment later brushing soot from his robes.

"Draco," she sobbed and threw herself into his arms. He stood stock still, running his hands up and down her back as she cried.

It was, of course, the worst time for Harry to walk in…but walk in he did.

As he had two weeks earlier, Harry spared them one brief glance before stomping off without a word. Draco felt Hermione stiffen as the tears began to pour from her eyes again.

"All right," he ground out between clenched teeth. "That's just bloody it."

Draco pulled away from Hermione's grip and charged after Harry, calling his name so loudly it echoed off the walls.

Draco, not being eight months pregnant, found it easier than Hermione did to keep up with Harry's long strides. Regardless, it wasn't until Harry stalked into a room at the top of the Astronomy Tower that Draco had him cornered. The one window provided minimal light, but from what Draco saw, it looked as if Harry had been spending quite a bit of time here. Clothes were strewn across the dusty furniture and a pallet of blankets had been made up on a bench near the far wall. Apparently, things between Harry and Hermione were much worse than he thought.

"Well, well," Draco panted, slightly out of breath from the chase, "if this isn't a familiar sight. Harry Potter, brooding in the Astronomy Tower."

Harry remained where he was, staring out of the open window over the Hogwarts grounds. He didn't respond to the taunt.

"You probably don't know this, but the last time I saw you standing here was two days after Hermione's funeral." Draco saw the slight tensing of Harry's shoulders and continued in the knowledge that he at least had Harry's attention.

"I wanted desperately to say something to you. Anything. We'd mended our past feud, I was about to leave the country, and it seemed like a good idea. But I had no idea what to say…what do you say to someone who's just buried the woman he loved?"

Harry still didn't turn around, but Draco saw the other man's shoulders shaking - whether with anger or grief, he couldn't tell.

"But this is different, Harry. The woman you love is downstairs right now, crying her eyes out on a nightly basis. You've shut her and everyone else out over something so trivial. For Merlin's sake, Harry, you kissed Mariah the same way after Rianne was born. What made the kiss between Hermione and I so bloody different that you have to retreat into yourself like this? Did it bother you that much, or do you just enjoy being the martyr of the wizarding world?"

Draco sighed, and then plunged on with the one thing he hoped would get through to him. "I'm going to let you in on a little secret that I'm not even supposed to know, Harry, and then I'll leave you to your brooding."

Draco took the few remaining steps to close the distance between him and Harry and turned him around forcibly until they were eye to eye.

"If you don't get your head out of your arse, you're going to lose her. And there won't be any getting her back this time."

Harry's green eyes remained blank and fixed on a point just over Draco's shoulder.

"Bloody hell," he spat, then turned and left Harry to his own devices.

Harry's shoulders slumped the moment he was alone, silent tears flowing down his cheeks, burning his skin like acid.

In a matter of moments, Draco was back in the apartment giving Hermione the bad news that his efforts had been for naught.

"I tried everything I could think of, Hermione. He wouldn't even look at me." He rose and walked over to the fireplace. "I've got to get back, though. I hate leaving Gin alone for long these days."

"Of course," Hermione smiled, running a hand over her own soon-to-be-born child. "Give her my best."

Draco threw a pinch of powder into the fire, said "Malfoy Manor" and took a step forward before turning back to Hermione. "I'm sorrier than I know how to express for causing all of this, Hermione."

"Nonsense," she tried to smile. "This isn't your fault."

Hermione paced the small apartment, debating over and over whether or not she should head to the Tower to confront Harry again, to point her wand at him and force him to talk to her. She was just about to give it one more try when a knock sounded on the door.

Sirius Black stood on the other side.

Sirius opened his arms to her, and she flung herself into them, nearly crushing him in a bear hug. She eased his hold a bit and he bent to place a kiss to her forehead.

Hermione smiled up at him in greeting. "Hi, Grandpa."

^*^*^*^*

Harry was still in the Astronomy Tower when Sirius found him. His heart ached for his godson, sitting alone with his misery. It wasn't the first time he regretted not adopting him, and knew it wouldn't be the last. But Harry was a man full grown now, and Sirius' regrets were for him and him alone.

Now it was time to pick his godson up, dust him off, and give him a good kick up the arse, if need be. He might not be Harry's father in the eyes of the law, but he was in every other way that mattered. And he'd known James well enough to know what he would have done in this situation.

"Harry?"

"Why can't you all just leave me the bloody hell alone?" Harry nearly screamed, turning to face the latest intruder. When he saw who it was, his jaw dropped. "Sirius?" he said in a shaky, dubious voice.

"In the flesh," he grinned, "or would you prefer fur?"

Harry didn't respond. He just walked over to his godfather and did something he hadn't done since he was seventeen years old -- he wrapped his arms around Sirius and cried.

Once the storm of grief had passed, Sirius led Harry over to two of the observation room's chairs. He desperately wanted to ask one of the hundreds of questions on the tip of his tongue, but he knew too well the benefits of waiting. And Harry had to open this conversation, or they'd be lost before they began.

"I've screwed it all up, Sirius," Harry said softly. "It's hopeless."

"Tell me precisely what you've screwed up," Sirius prodded. "Then I'll decide whether or not it's hopeless." He considered remaining silent, but then asked the one question he needed an answer to first. "Are you drinking again?"

"Just the once. Two weeks ago, right after I caught them together."

"Hold it right there." Sirius clenched his fists, the urge to console nearly as strong as the urge to throttle. "You say caught them together as if you found them in bed together, naked and shagging. As far as I've been told, Malfoy merely gave Hermione a brotherly peck on the lips."

"But she's not his sister, is she?"

"No, she's your wife." Sirius let that remark sink in, and watched the play of emotions cross Harry's face.

"I know I overreacted, Sirius. I hate how badly I blew it out of proportion. But all of it seemed to close in on that one moment and it was more than I could bear."

"All of what?"

"My whole bloody life," Harry shouted, slamming his fists onto the table and then stood, pacing around the room.

Sirius watched him, just barely containing a sigh of relief. Finally, Harry. You're finally starting to deal with it all. Of all the possible outcomes, this had been the one he'd hoped for most.

"I haven't caught a break since I was one year old, Sirius. Voldemort takes my parents, their best friend, my best friend, and my whole bloody childhood in the stroke of two curses. When he's finally defeated, everyone starts congratulating me, calling me a hero -- and all I wanted to do is die so that I could be with Hermione again. But I buried the rage, the depression, all of it trying to live up to the image people expected of me. It didn't work and I ended up pissed out of my mind for nearly three years.

"And then a miracle happens. Hermione is back in my life. We're married, we're expecting a child, and I spend all of my time secretly terrified that the other shoe is about to drop. That the miserable luck I've had all my life is going to take her away again. Or do something to the baby…or that our child will grow up an orphan like I did. "

"And the whole Draco and Hermione thing?" Sirius prodded.

"Once my rational mind took over, I realized that there was nothing behind that kiss other than friendship. But by that time, I'd closed myself off so effectively, I couldn't seem to find the way back. And now I'm going to lose her, Sirius."

"Not unless you want to, Harry. The door to the cupboard isn't locked anymore, Harry. All you have to do is open the door."

Sirius stood and left the room quietly. Harry needed time now, time to think and time to decide where he went from this moment on.

^*^*^*^

She was in the library. That was unsurprising and quite fitting. Harry had spent an hour in the tower, replaying his conversation with Sirius over and over in his head until he knew the only recourse left him. The only thing he could do.

He'd grovel, beg, plead - hell, he'd offer to mow the Quidditch pitch with a pair of garden shears, just so long as she said she'd give him another chance.

"Excuse me," Harry said roughly, standing in front of her table. "I'm looking for books on witches and wizards." He wondered vaguely if she'd remember the request he'd put to her over a year ago in an American library.

Hermione's brown eyes jumped to his, disbelief and confusion on her face. And then she remembered. And then she smiled.

And then she was in his arms.

They stood that way for quite some time. Neither moved nor talked, they just gloried in the feel of being in each other's arms again. Hermione was afraid to move since she'd had dreams like this so many times, only to awaken empty handed. Harry was afraid that when she pulled away, she'd tell him it was too late. That it was over between them and walk away.

"Mione, love," Harry whispered into her hair. "I am so sorry. I was such a great stupid prat, and I know there is no excuse for my overreaction over something so completely trivial. You have every right to hex me with every spell you've ever learned."

Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but Harry silenced her with a finger pressed to her lips. "I don't deserve you, Hermione. I think there's a part of me, a part still buried in that cupboard, that doesn't feel deserving of love at all. All I know for sure is that I love you with all my heart; I always have and always will. Please tell me I haven't messed us up too badly…please tell me that there's still hope?"

Hermione pulled away slightly from his embrace. She wore a blank mask over her normally expressive face and was silent for much longer than was comfortable. But their gazes remained locked, and their arms remained around each other. "You hurt me, Harry."

His face fell and a single tear tracked down his cheek. "I know. And if I had a time turner, I'd change that in a heartbeat."

Rage flooded through Hermione; a rage fueled by two weeks of emotional upheaval. She took a few steps away from him, not trusting herself and the overpowering urge to slap him. "That's your response? A time turner? You shut me out for two weeks, and your only solution would be to go back and change things so it never happened? That's a cop out. Adults deal with their arguments, Harry, they don't run from them or magically alter them."

"Well I wouldn't know that, would I?" Harry spat her anger right back. "The Dursley's weren't exactly the best role models, Hermione. All they taught me was to lock uncomfortable or unwanted things in a cupboard." His head dropped and he removed his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. "Guess I learned that lesson fairly well, didn't I?"

Hermione stared at him. Her heart filled with her love for the man he was and the boy he'd been. And she realized she didn't want to continue this anymore. Harry was in front of her, his remorse over his actions almost palpable. It was time to move past this heartache…time to move forward. She made no move towards him, but softened her voice. "If you ever freeze me out like that again, Harry Potter, I won't hesitate to transfigure you into a skrewt."

Then she was back in his arms, her lips were on his, and everything else fled her mind except for the feel of Harry's mouth, the texture of his lips and tongue. The kiss pulsated with the sting of remorse and the bittersweet taste of reconciliation. But just as a mother's touch on a skinned knee, it eased the pain and salved the wound. And when their lips parted, all that remained was a healing peace.

"Harry," she whispered hoarsely as he bent to nibble on her neck. "Are you forgetting something?"

"Nope. I remember this spot all too well."

Hermione gasped as he found the sensitive hollow at her collarbone. "I meant that we're in the library."

By the stunned look on his face, Hermione guessed that he had forgotten. But then he threaded his fingers through hers and walked her back to their apartment. There were still questions to be answered and issues to be resolved, but Hermione didn't care a damn about any of that. For now, she had her husband's hand in hers…and that was all that mattered.

^*^*^*^*

"Can I show you something in particular?" Ron asked the witch standing before him, gazing into the cabinet on the other side of the counter. She'd been browsing the store for the past half hour and hadn't said a word yet. It was starting to drive him mad. Closing time had come and gone ten minutes ago and he was desperate to get upstairs and try to sleep a bit before Rianne woke up for her evening fussy period.

"Yes," came her melodic response. "The large box of assorted tricks. My nephew's birthday is next week and that looks like just the thing."

Ron smiled his best shopkeeper's smile as he retrieved the box and placed it on the counter for her inspection.

"How's the baby?" she asked without looking up, her voice soft.

Ron was puzzled for a moment. How did this woman know about Rianne? She's one of your best customers; she's in here all the time. Of course, that was it. Fatherhood must be playing tricks on his memory, what with the two hours of sleep he was getting these days. The idea of Mariah's Persuader gift never even entered his mind.

"Rianne's just fine, thanks. Not sleeping too well at night, yet. But we're getting there."

"I'm sure you are. That reminds me, I realized this morning that I'd never given you the present I bought for her after she was born. I'm so sorry it's so late."

"Don't worry," Ron smiled and accepted the package from her. He unwrapped it quickly to find a cute little bear, all primary colored and softly fuzzy. He knew it was imperative that he use the wrapping paper to hold the bear, but couldn't remember why.

"I've got to run for now. I'll be back later for the gift box. Don't forget to give the present to Rianne," she grinned, then Disapparated.

Ron engaged the anti-opening charm and headed up the back stairs to the apartment. Of course he wouldn't forget to give the bear to Rianne. In fact, he'd do it right now.

He crept up the stairs silently, trying desperately not to wake Mariah. The nightmares weren't getting any better, and he knew she tried to catch as much sleep as she could, usually napping at the same time as the baby. And lying next to her in the quiet apartment while Rianne slept had rapidly become his favorite time of day - well, considering the intimate turn of their relationship, his second favorite.

Ron leaned over Rianne's crib rail and placed the plush toy in beside her. He placed a kiss to his own fingertips then touched her head softly. "Love you, little angel."

By the time he'd settled Mariah in his arms and drifted off to sleep, the trip to the bassinette and the gift were completely forgotten. In the next room, Rianne flung an arm out, touched the bear and disappeared.