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It had been a solid four years since the fall of Lord Voldemort at the hand of Harry Potter, who was still known as the Man Who Triumphed, and Witch Weekly's Sexiest Man of the Year. Oddly enough, he didn't even try to appear in the media. He kept to himself most of the time, which was just fine, given his job was an Intelligence Auror. He was on a small task force that oversaw the search, apprehension and incarceration of the remaining Death Eaters and Dark wizards like them. It was perfectly dangerous work, which kept Harry occupied most of the time, and it kept him out of the media glare, which was all he really wanted.
Since the end of the war, Harry, Hermione and Ron had moved in together, purchasing a flat in the sparser suburbs. It was Unplottable, and the wards were enough to rival those of Hogwarts. They were very big on privacy, at least when they were at home. At least, Harry and Hermione were. Ron, however, had no problem with lacking it. And at the express demand of the other two, he had a room always on hold at the Leaky Cauldron for his indiscretions.
No one outside of the Order of the Phoenix knew where their house was, and even Order members were only allowed to send a Patronus unless one of the three let the wards down for them. They had sworn to continue their vigilance in honor of Alastor Moody.
Hermione was a rather in-demand character with the Ministry. She was a consultant with the Committee on Experimental Charms as well as an Unspeakable that spent most of her Unspeakable hours in the Time and Death Chambers. However, her most acclaimed job to date was her status as an Interrogation Auror. Since the war, she had learned both Legilimency and Occlumency and honed them both to a rather sharp point. She was one of a very small handful of Legilimens that the Ministry kept on its payroll. It was much safer and easier than brewing Veritaserum. Veritaserum could be fooled, but Legilimens, especially with Hermione's skill in the department, could not. There was really only one wizard who could block Hermione's Legilimency, and that was Harry Potter, who really didn't see the need to.
Ron had become quite the bachelor, and he was Witch Weekly's Most Eligible Bachelor almost every month, depending on whether or not he was shagging someone at the time of publication. He was constantly accused of still holding a torch for Hermione, which to him, was complete and utter rubbish. He was Captain of the Chudley Cannons, because after he helped defeat Lord Voldemort, any position on any team he wanted to play for was an open door. The Cannons' reserve keeper, however, was not such a great fan of Ron's, since he'd lost his job the moment Ronald Bilius Weasley signed on as the main keeper.
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Ironically enough, Jeff McLaine, the Cannons' newly-reserve keeper, was dating Hermione Granger, and he was about to propose.
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"He's going to propose tonight," Ron said, dropping his Quidditch gear on the floor just inside the door to the library in their flat.
Harry was sitting at his desk, reading a report with a rather pleasantly depicted man leering from the wizard photo. He looked up at Ron. "I know," he said pointedly before turning back to the black folder in front of him.
"You know? How the bloody hell do you know?" Ron asked.
"Someone thought it was an intelligence matter to be informed that Hermione is about to be off the market... permanently," Harry replied with very little mirth in his voice. He pinched the bridge of his nose, pushing his glasses up. Half of the people that were not involved in his main team had their eye on Hermione, and they had been rather loud about their intentions to take their shot if Mister McLaine didn't win her over with a ring.
"What are you going to do about it?"
"Why would I want to do anything about it?" Harry asked. He wasn't dodging. He really didn't think there was any reason for him to interfere, and he didn't even know how to interfere.
"Don't be a git, Harry," Ron chided him.
"I'm not, Ron," Harry replied, slamming the file closed. "I'd be a git if I stood in the way of Hermione and Jefferson McLaine!"
"Whoa," Ron said. "No one calls him that."
"That," Harry began, "is his real name. He's clean, except for his Underage record, flying a broomstick too near a Muggle community when he was sixteen. That's hardly grounds for me to ship him off to Azkaban, where he will never see Hermione again."
"So you have thought about getting rid of him," Ron realized.
"He was seeing other women up until a month ago," Harry retorted.
Ron's eyes bugged out. "What? Why didn't you say anything?"
"Hermione was not going to listen to any of that," Harry replied.
"You bloody idiot," Ron sighed. "You should've told her, and maybe, just maybe, she'd be dating you and not McLaine. Some valiant hero you turned out to be, mate." He was sympathetic even in his scolding.
"Yes, well, join the club," Harry replied, rolling his eyes. He picked up the folder again.
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Hermione didn't make it back home to their flat until nearly midnight that night. She'd gone out with Jeff, and true enough, he did propose.
Harry was sitting at his window, concealed by his Invisibility Cloak. His bedroom was on the second floor of their house, overlooking the front porch and the small excuse for a garden they kept by Muggle means.
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Hermione never brought Jeff home with her, because she, Harry and Ron had decided that no one outside of immediate family and the Order was to know where their residence was. It would be a media circus. So it was with an awkward kiss that she and Jeff parted ways several blocks away from the restaurant they had just dined it, and it had been just minutes after he popped the question.
It shouldn't have been strange, Hermione thought. When Jeff had asked her to marry him, he had been so sweet and poetic, and it very nearly made a tingle skate up and down her spine. Nearly. That was the problem, it was never enough to make her just let go. She was always on guard, and she blamed the War and all the secrecy of her job for that edginess to her. But that didn't excuse her response. He had just asked to spend the rest of his life with her (and vice versa, mind you), and she had told him she needed to think about it.
Screw the War and work, I'm the problem. I can't just not think about something for a moment, she berated herself. She couldn't decide if this was a good thing or not. She always prided herself on her logic, and she was somewhat pleased with herself that she hadn't turned into a tart or a puddle of jelly at the mere mention of marriage, unlike some women she knew. However, she wondered if this steeliness she had in her relationship with Jeff was at all healthy. It can't have been if she needed to think about marrying him.
Couldn't have just said yes, could you, Granger? she mused, whispering it to herself as she crossed the threshold of Unplottable land.
Hermione was a very powerful witch, and Tribus Place (their home) had been theirs for a while now. She could feel every tendril of magic that composed the wards as she stepped through them. She was well-attuned to her home, but she still checked all of them when she entered. It was a force of habit, the same way she checked the personal wards on her office at the Ministry when she came and went.
She continued to mutter to herself as she walked up the stone steps to the door. She cast the personalized Unlocking Charm (Alohamora Tribus) and entered the house. She wasn't a consultant with the CoEC for nothing.
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It may have been a little stalker-like, but Harry didn't care. He needed to see her without her seeing him. He noted that she wasn't skipping, as he had expected her to as she came home. She wasn't stroking a fancy diamond engagement ring as she walked across the front porch.
For this, Harry cursed himself, but he was grateful. It didn't mean Hermione said no, but it meant that he hadn't lost his Hermione to Jeff. She was still her headstrong, logical, smart Hermione self.
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"Harry? Ron?" Hermione called out. She dropped her bag in the entryway. She found a note in Ron's messy scribble.
Staying at the Leaky Cauldron tonight. Be back tomorrow.
Hermione shook her head. Typical Ron. She made her way towards Harry's room. She had always been welcome there, if she needed to talk or if she just wanted to spend some time with her best friend.
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Harry had immediately shed the Cloak when she entered the house. He knew her well enough to know that she would probably want to talk to him, tell him all about her romantic evening and how she planned to spend the rest of her life with Jeff Mc-bloody-Laine. He steeled himself inwardly, calming himself down to shield his mind just in case he let something slip. His emotions were highly volatile triggers to his magic.
He positioned himself on his bed with a book propped on his lap - the sixtieth edition of Jinxes and Counter-jinxes. He really was trying to read it. It was the newest edition, and it was important that someone in his department was aware of the newer researches going on in the field of Dueling Magic.
Sure enough, though, it was less than five minutes before he heard a knock on his door.
"Come in," he called out, putting a bookmark in his page and slowly setting it down on the nightstand.
Hermione's head poked into his room. "I'm not disturbing you or anything, am I?" she asked.
Harry genuinely rolled his eyes. He might loathe the fact that some other bloke had just proposed to her, but he would never turn away her company. "As if you ever have to ask," he muttered. His wandless magic yanked the door open, and Hermione stumbled in. The door shut behind her.
Hermione let out a squeal of surprise as she fell through the doorway. "Harry!" she screamed. She dove onto his bed right next to him, because that was just the most natural thing in the world for them. She pounded lightly on his chest in retaliation.
"So, what brings you in here tonight?" Harry asked, his eyes intentionally betraying the fact that he already knew what.
"How in Merlin's name do you know?" she asked, her eyes widening.
"I'm the head of the Intelligence Division of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, love," he replied cheekily.
"And my personal life is a matter of public safety that the DMLE Intelligence boys need to know about a wedding proposal before me?" she shot back.
Harry chuckled. "Well, it's a matter of Jeff's safety, since half of the 'boys' in Intelligence can't accept that he won you over instead of their... intelligent selves," he said. He laughed at his own attempt at lame humor.
Hermione, on the other hand, laughed heartily. She was especially enthused by the way Harry said that Jeff had won her over. It was hilarious, because, honestly, he hadn't. Not yet, and most likely, not ever.
Harry was surprised at the lack of comeback to that statement. "No logical shut-down?" he asked, his curiosity piqued.
Hermione adjusted herself on his bed, so that her back was against his headboard, and they were almost shoulder-to-shoulder. She shook her head and looked at him.
Harry met her gaze. "What is it?" he asked, beginning to get concerned.
"He didn't win me over," she answered. She pulled a tiny box about a cubic inch in size and held it out in the palm of her hand. It instantly enlarged, revealing its true nature. It was a dark blue velvet ring box. She popped the lid.
Inside the box was a gaudy diamond ring. The stone was easily the size of a pea.
"That's a pretty big rock, Hermione," he said, whistling. His heart gave a squeeze. Hermione might have said she hadn't been won over, but that didn't mean that he still stood a chance.
"Honestly, do you think I'm that shallow?" Hermione laughed, swatting him on the arm. She closed the box and tossed it on the bed between them.
Harry considered how poetic the image might have looked, he and Hermione side by side, and the only thing between them was some other bloke's ring. "So he let you keep the ring even if you said no?" He cringed a little inside as he asked. He had to know.
"No," Hermione said. "I haven't actually said no. I told him I needed time to think."
"You what?" Harry asked, a little shocked.
"I know, right?" She let out a snort. "It's not supposed to be this difficult, is it, Harry?"
"No, I don't suppose it is," he answered thoughtfully. He could only wonder if it was meant to be this hard with the woman he loved. And love her he did. There was a whole plethora of reasons why he loved her, but he didn't really want to dwell on them right now, because he was pretty sure some sort of inappropriate expression would cross his features.
"Are you alright?" Hermione asked, sensing his thoughts drift.
"Me? Of course," he said. "You're the one that just said she needed to think about marrying someone." He smiled brightly at her.
"Well, I suppose the fact that I have to think about it really does say something," she said.
"Did you tell him how long it would take you to make the decision?" Harry replied.
"I told him I would see him for dinner tomorrow," she replied.
"Well, then maybe you should sleep on it for tonight?" Harry suggested. "That's hardly a decision you should make on the fly, is it?"
Hermione grinned. "How is it that you're the logical one here?"
"You've rubbed off on me," he replied.
Hermione patted his thigh and moved off his bed. She was thinking of asking to stay with him tonight, but she realized how inappropriate that would be. "Good night then, Harry, I'll see you in the morning?" she replied.
Harry nodded in reply, watching her go.
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Hermione left the room, thoughts bouncing around her head. She thought back on her initial impulse to ask Harry if she could stay. She thought about what would change if she got married. She definitely wouldn't get to spend this much time with Harry… or Ron, when he didn't have his tongue down some woman's throat. And that made her heart fill with a dull ache that would no doubt get even stronger if she did say yes.
She went about her nighty routine on autopilot - showering, brushing, crawling into bed. As she fell asleep, she had a fleeting thought of whether or not Harry still had nightmares. He never seemed to say anything about them of late, as they had actually persisted for a few months since the end of the War.
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Hermione didn't usually have vivid dreams. She only had them when she was stressed about something, and now was definitely a time worthy of the top ten most stressed moments in her life. She had to make the decision to spend the rest of her life with a guy.
Hence, she was dreaming, her logical mind working the angles of her situation in her subconscious state, because really, who could give it a rest?
"Hermione," Jeff began, "will you marry me?"
Time seemed to slow as the memory turned into a dream.
"Why would you want me to marry you?" she asked.
"Because I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you," he said.
Hermione's nose gave a scrunch. That didn't do anything to solve her problem. "Why do you love me?"
Jeff seemed to stutter for a moment. "Because you're hot, and you're smart, and a damn powerful witch. You helped get rid of You Know Who."
"Voldemort, Jeff," Hermione corrected. She would never again act like she was afraid of him, and she wanted other wizards to do the same.
"I just said that," he replied.
Hermione shook her head. This Jeff definitely didn't understand her convictions about that. And he didn't even in real life. "So you'd admit you just want to marry me so you can shag me already?" Jeff had always hinted at his desire to get into her pants already, and she had always said she wanted to wait until marriage before she slept with anyone. Her husband was going to be her first and last. That's not to say they never had any heated make-out sessions. Because they did.
"Well, there's no use waiting," Jeff replied.
Hermione gaped.
"Bloody arsehole, she deserves better than that!" came a roar. It was a voice Hermione recognized immediately. Harry.
And just like that, she was awake and alert. It was the same as when Harry had nightmares about Voldemort during the Horcrux hunt. She shot out of bed and padded toward Harry's room swiftly.
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The door was still ajar, and she pushed it open fully softly.
"Did you think no one would know?" he mumbled in his sleep. His fists were clenched tight, the knuckles going white. He was definitely angry at something in his dream.
Hermione realized that this was exactly what Harry would do when he had nightmares about Voldemort over the course of the Horcrux hunt. Usually, when the war got to him, he would have violent nightmares. This was definitely one of the more violent ones. Hermione was pressed to remember a night where he was more agitated in his slumber. Whatever was the matter was something deep-seated, something that had disturbed him for a long time, but he was quickly losing control of it.
Harry probably had attempted Occlumency before sleeping, but either way, something was hurting him. And Hermione knew he would never tell her what unless she hexed it out of him- or Legilimens-ed it out of him.
"I'm sorry, Harry, but I have to do this," she whispered, summoning her wand silently. She, Harry and Ron had become adept at wandless magic after the war – Harry most of all. The extent of Hermione and Ron's wandless magic extended to summoning small objects, most especially their wands. Harry, however, could even cast Incendio and its equivalent charms wandlessly.
Hemrione's wand floated into her hand. She pointed her wand at Harry and whispered, "Legilimens."
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"Did you think no one would find out?" Harry demanded.
Hermione appeared in the dream, but it was much like entering a Pensieve. She could see them, but they couldn't see her. She turned to look at who Harry was arguing with. She gasped. Jeff. And they were arguing in Jeff's flat.
"How the hell did you find out?" Jeff asked, afraid for his life now as he stared down Harry Potter's Elder Wand.
Harry gave a roar and slashed the wand sideways, transferring his rage. The nearby bookcase was devastated, and this was a spell cast without an incantation.
"Harry!" Hermione shouted in a reprimand. He had better control than that. But her shout did nothing. Harry couldn't hear nor see her.
Harry lashed out again, destroying a desk. "Did you think no one would see you with that slag? Did you think no one would recognize you and no one would tell me? You should thank your lucky stars she doesn't know! And you go off and propose to her?"
Hermione gasped again. This time, the air literally stalled in her chest. The anger in Harry's voice, the indignation, it was unbelievable. It was so thick that his magic was very nearly shattering the entire room and the state of the dream. She would hate to see this scene acted out. Harry's just dreaming, she thought, trying to calm herself. A pissed off Harry Potter was a bad thing, even in the dream world.
"How is it your business?" Jeff demanded, regaining some nerve. He raised his own wand. Quidditch reflexes.
"She's my best friend, you bloody idiot," he retorted. He barely twitched as he cast a silent Expelliarmus.
Jeff's wand sailed out of his grasp and clattered to the floor several feet behind Harry.
"Harry!" came Hermione's scream.
Hermione had to check herself to make sure she had heard right. Realizing she really hadn't spoken, she turned to the door, where the bookcase's contents had spilled out. Her dream self was standing there, looking flabbergasted.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Hermione demanded, stomping across the debris and standing between Harry and Jeff.
Harry lowered his wand immediately, chastised. He would not point his wand at Hermione, ever. His gaze bore into the floorboards.
The Legilimens Hermione watched the painful image of a dismantled Harry.
"I was trying to protect my best friend from this cheating bastard, but I guess she doesn't appreciate that," he grumbled.
She had seen, heard and felt enough. She pulled out.
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Hermione took a step back as she withdrew from Harry's mind. It was a tense place to come from. She knelt at his bedside.
Harry was lying down on his back, the covers drawn up to his waist. His brow was creased in anger, his mouth drawn in a scowl. His head would twitch slightly every few seconds as he talked in his sleep. "You don't understand," he muttered. "Cheated… You… Can't…" The rest of his words were drowned out, but Hermione didn't want to hear anymore. She needed to wake him.
Hermione laid her hand on his shoulder and gently shook him. "Harry," she whispered, firm yet gentle. "Harry, wake up."
Harry shot out of bed, his hand automatically closing around the Elder Wand that was under his pillow. It was drawn and aimed at Hermione in less than a heartbeat.
"Harry, calm down, it's me, Hermione!" Hermione told him, backing up and standing to her full height.
Harry dropped his wand instantly, the reflex one had when one got burned by a candle. "I'm sorry, sorry," he gasped, winded by the sudden lurch into wakefulness. "Is there something the matter?" he asked, grabbing his glasses off the dresser. He did a quick sweep of her to make sure she was unhurt.
"You were having a nightmare," Hermione explained. It had very well been a nightmare, just not the ones that scared him like Voldemort had. This one was different. It was a subconscious rant, so to speak.
"Oh, did I wake you?" Harry asked, guilty.
"On a regular night, you wouldn't have," she replied. "I wasn't sleeping very soundly."
"I'm sorry," Harry repeated.
"It's alright," Hermione replied, smiling at him.
"Is it Jeff?" Harry asked. If he had been hiding his disgust for Jeff since the beginning, he had been doing a good job. However, right now, fresh from his subconscious screaming match with Jeff, he couldn't keep it off his face. He spoke the man's name with such a grimace of disgust that it was hard not to catch it.
"Well, I hadn't exactly figured out what to say to him yet," Hermione replied neutrally. She knew now that Harry hated Jeff, and she had a bad feeling about the why. She needed to be sure, though, and using Legilimens was not exactly something she would admit to doing. Uncomfortable with the scrutiny after what she had witnessed, Hermione changed the topic. "Has this been happening for a while?"
She had been honest about not being woken up by his nightmares on a regular night. She wouldn't have known.
Harry shrugged.
That was all it took, really, and Hermione knew he was trying to cover up the number of times he had had nightmares and fitful sleep. She knew he knew he couldn't lie to her. So he was choosing not to give a concrete answer.
"Well then, if you're having nightmares and I'm not sleeping anyway, how about I stay here with you?" Hermione asked. It was her way of not acting like she was the one that needed him at the moment. But if she was honest, she really did need him. She couldn't stand another minute of lying in bed alone and wondering what the hell to do about her (she could understand it now) dysfunctional relationship with the Cannons' reserve keeper.
Harry acquiesced immediately.
Hermione crawled right into Harry's queen-sized bed next to him. She didn't care anymore. She didn't want to think about Jeff McLaine, or the proper thing to do when he proposed already or the ring that was in the room down the hall. She just wanted to shut it all out at the moment.
As she lay there, looking into Harry's eyes, she knew her answer for Jeff. She couldn't say yes if she felt this way. If Jeff knew she was lying next to Harry in his bed, he would probably flip, even if there was nothing going on. If Jeff really were that special, she would've given this up ages ago.
With that settled, Hermione exhaled.
"What are you thinking about?" Harry asked. He hadn't taken his eyes off her face since she lay down beside him.
"I know what my answer for Jeff is," she replied, a smile lighting up her face. It was shockingly simple. She wanted to slap herself for not thinking of it earlier.
"Oh?" Harry grunted. "What then?" He had a sinking feeling she was going to say yes. She was smiling, for Merlin's sake.
"I can't very well say yes to him now," Hermione said. "I'm lying in some other man's bed, for Merlin's sake! The scandal!" she joked.
"Well then, I'm quite honored that it was me you chose for this, Miss Granger," Harry bantered back.
The atmosphere was light, but any blind fool could tell that the mood (at least, Harry's) had shifted.
"Goodnight, Harry," Hermione said.
"Goodnight, Hermione," he replied.
It took a while for Hermione to fall asleep after she closed her eyes. Her mind was wandering back to what she had seen in Harry's dream. She felt guilty for having violated his privacy that way, but she had been truly worried about him. She would tell him tomorrow, she decided.
But telling him didn't erase what she saw, and the more she thought about it, the more she realized that Harry's dream might not be just a dream.
Most of Harry's nightmares had been based on fact – the Horcrux hunt, Voldemort's search for the Hallows, Voldemort attacking people and so on. He would relive what he could remember of his parents' murders and fill in the blanks himself. What if this was just like that? What if he really had seen something that he thought Hermione had the right to know about?
Now that this thought was running amok in her head, Hermione needed to pursue it. She thought about how Harry might have found out. Jeff doesn't know he's in Intelligence. The world knew Harry was an Auror, one of the higher-level ones, to be exact, but not a lot of people knew exactly what his role in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was. Of course, he would never tell Jeff that he got information from the DMLE that was personal.
Anything personal he did at work (which Minister Shacklebolt let him carry out as a favor) was locked in a drawer in their study. He had files on Death Eaters he deemed worthy of a personal score. He had files on his parents and those close to them, trying to dig up his history. He had files on the Order and their past when Voldemort first rose to power. He had the only copy of the file on Voldemort. And apparently, he had something on Jeff.
Hermione would just have to steal it tomorrow.
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A few hours later, Hermione woke first, just before dawn. She found herself draped across Harry's chest. It should have been awkward, just as all the other times should have been, but there was something about the rhythmic pounding of his heart against his ribcage under her hand that was always soothing and (dare she say it) pleasurable. She felt safe and comfortable, and Harry was the only person she always felt that way with. The bedroom was definitely supposed to be a place of sanctuary, where all the walls were down, and Hermione always felt she could share that space with Harry. She could share her weaknesses and insecurities with him, and he'd just be there to absorb it all. And as his heart throbbed beneath her hand, Hermione wished she could wake up to this every morning.
But she knew Harry wouldn't feel that way, especially with what she was going to confess to later that day. She extricated herself from Harry and went about her morning routine. She'd clock into the Ministry, get her paperwork done for the day and get home sometime in the early afternoon to look into Harry's drawer. She would meet up with Jeff for dinner, not eat and head home to tell Harry everything.
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Harry woke up when the sun hit him square in the face. He was groggy at first, but then he came to his senses, particularly his sense of smell. He smelled Hermione everywhere around him. It was a mixture of her shampoo and her unique scent. It made his heart swell. His brain was that attuned to her. Anything that could be linked to her caused his heart to skip a beat or beat faster. Either of the two was disturbing now and then.
He frowned, realizing that she probably left before he woke up for a reason.
Sighing, he got out of bed and prepared for work.
He was most disappointed, however, when he came out of his room for breakfast to find that she had already left. His only consolation was that she had left him eggs and bacon on toast under a Heating Charm before she went to work.
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Hermione arrived home at around two o'clock in the afternoon. She had finished interrogating three suspects in a high-profile murder, and her target dates for her research in the Time Chamber had been reached weeks ago.
She checked the wards as she entered and cast hormenum reveleo. No response, she was alone.
She made her way to the study at a brisk walk. There was no telling what time Harry would come home. He might decide to clock out early or come home for something.
"Alohamora," she whispered, waving her wand at the drawer of Harry's desk. The three-tiered drawer unlocked. She pulled out the bottom one first, because she thought it was the logical choice. True enough, the drawer contained some very thin folders. Most of them, she recognized – Lucius Malfoy, Antonin Dolohov, Fenrir Greyback. The Order members were not unfamiliar either, and neither was the thickest one of them all – Tom Riddle's. The thinnest one was in a black folder with no description along its flap. Whatever was in it, Harry didn't want to draw attention to it. She figured that was the one. She sat cross-legged on the floor and opened the folder.
Her brow furrowed immediately. There were a number of wizard photos. The top-most was a picture of Jeff at the beach. Hermione spotted the date on the bottom of the photo.
It was about two months ago, around the time Hermione had been assisting in a rather grueling case with the Counterterrorism unit of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Someone had tried to resurrect the fear of Lord Voldemort by casting Morsmordre over a colossal mess and burn down several villages nearby. They had uncovered the mastermind in a week, seeing as they had rounded up most of the group responsible. That case had taken Hermione and Harry out of town for a few days.
It wasn't the beach or the time that struck Hermione about the photograph. It was whom Jeff was with. It was Arista Starburst, a model that frequented the covers of magazines. In the photograph, Arista was in a bikini that left very little to imagination, stroking Jeff's chest as they were sprawled on the sand.
Hermione knew she should be angry, shocked and hurt, but somehow, she wasn't. The only thing the sight of the picture did was to reaffirm her decision to break it off with Jeff.
This was what Harry was angry about in his dream, Hermione thought. This was why he hated Jeff. But why not tell me? She continued to flip through the dossier.
There was a log of Jeff's movements. It was probably compiled by someone Harry had tasked with following him. There was a red line above the date a month ago. There were notes along the margins, indicating that after the red line, Jeff no longer had any mistresses.
The date four days ago was marked as the date that knowledge of Jeff's plans to propose had been acquired. A jagged black line followed the date and descriptive paragraph. It looked like it had been drawn in a fit of rage. If the parchment hadn't been enforced, the marking would have torn through the sheet.
Hermione's head spun. Harry had known about Jeff's cheating for a month before he 'stopped'. Harry had chosen to judge Jeff in her place and hide the truth from her. But he had stopped right after Jeff planned to propose. It had all the hallmarks of a big-brother figure vetting her fiancé. But that jagged line and the dream she had witnessed last night told her otherwise. If Harry had been convinced that Jeff was 'clean' enough for her, he wouldn't be turning in his sleep, trying to blast Jeff to bits with the Elder Wand.
Hermione closed the folder but didn't return it. She locked the drawer. Harry had some explaining to do.
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It was a little after seven in the evening when Hermione walked into the small café she and Jeff had agreed to meet at.
Jeff was dressed well in a dark brown dress shirt and black pants. He had a bouquet of roses for her.
Hermione took a deep breath as she settled into her seat in the booth. She took two things out of her pocket. One was the velvet box holding Jeff's ring and the other was a photograph. She held them under the table, away from sight - for now.
"So, have you thought about what I asked you last night?" Jeff asked, a charming smile on his lips.
Hermione nodded slowly. "I have, a lot," she replied neutrally.
"And?" Jeff asked, his confidence unwavering.
Hermione brought the box out and placed it just within his 'half' of the table. "I'm declining your proposal," she said calmly.
"What?" Jeff spluttered. He was definitely not expecting that.
Hermione brought the picture out. It was only a copy of the Wizard photo she had found in Harry's file on Jeff. She slammed it down on the table. "I kept asking myself why I couldn't just say yes, and I always thought I needed time to think about my future with you. I found out recently that there's a pretty good reason I felt that way. If I can't just say yes, then I have no business marrying you, Jeff. And by the looks of this picture, you had no business proposing to me either."
"But, Hermione, that was ages ago!" Jeff argued.
"No, Jeff, it was two months ago, at a time when I was away on a case. She wasn't the last, I know, Jeff. You just never thought I'd find out, or that someone would pay attention to you. Well, newsflash, Jeff, I did and someone was paying attention," Hermione declared. "We're over, Jeff. Have a nice life. You can keep Arista Starburst." She flung the photo at him before standing and walking away.
Now, she was definitely grateful that she never shared the location of Tribus Place with anyone but Harry, Ron and the Order.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Harry arrived home at half past eight. Kingsley had called a meeting with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement heads to discuss the state of law in the magical world. He'd had a light dinner with the others in the meeting before heading home.
Harry uncapped a Butterbeer and entered the study. He cast a silent, wandless Incendio at the fireplace. It burst into bright flame.
He crossed the room to his desk and unlocked the classified drawer. He reached down to the bottom of the pile of folders and pulled out the last one. It was a green folder with the name 'ANTONIN DOLOHOV et al' inked across the front. Harry looked down at it curiously. He lifted all the folders out of the drawer and placed them on his desk. He rifled through all thirty-seven of them, but none of them were the black one he was looking for.
Where the devil is it? He had a moment of panic, thinking who could've taken it. Several scenarios flashed through his mind. Death Eaters out for blood. Thieves. Foreign spies. All of his theories were all more far-fetched and gruesome than the last. All of them involved the secret of Tribus Place being divulged.
"Accio dossier," Harry whispered. His uttered spell combined with the Elder Wand was something very potent, but it failed to summon the file. This confounded him further. Nothing should have stopped it from coming.
"Looking for this?" asked a disembodied voice.
Harry whirled around. "Evanesco!" he bellowed.
There was a feminine chuckle. "Honestly, Harry," it said.
Harry turned towards Hermione's desk.
Hermione was sitting on top of it, facing him, as she pulled Harry's Invisibility Cloak away from herself. It felt into a puddle of velvet on the floor.
Despite the rising panic in Harry's chest, he couldn't suppress the shiver that skated down his spine at the sight of Hermione. The deliberate show of revealing herself was riveting and downright sexy, if he could be so bold.
"How did you get that, Hermione?" he asked, swallowing hard both from his reaction to her and from his nervousness about her holding that particular folder.
"How about I ask you the same question, Harry?" she countered, hopping off the desk and walking over to him. It wasn't meant to be sensual, and it wasn't. She exuded the air of challenge, daring Harry to lie. She dropped the file on top of all Harry's other folders. "How about you tell me why you even have something like this to begin with, never mind what you planned to do with it just now?"
"Rifkin saw him with Arista Starburst during the Neo-Death Eater case, and he came to me about it, and I had him keep an eye on McLaine from then. I was going to show this to you, but then Rifkin said that after nearly a month of clean behavior, McLaine was acting shifty. And then he found out McLaine was going to propose. How was I going to show this to you then? You wouldn't have believed me, much less not reprimand me for having him followed." Harry took a deep breath, waiting for Hermione to dismantle his defense.
"Well, then I guess that's not much worse than how I came across it," Hermione said simply.
"What?"
"I Legilimens-ed you while you were sleeping last night," she told him. "You were having a nightmare, and I knew you would deny the hell out of it if I didn't find out what it was about myself. I saw you confronting Jeff in your dream, and I figured it couldn't all have been fiction, so I broke into your drawer this afternoon to find out." She tapped the file. "That's when I saw this."
"H-Hermione," Harry stuttered. He didn't care she had broken into his dreams, or that she had broken into the damned drawer. She had seen, and probably felt his nightmare. She had seen how he would feel if she chose Jeff over him. "I'm sorry," he whispered just before he Disapparated.
"Harry!" Hermione cried. Damn it, she cursed in her mind. She drew her wand, trying to trace his Apparation. It would probably be of no use, since Harry had taken to covering his tracks whenever he Apparated these days.
For a moment, Hermione couldn't believe her luck. Harry had left an imprint, a small tear in the cloak he covered his tracks with. But it wasn't long before her heart launched into a panic again. The tear wasn't just in Harry's attempt to hide from her. He had gone off and Splinched himself. It was a relatively small injury, but it was there nonetheless. Hermione groaned. She couldn't use that small rip to find him. It wasn't enough.
"Damn it, Harry," Hermione muttered. She thought about where he would go if he wanted to escape something, where he would be alone to be his self-deprecating self. Godric's Hollow graveyard, she thought.
Hermione waved her wand at the files strewn across Harry's desk, sending them neatly into the drawer with the black file underneath, where it should be.
She then scribbled a note for Ron, telling him that Harry had run off somewhere and that she was going to find him and that he shouldn't worry. She left it on his desk before Disapparating as well, headed straight for Godric's Hollow.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"She's beautiful, brilliant and just amazing, Mum," Harry whispered to Lily and James Potter's grave. He pressed his handkerchief into his chest, trying to stop the bleeding. He'd Splinched himself in his rush to get out of Tribus Place. He had wavered between Grimauld and Godric's Hollow for a split second, but he had chosen his parents' hometown. "I love her, but she doesn't want me. I tried to let her go, but it just hurt so much. Thinking about her with some other guy's arms around her physically hurts. I know I shouldn't think it sounds weak, but that's what it feels like. I feel helpless to change any of it. I feel even more helpless now. She knows. She knows, and I don't know if she can forgive me for that. I know I couldn't." He sighed. "Nights like these, I wish I hadn't let go of the Resurrection Stone."
"You'd rather talk to the dead than to me?" Hermione asked. "No offense," she said, nodding to the Potters' grave.
Harry turned around, surprised by her presence. He backed into his parents' grave, almost falling over himself. "Hermione!" He gasped for breath.
"Did you really think you could hide from me here?" she asked, a small smile on her face.
Harry gulped.
Hermione was confused by the look in his eyes. He was terrified of her, and he was extremely sad at the same time. "Harry," she whispered softly, her hand reaching out to him. Her smile was replaced by a look of concern.
Harry seemed to back away further.
"At least let me take a look at that Splinch," Hermione insisted, coming closer still. "I brought the Essence of Dittany."
Harry didn't move for a moment.
"Come on," Hermione coaxed him, easing him into a prostrate position on the grass. Thank Merlin it's the middle of summer, or he'd be freezing to death.
Harry didn't say a word, but he obeyed her command.
"I honestly don't understand why you would run away," she muttered, busying herself with dropping the liquid into Harry's chest wound. "You could've killed yourself."
Harry's eyes sparked. He seemed to be considering the idea.
"That was just an expression and you damn well know it, Potter," Hermione scolded.
Harry looked away from her as they stood together.
They started to walk around the graveyard slowly.
"Now, about you apologizing for that stupid file," Hermione said. "Don't be sorry, Harry. You gave me a much more convincing reason to turn break up with Jeff."
"I did?"
"Yes, Harry, you did," she replied. "And this morning, you gave me my real reason to refuse his proposal."
"What's that?" he asked. He wasn't sure where this was going, but Hermione was definitely trying to illustrate a point.
"I woke up in your bed the morning after another man proposed to me. And my waking thought was that it was something I wouldn't mind doing every morning," she told him, not breaking eye contact. "I realize those aren't thoughts you have for a best friend, Harry, especially not one you're supposed to see as a brother. Those are also not thoughts you're supposed to have if you're going to marry a man whose bed you did not just wake up in."
"I guess not," Harry replied, still walking beside her.
Hermione stopped them and turned him to face her. She pressed her palm against his chest, just beside where he'd Splinched himself earlier. "I woke up feeling this under my hand," she told him.
In the silence of the night, all Harry could feel was his heart pounding against his chest and her hand pressing into it. "It's yours, you know, has been for a while," he replied sheepishly.
"Let's keep it in there then," she said. "I kind of like what it's attached to."
"You do, do you?" he asked.
"Yes, Harry, I do," she replied. "Must I repeat everything for you?" she teased before her face sobered. "I know I just broke up with Jeff, but…"
Harry didn't let her finish. The tone in her voice was enough confirmation that she would at least give him a chance. He pressed his lips against hers in a soft kiss. It was tentative. He wasn't exactly sure if this was what she wanted, but it was all he could do to stop her from thinking about Jeff further. "Don't finish that sentence," he whispered.
Hermione sighed in response, too caught up in the kiss from moments ago. She just smiled against his mouth before she kissed him.
It was slow, lingering and sweet. Passion could wait. Hermione needed this, and Harry was more than willing to give it to her. He poured all his imprisoned affection into that kiss.
Hermione's eyes closed blissfully as she just savored his lips moving against hers. The magic in a kiss was in whom she was kissing. It was in knowing whom she was kissing, too, because the knowledge of Harry's affection was what made her heart speed up and her insides tingle.
Once they pulled apart, Harry spoke. "I love you, Hermione."
Hermione smiled. "I heard you the first time," she replied with a smile. "And if you'd let me finish my sentence earlier, I would've said 'but I don't care, because I love you'."
Harry closed his eyes, and a half-anguished, half-joyful emotion creased his brow. "Don't play with me, Hermione."
Hermione caressed his cheek with her hand. "I'm not, Harry. I do love you." She paused, "The last thought I had before I left your room after I got home last night was that I wanted to ask to stay."
"I would've let you," Harry interrupted.
"I know, but at the time, I was still thinking about Jeff's proposal, and I kept thinking that it would be inappropriate to be in another man's bed, like I told you. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that marrying Jeff would take me away from you. I didn't want that. It hurt to even think about that happening, Harry," she explained. "I can't imagine not living in the same house as you, not spending every spare minute with you, Harry. You'll always come first, no matter what. I'm just sorry it took some other bloke proposing to me to make me realize it."
"Better that than you marrying him, right?" Harry asked, a grin breaking out on his face as he leaned in to kiss her again. This was their third kiss in the last five minutes, and he still couldn't get enough.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
The next morning was a Sunday, which meant no work, which meant that they could all have a lie-in.
Hermione woke first, as usual. It was just past eight, and she inhaled deeply before opening her eyes. Her senses were flooded with Harry as she came to. Her left arm was across his chest, rising and falling with his breath and pounding with his heartbeat. Her legs got tangled with his as they slept.
They were both still fully clothed. Hermione was still in the white camisole and shorts she usually wore to bed, and Harry had thrown on a wife-beater and sweats.
Hermione had been sorely tempted to disregard her vow to wait until after marriage to sleep with a man, but Harry had been a perfect gentleman, telling her he didn't want her to regret it. He was content to hold and kiss her and nothing more.
There wasn't anything remotely heavy about last night, but Hermione felt more sated than she ever had with Jeff, and that had gotten pretty hot now and then.
She shook her head lightly before crawling further up Harry's body and planting a kiss on his lips.
He grunted as he awoke, kissing her back. "Now, this, I could get used to," he told her, rolling them over as he continued to kiss her.
Hermione's right hand came up to the back of his head. Her fingers stroked the hair at his nape as she moaned into his mouth.
Harry eventually pulled away from her and leaned his forehead against hers.
"Harry," she said. "I know I'm a little late in the game, but I want to give us the chance we deserve."
"Love," Harry began, pecking at her lips. "You're never late," he said. His lips trailed down her cheek to her neck, where he continued to kiss her reverently. He raised his head again to look her in the eye. "Never," he repeated before leaning into her.
Hermione felt his welcome weight sink into her, pushing her a little further into his soft mattress. His lips covered hers in a kiss that made her insides turn to jelly. She moaned into him, pulling his head closer still. She returned his kiss in kind.
Their snogging would have gotten a lot heavier if not for the knock on Harry's bedroom door.
"It's Ron," Hermione whispered.
"I'll handle him," Harry said, giving her a quick kiss before getting up.
"What is it, Ron?" he asked, opening the door. His bed was hidden behind the corner of the bathroom. Ron wouldn't see Hermione lounging on his bed.
"I see you made it home," Ron said with a smug grin.
"Yes, I did," Harry replied.
"Well, I just wanted to stop by and tell you that I'll be out for the day. I'm going to see a witch about some Nargles," he said.
"Good luck, mate," Harry said.
"Looks like you're lucky enough for the both of us," Ron said.
Harry rolled his eyes. "Get out of here. Tell Luna we say hello."
"Will do," Ron said, leaving.
Harry shut the door and returned to the main area of his room.
As Harry walked over, Hermione propped herself up on her side and elbow, the side of her head resting against the palm of her hand. Her curls tumbled down over her arm, catching the sun.
"You couldn't have given me that image yesterday morning?" Harry asked, padding across the room and onto the bed.
"No, because yesterday, I had to break up with a cheating prat," Hermione told him, rolling onto her back once more.
Harry grinned. "Now that you put it that way." His lips descended upon hers in another passionate kiss.
THE END