Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.
This story will be shorter than my previous ones, and most of it is already written. I hope that you'll enjoy the ride.
PS: the italic parts indicate a memory.
A Sky Full Of Stars
I
Kingsley Shacklebolt sighed for the umpteenth time, his hands crossed over his desk. In front of him, Harry James Potter slightly moved on his chair, visibly uncomfortable.
"Why are you saying me this, Minister? I don't think that it's a necessary information for our case."
The young wizard cleared his throat, twice, doing his best to keep his expression impassive.
"Actually, it's more than necessary for me to talk to you about her: I need you to work with Miss Granger in order to clear the name of one of our highly qualified Aurors."
"But she had nothing to do with this," Harry interjected. "I mean, she doesn't even work for us right now, and, as far as I'm concerned, there is no way for her to be involved in this case."
Harry was well-aware of what had happened to one of his fellow colleagues: he had been caught during a mission in America, and since then, everybody there thought that he was a spy for the English Ministry of Magic. The relations between the Magical New-York and London weren't the best lately, poisoned by some spying suspicious, along with an escalation of violence of words between the two countries. Edward Tellington had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time, and Harry was sure of it. The thing was that the Minister of Magic of the United States was sure of the contrary, and that he would do everything in his power to show to the world that he was right.
"Don't be so sure about it, Harry. Hermione currently works for the Ministry of Magic of the United States, and she is one of their best assets when it comes to legal files. As you may now, I tried several times to hire her, but she always refused."
"And what do you want me to do? To find a way to convince her to work for us?" Harry laughed hollowly. "Come on, Kingsley, you know how my relationship with Hermione is lately: non-existent."
"It's not what I'm asking you to do, to be honest," Kingsley explained. "What I need you to do is a bit more complicated, actually. Hermione is supposed to arrive in London tomorrow, and she will come to the Ministry early in the morning. Peter Grindwald, the Minister of Magic of the United States wants her to investigate on Tellington work, to talk to his colleagues, to gather as much as information as he needs at the moment. And you, as the Head of the Auror office, you have to work with her, to be with her while she's here. We can't let her have more information about us, so you need to check over her during her stay among us."
"No. Fucking. Way," Harry retorted, his arms crossed over his chest. "She doesn't even talk to me anymore, I don't see why you are asking me to do such a thing. Anyone can do this work."
"What image Grindwald would have of us if you are not able to do your own job, Harry? You perfectly know that this is a protocol matter: she will be under your supervision during her stay here, and it is your job, as the Head of the Auror office to watch over her. You know that I wouldn't ask you something like that if it wasn't necessary."
Harry grumbled something incomprehensible, his green eyes staring into space, as if he was trying to focus on what the Minister had just said to him. He had understood every word, of course; but for some reason, his brain didn't seem to realise what he had to do. The only thing that he was aware of was that he would have to see Hermione Granger once again, five years after her awkward departure, five years after that incident between them, that oh-so strange accident that changed everything between them.
"You have no choice, Harry," Kingsley went on, knowing that the young man in front of him wouldn't say anything more.
Slowly, Harry raised from his chair, still not looking at the Minister of Magic. He headed to the door of his office in silence, at a slow pace. Arrived next to the door, he turned around, his eyes shining with an unusual light.
"I'll do my job, Minister."
XxX
"He left. He just... he left," Hermione whispered, her head buried in her hands. She sat dumbly on the bed under the tent, her shoulders being startled by her intermittent sobs.
Ron had stormed out of the tent a few seconds earlier, after an ugly fight with Harry. The latter still had his jaw clenched, more disturbed than he seemed to be – he didn't want to worry Hermione more than she already was.
The locket that Ron had worn during so many days was on the floor, and Harry bent over to put it back around his neck: one should wear it, and obviously, Hermione wasn't in a mood good enough to wear it.
"Please, don't cry," he tried to calm her down, while Ron's words were still echoing into his head. His words about Ginny, about how detached Harry was toward his sister when she was obviously not safe at Hogwarts, everything came back to him. But what was he able to do where he was? He was trying to find a way to safe them all, and Ron wasn't clever enough to understand it.
"It is this damn locket," Hermione retorted bitterly, wiping of her tears. "He said all these things because he was under its spell, I know that he wouldn't have said something like that otherwise."
Harry wasn't sure of it, to be honest. Inwardly, he remembered about Ron's reaction during their fourth year, when he accused him to have put his name into the Goblet of Fire; his coldness, his bitterness, everything.
"We have... we need to destroy it, Harry. We can't stay in this situation any longer. Who knows what could happen if we wear it too much? You could... I don't want to lose you too."
Harry sighed, and headed to the bed where Hermione was, before seating right next to her. Awkwardly, he put his arm around her shoulders, bringing her closer to him.
"You are not going to lose me, Hermione. We are going to destroy this locket together, we have to."
Hermione nodded in silence, sniffing from time to time, doing her best to calm down.
"I feel so stupid," she muttered, her head resting on Harry's shoulder.
"Why?," her friend asked in a quiet voice.
"I didn't see it coming," she explained. "I didn't realise that he was so affected by this dark magic. I should have..."
"It's not your fault, and it's not Ron's fault either," Harry explained, even if it costed him to clear Ron's name after their fight. "Don't blame yourself: you have nothing to do with it."
She remained silent, and soon enough, Harry realised that Hermione was about to sleep. To cry after a long day could have this effect on someone, Harry thought while moving a little to give her some space to lay down on the bed. When he got up from the bed, Hermione opened her eyes, slightly confused.
"Where are you going?" she asked, her eyes asking him to stay with her.
"Not too far. You can sleep, it's late anyway. I'll be just outside the tent if you need me."
Hermione vehemently shook her head, visibly not happy by what Harry just said.
"No, please, don't leave," she begged, her voice hoarse. "Just stay with me tonight."
"I'll come back in a few minutes, I prom–"
"Please," she insisted.
What Harry saw in the bottom of Hermione's eyes at this moment, he would never forget it. It was a mingling of pain, sorrow and fear; fear to be alone in this mess, fear to see him leave just like Ron did, fear to lose the only person that she had left.
And for once, Harry was feeling the same things. He didn't want to be alone either, he didn't want to see her turn her back on him, he didn't want to lose her. Hermione was the only person that he had left in the middle of nowhere, and they needed to be there for each other; and for now, the least that he could do was to lay down on this bed with her, and to take her into his arms, just for her to feel that she wasn't alone anymore.
Then, slowly, without even uttering another word, Harry get rid of his shoes, while Hermione did the same. With a smile, she moved on the bed, just enough to give him some space to lay down.
"Thank you," she muttered when he was next to her.
Her hand searched for his, and when she finally found it, she squeezed it lightly, just to be sure that he was here, and that he wouldn't go anywhere without her noticing.
"You're welcome," Harry said back, before pulling the duvet on their still dressed bodies.
Hermione then turned around, facing the tent, her head rested on the pillow.
"You can get up once I'm asleep, you know," she said, and Harry took her into his arms, his breath caressing her exposed neck.
"I'm not going anywhere," he whispered, before muttering a spell to dim the lamps. "Sleep tight, Hermione."
His friend let out a sigh, and a few minutes later, she was fast asleep. Even though, Harry didn't move, giving her the attention that she needed at this exact moment. For the first time in weeks, he felt safe, and, given Hermione's calm breath, he knew that he wasn't the only one who felt this.
They were safe together.
XxX
That night, Harry didn't sleep well – didn't sleep at all even. He had left the Auror office early, not wanting to talk to anyone. Some of his coworkers would be surprised to know how affected by Hermione's upcoming visit he was. Wasn't she supposed to be his best friend? Weren't they a part of the Golden Trio, the three most cherished persons of England? Of course they were, and Harry couldn't forget it. They were supposed to be a team, but so far, things had deteriorated between them. Even Ron wasn't really close to him anymore, but not for the same reasons: with his work as a professional Quidditch player, the redhead didn't have a lot of time to spend in London, and he was always travelling around the world. So was Harry, when his missions as an Auror obliged him to go abroad. It was nice to travel, nice to see other countries, something that he hadn't had the opportunity to do during his youth. But it was also nice to stay in London, to enjoy these peaceful moments far from danger.
At least, it was what these moments were supposed to be: peaceful.
But now, Harry wasn't sure that it was a good idea to stay in London for three weeks, before leaving again for another mission. Now that he knew that Hermione was supposed to come back, everything was different. From the beat of his heart – faster than ever – to the taste of his wine a few hours earlier, everything was different that night, as if his own body was trying to say something to say, to warn him that there was an upcoming danger dancing around.
A danger with chestnut curls and brown and vivid eyes.
Until now, Harry didn't even know that she was working for the American Ministry of Magic, and, to be honest, it wasn't something that he would have bet on. Hermione was a clever woman, of course, but the laws in America were totally different from the ones she was used to in England, and it could have been an obstacle to her career in such a demanding matter.
Nevertheless, Harry remembered that Kingsley told him how essential Hermione was to the Minister when it comes to the legal files, and he realised that it hadn't been an obstacle at all to the young woman's career.
It was almost three o'clock in the morning, and Harry drew on his cigarette for the last time, before crushing it into the ashtray. The latter was a gift from Kingsley, two years ago, when the Minister used to fulminate against Harry's habits to always look around in his office, searching for somewhere to crush his cigarette in. But now that the green-eyed wizard was trying to stop smocking, he had moved the ashtray from his office to his house. He hadn't used it in weeks, but at this moment, he really needed to calm himself down, at least to be less tense for the day to come.
Harry was at least sure about something: it would be an odd day. For years, he had tried to forget about her, forget about what could have been if... if things had been different, if they had taken other decisions instead of the ones that they had taken back then.
What had been done in the past couldn't be undone, and Harry was clever enough not to think otherwise. If there was something that he had learned with time passing by, it was that we always had to let go of the past.
But now, his past was coming back to haunt him.
I don't remember having read a story with Harry and Hermione not talking to each other, so I gave it a try. Let me know what you think of it. :)
