A/N: Don't be alarmed that this chapter is from Hermione's POV. I looked at it from every direction, and hers was the only POV that made sense. This story is first and foremost about Luna and Harry, and you'll see that reflected in this chapter despite the POV.

Big thanks to my beta moon and the great people over at the /r/hpfanfiction IRC (especially Selethe and TIHP) for the input for this chapter.


Poison and Cure

Chapter 2: Homecoming Party

Hermione Granger weaved her way through the throngs of people crowded into the International Arrivals Hall of the Ministry of Magic, Atrium Level. There was an air of excitement all around as witches and wizards waited to greet the ministry workers, mostly Aurors and Hitwizards, returning from the conflict that recently ended in Eastern Europe.

She approached the entrance to the Staging Area restricted to ministry officials only, where a lanky wizard, who couldn't have been more than a two years out of Hogwarts, sat looking very bored.

She presented her badge. "Hermione Granger, Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures."

"Hermione Granger?" The man's eyes bulged upon hearing her name, and he straightened in his seat. "Yes, please come through."

Hermione sighed. Since Voldemort's defeat, she, Ron and some of the other contributors to the war had been subjected to some of the star treatment that Harry grew up with. It was tiresome.

The Staging Area was little more than an antechamber adjacent the Portkey Hall. Oddly, most of the people in the room were packed into the corner, standing around somebody who was presumably important. The crowd shifted, and for a brief instant she saw directly into the center of the mass.

Hermione grinned as she glimpsed the mahogany colored face of Kingsley Shacklebolt contorted in irritation. The people had him surrounded and each was talking over one another, vying for his attention like a litter of piglets fighting for a teat.

I suppose I should bail him out, she thought. Hermione took a moment to tamp down her amusement into a neutral expression and then approached. "Minister," she called.

Nine heads swiveled in unison to face her.

"Hermione," said Kingsley. The crowd parted, albeit reluctantly, as the Minister surged forward to give her a warm, two handed handshake with a genuine smile.

"Come to meet Ron?" he asked.

"Of course, but Harry too. It's been… a while since I've seen him."

"Ahh yes"—he nodded solemnly—"I spoke with him in Romania last Friday. You haven't seen him since he left England—what, four years ago?"

The crowd behind Kingsley began thin. She and Kingsley made an intimidating pair, politically speaking.

"Yes, four years. I'm anxious to see him again." she answered, strain in her voice.

Hermione had planned to meet Harry in Munich, Germany two years ago on Boxing Day, but missed her chance when his leave was rescinded a day ahead of schedule.

"No need to worry. I hear Ron has been keeping him company since we finished sorting out the Romanian Ministry," assured Kingsley. The fighting had ended over two months ago in December of 2003.

"Yes, Ron wrote to me about it. Was it really necessary to keep them there through February?" she asked.

"Rebuilding takes a long time, but now that the Prime Minister has been restored to power, we can let the Romanians take over."

"But surely Harry could have come back sooner. He's been there since the conflict started."

"It was his choice, Hermione. He could have come back any time, but he wanted to stay. You know Harry," said Kingsley, with a sad smile.

Hermione could only nod. She knew all of this of course. She'd had this conversation before, multiple times with different people, but it didn't make it any easier.

A crack of apparition sounded from the adjoining room, followed by several more in quick succession. Witches and wizards began pouring in from the Portkey Room, and it was only a few minutes before Hermione spotted her husband. Ron strolled into the Staging Area, carrying a case of beer marked with Cyrillic letters.

"Ron!" she screamed, and ran up to embrace him. It was awkward maneuvering around the large box, but she managed to wrap an arm around his neck and give him a peck on the lips.

"Hi, Love. Miss me?" He grinned widely.

"Of course. Why in Merlin's name haven't you just shrunk this thing?" she asked, gesturing to the case.

"It messes with the fizz," he said.

"No, it does not! Culver's Law of—" She was silenced by his index finger pressed to her mouth.

"No magic theory now, Love. Let's get home," he said, before kissing her wetly on the lips.

Hermione harrumphed, but didn't complain. The sloppy kiss had sated any desire to argue with him. "Where's Harry?" she asked, craning her neck to look around him.

Ron's expression darkened. "He'll be through in a few minutes. Said he'd owl me when he gets home."

"Is something wrong?"

"Not really. It's just that— Well, you read my owl right? He's… different."

"Different how? Is he alright?"

"You remember what he was like in fifth year when Voldemort was fucki— sorry, messing with his head. It's like that, but… worse. Way worse," Ron explained. "Plus he's drinking. A lot."

Hermione looked around to make sure nobody was listening in. Reporters weren't allowed in the Staging Area, but things like this tended to get out if overheard. "This probably isn't a good place to talk about it. Why don't you run home and floo your mum, and I'll wait here for Harry."

"Okay, but don't wait too long. He told me a couple weeks ago that he was going to try to stay longer. I don't think he's excited about coming home," Ron said.

Hermione sighed. This didn't bode well. "I'm worried about him, Ron."

Ron shifted the beer to hold it with one hand, put his other arm around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. "He'll be fine, Hermione. You know Harry, he bounces back from everything."

"I know. It's just hard."

"I'm going to go down to check in at the office, and then I'll meet you at the Burrow, 'kay?"

She offered him a strained smile. "Alright, see you in a bit, Ron. I love you," she said, giving him a peck on the lips.

"Love you too, and seriously, don't stay too long. If he's not through in the next twenty minutes, he's probably not coming."

Hermione nodded as he took his leave, stopping to sign an autograph and chat with reporters. He basked in the attention with a wide smile plastered onto his face; she shook her head.

Not long after Ron departed, Hermione saw Neville exit the Portkey Room with the crowd of people coming through. She had seen him just a few months prior as he was only a Reserve Auror at the time the Eastern European Conflict began. He had only been deployed during the final push into Romania.

"Neville!"

He was on the other side of the room making his way towards the lifts, but turned to face her as his name was called. He made his way over and gave her a quick hug. "Hey, Hermione. It's great to see you. How are you?"

"I'm really good, thanks for asking. Congratulations on the Order of Merlin by the way, Third Class was it?"

"Second actually. Gran sent Kingsley a twenty-two foot letter explaining why Order of Merlin, Third Class was," he brought his hands up to gesture air quotes, "'insufficient and insulting' for an achievement of that caliber, so they changed it to Second Class. I'm surprised it wasn't First Class, that woman is scary. I know better than anybody. "

The two laughed together, before Neville asked, "Are you here waiting for Ron? I thought he came through before me."

"Oh he did, I'm actually waiting for Harry. Did you see him before you came over?"

"No, I haven't seen him since we ate breakfast with Ron and Igor."

"Who's Igor?"

"Oh, he's one of the German blokes from our special operations unit. I guess Harry's been fighting with him since the war started."

Hermione smiled. "Well, it's good to hear Harry's made some friends."

A far off expression formed on Neville's face, and he nodded slowly. "Friends, yeah… Anyway, it's great to see you, Hermione, but I have to run and meet Hannah out there," Neville said, gesturing towards the waiting area. "Harry should be along shortly, there weren't many left when I went through."

"Ok, good to know, tell her I said 'hi.'"

"Will do. See you, Hermione."

Hermione watched as Neville, too, was ambushed by reporters, but he pushed through to greet Hannah with a surprisingly deep kiss. He'd probably be hearing about that from his grandmother, Augusta, when it made tomorrow's edition of the Daily Prophet.

Over the next half hour the flood of wizards thinned to a slow trickle, and Hermione began to worry. She took a seat next to the wizard manning the entrance to the Staging Area, chatting idly with him while she waited.

Thirty minutes later, and thoroughly irritated, Hermione received a message from Ron asking if she had found Harry and letting her know he would be at the Burrow. She sent her negative response back with the runner to send via owl, then she entered the Portkey Room to wait for him there.

Finally, after ninety minutes, Hermione was riding the lift down to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. As soon as the doors slid open, she stomped up to the reception desk.

"Has Harry Potter checked in today?" she asked, sounding harsher than she intended.

The plump, young witch at the desk jumped. "Harry P— What? Oh, hello Ms. Granger." She stared for a moment upon recognizing Hermione, before catching herself and jumping into action. "Right, Harry Potter…" She began manually sifting through the parchment in front of her. "Harry Potter…"

It's about time the wizarding world started using computers, thought Hermione.

The girl stopped on one of the pages, reading carefully. She looked back up at Hermione. "It looks like Mr. Potter hasn't checked into the Auror Office yet, Ms. Granger. Do you want to leave a message for him?" she asked politely.

Hermione groaned. Why did Harry have to be so difficult? "Yes, tell him to owl me when he gets in— if he gets in— alright?"

"Absolutely. No problem, Ms. Granger," she said with a nervous smile.

"Is there any way I can find out if he's arrived?"

"I… I don't know, sorry."

"Thank you," Hermione said, before turning on her heel and leaving abruptly. She instantly regretted being so short with the young witch. The girl had been perfectly pleasant every time Hermione had visited to the Auror Office.

She had made it about ten steps before she heard her name called, and turned around.

"Ms. Granger!" The witch had gotten up and was now briskly walking over. She fought the urge to twist away as the girl leaned in close. "Ms. Granger," she whispered conspiratorially while glancing in either direction. "You didn't hear this from me, but my notes say that Harry Potter was fined this morning for entering the country illegally."

Hermione stared at her evenly. "When was this?"

"He apparated into London from Romania a little over an hour ago. The fine was three-thousand Galleons."

What was Harry thinking? Hermione knew that Ministry Code 625 Section B was taught in Auror Training, because she had helped Ron study for it during his certification courses. Harry might be a special case, but even he the Boy-Who-Lived had to get his certifications before starting field work.

"What's your name?" asked Hermione.

"My name? Oh— Katherine Biggs, Ms. Granger." she said.

She placed her hand on the girl's shoulder. "Thank you, Katherine, I really appreciate it. You can call me Hermione."

The witch flushed at the praise. "I— thank you… Hermione."

"I'll see you later Katherine, and don't worry." Hermione tapped the side of her nose and gave the young witch a sly smile before turning to leave.


The Burrow was alive with frenzied activity by the time Hermione apparated into the backyard. When word had gotten out that the British forces were returning from Romania today, each member of the Weasley clan had been summoned to The Burrow to celebrate.

Hermione heard a high pitched scream followed by a naked Victoire Weasley darting out from the back door with Teddy Lupin in hot pursuit. He held a sparking wand high over his head, aimed at Victoire.

Hermione thought it might be a play wand, but then Bill Weasley burst from the door shouting for Teddy to stop. Hermione acted without thinking. With a jab of her wand, Teddy was upended and held aloft by a magical force acting upon his right foot.

She stiffened, horrified for a moment that she'd used dark magic on a small child, but she breathed a sigh of relief when he started giggling.

Bill caught up to him and snatched him out of the air. "Hah! Gotcha, you little monster. Give me back my wand," he exclaimed, prying his wand from the boy's fingers.

"Seriously, Bill? Disarmed by a six year old?" Hermione called.

"Six and a half!" cried Teddy.

"He took it out of my back pocket," Bill said defensively.

"That's even worse! You could lose a buttock that way, you know" she said, her voice full of mirth.

"Oh can it, Granger." He chuckled deeply, before carrying Teddy over and kissing her on the cheek. "Hi Hermione, where've you been? Ron's looking for you."

"Let me down! Aunty Mione, Uncle Bill won't let me down!" Teddy said, struggling.

"Daddy, Teddy used magic on me!" shouted Victoire from beside Hermione.

"What did Nana say about stealing wands, Teddy?" Hermione said.

"I wasn't going to do any magic! Uncle George told me to ask Uncle Bill if I could polish his wand," said Teddy.

Hermione looked to Bill, aghast. There was a sudden outbreak of laughter from the porch of the Burrow.

"Yeah, he just wants to polish your wand Bill, why won't you let him!" called George Weasley.

"Yeah!" Teddy agreed.

"George! That's disgusting. What have you been doing to this poor child?" asked Hermione, despite Bill's laughter.

"What's wrong with that? Good wandcare is important, Hermione. I think Ron was saying his could use a good polishing too."

An angry retort was on the tip of her tongue, but somebody else got to it first. Smack!

"Ouch! Mum, what the heck?"

"Don't be vulgar, George. Oh hello, Hermione, Dear. When did you arrive?" Molly Weasley had emerged from the back door in time to hear George's last statement.

"Hi, Molly. Just a minute ago," she said.

Just then Victoire let out another high pitch scream and darted away. Teddy took off after her, followed by a laughing Bill and George.

Molly gave a contented sigh. "It's great to have children in the house again, though I wouldn't mind a few more," she said, glancing meaningfully at Hermione.

"Ah, yes... It is nice. Err, is Ron inside?" asked Hermione, avoiding eye contact.

"Yes, he said you were going to bring Harry. Didn't he come with you?" Molly asked.

"No, he didn't. I just stopped by to tell you I'm going to stop by Grimmauld Place to see Harry. I missed him at the Ministry."

Molly frowned. "He should really find another place to live. That old, dark house is no place to raise a family."

Hermione couldn't disagree there. "Can you let Ron know I stopped by? I'll see if I can get Harry to come back with me in a few minutes."

"Alright, I'll let him know, dear."

"Thanks Molly." She gave her mother-in-law a quick hug, before disapparating.


Many years had passed since Hermione last visited Grimmauld Place, and Number Twelve looked no different than how she remembered. Grit and grime covered the walls, and the decrepit wooden front door looked to be barely hanging on as the lower hinges had completely rotted apart from the door.

The tarnished silver door knocker in the form of a twisted serpent creaked pitifully as she used it to announce her arrival with a series of loud cracks.

Waiting a brief moment, Hermione knocked again, this time louder. Predictably, this too yielded no response from within.

"Oh no," Hermione said, a sardonic cadence laced into her tone, "I must have missed him. I guess I'll have to return home." She glared at the door for a couple seconds before hammering both fists into the door, chips of black paint splitting off.

"Harry! Do you think I was born yesterday? Open the damn door!"

Nothing. The weight of the entire day came crashing down on her at once. The sheer gall of this man. To leave her standing at the Ministry for hours, waiting for him like a hand servant only to be told by a secretary that he wasn't even going to be at the ministry. Now for Harry to pretend he wasn't even home when he so obviously had to be? How dare he! Harry had a moody steak, but this was unlike him.

She took the knocker in one hand and began slamming it repeatedly, while banging her other hand against it. "HARRY! OPEN THIS DOOR NOW OR I'LL BLOW IT OFF THE HINGES!"

Just when she was about to make good on her threat, there were a series of metallic clicks, and the door swung inward.

Leaning heavily against the doorway, Harry stood scowling at her. Or at least it would have been a scowl if he wasn't slack-jawed and drooling onto his shirt, and if his eyes were sharp instead of glassy and unfocused.

"Whad'you want?" he asked in a controlled slur. Apparently, such a thing was possible.

"I waited for you at the ministry for almost two hours," Hermione said, through clenched teeth.

Harry shrugged. "I didn' take a portkey."

"I know! I stopped by the—Hey let's go inside, the neighbors are watching," she said. Indeed, the neighbors on either side had both opened their doors to peer at her.

Surprisingly and infuriatingly, Harry didn't relent, but instead stared at her, swaying against the door.

Is he really being this much of an arse? "Harry. Let. Me. In," she demanded.

"Fine." He pulled the door open fully to let her in, then turned about and shuffled down the long, gloomy hallway of Number Twelve.

Upon entering the house, Hermione was met by the cough-inducing stench of smoke and ash. She closed the door behind her, taking care to latch one of the many deadbolts, and followed Harry towards the dining room. It didn't take long for her to locate the source of the odor.

"Harry, you didn't!" Where the portrait of Walburga Black once hung, there was now only the blackened and exposed brick of the loadbearing hallway wall. It was still dripping wet where Harry had doused the fire.

"Huh?" Harry asked, appearing in the doorway with a bottle of clear liquor in one hand. "Oh, that. Turns out permanent sticking charms don't protect 'gainst magical fire."

Hermione gaped. "You could have burned down the building!" The nearly empty bottle in his hand seemed to indicate that it was no use arguing with him at this point, but she couldn't find it in her to let the act go unscolded. "What were you thinking!"

Shrugging, Harry returned to the dining room, where he plopped into a chair. "No one's gonna miss the old bitch."

Hermione grit her teeth, but let the issue drop. She sat stiffly across from him and watched him nurse from the bottle as though it was filled with some antidote he desperately needed. She studied him for a long time, during which he seemed content to just sit in silence.

His normally short, messy hair was now down to his shoulders, and his facial hair was unkempt. Sure, Harry never cared too much about his appearance, but most of the time he was at least presentable. More alarming was the yellow tint in his eyes that was juxtaposed against his pale skin. He clearly hadn't been taking care of himself, mentally or physically.

"I stopped by the Auror Office," said Hermione, breaking the silence.

He looked up at her wordlessly

"You've been fined three-thousand Galleons for entering the country illegally."

"I know. They sent an owl," Harry said.

"That doesn't bother you?"

"Better than dealin' with the crowds. The media," Harry spat the last word like it was bitter in his mouth. "Worth every knut."

"And what about me?" Hermione said with a sharp gesture towards herself. "I waited almost two hours for you."

"I never asked you t'do that."

"You don't have to! We're friends. That's what friends do. They greet each other when one of them returns from a long trip," she said, attempting to keep the bossiness out of her tone as she knew he wouldn't appreciate it right now.

"You never told me you'd be waitin'."

"I haven't seen you in four years!" she insisted, her voice rising.

A lump formed in Hermione's throat at the look of anger and hurt he gave her. Did he blame her for not meeting him in Munich? It wasn't her fault that his leave had been rescinded.

Swallowing uncomfortably, she looked away from his glare to look around the room. There was a case of liquor bottles half-stuffed into a cabinet that was too small, and a couple of large military-issue bags slung onto the counter. Had he been living out of those bags?

Four years was a long time. Maybe Ron was right. Maybe this war had changed Harry in a way Voldemort never could.

She turned back to Harry to find him staring at her. Unlike before, his gaze was focused and without malice.

"You look differen'," he commented. He still slurred, but now his tone was even, under control. "Your hair's straighter."

She ran her hands through her hair and brushed it behind her ear. "Yes, I started doing it like this last year."

"You got more dental work done."

She nodded. "My dad offered to do some more work for my birthday. Muggle dentistry is lightyears ahead of magic for cosmetic procedures."

"It looks good."

Hermione smiled, looking him over to pay back the compliment, but for the life of her, she couldn't think of—

"Don't even bother," he said, threading his fingers through his overgrown beard meaningfully. "I know I've let myself go."

Their eyes locked for a moment, before a toothy grin split his face, and they laughed together.

The tension finally broke, and they were able to spend some time catching up with each other's lives. She told him about her work for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and her increasingly involved role at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

As they talked, she could almost see the years of separation and combat begin to melt off of him like cleaning the tarnish off old silver. He didn't say much about himself, or his time in the war, but he told her a few stories about Ron and Neville after the fighting had ended in Romania.

It was good to see him smile again.

During a lull in the conversation, Hermione took the opportunity she'd been waiting for. "Harry," she began as casually as she could manage. "Molly is having a bit of a get together tonight to celebrate yours and Ron's homecoming. She wanted me to invite you to stop by."

His eyes shot up to study her. She could see the wheels turning in his head. An almost hopeful expression played across his face, but then, so fast she barely caught it, his eyes darted over to the half-empty bottle of liquor sitting at the edge of the table. He hadn't so much as looked at it this whole time.

Sensing that she might be losing him, Hermione pulled out her trump card. "Teddy's going to be there."

Her words had the opposite effect of what she'd been expecting as the same familiar darkness came crashing onto his face. The haunted droop to his eyes and ugly scowl he'd worn when she first seen him returned, and he snatched the liquor beside him.

"I don' think that's such a good idea," he said, pulling deeply from the bottle.

"I was just hoping—"

"But that's why you came isn't it? To get me to go to your little get together. Come over here and pretend you just want to chat, but really you're here to drag me back, so everyone can check up on me to see what state I'm in."

"That's not it at all, Molly just—"

"Oh, m'sure, Molly sent you down here to mother me. Get me to clean up my act."

"What? Last week, Kingsley told me you'd be—"

"I'm not one of your lil projects that you can fix up like your precious—"

Growling, Hermione stomped her foot on the ground then shouted, "HARRY! WILL YOU JUST SHUT UP AND LISTEN TO ME?"

He glared at her. He didn't speak, but instead took another drink.

"I don't know what the hell you think is happening right now, but as soon as we found out you'd be coming home today, Molly started planning a big party to welcome you home. Not Ron, he stopped by just last month. You! I waited for you at the Ministry for over an hour, and—"

Harry opened his mouth.

"DON'T! I know you didn't ask me to, but I did it anyway, because I care about you. We all do. I don't know why the hell you think I'd be here trying to get you to clean up your act, because if you remember, I haven't so much as received a letter from you since you left. I didn't even know what to expect!"

"And don't you dare pretend that you couldn't have sent an owl that whole time," she said, jabbing a finger at him. "If you don't want to go to the Burrow tonight, that's fine, but I'm not the one you're hurting the most." She knew it was a low blow, but in the heat of the moment, it just came out.

Harry didn't so much as flinch as he stared back at her with crossed arms. Then suddenly, BANG! He slammed the bottle he was still holding down onto the table.

"Leave."

Hermione felt a flash of white hot anger, and made to reply, but the logical part of her mind took over. She wasn't going to get through to him, not like this.

"Floo me if you change your mind. I'll be at the Burrow, with all your friends and family," she said.

As she turned to apparate, she heard the sound of glass shattering against the stone wall.