When The Fat Lady Sings

When the Fat Lady Sings

"Having problems, dear?"

Startled, Hermione turned around, eyes automatically going to a large painting of the lake and its surroundings where, as she expected, the Fat Lady was seated. In the painting's background, the giant squid languidly waved its tentacles, as if trying to draw the Fat Lady's attention. The Fat Lady, however, was scattering bread crumbs while various birds swooped in, or noisily scrambled for bits and pieces of food around her.

Her wise, kindly eyes were focused on Hermione Granger, wearing the paint-stained and -streaked school robe that she'd been using as a smock. Hermione had been sitting in front of her easel for quite some time, unmoving, staring at the still-unfinished (actually, blank) portrait in front of her. The Fat Lady repeated her question, "Having problems, dear?"

"Shouldn't you be watching the corridor, Lady Caroline?" Hermione replied, obviously unwilling to answer the question posed. The Fat Lady's smile widened at that - she had gotten Hermione to call her Aunt Carol some time ago; it was only when Hermione was irritated, frustrated ... or trying to avoid a question that irritated or frustrated her, that she called the Fat Lady by her real name and title.

Which, the Fat Lady reflected, had been happening more and more frequently these past two weeks.

"Not really," she replied to Hermione's response. "Almost all Gryffindors are in bed or in the Common Room, doing what all good Gryffindors are supposed to be doing at this time of night." Hermione continued to stare at her empty canvas, apparently not interested in the Fat Lady's statement - although her ears perked up at "almost all Gryffindors" ... which meant that someone - or some ones were sneaking around the castle again.

"Harry's gone out," the Fat Lady continued in a conversational tone, but she was watching Hermione closely - and smiled when she saw Hermione jerk as if a needle had stabbed her. Hermione, however, tried to appear nonchalant about the information - Harry was Head Boy, after all, and could claim Head Boy's duties as a reason for wandering the castle at night.

"Probably gone to snog some girl at the Astronomy Tower," she replied in an indifferent voice.

"Not unless he's meeting Ron Weasley there," the Fat Lady replied - and laughed raucously at Hermione's shocked expression. "Just joking, dear. Ron's sneaked up to the girl's dormitory with Parvati ... Ginny's tutoring some first years, else she'd be pounding on their door about now."

"Oh," Hermione replied. She turned around to smile at the Fat Lady, "Maybe I should give them one of my paintings - how about the rose garden?"

"Ooooh," The Fat Lady sighed, and giggled. "Everyone in the castle will be sneaking over there, watching the great Ron Weasley putting the moves on a girl ... you'll be painting those EWWW! badges till graduation!"

Hermione laughed at that. EWWW! - "Every Woman Wants a Weasley!" - badges were something the Twins had put together in their last year at Hogwarts, which quickly became a status symbol among the castle's female population - helped by the rumor (spread, no doubt, by the Twins themselves or their friend Lee Jordan) that the three Weasleys had something going for them - not just their wands.

The whole castle had been in an uproar one memorable breakfast when Millicent Bulstrode walked into the Great Hall wearing an EWWW! badge (no one knew - or no one was telling - how she got one), strode up to Ron and said, in a sultry voice loud enough to be heard by the teachers at their table, "Is that a wand in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?"

The shocked silence in the Hall was broken by Professor McGonagall's coughing as she spit out the pumpkin juice she was in the act of swallowing. All eyes swung to the teachers' table - where everyone saw Professor Dumbledore's mouth dropped open wide enough to catch flies, Snape's lips curled in what looked to be a genuine smile, Remus Lupin valiantly holding back a roar of laughter, Flitwick's face as red as a beet as he peered at them from under the table where he had fallen ... to be finally broken by the loud, braying laughter of Hagrid and the tinkling, clear laugh of Professor Sinistra.

That had been a photo op worth a thousand Galleons ... which, Hermione had heard, was what it was actually worth. The teachers' expressions had been caught by the ever-present camera of Colin Creevey, and the photo had sold like the proverbial hotcakes - especially when the Weasley Twins had taken over the actual manufacture and selling of the photos among the students and, yes, the staff.

Colin's other photo from that day - Ron's expression at Millicent's words - had not sold as well. Hermione smiled; she had put together a painting combining Ron's expression with that of the teachers, which she was planning to give to him at his birthday this year.

Hermione giggled at the memory - and then she remembered the look of incredulity on Harry's face, the night that the Weasleys gave him a set of badges to "distribute" among the female population of Hogwarts. They told him, with a smirk on their faces, that since he was a Weasley in everything but name, hair and freckles, even McGonagall would be proud to wear one - as long as he gave it to her.

Harry had flatly refused, and she laughed out loud as she remembered his reaction when Ron tried to get him to "distribute" the badges: "Don't you nitwits know what 'EWWW!' could mean?"

Ron and the Twins had looked at him in surprise. "It stands for 'Every Woman Wants a Weasley!,' Harry. What else could it mean?"

"It could also mean 'Every Weasley Wants a Woman!' Are you saying that Ginny is into girls?"

The swish of a flying book was the only warning Harry had; his survival instincts, honed by years of Quidditch practice and games, to say nothing of his encounters with the Dark Side, had honed his reactions to a fine, sharp edge ... he'd ducked the book that Ginny had thrown at him, although the book did hit Fred in the face.

The incorrigible Ron Weasley, however, had capped his comment with one of his own, "Well, since Hermione is also an honorary Weasley ... it may also apply to her!"

Unfortunately for Ron, he did not have Harry's finely-honed instincts. He'd wobbled around the Common Room for the rest of that night, hit by a double Jelly-Legs curse from Hermione and Ginny which both refused to take off until the following morning. No one in the Tower had the guts to use the counter-curse, after the glares they all received from Hermione and Ginny.

Hermione suddenly sobered as she remembered that incident. She wouldn't be surprised if those jibes had made their way around the castle by now ... especially as neither she nor Ginny had shown the slightest interest in the nocturnal excursions to the Astronomy Tower that everyone seemed to be enjoying.

Everyone assumed, of course, that Ginny still hadn't gotten over her fan-girl crush on Harry Potter. Everyone, that is, except Harry and herself. Harry knew, in some indefinable way of his, that Ginny had long gotten over it - he treated Ginny as a younger sister, and was more of a big brother to her than even Ron, Fred or George were ... as Ginny had put it, Harry had become a substitute Bill Weasley for her.

Hermione, of course, knew far more - and her eyes wandered to one of the paintings stacked against the wall of her room. She had caught Ginny and Remus Lupin in the classic en garde positions of a Wizard's duel - bodies tense, eyes locked on each other, poised to spring at the slightest sign of weakness or distraction in the other ... what the painting did not show was that the duel had ended with both of them laughing over something or the other ...

She'd seen the two in an empty classroom one night when she was making her Head Girl's rounds; Ginny had said that she was going to be practicing dueling with someone (she didn't say who) and Hermione had been worried because it was getting late ... and she had almost walked in on them that night.

As for herself ... no, "Every Weasley Wants a Woman!" definitely did not apply to her ... and she glanced again at the blank canvas on her easel, wondering, as she had for the hundredth (or was it thousandth) time why she was having so much difficulty painting this person.

She glared at the photograph of that person that sat beside the canvas, the one that she wanted to use as a basis for this portrait that she had been working on for weeks. It was one of her favorite photographs. The picture was waving cheerfully, giving her a warm grin. He was in his scarlet Quidditch robes, leaning against a wall, quite exhilarated, as if he just won the game. His messy black hair flopped into his eyes, obscuring the scar. His green eyes glinted with hidden mischief.

She had everything she needed to put together her painting - but she couldn't put brush to canvas. Every time she tried, she always seemed to lose confidence in what she was about to do ...

Was it because she couldn't quite paint the way his tousled hair looked in the morning as he went down for breakfast with her, or its general unruliness after a tedious Potions session ... or the way it stood out after he'd run his fingers through it several times during a difficult essay or assignment, while she literally stood over him to make sure he finished it?

Was it because she couldn't quite catch the curves of his mouth, alternating between straight and tight when he was angry, to an upward curve that ran to a dimple on his cheek when he was amused, to that full-blown, gorgeous smile that seemed to light up his face whenever she saw him as he came to the Common Room, the Great Hall after Quidditch practice, or during their regular meetings with the Prefects?

Or could it be that she couldn't incorporate into her painting that minty breath that she'd caught as she kissed him on the cheek as she said good bye to him at Platform 9 and ¾ at the end of their fourth year? Or that spicy smell of pumpkin pie on his lips as he kissed her beneath the mistletoe after the Christmas feast only last month?

Or was it because she couldn't find the right mix of green to capture his eyes? Not really ... her palette had the full range of colors ranging from light green (when he appeared in the Common Room in the morning), to dark, forest green when he was watching the Twins play one of their inevitable pranks, to that brilliant, emerald green when he was angry or irritated at something ... to that dreamy sea-green of his eyes that she had seen one time in the library, when she had inadvertently looked up to see him staring at her. She'd ducked her head quickly, before he could even notice ... but the color of his eyes had stayed with her ... she just couldn't put brush to palette and canvas to capture that moment ... although she had no problems bringing it to the forefront of her mind.

"So what's the problem, dear? Why not tell your Aunt Carol about it?" The Fat Lady's voice intruded into her consciousness and she jerked herself to awareness. She'd been staring at her blank canvas for some time ... and she stopped herself from sobbing in her frustration. Given the dark funk of her mind, she barely heard the Fat Lady's words as the latter continued, "You know, painting is sometimes like real life. There are a thousand things you want to say ... you feel that you're prepared, ready and willing to say it or do it ... and the moment comes - and you find that you cannot.

"Something's stopping you from doing it or saying it ... "

"And what has that got to do with me?" Hermione said, snappishly. The Fat Lady, unperturbed, smiled at her and continued, "Sometimes the most difficult things to paint or describe is the person you really, truly love ... you're never sure if you've captured that essential something that made you fall in love with him in the first place, and which you want the world to see."

Hermione gaped at her for a long moment. The Fat Lady smiled at her, wisely, wistfully, as if remembering other times and other people that she knew. Abruptly, Hermione stood up, the stool clattering behind her, and walked to her closet, intending to pull out a cloak and take an evening walk.

"I'm going out for some fresh air," she told the guardian of Gryffindor's entrance-hole.

"Harry's down by the lake," the Fat Lady said, helpfully. "I think he needs someone to talk to."

Hermione, who was in the act of putting on her cloak, suddenly removed it and threw it on her bed. She grabbed a thick book on Arithmancy from her desk, and said, "Never mind. I'll just study in the Common Room for a while," and literally ran out of her room, slamming the door behind her.

She didn't hear the Fat Lady's parting words, "Waiting up for Harry, are we?"

The Fat Lady smiled, and turned away. She needed Violet to take her place at the portrait hole, in case Harry came back before she was ready.

* * * * *

Harry walked to the Gryffindor entrance slowly, tiredly. He had his Invisibility Cloak on, to avoid awkward questions from teachers or ghosts about what he was doing outside on the grounds that late at night. He'd spent the last two hours sitting at the lake, staring out at the stars ... unfortunately, the giant squid wasn't that great a companion when he needed someone to talk with. The squid had eventually gotten bored of his one-way conversation, and dived into the lake - undoubtedly, going for a well-earned sleep, after heroically listening to him talk for an hour or so.

'At least,' Harry thought, 'the squid doesn't have to look for a date for the Valentine's Ball.'

Which was quite a laugh! Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, winner of the Tri-Wizard Tournament, youngest Seeker in a century, guardian of good against all things evil and yucky, honorary Weasley, blah, blah, blah ... having trouble finding a date for Valentine's Day!

Correction.

It was not that difficult to find a date for the Valentine's Day Ball ... a lot of girls (several proudly sporting their EWWW! badges) had asked him to the ball - all of which he'd politely refused. He knew who he wanted to take to the Ball ... the problem was, he wasn't sure if she would go with him ...

He sighed. He'd just come to the point of enumerating the reasons why she wouldn't go with him when the giant squid had left him ... he hadn't even got to the real issue when the squid took off. He'd been tempted to use a Summoning Charm to pull the squid back ... right now, he'd even talk to a Blast-Ended Skrewt if there was no one else handy!

He cursed himself, again, for his unbridled curiosity ... why had he even been tempted to look through her sketchpad when she had forgotten it in the library?

Ego, that's why ... he'd been intrigued to see how she saw him as a physical person - not as the "best friend," or her classmate through the years of their Hogwarts education, or his constant companion on almost all of his adventures. He just wanted to see how she saw him ...

And he could still feel the lance of disappointment and hurt passing through him as he realized, after going through that sketchbook several times, that there was not even one sketch of him! Oh, there were dozens of sketches of Ron, and Ginny (the first sketch, in fact, was of Ginny while she was laughing over something), and their other friends, teachers (there was an interesting sketch of Ginny and Remus at a Wizard's Duel) ... even one of Professor Snape and Malfoy!

But ... not ... one ... dammed ... sketch ... of ... him!

Why? Was he really that unimportant to her? Or was he simply ... her best friend ... someone that she was so used to seeing everyday of her life ... rather like an old, comfortable pair of shoes that she put on everyday and wore around, without even thinking about it?

Oh, sure, there were sketches of some one on a broomstick, apparently flying around during a Quidditch match, or matches, as well as other sketches of some one in Quidditch robes, holding a broom ... but the faces were blank. They could just as well have been sketches of Fred, George, Oliver Wood or ... darn it, they could even be sketches of Krum, for crying out loud!

He'd heard her clattering back to the library nook, doubtless searching for her lost sketchbook. He'd tossed the book under the table, making it appear that she had dropped it and he hadn't even noticed it ... which was a rather successful move, if he did say so himself. She'd been so relieved at finding it under the table, that she didn't even wonder if he had seen it ... she'd avoided looking at him (no doubt, she had a guilty conscience about it), and hadn't seen the look of disappointment and hurt in his eyes as he looked at her brown hair.

That was the reason behind the "Ginny is into girls" crack he'd made when the Weasleys gave him his EWWW! badges ... he'd silently applauded Ron's crack about Hermione - although he was too scared of both girls to use the counter-curse on Ron after they'd hexed him ...

And so here he was. Dateless for Valentine's Day ... reduced to talking to that darned giant squid, because he couldn't talk to his best friend about his dilemma ... how could he? After finding out how little ... or how nothing ... she thought of him ...

Well, there was always his old standby. Except that she had told him that she was going stag this time ... last year, they'd double dated - he with Ginny, Ron with Hermione ... and though it had been fun, they all knew that it was something not to be repeated. Not unless one of them really had no one to go with ... which was a near-impossibility, they all felt.

He was surprised when Ginny told him of her intention to go alone ... he was expecting her to have already said 'yes' to someone ... he'd teased her about going to the Ball with Hermione (her prominence in the sketchbook still rankling) ... and the look that Ginny gave him was enough to send him scampering to the Prefect's bathroom for a long, long soak in the swimming pool, and a vigorous scrubbing of his skin.

Well, Ron wasn't taking Hermione ... he still hadn't decided which of the EWWW! fan-girls he was taking ... and Harry nearly laughed as he imagined Ron entering the Great Hall with Millicent Bulstrode on his arm! He'd bought one of the pictures for himself, and another one which he'd owled to Sirius, along with a letter describing the whole chain of events. He smiled as he imagined his godfather's roar of laughter at that picture ... especially Remus holding himself in, although he was fit to bust a gut!

Ooops! He was at the Gryffindor entrance already. He drew off the Invisibility Cloak and gave the password ("Draco dormiens!"), and was shocked to see Violet, the Fat Lady's friend sitting there. He wasn't sure who was more surprised, he or Violet (who obviously didn't know about his cloak), and blurted out, "Where's Aunt Carol?"

(He'd taken to calling the Fat Lady by name after Hermione had introduced them during one painting session she had by the lake, and Lady Caroline had shown up to kibbitz with Hermione.)

"At the Three Broomsticks," Violet the witch told him. "Carol told me to wait for you ... you're to go in to the Common Room and sit there, she said. Just keep your mouth shut ... now, go on! Go on!"

Bemused, Harry went into the entrance, unsure of what he would find on the other side.

* * * * *

One of the first paintings Hermione had done at Hogwarts was an interior of the Three Broomsticks, the favorite pub and hang-out of students, teachers and residents of Hogsmeade. Originally painted with the usual crowd of people inside the pub (including several teachers and Gryffindors), the Fat Lady and Violet had persuaded Hermione to re-do it without the people, except for Rosmerta and a bartender.

The painting had become a favorite hang-out of the various paintings in the enchanted castle, a place where they can sit down and relax in a "real" pub, have a drink with their cronies, chat with Rosmerta and whoever cared to look over at them - and, every once in a while, engage in a little dancing or singing.

Hermione had enlarged the painting so that it almost covered one wall of the Common Room, and "donated" it to the Gryffindors - which soon made them the envy of all the other houses. In fact, there had been talk of moving the painting to either the Teachers' Common Room, or the Great Hall - a move which all the paintings had vociferously objected to (Sir Cadogan had, in fact, threatened to chop off anyone's hands if they attempted such a thing), because they were comfortable and happy with the Gryffindors.

Headmaster Dumbledore had acceded to their request, specifying only that those paintings who guarded House entrances should always have someone covering for them, if ever they felt the need for a quick nip at the Three Broomsticks.

As Harry entered the Common Room, he saw that the usual crowd was at the pub and that the Fat Lady was standing in one corner with a young witch with long black hair (he recognized her as Cindy the Medi-Witch, whose painting was ensconced in the hospital wing), while some musicians were setting up behind her. He groaned to himself ... ever since Hermione and Dean had told them about karaoke, there was an almost nightly concert from that painting. They'd gotten Professor Flitwick to place a Silencing Charm around the Common Room so as not to disturb the sleepers - and had requested the revelers to hold off their concerts until everyone was asleep.

Harry glanced around the Common Room - and nearly bolted when he saw the top of a familiar, bushy-haired head seated at one of the sofas close to the painting. He was about to tiptoe up to his room when he was stopped by the Fat Lady's voice coming from the painting: "This song's for you, Hermione - and for that unfinished painting in your room."

Harry was intrigued - what unfinished painting? - and quietly moved closer to the sofa where Hermione was sitting. The musicians started playing, and Cindy the Medi-Witch launched into the start of a duet that had become popular to muggle listeners the previous year:

I'm scared

So afraid to show I care

Will he think me weak

If I tremble when I speak

Oooh - what if

There's another one he's thinking of

Maybe he's in love

I'd feel like a fool

Life can be so cruel

I don't know what to do

The Fat Lady took up the second stanza of the song, her rich voice a perfect counterpart to that of her younger companion,

I've been there

With my heart out in my hand

But what you must understand

You can't let the chance

To love him pass you by

The two launched into the haunting refrain of the song, voices mingling into an emotional overture:

Tell him

Tell him that the sun and moon

Rise in his eyes

Reach out to him

And whisper

Tender words so soft and sweet

I'll hold him close to feel his heart beat

Love will be the gift you give yourself

Harry noticed that the other patrons of the pub had fallen silent at the song ... and was surprised to see Sir Cadogan and Madam Rosmerta with tears in their eyes. He himself could not feel unemotional at the song ... his mind consciously changing the gender in the song so that it sounded, to his mind, that he was the one singing the song ...

The Fat Lady continued with the next stanza ...

Touch him

With the gentleness you feel inside

Your love can't be denied

The truth will set you free

You'll have what's meant to be

All in time you'll see

And Cindy the Medi-Witch proceeded with the next, with the Fat Lady adding her own lines ...

I love him (Then show him)

Of that much I can be sure (Hold him close to you)

I don't think I could endure

If I let him walk away

When I have so much to say

As the two began the refrain again, Harry could no longer contain himself ... he stepped up to the sofa where Hermione was sitting and softly touched her shoulder. Startled, she looked up and saw his green eyes blazing down on her ... as he stepped around the sofa to sit down beside her, their hands unconsciously entwined around each other ...

Tell him

Tell him that the sun and moon

Rise in his eyes

Reach out to him

And whisper

Tender words so soft and sweet

Hold him close to feel his heart beat

Love will be the gift you give yourself

Harry saw the sheen of tears that had fallen down Hermione's cheeks. As she whispered his name, he leaned forward and softly, softly kissed her on the lips ...

Love is light that surely glows

In the hearts of those who know

It's a steady flame that grows

Their kiss deepened, mouths slowly opened to each other, tongues clashing inevitably, their breaths mingling as their arms snaked around each other, hands slowly exploring each other's backs ...

Feed the fire with all the passion you can show

Tonight love will assume its place

This memory time cannot erase

Your faith will lead love where it has to go

Their arms tightened around each other, hugging each other closer than they had ever done so before ... closer than they had ever held any human being in their lives ... breaching the walls of loneliness that had marked most of their lives - allowing each to merge with the other's soul ...

Tell him

Tell him that the sun and moon

Rise in his eyes

Reach out to him

And whisper

Whisper words so soft and sweet

Hold him close to feel his heart beat

Love will be the gift you give yourself

They had to break apart to draw breath ... hearing, through the roar of blood in their ears, the Fat Lady and her companion as they sung the last line of the song:

Never let him go ...

The people in the painting burst out in applause, many trying to wipe their eyes unobtrusively, while others were calling for an encore, albeit while sniffling and wiping their eyes.

The two on the sofa paid no attention whatsoever. Their eyes were still locked on each other, their breaths heaving, as they tried to assess the impact of their shared emotions. Hermione, as always, was the first to make a move ... trying to break away from the heat and passion emanating from the person in front of her.

Harry, however, would have none of this. Holding her head between his hands, he forced her to look into his eyes - and felt himself drowning in her chocolate brown eyes ... not knowing that Hermione was feeling herself sinking into his sea-green eyes. Without knowing that he'd spoken, he asked her the question that she had been hoping to hear from him for days, "Hermione ... will you go to the Valentine's Ball with me?"

With a sigh of relief, Hermione gave the only answer she could: "Yes."

Eyes now sparkling with happiness, Harry's lips came closer to her and she responded. It had none of the ardor and enthusiasm of their first real kiss, but this one was infinitely more tender, somehow sweeter, more comfortable.

The Fat Lady was smiling from her position in the painting. With a gesture to the musicians behind her, she launched into another song which, in her mind, she dedicated to the two people on the sofa - and to all the others that she had known in her long "career:"

If I never met you

If I never saw your face

This world, this world would be a colder place, I bet.

If we'd never met...

Harry's green eyes locked suddenly on Hermione's browns as the lyrics of the song washed over him ...

If I never met you

If I never knew your love

My life, my life might be a sad song of regret.

If we'd never met...

Hermione watched Harry's eyes soften as the Fat Lady continued to sing. Her mind finally registered the lyrics of the song, and her eyes began to water as the significance of the words hit her ...

But we said one "Hello."

And look at how the world begins to spin

Look at how the shadows disappear

Now that you are here.

In the same way that the words were hitting deep into Harry's heart ... his being ... his very soul ... the song also washed over her ...

If I never met you

If I never felt your kiss

My days, my nights would not be filled like this, it's true.

She felt Harry shifting in his seat, lifting her off the sofa and gently, very gently settling her on his lap. She cradled her head against his chest, listening to the soft beating of his heart ...

I don't know who I'd love

I don't know what I'd do if I never met you.

She heard him softly singing along with the Fat Lady and her eyes again blurred with tears. She would always remember this moment ... sitting in Harry's lap, his arms around her as she held him close, hearing his deep, baritone voice in a quiet counterpoint to the Fat Lady's voice as he pressed his lips to her hair ...

Just look at how the shadows disappear

Now that you are here.

Harry's eyes were closed as he softly sang the lyrics, happy as he cradled the person that he had known he loved beyond all measure. All the doubts and insecurities he'd been having since he saw her sketchbook had been washed away ... he didn't need to ask her anything ... not for as long as he held her in his arms.

If I never met you

If I never felt your kiss

My days, my nights would not be filled like this, it's true.

He felt her stirring in his arms and prepared to let her go, but she only tightened her arms around him. He felt her lips nibbling at his ear, and heard her voice softly joining him in the last lyrics of the song:

I don't know who I'd love

I don't know what I'd do

If I never met you.

Their eyes once again locked on each other, and they repeated the lyrics to each other:

I don't know who I'd love

I don't know what I'd do

If I never met you.

Finis