Great Expectations
A/N: As you read this chapter you may be thinking, "Aha! DaVinci Code!" And you would be right. The Rose Line plays a prominent role in Dan Brown's famous novel, but I've attributed magical qualities to it that are uniquely my own and do not, as far as I know, actually exist. However, the Rose Line really does run through parts of the Lake District in central Cumbria, and the rose is an ancient pagan symbol of love and fertility, two things that sometimes go together.
Chapter Two
The Rose Line
Harry and Ron were draped like ferns over tankards of ale as they sat in one of the many quaint little village pubs. The women were out shopping, and their husbands had been sitting at the bar for a long time without speaking. After several minutes, Ron looked up and said, "Is it my imagination . . ."
Harry, who looked a bit dazed, shook his head. "Definitely not."
"Something in the air, do you reckon?" Ron said. "Because if it is, I may try to bottle and sell it."
Harry managed a weak chuckle. "You'd make a fortune!"
"Yeah!" said Ron. "What do you suppose has gotten into them?"
"Maybe they're just trying to be nice," said Harry. "Or maybe Hermione is trying to kill you. It certainly sounded that way last night. You know, a Muffliato wouldn't come amiss."
"Nor from your end either," Ron retorted. "I'm surprised you could hear us with all the racket you two were making. Seriously, though, don't you think it's a bit strange?"
"What do you mean, strange?" Harry asked.
"Hermione hasn't said anything about having a baby all weekend. Not since the first night we got here, and that's really strange because it's practically all she's talked about lately."
"H'm," said Harry thoughtfully. "Ginny hasn't mentioned James either. She was so worried about leaving him, too. I thought she'd be wanting to Floo home three or four times a day while we were here. And yet, so far, not a word."
Ron frowned. "I hope Hermione hasn't given up. Just because it hasn't happened yet . . . I'm willing to try fertility counseling, if that's what it takes."
"Of course you are," said Harry.
"For months all I've heard about is how much she wants a baby. And now all of a sudden she seems to be over it. Does that mean. . . Blimey, Harry! You don't think she was serious about wanting a divorce?"
"What?" Harry said. "How do you come up with these mad ideas?"
"It's just so out of character for her," Ron said. "This whole weekend, she's been all over me like a rash, and not in the usual way, if you know what I mean."
Harry thought of the wand in his pocket and wondered if he ought to try hitting Ron between the eyes with a Silencing charm. He was getting himself all worked up, which usually meant that Harry would end up hearing things he would rather not know. He could not understand how a man who couldn't bring himself to say a word like "sperm" could yet be so willing to spill his guts over the most intimate details of his life. All the Weasleys were like that to a certain extent, and it was just so . . . un-English!
"Do you think Hermione would like to go see that Stone Circle this afternoon?" Harry asked in a blatantly transparent attempt to change the subject. "Ginny said something about. . ."
Unfortunately, Ron was on a roll. It was too late, even for Silencing charms. "She's laughing all the time too. What does she have to be so cheerful about all of a sudden? And she keeps telling me how much she loves me. What's up with that, eh? Maybe it's a guilty conscience. You don't think she's having an affair, do you?"
"That's completely mental," Harry said wearily. "You know she wouldn't. . ."
"Then why is she acting this way? I'm telling you, Harry, she hasn't been like this since . . . well, hell! Since before we got married!"
"Seriously, Ron. My head?" Harry made gestures indicating an explosion. "All over the bar!"
"Well, I'm not giving her a divorce," Ron said adamantly. "Even if she has given up, I'm not letting her run away from me. I'm willing to fight for her and if there's another man, I'll fight him too, whoever the bastard is."
"Ron, you're letting your insecurities run away with you," Harry said. "Why don't you get a grip before you fly off the handle and do something you'll . . ."
Harry broke off as Ginny and Hermione entered the pub. At the sight of them, Ron stood up and shouted, "I'm not divorcing you!"
"You're drunk, aren't you?" said Hermione. She picked up the empty tankard in front of him. "How many of these have you had?"
"I'm not drunk and we're not getting a divorce!" Ron declared.
Hermione stared at him. "Good. On both counts."
For dinner that evening they went to a charming little restaurant on the outskirts of the village called The Rose. It was a wizarding establishment and the food was reputed to be excellent, but the atmosphere was strained because Ron kept darting reproachful looks at Hermione and Harry kept staring at him with a worried crease between his brows. The two women looked questioningly at one another while Ron scowled at the menu until Hermione signaled to Ginny, and they both excused themselves to go to the Ladies.
"That's the last time I listen to your mother!" Hermione said once they were sequestered.
"What happened?" asked Ginny, feeling every bit as bewildered as Hermione looked. "It all seemed to be going so well."
"Incredibly well," Hermione agreed. "Maybe it has something to do with getting away from all the stress and responsibility, but it's just been . . . wow!"
"I know!" Ginny said emphatically. "It's been the same with us. But what's got Ron's wand in a knot?"
"How should I know?" Hermione said in a tired voice. "I tried asking him. He just snarled at me!"
"Well, let me try then. If Ron won't tell me, Harry might. And if all else fails, there's always my Bat Bogey Hex."
They returned to the table where Ron was staring moodily at the wine list and Harry was drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair. "All right, you two," said Ginny as she and Hermione took their seats. "We want to know what's going on and we won't take no for an . . ."
She broke off as a plump, round-faced man in a crisp, white apron approached them. "I beg your pardon," he said, wringing his hands in a nervous fashion. "Don't mean to disturb, but I couldn't help noticing . . . Are you . . . Aren't you Harry Potter?"
"Yes," said Harry. "Yes, I am."
"And you're Ron Weasley, aren't you? And Hermione Granger, of course."
"It's Granger-Weasley now," said Hermione. "But yes. Have we met?"
"Well, no," said the man. "But I believe you've met my wife." He indicated a tiny woman with graying curls who was bobbing along in his wake, smiling hopefully. "Oh, but where are my manners? I'm the proprietor here. My name is Monte Sinclair, and this is my wife Sophie."
"How do you do?" said Harry, shaking the man's hand and nodding in the direction of his wife. "This is my wife, Ginny."
Mrs. Sinclair gave a little squeak. "You're Ginny Weasley!"
"Well, Ginny Potter, actually," said Ginny, looking curiously at her. "But correct in the essentials."
"Our daughter was such a huge fan of yours, Mrs. Potter," Mrs. Sinclair said fawningly. "She always said you were the best Chaser the Harpies ever had. Oh, wait till I tell her we've met you! She'll be so thrilled! Could I . . . would you possibly . . . An autograph? All four of you?"
"Excuse me," said Hermione, while Ginny signed a piece of parchment for Mrs. Sinclair and passed it round to the others. "But you say we've met. I'm afraid I don't . . ."
"My wife is Muggle-born, Mrs. Weasley," Sinclair explained. "She was one of the witches interrogated by Dolores Umbridge at the Ministry of Magic the day that the three of you. . ."
"Oh!" Hermione said. "I see."
"I've always wanted to thank you," said Mrs. Sinclair. "Because of you, Monte and I and our children were able to escape the country until after. . . Well, who knows what might have happened otherwise?"
"We can never thank you enough," Sinclair added. "Even after all these years, the thought of my wife in Azkaban . . ." He placed an arm around his wife, who wiped away a tremulous tear. "But thanks to the three of you, I never had to face that nightmare."
"I'm glad we were able to help," said Harry sincerely.
"You did much more than help, Mr. Potter," Sinclair informed him. "And I do hope you'll allow us to express our gratitude by treating you all to dinner this evening."
"We couldn't allow you to do that," said Ron.
"Please, Mr. Weasley," Sinclair implored. "It's the least we can do. After all, if it wasn't for you, your wife, and Mr. Potter here, we'd never have been able to come back to The Rose, which has been in my family for generations."
"The Rose," Hermione said thoughtfully. "There are a lot of floral allusions here, aren't they?'"
"Ah!" said Sinclair, beaming. "Well, you see, there is a Rose Festival here every summer. And of course the village itself is located on the Rose Line."
"The Rose Line?" asked Ginny. Harry and Ron looked equally blank, but Hermione appeared to understand.
"It's an ancient meridian or ley line that runs through Paris and parts of Britain," Hermione explained, sounding, as usual, as though she'd been fed intravenously by a reference library. "I know it's supposed to pass through Rosslyn Chapel in Scotland, but I've never heard . . ."
"The Line runs through Cumbria as well, Mrs. Weasley," Mrs. Sinclair confirmed. "And it is said to have many magical properties."
"Really?" said Hermione. "I'd never heard that either. What sort of magical properties?"
"Why, those of an amorous nature, of course," said Mrs. Sinclair. "It's similar to a love potion, only here it's in the very air we breathe." She cast a sly look at the two couples. "Haven't you felt it?"
Hermione and Ginny looked startled, while Harry and Ron shifted uneasily in their chairs. "Are you saying," said Hermione, "that the atmosphere here is conducive to. . ."
"Oh, yes," Mrs. Sinclair replied. "The rose is an ancient pagan symbol of love and fertility. There is a place very near here called Rose Cottage that is especially famed for its magic in blessing those who grace its environs."
"Blessing?" said Ginny. "What type of blessing?"
"Well, it's only a legend," Mrs. Sinclair said with a smile. "But they say that any couple who stays there will learn very soon that a little one is on the way."
Ron and Hermione looked at each other. Harry and Ginny did the same. But while the look that passed between Hermione and Ron was hopeful, Ginny and Harry both looked a bit nervous.
"Is there a specialty of the house?" Harry said, returning to the menu. "What would you recommend?"
Mr. Sinclair offered to bring them a selection of the very best his establishment had to offer, including the finest wines made from the petals and leaves of locally grown roses. As soon as the Sinclairs had scurried away to prepare their meal, Ron looked at Hermione and said, "You don't really think . . .?"
"She said it was a legend," Hermione reminded him, though the hope in her eyes was almost painful to see. "That doesn't necessarily mean it's true."
"For your sake, I hope it is," said Harry. "But I would like to know a little more about this supplier of yours, Ron. Didn't you say it was his cottage?"
Ron frowned. "I don't actually know that it is. It's like I told you, he offered it to me a couple of times, but he never said it was his. He just said he could arrange for us to stay there."
"He's one of the joke shop suppliers, I assume," Harry said. "What does he supply?"
Ron's eyes shifted from Harry to Ginny and back to Hermione. "Love potions."
There was a long, very pregnant pause. "Did he say anything about the rose legend?" Ginny demanded. "Did he know that you and Hermione were trying to have a baby?"
"He might have," Ron said tentatively. "We went to the Leaky Cauldron for a drink once. He's a nice sort of bloke, one of those people who can really draw you out, you know? I may have mentioned something to him. But all he really said was that the cottage was in a very romantic location. And I thought, well, sure, the scenery's gorgeous. . ."
"Well, that's just great," Ginny said. "Well done, Ron! The last thing Harry and I need is another baby right now."
"Ginny, relax," Harry said. "We've taken precautions. Unless the magic is powerful enough to break through a pretty powerful contraception spell, I don't think we have anything to worry about."
"There better not be," said Ginny. She glared at her brother, but he had eyes only for Hermione.
"Is that why you've been this way?" Ron asked. "I wondered. . ."
"Wondered what?" said Hermione. "What way are you talking about?"
"I thought you'd given up," Ron said. "You haven't said anything about it all weekend, and yet you've been so . . ."
"Oh, Ron," said Hermione when she recognized the source of his confusion. "I know I've been hard to live with lately. I've been trying to make it up to you by being more cheerful and, well, affectionate. This whole thing has been so frustrating for me, and I can't help hoping it'll still happen someday. But I'll always love you. No matter what happens."
"I'll always love you, too," Ron said, placing a hand on the side of her face in a gesture of such tenderness that tears sprang to her eyes. "It's been frustrating for me as well, but mostly because I hate seeing you so unhappy. But whether or not we ever have a baby, Hermione, as long as we have each other, we have more than enough. Don't we?"
Harry and Ginny glanced at each other. They felt like intruders, but neither Ron nor Hermione appeared to remember they were there. Fortunately, they were spared the necessity of announcing their presence by the arrival of the Sinclairs with a bottle of wine and four glasses.
They drank their way through two full bottles that perfectly complemented the many delicious courses laid before them. When dessert was served, Mr. Sinclair brought out a third bottle that he claimed was the best in the house. After the wine had been poured, Harry cleared his throat and said, "What shall we drink to this time?"
Ron lifted his glass and shocked everyone at the table to their very core by reciting:
"My love is like a red, red rose,
That's newly sprung in June.
My love is like a melody,
That's sweetly played in tune.
As fair thou art, my bonnie lass,
So deep in love am I,
And I will love thee still, my dear,
Till all the seas gang dry."
Hermione stared in disbelief for a full minute before saying in a choky whisper, "That's Robert Burns."
Ron's smile was self-conscious. "Mum used to make us memorize poetry when we were little. She made us repeat that one back to her before we were allowed to go to Hogwarts with Dad to watch Charlie play Quidditch. Remember, Ginny?"
Ginny, whose mouth had been hanging open, said, "I can't believe you still remember it after all this time!"
"I only remember the first part," said Ron. "But it seemed, I dunno. Appropriate."
Hermione continued to stare for several more minutes. Then she stood up. "We need to go back to the cottage."
"Why?" Ron asked.
"Because I'm about to start tearing your clothes off," Hermione informed him calmly. "And I just thought you'd prefer my doing that in a private setting."
Ron responded with alacrity, and as soon as they'd gone, Ginny turned to Harry and said, "I don't think I've ever seen anything quite like that!"
"And I doubt you ever will again," said Harry, who still looked stunned. "That was. . . amazing."
"It was," Ginny agreed. "There really is something about this place, isn't there?"
They both took a quick look at their surroundings. There were several embracing couples nearby and a few more were gazing deeply into each other's eyes. It reminded Harry of Madam Puddifoot's, though without the frills, bows or cherubs.
"Is that why you've been. . ." Harry began, but Ginny cut him off.
"No," she said. "That was us. Just us. Remember 'us,' Harry?"
"It's been awhile," Harry admitted with a smile. "But, yes, I do remember."
They were sitting very close together, hands clasped on the table between them. Ginny could see every fleck in those emerald eyes. She felt an overwhelming desire to bury her fingers in that untidy mop of black hair and mess it up even more.
"Have you thought about James at all this weekend?" Harry asked, halting Ginny in mid-impulse.
"Of course I have," she said, blinking in surprise. "Why do you ask?"
"You haven't mentioned him," Harry said with a shrug. "I just wondered why."
"It's because . . . Well, Mum had a talk with me before we came here." And she briefly described her conversation with Molly.
Harry was silent for several minutes. He seemed to be digesting what she had told him. "What?" said Ginny.
"I'm just trying to adjust to the idea of my mother-in-law keeping track of whether or not I'm getting any," Harry said. "That's quite a revelation, really."
Ginny giggled. "Very observant woman, my mum."
"So when we go back, she'll know . . .?"
"Probably," said Ginny. "Can't hide much from her. At least I never could."
"Great," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "That'll be something to look forward to, then."
Ginny laughed again. "So was she right? Am I the cause of that 'wistful' look?"
"Do I look wistful?"
"Not any more," said Ginny. "But do you feel I've been neglecting you? I haven't meant to."
"I know you haven't. But yes, maybe I have felt that way, a little."
"I'm sorry," she said. "I love you so much, Harry. You're my heart."
"And you're mine. But one of the things I love about you is what a wonderful mother you are to our son. You never have to pretend with me, Ginny. I care about James too, and I worry about him just as much as you do. Well, maybe not just as much. . ."
"I know," said Ginny. "But I wasn't pretending. I knew James was in good hands, and I just wanted to be with you. The way we used to be. The way I hope we'll always be."
Harry closed the distance between them, not even noticing the Sinclairs beaming at them from a distance. "What did I ever do to deserve you?" he murmured against her lips.
"Something very, very good, I'll wager," she replied, wrapping her arms around his neck and breathing in the scent that was so uniquely him, it made her dizzy.
"We should come back here sometime," Harry said as he bent to kiss her again.
Ginny laughed softly. "Oh, we are so coming back here!"
A/N: Thanks to everyone who has reviewed thus far. I also appreciate everyone who has placed my story on your Story Alert and Favorites lists, but if you could take just a moment to hit the little "Go" button at the bottom of this page and leave a few words in the review form, it would absolutely make my day. Thank you so much!
