August 2001
Harry crashed into something solid. He felt around and guessed by the cold, smooth surface under him that he was lying on the floor at the Department of Mysteries, but he was waiting for his head to stop spinning before prying his eyes open to confirm. He'd kept his eyes squeezed shut in the portal, eager to avoid the retching from the last time he'd traveled between dimensions.
"Hermione?" he called. His voice sounded strange.
"Over here," she replied from nearby.
Harry rolled onto his back and raised his hand to his forehead. It was there. His scar. He reached into his robes and wrapped his palm around the familiar holly wand. He was back in his normal body.
Harry carefully pulled himself to his feet, then straightened his robes, which were heavy and stiff compared to what he'd spent the last two weeks wearing. Hermione was getting up a few feet away from him. She conjured two glasses of water and floated one over to him. He nodded in thanks and they gulped the cool water down in silence, watching each other.
She was eyeing him warily and Harry wondered if she was thinking of what she'd seen in the mist. Based on the look of fear in her eyes, he guessed yes. Harry vanished their empty glasses, then crossed the distance between them, pulling her tightly against his chest.
"Thank you," he murmured in her hair. "Thank you for this trip. Thank you for being there, always. Thank you for saving me—so many times over. Thank you, Hermione."
She slumped into him and he had to tighten his grip on her to keep her upright. Her shoulders shook and he heard soft sobs, muffled against his chest.
"Don't tell me you actually believed that what you saw in the mist would happen," he said as his ran his fingers through her hair.
She let out a half-moan / half-laugh. "I guess I was more scared about it coming to fruition than I realized."
Harry pushed her back. There were still tears falling onto her cheeks, but she seemed to be finished with the worst of the crying. He placed his hands on her face as warm tears ran down his knuckles. "I'm not going anywhere," he whispered. "We're back in our world, in our normal bodies, and I'm still desperately in love with you."
"You are?" she asked doubtfully.
He nodded.
She responded with a sad smile. Hermione pulled out of his grasp and conjured a handkerchief, then began dabbing at her eyes. She cast a Reflection Charm to check her appearance and after a short inspection, vanished the handkerchief and mirror with a wave of her wand.
"It's almost time for dinner," she said, looking down at her watch.
"Yeah." He didn't care about dinner. He didn't even know what day it was. All he cared about was Hermione and what she was going to do next. When was she going to see Ron? What was she going to say to him? But first, Harry needed to talk to Ginny. His stomach churned. That was going to suck. But he'd been thinking about it over the past few days and had finally sorted out what he was going to say.
"It's Thursday, Harry," Hermione said, drawing his attention back to her.
"Okay. Yeah. It is, isn't it?"
"Have you already forgotten what we do on Thursday nights?"
"Oh, shit." Duh. On Thursdays he, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny had dinner together. "Whose place is it today?" he asked.
"Yours, so it's our turn to get food. I knew I'd be working late so I told Ron to pick something up, which means —"
"Pizza," he finished for her. "Okay."
"Yes." A heavy awkwardness settled between them.
"I guess this will be as good a time as any to tell them about the trip."
"Right," she said nervously. "Are you—? Um—"
"No. I'm not going to tell them about my feelings for you. I'm going to discuss that with Ginny, alone. Tonight. And I—I'm not planning to hold anything back. She's probably going to tell Ron. And honestly, if she doesn't, I was planning to. I owe him that much."
"Okay," she said, dropping her eyes to the ground. "That—uh—makes sense."
"Yeah."
He reached out and brushed his hand along her arm, stopping when he reached her palm. "It's been one-sided at this point," he said softly. "They'll be angry with me but you—you don't have to confess to. You can—you can stay with Ron." His voice cracked and he stopped to take a breath. Fuck, he could barely get the words out. But he needed to say this. He needed her to know he supported her, no matter what.
"I want you to be happy, Hermione. Okay? And even if you choose to stay with Ron, we're going to remain friends. Remember the pact?"
She nodded, looking down at their hands. "Friends, above all else."
"That doesn't mean I've given up on you," he added. "I think you're supposed to end up with me. And I plan to wait for you for as long as you need."
"Five years?" she asked with a teary smile.
"Preferably less." He pulled her hand up to his lips and kissed her knuckles. After returning her hand, he walked toward the door while Hermione stayed in place. "Are you coming?"
"I need to take care of some things in here." She gestured around the room. "Can you get yourself out? The Apparition point is next to the loveseat, through the door closest to the exit."
"Yeah. I can find it."
Harry went back to her and kissed her cheek. She leaned into him. He pulled back and pushed a curl behind her ear, brushing his fingertips along her cheek. They watched each other for a few moments, while Harry wondered how long it would be until he could hold her like this again.
Hermione held her hand out and gently placed her fingers against Harry's lips. He kissed them and she smiled slightly. He thought he understood the gesture. She wanted to kiss him, but this was all she would allow while they were still engaged. Hopefully, that wouldn't be the case for long.
"I'll see you soon," he said, speaking against her fingertips.
"See you soon," she replied. Harry thought he saw a flash of disappointment cross her face as she dropped her hand and stepped back. Though it was gone so quickly, he couldn't be entirely sure he hadn't imagined it.
Ron was running late. He was bouncing from one foot to the other as he waited impatiently for the Muggles to finish his order. Once again, everyone was going to tease him for bringing pizza. But it was quick, cheap, and delicious. What was the problem with that?
He had hoped to have time to get a salad to go with it, and maybe even a dessert—mostly to ward off glares from Hermione as she thought to herself how lazy he was—but the meeting he'd had with the informant from Belgium that afternoon had gone on twice as long as Ron was expecting. So, pizza it was.
When he arrived at Grimmauld Place, though, only Harry was there. Hermione and Ginny seemed to be running late too. Ron could immediately tell something was off with Harry. He was avoiding Ron's gaze as he took Ron's outer robe and hung it in the closet, then was oddly quiet as he led them down the dark hall to the kitchen at the back of the house.
"You okay, Mate?" Ron asked as he set the boxes of pizza on the table, then cast a Warming Charm on them.
"Actually, no," Harry said roughly, which surprised Ron. Harry rarely owned up to his bad moods this quickly. It was one of the most frustrating things about being his best friend. Ron usually had to work hard to draw things out of him.
"Blimey. What is it? What happened? Something at work? But you were just writing up case reports today, weren't you? Something with Ginny? Something with ... what else is there?"
Again, Harry averted his eyes. "It's actually something with Hermione," he said to the pizzas, his voice oddly devoid of emotion. "We're—er—going to tell you all about it over dinner."
"Hermione?" Ron shook his head in confusion. That was odd. As far as he could tell, Harry and Hermione never spent time alone. Something had happened between them a few months ago, but Ron had no idea what it was.
Hermione had brushed Ron off when he asked her about it and he knew it wasn't worth asking Harry, who might not even know. Ron was very familiar with the feeling of being in conflict with Hermione, with no idea what had gone wrong or how to fix it. Harry must have offended Hermione in some way and she was punishing him for it. It was too bad, but honestly, Ron was just relieved he wasn't the one caught up in the crossfire this time and didn't want to stir the cauldron and somehow end up on Hermione's bad side.
Just then, Ginny walked into the kitchen. Her long hair was still damp from a recent shower and she was wearing a long, sleeveless Quidditch jersey over a pair of leggings. If she could show up to dinner looking as casual as that, Ron should be allowed to bring pizza.
"Sorry I'm late. Practice went long today. You all know the Wasps have the best Chasers in the league and well, Turpin got this brilliant idea to drill Agatha for hours, even though we all told her there was no point in wearing out our best Keeper just before the game. Anyway, that's what I was doing, tossing goal after goal." She stopped to roll her shoulders, then clenched and unclenched her fists several times, studying her hands the way Hermione studied arcane texts.
"Damn," she said after several moments. "Remind me to take something for sore muscles tonight, otherwise I'm going to be stiff for days." She turned her neck side to side. "Maybe Hermione will know of something. Where is she?"
Before anyone could respond, Ginny's eyes landed on the pizza boxes on the table. She scoffed. "There are other foods in the world besides pizza, Ron."
He stuck his tongue out at her. "You can choose what we eat next week, when it's your turn."
Ginny went behind the counter to greet Harry. She wrapped her bare arms around him and gave him a small kiss on the neck. "Hey. How was your day? Good?"
Clearly not, Ron thought to himself. If you stopped rattling on about Quidditch and pizza for a second, you'd see that Harry looks like he's about to cry. Or yell. It doesn't seem like he's decided which one to go with yet.
"Er, yeah," Harry said lamely.
Ron would have known that was a lie even if Harry hadn't confirmed it for him a few minutes ago. But Ginny didn't seem to notice. She was barely paying attention to him. Her mind was probably back at practice, or perhaps at the match she had this weekend.
Ginny did this sometimes, got lost in her head. Ron just hoped that once she was finished running through Quidditch plays in her mind, she'd focus on her fiancé and give him the attention he clearly needed, but would never ask for. Either that, or Harry would end up at Ron's flat later, asking if he fancied a trip to the pub.
She and Harry were brilliant when things were going well. They were a good team, hilarious, fun-loving. But when Harry was in a bad mood, they instinctively separated, like now. Even though they were touching, there was a palpable distance between them. It was during moments like these when Ron agreed with his mum (terrifying thought) about Ginny being too young to get married. Despite the fact that his mum was obsessed with Harry and desperately wanted him in the family, she'd said multiple times now how she wished they would wait a few years and how there was no reason to rush into a wedding.
Thank Merlin, Ron didn't have to worry about this with him and Hermione. Hermione was a genius at this sort of thing and if she and Ron were rushing into a wedding, she'd have said something by now.
As if on cue, Hermione appeared in the doorway. "Hi," she said, out of breath. She paused and took in the scene in the room. Ginny and Harry, standing behind the counter, Ginny with her arm around Harry's waist while he stood there stiffly. The box of pizzas on the table and then, her eyes landed on Ron. He braced himself for a scowl and had his excuse ready, but was surprised when she crossed the room and threw her arms around him.
"Oomph," Ron gasped, stumbling slightly as he struggled to keep them upright. He tightened his arms around her and felt her melt into him. "Uh, Hermione? Are you okay?"
His eyes flashed to Harry, who had been watching them, but he looked away before Ron could catch his gaze. Ginny watched Ron and Hermione with a look of mild curiosity.
Ron gently pushed Hermione back and was alarmed to see tears in her eyes. "Hermione? What's going on?"
"Why do you look so upset, Hermione?" Ginny asked, crossing the room to get a better look at her friend. Brilliant, Ron thought, she's finally joined the conversation.
Hermione looked over at Harry, who was watching her intently. She blushed for some reason, then carefully stepped out of Ron's grasp. "We, uh, have an insane story for you two," she said to Ron and Ginny.
"Who's we?" Ginny asked.
"Her and Harry," Ron snapped. "Pay attention."
Ginny elbowed him in the side but he was expecting it, and blocked her with his arm.
"What sort of story?" Ginny asked Harry.
Harry didn't hear her, or had chosen to ignore her. He was completely focused on Hermione.
"Maybe we should start eating," Hermione announced, moving to the table. She summoned plates and napkins while Harry fetched glasses of water for everyone.
They sat in their usual spots around the small, circular table Harry had purchased months ago. It was one of the only updates he'd made to Grimmauld Place. Ron sat across from Harry while Ginny took the spot on his right and Hermione the spot on his left.
When everyone was sitting with a slice of pizza in front of them, Harry turned to Hermione and said softly, "Do you want to start?"
"You go," she whispered back. Ron scanned her appearance. He was trying to pick out what was wrong with her, but couldn't place it. She looked the same, physically, no more tired or stressed than usual, but something was off. She was twirling her engagement ring around on her finger. Once she realized what she was doing, she stopped and gripped her knee so tightly, her knuckles went white. Ron frowned and focused back on Harry, whose eyes were in the same spot, on Hermione's hand.
"We've been gone for two weeks in, er, another dimension," Harry stated, moving his eyes to Ron. "In the Department of Mysteries."
That was not at all what Ron was expecting. "You...what?!" He looked at Hermione, but she was focused on the pizza on her plate. "What do you mean you've been gone for two weeks? When? I saw you at the office earlier."
"Hermione's probably the better person to explain that part, but we went to another world where everything was different and we stayed there for fourteen days. Then, we traveled back in time, to the same point when we arrived in that world, and came back here. So, it seems to you like no time passed but to us, a lot did. Erm, sort of like in Third Year, when we used the Time Turner to save Sirius."
Ron looked to Hermione, who confirmed the story with a small nod.
"What sort of world?" Ginny asked, leaning forward in her chair. "Were there ... what do Muggles call them? Ale-nims?"
"Aliens," Hermione corrected, "and you're thinking of different planets, which isn't the same as different universes. We were on planet Earth and society was mostly the same with some, um, key differences."
"Oh, like what?" Ginny asked.
Hermione looked to Harry, who seamlessly picked up the story. "In this other universe, Neville was the Boy Who Lived, not me."
"What? Neville?" Ginny asked. "That's crazy."
Harry gave her an odd look, then focused back on Ron. "Yeah. Um, Neville. Because the Prophecy could have referred to him. Dumbledore told me that once. So, yeah, he was the one whose parents had died and he was the one who killed Voldemort and my parents—erm—they were alive."
"What?" Ron broke into a grin. "You got to see your parents? That's great!"
"Yeah." Harry gave him a shy smile. "It was pretty great.
Ron turned to Hermione. "Is that the sort of research you do in the Department of Mysteries? Look for other worlds where our loved ones are still alive? That's brilliant! Why didn't you say so earlier? Can we go to a world with Fred, next?"
"Yes!" Ginny exclaimed. "Let's do that!"
"No," Hermione said quickly. "That's not really how it works."
"Then how does it work?" Ron asked.
When she turned to him, her eyes were sad and apologetic. "I was doing research into the fifth dimension and trying to figure out how to travel through it and I just—I happened upon this world with Harry's parents. I wasn't looking for it. And then, once I found it, I knew I had to show Harry so he could meet them, you know?"
Ron nodded. "Of course. That makes sense. Though, you could have warned me before going on a two-week trip."
"That part wasn't planned," Harry cut in. "It was just supposed to be dinner. But after I met them—and learned they were about to go on a two-week holiday with the other Harry and Hermione—I begged her to let us stay."
"Oh, right," Ginny interrupted. "There would have been another Harry and Hermione. What did they think of you being there?"
"We took over their bodies," Hermione explained. "So we were impersonating them while their minds floated ... somewhere else."
"Bloody hell," Ron swore. "And that worked? Your parents didn't know?"
"They eventually figured it out," Hermione said, answering for Harry. "But it took them about a week. I mean, our disguises were very good." She and Harry shared a small smile, which caused a heat to flame up in Ron's chest.
"Why can't we go see Fred?" Ron asked, trying to keep his tone even. "You can continue your research, figure out how to hone in on—"
"I can't, Ron. Okay?"
"Why not?"
"Because I'm not an Unspeakable anymore. Or—I won't be, after tomorrow."
"What?" Ron asked. "Why? You're quitting?"
"No," she said softly. He could tell she didn't want to say this next part. "I'm going to be fired once they find out I brought Harry through the portal."
"What?!" Ginny exclaimed, placing a hand over her mouth. "Why did you bring him, then?"
Ron scowled. He knew exactly why. Because Hermione would do anything for Harry. He looked over at Harry, who was pointedly avoiding Ron's gaze.
"So, you gave everything up for Harry," Ron said coolly.
Hermione sighed, then looked at him squarely. "You may as well know ... there's more."
Of course there was more. Ron got the sense they'd been building up to this "more" the whole time. Hermione looked at Harry, who took up the story again. The easy way Harry and Hermione were making their way through this conversation, seamlessly switching from one person to the other, was making Ron sick. They hadn't been this close since the war—when they'd finish each other's sentences, track the other's movement around the tent, or lean into each other, without even realizing it.
"We were engaged in that world," Harry explained. "So—erm—for the first week of the trip, before my parents found out who we really were, we sort of had to pretend to be a couple."
"What does 'sort of having to pretend to be a couple' look like?" Ron said through clenched teeth.
Harry kept his eyes on Ron as he replied. "I wrapped my arm around her, held her hand, kissed her a few times, and we—er—shared a bed."
"That must have been so weird for you two," Ginny said, completely unphased by the news that Harry and Hermione had essentially cheated on Ron and Ginny.
But again, Ginny had never seen Hermione as a threat. She'd told Ron as much after the war, when he'd asked her if she was bothered by how much time Hermione and Harry had spent alone when they were on the run. But Ginny hadn't grown up with Harry and Hermione, like Ron had. She hadn't seen the way they had of communicating without words—something Ginny and Harry had yet to master. Hell, Ron and Hermione didn't even do that.
The fire in Ron's chest grew hotter as he remembered Harry and Hermione from the Horcrux Hunt. The way they always fell into step while hiking, the shared glances across the room, how they chattered on and on about everything and nothing, all at once, never tiring of each other's company.
"Why?" Ron asked, glaring at Hermione first, then Harry. "Why not come clean about who you were from the start and avoid the whole … charade?"
"I was trying to get to know them," Harry replied, his voice shaking. "I wanted them to be themselves and I thought they'd be angry if they knew who I really was. And they were, when they first found out. My dad dueled me and he was really good. I barely managed to overpower him. And then—then we did come clean and we told them we weren't engaged and I—I started sleeping on the couch."
He gave Hermione a side-long glance. There was something he was leaving out. That twisted image of Harry and Hermione snogging, the one the locket had shown Ron, flashed through his mind.
The real Harry, the one at the other end of the table, dropped his head as he pinched the bridge of his nose under his glasses. "I was desperate to know them, Ron," he said hoarsely. "I don't have any memories of them. I just—I just needed something."
And suddenly, he transformed. He was no longer the more handsome version of himself that was kissing Hermione, but the depressed man he'd been just after the war. The man curled up in a ball in bed while he shouted at the top of his lungs, struggling to fight his way out of a nightmare. The godfather who subsisted on nothing but Dreamless Sleep Potion as he tried to make it through the rigorous Auror Training program and care for his newborn godson, insistent that Teddy would have a better childhood than he had.
The wizard who cried alone in his room, then tried to hide his puffy eyes once he finally emerged, apologizing under his breath for making them late to the pub. During that first year after the war, while the girls were still at Hogwarts, Ron had been bouncing between George's flat and Grimmauld Place, trying to determine which broken wizard needed him most that night.
Just then, the enormity of what Harry had just been through hit Ron. He'd seen his parents. The people he loved most in the world, but who he'd never had a chance to know. Ron hadn't missed all the times Harry flipped through the photo album Hagrid had given him, or the way he perked up at the mere mention of one of them. And now, he'd met them. He'd traveled with them and then, after just two weeks, been forced to say goodbye.
No wonder he looked like he was bleeding from an invisible wound. Ron's chest clenched at the obvious pain in Harry's eyes. The witches were watching Ron, waiting for his reaction. Ginny looked curious, though slightly detached, and Hermione was wearing an expression of equal parts guilt and sorrow. Ron reached over and placed a hand on her leg. He couldn't be angry with her. This was what he got with Hermione. He'd known that from the start. She would always do whatever she could to help Harry.
Hell, so would he. If Ron had to give up his job to give Harry two weeks with his parents, he would have done it in a heartbeat. And he knew Harry would have done the same for him. "Okay, Mate," Ron muttered. "It's not my favorite thing, but I get it. You did what you had to do."
Hermione let out a sigh of relief but Harry looked even sadder, which hadn't previously seemed possible.
"I understand too, Harry," Ginny chimed in. "I'd pretend to be engaged to Ron, if it meant I got to see Fred again."
Harry laughed humorlessly.
"Was it bad?" Ron asked in a low voice. "Saying goodbye to them?"
Harry gave him a curt nod.
Hermione shifted closer to Harry and Ron saw her pinky finger graze his knee.
"Do you want to hear about them?" Hermione asked the table. "James and Lily? They're really great."
"Yeah, sure," Ron said, watching Harry pull his gaze away from his untouched pizza and focus on Hermione.
"James is—well—sort of like Sirius in the way he's always joking and looking for a laugh but he's more…"
"Serious," Harry provided with a small smile, the first one he'd worn all night.
"Yes. I think your mum mellowed him out. And he's completely devoted to her. He's also really smart and brave and we saw him turn into a stag several times and it was really impressive."
"I had to fight that stag," Harry reminded her.
Hermione let out a small laugh. "That's right."
"That's cool," Ron said, eager to break into the conversation. "He sounds really great."
"Yeah," Harry said.
"And Lily," Hermione continued, "I don't even know where to start. She's beautiful, more beautiful than the photos, kind, intuitive, surprisingly cunning, brilliant, caring, sort of reserved … blunt." Hermione sighed and dabbed at her lower lashes with her fingertips. "She was hard to say goodbye to. They both were."
A sad silence settled over the group. Ginny bit her lip as her brows knit together, then placed a hand on Harry's arm. "Why don't we talk about something lighter?"
Hermione glared at her across the table. Ron silently hoped Ginny wasn't about to mention something about Quidditch, since he was pretty sure that would lead to Hermione hexing her and he didn't want to have to mediate a fight between his fiancée and his sister. Luckily, Ginny wasn't that tactless. She ignored Hermione and turned to Harry. "What type of trip did you all go on? Can you tell us what you saw?"
"Oh, er, yeah. We saw the Seven Wonders of the Magical World."
"Really?" Ginny said. "I don't think I've heard of those."
Harry paused to take a large gulp of his water.
"I can start," Hermione said as Harry set his empty glass on the table.
"Yeah, go ahead," Harry said gratefully.
Ron saw Harry reach his little finger out and graze it against Hermione's, which was still touching the edge of his knee. She nodded her head almost imperceptibly, then pulled her hand back onto the center of her lap and started explaining a forest in France.
Ron tried to ignore the gesture. He tried not to care. He tried to channel Ginny's nonchalance. He reminded himself that Hermione was comforting Harry the best way she knew how. Harry was hurting and he needed support and she knew that better than anyone. She'd been there when he'd had to say goodbye to his parents. She'd been there, pretending to be engaged to him. Kissing him, sleeping next to him.
Ron took a deep breath. No, it wasn't like that. It wasn't. Then again, there was something they were holding back. He'd been an Auror long enough to be able to pick up on this sort of thing. The more Ron thought about it, the less sure he was about what was going on between Harry and Hermione. But there was one thing he was certain of. The rift between them was over.
Later that night, Ginny was standing in front of the mirror in the bathroom, braiding her hair as she thought of Harry and Hermione's strange trip. She was glad she'd turned the conversation to the sights they'd seen, rather than all that depressing talk about his parents. That had been smart. She could see it taking a dark turn and Harry looked like he was about to burst into tears. Luckily Ginny had been there to save him. If it was up to Hermione, he'd have been sobbing over his pizza.
Hearing about the Wonders was really cool. Maybe she could convince Harry to take her back to a few of them. The fairy colony seemed neat, and relatively easy to get to, and the dragons were brilliant, but sounded expensive —since you needed to book time with a private guide. Harry could afford it, though.
The lights sounded nice enough, but neither Harry nor Hermione could describe the song part of it well. Ginny would pass on Pacifica, as she'd never been a big fan of the ocean, and she'd pass on the waterfall too, since it was clear both Harry and Hermione hated that place. But the Tear in the Veil ... a chance to see Fred again. Her heart thumped. She'd need to think about that.
"Hey."
She jumped and turned to find Harry in the doorway. "Hey." She finished off her braid, then lifted her wand and applied a Mouth Cleaning Spell. When the spell was finished and she'd rinsed her mouth out, she turned to face him. He was leaning in the doorframe, staring distantly at the tiles in the shower.
Ginny took a deep breath and placed a tentative hand on his arm. She wasn't good at this, but knew it was part of being with Harry Potter. Dealing with his dark moods and helping him find his way back to his normal, happy self.
"I'm really sorry you had to go through all that."
His eyes snapped to hers. They were swimming with so many emotions, she couldn't begin to guess all the feelings there. "It was good," he said insistently. "I'm glad I went. It's just going to take me a little bit to recover. It's like—like I lost them all over again."
"Right, of course," Ginny nodded. "I'm happy for the good parts and—uh—sorry about the end, and how sad you are right now."
Harry just hummed. He cocked his head toward the room and went to sit on the edge of the bed. "Can we talk? I want to tell you more about the trip."
"Oh. Now?" She followed him into the room and stopped so she was standing in front of him.
"Yes."
"Okay. We just talked for hours and I thought that the details would just come out over time. You seem knackered, I'm knackered—" She paused to clench and unclench her fist, which was still sore. Damn, she'd forgotten to ask Hermione which Potion she should take tonight. "And I have an early practice."
Harry's gaze hardened. "I just went through a significant experience, perhaps one of the most important ones of my life, and I want to talk to my fiancée about it. Can you maybe put Quidditch to the side for once? You can take a Stamina Potion tomorrow."
Ginny's face twisted. "You know I can't take those at practice. I could crash while on my broom."
He let out a long sigh and dropped his face in his hands. "Yeah, okay. Whatever."
Ginny could see him shutting down. She wondered if he was going to sleep in one of the spare bedrooms tonight and then, she wondered if she cared. The thought jolted her into action. Of course she cared. This wizard was supposed to be her husband soon and he'd just implied she was a bad fiancée. She couldn't have that. She needed to connect with him.
"Sorry, Harry," she said, taking a seat next to him on the bed. "I'm so worried about this upcoming match—you know that but I—I want to talk to you—I do. And I'm not trying to be a dreadful fiancée. I think I was actually pretty good tonight. I forgave you immediately for pretending to be with Hermione, didn't I? Not like Ron. I think you'll be hearing about this from him for a while."
He looked up at her and she tried to give him a small smile, but it just seemed to irritate him. She linked her arm with his. "Come on. Tell me what you wanted to say."
He focused on the shabby rug on the ground. When he didn't say anything after several moments, Ginny squeezed his arm. "What is it, Harry? You're obviously upset and you said you wanted to talk. So talk."
"You don't want to talk to me."
"Is that why I'm sitting here, literally begging you to talk?" she snapped.
"You're doing that because you think it's what you're supposed to be doing," he snapped back. "This entire relationship has just been you and I doing what we think we're supposed to, not what we want."
Ginny flinched and let go of him. She felt like she'd been hit with a Stinging Jinx. "Where is this coming from, Harry? I thought we were talking about your trip."
Harry jumped up and began pacing the floor in front of her, raking his hands through his hair. "Sorry, Gin. I shouldn't have snapped. Fuck. I had this whole, long, drawn-out explanation planned but—but you don't want that. You just want me to get to the point, don't you?"
He stopped pacing and fixed her with an intense stare. "Um, sure," Ginny said, hoping it was the right thing, since she didn't want this to turn into a big row. She was tired and she wanted to sleep.
"Fine," he said, going to join her on the bed again. "I can't marry you."
Ginny waited for him to continue, to add something like, "next summer" or "I think we should wait a little longer," but he didn't say anything like that. Just, "I can't marry you, full stop."
"I love you," he continued. "I do love you but—but not the way I should. And you—you don't love me back. Not really. I mean, how could you? We don't even know each other."
A fire flared inside of Ginny. She began to see it slipping away, the wedding, the dress she'd picked out with her mum, the full page spread in the Daily Prophet, the new signature she'd been practicing, Ginevra Molly Potter.
"Don't tell me how I feel about you. That's for me to decide, not you!" she shouted.
"I'm just going with the facts," he replied evenly. "You don't like when I have nightmares, or flashbacks, or panic attacks. You prefer if I keep my dark past out of this relationship—even though it's a huge part of me. You don't know anything about my time with the Dursleys. Never once did you care to ask.
"We never talk about anything real, like the sort of life we want in the future, or our values, or—or—our dreams. We just talk about Quidditch and the news and—and gossip. And tonight—you didn't want to talk about my parents. You wanted to talk about the Wonders, which was the least important part of the trip."
"Where is all this coming from? You went on this trip and suddenly decided you don't want to be with me? Whatever happened, we can fix it. It doesn't just have to be over."
Harry took a deep breath. "We can't fix it, Ginny."
Ginny seethed. She hated how he was managing to remain so calm as he tore the life she'd created to shreds. "You owe me more of an explanation. What happened? Why this sudden revelation?"
Harry looked back at the rug. When he spoke, his voice was flat, which just angered Ginny further. "I saw what my parents were like. I saw what it was like to be in a relationship with mutual understanding and respect. I saw what it was like to break down and have someone tell you that it's okay. That you can be strong, but also a fucking mess, and that you didn't have to hide from your emotions."
Ginny shook her head. "You saw all that in two weeks? Your parents were ... breaking down and ... and you saw?"
Harry took his glasses off and placed them on the bed, then covered his face with his palms. "Some of that I saw with my parents and the other—" He sighed. "The other part was with Hermione."
The air in the room stilled. Harry turned to look at her and said in a barely perceptible whisper. "I fell in love with Hermione."
"I don't—I don't understand. Our Hermione? Or, no, the other one. You're talking about the other Hermione."
"Yes, our Hermione. The other Hermione wasn't there." There was an edge to his tone. Apparently the mention of Hermione had snapped him out of his indifference.
Ginny was finally starting to piece together the truth. All that crap about them having a bad relationship was just an excuse. This was the real reason he didn't want to be with her. He'd fallen for Hermione. Hermione Granger! Ginny had suspected Hermione might like Harry as far back as Hogwarts, but he'd never shown any interest. And now—what had Hermione done? Brainwashed him? Used a Love Potion?
"Let me get this straight. You went on a trip with your parents, traveled all over the world, pretended to be engaged to Hermione, then decided you actually wanted to be engaged to her and—what? Forgot about me? Or just started inventing reasons why we're bad together to justify whatever you did with Hermione on the trip. Were you two together? When you said you shared a bed I assumed—"
"Of course we didn't do anything. We would never do that to you and Ron."
Ginny's stomach lurched. The way he'd said that "we" … it was so inclusive, so full of feeling. She was sure he'd never referred to the two of them like that.
"This isn't about Hermione, Gin," he continued, his voice calm again. He put his glasses back on and stood in front of her. "Yes, I realized I love her, but I had already decided we needed to end it before that realization. I think this is best for both of us. You—you don't really want me. You want this?" He gestured to his body. "I'm a fucking mess and we both know it and I can promise you, it's not something I just going to grow out of one day. I'm going to be this way—always struggling with the losses from my past, oscillating between good and bad moods, trying to find out what the point of everything is—for the rest of my life. Do you really want that?"
Ginny stood and glared at him as he gave her a questioning look, waiting for her verdict. She responded by slapping him hard across the face. He barely flinched and she raised her hand to do it again, but this time he stepped back, out of her reach. "Ginny—"
"Don't try to tell me what I do and don't want," she said through clenched teeth. "You're just trying to make yourself feel better for cheating on me and we both know it!"
Harry let his eyes fall closed. He inhaled and exhaled softly before speaking again in a resigned tone. "You clearly don't want to talk anymore. Are we done?"
"Yeah. We're done, Harry." Ginny had already Summoned a bag from the closet and was haphazardly tossing clothes inside as her mind raced through the other things she'd need to grab. Some toiletries, her broom, a pile or two of money, her favorite mug.
"I can leave," he said softly. His eyes were wet, which just irritated her further. "You live here too and—"
"You must be kidding," she said cruelly, snapping her bag shut and tossing it over her shoulder. "I've been desperate to escape this dark house since the moment you insisted I move in. You're doing me a favor here."
She went to the bathroom and shoved a few more things into her bag before returning to the room. Harry was standing in the same spot. "You know what?" she continued. "It's not just the darkness in this house I'm desperate to escape. It's all of it—that cloud hanging over you. At least now, it won't threaten to suffocate me too. You are a mess and you and Hermione—you two deserve each other."
She marched past him to the door. When she had her hand on the knob, he said gently, "I'm sorry, Ginny. I wasn't trying to hurt you." She heard the unspoken words behind the sentence, "Despite the fact that you're clearly trying to hurt me." Something his precious Hermione would never do.
"Well, you did," she bit back. "I guess the wonderful Harry Potter doesn't win at everything."
The pain that flashed in his eyes caused her heart to stutter. She almost apologized. Almost walked back into the room to give him a final, parting hug. But she was too angry. He'd messed everything up. He'd chosen another witch over her and she didn't think she'd ever be able to forgive him. She shot him a final glare before turning to the hall, slamming the door behind her.
A little while later, Harry went downstairs to clean up after dinner. He was trying to keep the emotions flowing through him at bay, reasoning that tomorrow, he'd have plenty of time to address them. But he needed to keep everything in check until then. He didn't want to fall apart in front of Robards while he was quitting his job.
But the thought of being alone in the house, with nothing to do, made him anxious. He thought of Ginny—the rage in her eyes, which he knew she was just using to mask the pain. He could still feel the sting of her slap on his cheek and knew it was nothing compared to what he deserved. And Ron—he would have to tell him about Hermione, and soon. Ideally, before Ginny got to him. But what was he going to say? How did you start a conversation like that?
Harry realized he'd been standing motionless in the center of the kitchen for several moments. His eyes drifted to the spot at the table where Hermione had been. He wished he could call her. He needed her here. He'd spent so much time with her over the past few weeks and then—to have her ripped away so suddenly—it was disorienting. He sighed and went back upstairs. He should try to sleep.
As he washed up for bed, he gave himself a pep talk. He could get through tomorrow. It would be bad, but not the worst thing he'd been through. Then, on Saturday, he'd see Teddy. Maybe he'd bring him to a toy store. Seeing Teddy's face light up with joy would turn Harry's mood around. Just the thought of it made Harry feel lighter. Yeah. A new toy, and maybe ice cream, too. He could pick some up at the store tomorrow.
Harry had changed into his pajamas and was about to climb into bed when he felt a shimmer of the wards, followed by a knock on the door. Hermione. She'd come. She knew he needed her. Knew he'd be unbearably lonely, and had come to support him, like she always did. He ran down the stairs and threw open the door. It wasn't Hermione. It was Ron.
"Fuck you!" he shouted, then punched Harry square in the jaw. Harry stumbled back as his vision went temporarily black. He barely managed to keep from falling over. As he was pulling himself upright, he heard the crack of Disapparition. His vision cleared to reveal an empty doorstep.
He sighed and closed the door as tears stung his eyes. So much for talking to Ron before Ginny did. Or ... had Hermione told him? Maybe they'd broken up? Harry couldn't find reassurance in the thought. All he could see was that look on Ron's face before he'd punched Harry, his face red and twisted with a mixture of rage and disgust.
He went to the Potion Cupboard upstairs and started rummaging through the shelves, his hands shaking as he pushed the bottles around. No Dreamless Sleep Potion. Fucking fantastic. There was some dittany, though. He rubbed it on the side of his face, over the spot where Ginny and Ron had both hit him, then plodded upstairs to his bedroom.
He returned to his bed and climbed under the covers, though he knew it was futile. He wasn't going to be able to sleep. As he lay there, struggling to ward off the bad thoughts, he waited—in vain—for relief to come. For his mind to let him drift off to sleep, for Hermione to appear in the doorway, climb into the bed with him, and wrap her arms around him. For him to wake from this nightmare and find he was back in the tent in the other world, with his mum making tea for everyone in the kitchen. He waited and waited for some sort of solace—anything— but none came.
Harry thought of his parents and gripped onto the memories, even though they hurt like hell, ripping through him like a Cruciatus Curse. They were out there, somewhere, and he tried to be reassured by the thought. They'd be sleeping, getting ready to start their trip tomorrow. Tears streamed down his face, soaking his pillow. Harry pulled his knees up to his chest and bent his head down. It was a memory of his dad that finally calmed him. Harry replayed the words until he eventually lost consciousness.
"I'll be thinking about you all the time. Just remember that when things get hard. I'll be here, Harry. Rooting for you."
