It surprised me a bit that I never met her in this house again after that night. It shouldn't, but it did. I know all the facts. She's back for a reason. Since she's back for Harry, then good chances are she's back for some serious shit that's going down in the background that we innocent citizens have no clues about. In that case, she must be busy, so it's perfectly reasonable that she's never at home for dinner, never home before everyone went to bed, and never home after everyone got up. If it weren't for the soft footsteps I heard in the midnight from my room, I'd say that she never came back, ever.
Sometimes I sit on my floor beside my bedroom door and just wait. I can hear her. My hearing ability is quite impressive. Not like dogs or something. I can't predict earthquakes. No. But I can hear her movements in this house. She's opening the front door. She's stepping into the house. She's closing the door. Silence. What's she doing? I imagine her leaning on the wall and staring blankly, exhausted from all her work. Whatever that is. I want to go down there and comfort her, maybe get her a cup of tea, but something's holding me back. I can still feel her on my fingertips. I can feel her whenever I close my eyes. Was I overstepping? Would I be overstepping again? She's obviously busy. Is this really the best moment to make my move?
Timing is a mystery.
Ah, she's coming upstairs. She moves slowly, almost contemplatively. I rest my head on the wall and watch clouds flowing past the moon outside my window. She walked past my door. No, that's not quite right. She walked to my door, paused, and continued down the corridor. Yes, that's better. Somehow this moment, this pause, is more intimate than anything else I've ever shared with her.
I can't stop thinking about the fact that our rooms are on the same floor. If I tear down all these walls between us, would this become a little easier?
I'm still the king of calmness, though it's not like there's anyone here to witness this incredible achievement. James and Albus and Lily are all back at school. Harry's too busy. Ginny's too occupied with her magazine career and strengthening her bond with Harry, as if three kids are not enough. She visits him almost everyday. At least that's the impression I get since whenever I go to the Auror Office to chat with Harry for a bit she's always there.
She's here today. He's happy about that, I can tell.
I chuckled. Harry gives me a confused look.
"Nothing." I said, "Just thought of someone and their problem with happy endings."
"Who'd have problems with happy endings?" Ginny asked absently.
"Realists?" Harry suggested.
"Sounds bitter to me," Ginny teased him.
I can't help but get defensive. "Well you got your happy ending years ago, but not everyone has your luck."
Ginny snorted. "People don't need luck to find their happy endings. They need to fight for it like hell."
I stood up and turned to leave. "I think I know one person or two who fought as hard as you that never got their happy endings. Like my parents." I raised a hand as a goodbye. "See you later, Harry."
I walked to the Minister's Office. Time for the weekly briefing from all departments. Our Department Head recently developed an illness that made him unfit for this routine. The symptom includes cursing verbally, hexing, and attacking physically, all towards the Minister. Not good at all. No one knows what happened. Might be related to the rumour that his daughter loves politics, but loves politicians more. I don't even want to know. You'd think after so many years leading the Department of International Magic Cooperation, he could be more⦠diplomatic about it.
Am I angry? Nah. I admit that I could've backed off for a bit in Harry's office, but for a split second I decided not to.
Maybe that's because deep in my heart I know that someday I need to stand up to them for a more serious matter. Hermione. I don't know the origin of my confidence. I just know that there's something there even when she has given me zero reason to believe it. How arrogant is that? I'm preparing to fight for her before anyone mentions a duel. Before the reason for a duel happens, really. At this point, I don't know what's making me more excited - the possibility of her becoming something more than a friend to me, or the prospect of wreaking havoc?
I don't want myself to sound like a cheesy romantic novel, but the wolf in me is pacing.
Oh my fucking Merlin's in-laws, scratch that. That's worse than I expected.
"And the DIMC? Any issues you want to address this week, Mr. Lupin?" The Undersecretary asked.
"Not really," I responded. Since the instruction for me is simply "kill him off Teddy when you get the chance", I guess there's nothing especially important happened. "The Norwegian Diplomatic Department still refuses to have a nice and long talk about the dragon blood import clause, despite our efforts. We're prepared to explore other options from Russia or Finland. The proposal will be submitted to the Minister within one week."
"Very well. Have a nice weekend, gentlemen." The Minister dismissed us.
Ms. Lou from the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes seems extremely displeased, but she didn't say anything until we're all outside the Minister's Office.
"He wouldn't forget the 'Ladies' there if I'm representing the DMLE," she said acidly.
"You, darling?" Oliver Wood laughed, "You won't survive DMLE for one week, believe me."
"You're saying a woman wouldn't qualify for law enforcement?" Her voice got a little shrill.
"Of course not!" he said, "But you have to be extra intelligent and ruthless to be there. I've only known one or two witches who can do it without years of struggle."
"Oh, like who?"
"Hermione Granger, for one," he said. I adjusted my steps to fall behind them discreetly. "That girl could've become the Minister if only she stayed."
"The Golden Girl, huh? I heard she's back?" Ms. Lou asked, the wisp of hostility gone.
"Yep. I wonder why, though. I hope she'll come work in the Ministry. It'll be nice to have someone with that sharp a mind as a colleague."
"Even if she's back she won't be working in the Department of Magical Games and Sports, Wood."
"Hard to say. She's always got an eye for Quidditch players."
Interesting.
"Why did she leave anyway? She had a future here, didn't she? War heroine and all that."
He shrugged. "Do I look like a gossip expert?"
She laughed. "I bet you'd know all about it if she played Quidditch."
He turned back suddenly, "Ain't Hermione living in your place, Teddy?"
"Harry's house, yes." I nodded absently as if I wasn't listening in their conversation just moments ago.
"Tell her Oliver Wood said hi, alright? And if she wants to try her out-of-the-world organisational skill in my department, I'll be so grateful."
I highly doubt Hermione will be willing to become a secretary, but I said okay anyway.
It's not like I know what she's planning to do.
Or rather, what she's been doing.
It must be over a month before I saw her again. It was two o'clock in the morning. I was planning to get a drink from kitchen because I couldn't sleep, and imagining her smile doesn't help. Reading the dullest report doesn't help. Jerking off doesn't help, either. I was on the top of stairs when I heard someone talking quietly in the kitchen.
"You can't expect me to let you do this alone," Harry said.
"It's no big deal, Harry." That's Hermione.
"How is that not a big deal? It's dangerous."
"You say that like it means anything."
"What, dangerous? Of course it means something, Hermione. I don't want to lose you again. Ron doesn't want to lose you again. He's with me on this, you know."
"Of course he's with you. He's always with you."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"No. I'm sorry. Ignore me. I'm just so tired."
"Take an assistant. Take an Auror with you. That's all I'm asking."
"I don't want to, Harry. I have to build trust with them and that's just so damn much work."
"Why can't you just trust them first until they give you a reason not to?"
"Because trust-worthy people are so rare, Harry."
"I trust my men."
"Oh, Harry," she sounds incredibly sad, "I'm sure your men are loyal to you."
Silence.
"Are you saying the loyalty to me doesn't necessarily equal to the loyalty to you?"
"Are you angry?"
"No." He paused for a bit. "No. I think I understand."
"It was good, wasn't it? Our old days in school."
"Yeah." There's smile in his voice. "So dark and dangerous, but you two were always there."
"We're never going back, Harry. You know the moment my blind loyalty to you ended."
"I know."
I walked down the stairs softly and sat down on the last step. There's flickering light filtered out under the kitchen door. I imagined them, two best friends, sitting on the opposite sides of a table, years and years between them like a river.
"So you know after that every time I stand with you, I make that choice consciously all over again?"
"Oh."
"I'm with you, Harry. I made that choice before I came back. I make that choice everyday here. I'm not doing this for old time's sake. I'm doing this because I choose to. You can trust me."
"I know."
"I wish she knew that, too, years ago."
"Hermione - "
"I know. I know. Merlin almighty I'm not starting that again."
"You just started it."
"I'm sorry. Okay? Just forget it."
"I never asked you to leave! She never asked you to leave! You left me when it was so bloody hard to cope so you don't get to come here and accuse the person who got me through the funerals and heartbreaks!"
For a long while she didn't say anything.
And then I heard her sigh.
"I don't want an Auror with me because I'm an independent consultant. I will be making my own decisions, which you may or may not agree with. I'd rather not kill my assistant every time that happens just so he wouldn't be able to tell you."
"I would never spy on you - "
"Oh you would, Harry, you definitely would. Twenty years ago you wouldn't, but we're here and this is now. If you don't spy on me, you are not a competent Head Auror. I'm just sorry that I can't make it easy on you. I really do." The scratching sound of a chair against the floorboard. "I will find an assistant from independent resources, though. I'll give you that." A kiss on the cheek. "Good night. Love you."
"Love you."
I didn't move. I had plenty of time to creep back up the stairs and into my room, but I didn't move. I was still processing all the things I've heard. So many questions without answers. So many questions that I'm not sure I want answers for.
She didn't see me until she's directly in front of me. She didn't jump or yelp. She just paused for a bit, and proceeded to walk past me.
My left hand circled her left ankle at the last moment.
She didn't say anything.
"Do you need an assistant?"
"Yes."
"May I apply?"
"Teddy - "
"May I?" I asked again, for the first time looked up to her face. She looked calm, composed, and determined.
"No." Not one ounce of apology behind the word. This woman can be admirably hard and cold when she wants to.
Thankfully I can feel her pulse, which might be the only thing that's keeping me sane. Her quickening, mad, erratic pulse. In my palm. Like a dying butterfly struggling for life.
My sign. My revelation. My reason for a war.
