*All characters events, locations, and things, belonging to the Harry Potter world, are the sole ownership of J.K. Rowling. I am just borrowing them to write these stories of mine. Everything else, is my creation.
*Sorry this took so long, was a bit sick. I'll try to edit the next chapter within a week or so. Thank you for reading.
CHAPTER NINE: THE GHOST
"I need to tell you something, but I need you to hear me out before you say anything."
Ginny was sitting in the living room of Ron and Hermione's house. Hermione was sitting across from her, a cup of tea in her hands, staring at her friend in disbelieve. After a moment, she shook her head with a sigh. "I have the feeling we'll need something stronger than this," she said putting down her tea.
Hermione stood up walked across the room while Ginny watched her from her seat, her tea also forgotten. She stopped in front of a cabinet, and opened it to reveal a dozen or so crystal bottles filled with amber, clear, and even blue colored spirits. She took two glasses, and an amber bottle, "firewhiskey, goblin made," she said as she poured each of them a glass. She took a gulp of hers while still standing at the cabinet. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, and then opened them again as she turned to her friend.
"I am really hoping this is not what I think it is," she said as she sat next to Ginny, handing her one of the crystal glasses.
"Not quite," Ginny said, taking a sip of her drink.
"Ginny, not again," Hermione said in an almost pleading voice.
"Its not what you think, Hermione, It's different this time," she said, explaining herself.
"How could it possibly be different? Remember last time? You shouldn't need reminding. You should know that story better than anyone else. And you do remember how that ended, don't you?"
"Hermione, please, just let me explain," Ginny asked.
"Explain what, that you're throwing your life away again?"
"Argh!" Ginny made a noise in desperation. She tipped back her glass, gulping down the firewhiskey, and put the empty glass on the side table. She stood up, and moved around the sofa and started pacing, her hands to her face. Hermione, turned on the sofa, kneeling on it, leaning over the back to get a better look at her pacing friend.
"Ginny?"
"I'm the screw up, right? Don't expect anything else from me. Poor Ginny, always the failure, that's what you all think of me," Ginny said, still walking in circles behind the sofa. "For once can't you trust me, can't you believe in me?"
"Its not that I don't believe in you, Ginny, its just that I've seen this before, I've seen how you get. I don't say anything because at the end of it all, you'll do what you want to do, and nothing anyone says will convince you to do otherwise," Hermione said. "This man, whomever he is, do you even love him?"
"Love him?"
"Yes, love him; the way you loved Harry, or what ever twisted way you loved Daniel? Because if you do, I'm sorry if I have to remind you that they both broke your heart."
Ginny stopped at the sound of Hermione's words. All she had intended to do was tell Hermione that Harry was back, but Hermione had heard what she'd wanted to hear. That somehow, no matter what Ginny was going to tell her, she had somehow screwed up again. Ginny had decided to tell Harry she was going to stay with her husband, that anything between them was impossible. She'd come to Hermione for comfort and what she'd gotten instead was disappointment. But then, Hermione had asked her if she loved him. Did she?
"I don't know," she said in a whisper, staring into nothing, her face turning from confusion, to realization.
She stumbled sideways, losing her balance. She caught herself on the back of the sofa, and she started shake uncontrollably as she slowly fell on her knees, clutching her face on her hands. "I don't know, Hermione. God, I don't know."
"Ginny!" Hermione left her half drunk firewhiskey on the coffee table, and rushed around the sofa. She stopped, and stared down. She'd realized, in worried-shock, that Ginny wasn't sobbing, but laughing madly.
"Love, Hermione, what the hell is love?" she said turning to sit down, her back to the back of the sofa, her hand up to her forehead, looking up at Hermione.
"Maybe you should rest. I think you just have too much going on right now. You're stressed," Hermione said, stretching a hand, and helping her friend up. With a hand to the back, Hermione led Ginny back to sit on the sofa, and sat down next to her. Ginny had gone eerily quiet.
"It's him, Hermione," Ginny whispered.
"It's him?" she asked confused, but Ginny was now staring down at her hands. She had ignored it, she had avoided the topic in her own mind. Avoided it so much that the thought hadn't even entered her mind, not until Hermione had asked her the question.
"He might be the end of me. He might brake my heart again. But I think I do, I think I still love him."
"What are you talking about?"
"He's back, Hermione," she finally said. It had been so low that Hermione had had to strain her ears to hear it.
"He's back? Who's back?" Hermione asked, completely unaware of the meaning of her friend's words.
"He came back. After fourteen years—he came back, the bastard."
Hermione was now the quiet one, confused, in fact hoping she was confused. Because what she thought she heard, what she thought she understood could not be true. She thought she had heard 'fourteen years' and to anyone who knew the story, to hear that would know immediately, that 'fourteen years' could only mean one person.
"He? You don't mean?" Hermione said horrified.
"Yes. Harry."
ooooo
The day had gone, and it had quickly become night. Together, Hermione and Ginny had drunk the whole bottle of firewhiskey, and had started on a new one. They were raising their glasses for a toast, when the front door opened. Ron walked in, wearing his dark work robes. He was holding a suitcase and had a cloak draped over his forearm. At the sound of the door, both girls had turned in unison and smiled at the sight of him.
"Ron!" they'd both bellowed, putting up their glasses to him.
"Girls!" he called back with a smile as he put down his suitcase, and hung his cloak on the coat-rack near the door. "Toasting I see. To me?" he asked as he walked to them.
Ginny stood up, and on wobbly legs walked forward until she was standing inches from her brother.
"To a ghost," she said.
"To a ghost who didn't stay gone, to be more exact," Hermione added.
"Oh, in that case; cheers," Ron said, putting an arm around his sister, more for her benefit than anything else. He place a kiss on her forehead and sighed as he looked down at her. After a moment, he turned to Hermione. He didn't often see his wife drink more than the proper amount. It was somewhat out of character in her, but not in his sister. To his dismay, Ginny had a lot of bad habits, and she was also very influential, but he wouldn't hold that against her, they all had free will, and at the end of it, they all made their own choices.
He remembered his own twenty-second birthday; well—he didn't actually remember much, thanks to his sister. But what he did remember was that two months later he'd married Hermione, and seven months after that, Dwight had been born. He'd never regretted it, even if he had wished he hadn't been drunk that night. But now they were happy, Hermione, their boys and him,. Not to mention, it had been a long time since he had seen Ginny smile so effortlessly, unless her son was the subject. Besides, they were home, and they were safe. What could be the harm? he thought,let them toast to their Ghost.
Ron released Ginny, and walking forward to sit on the sofa next to his wife. Ginny followed, stopping a few feet from the sofa. She stood there, looking down at his brother and sister-in-law, swaying slightly on the spot. Ron looked at his sister for a moment, making sure she wasn't going to topple over. When he was satisfied that that wouldn't happen, he turned to Hermione and gave her a kiss.
"Where are the boys, Love?" he asked.
"Sleeping," Hermione said, looking up at him through bleary eyes as she played with the collar of his shirt.
"I think I'll get to bed then," he told her, "it was a long day at the office, not as fun as yours, I'm sad to say."
"Oh, Ron," Ginny whined, "you're not going to toast to the Ghost?"
"Not tonight, I'm afraid," Ron said.
"Ron, don't be—" she said taking a step forward. Whatever she was going to say, she didn't say, because at that moment, she did lose her balance and stumbled back, but luckily managed to fall on the sofa. "I'm fine," Ginny called to no one in particular. Ron, who'd been halfway out of his seat, settled back down and sighed, shaking his head.
"Okay, well," he said, leaning forward, kissing Hermione one last time, "goodnight."
As he leaned away, ready to stand up, Hermione grabbed him from the collar, and pulled him forward to whisper in his ear, "wait for me upstairs," she said, and pulled him in for a hard kiss.
"Okay," he said with a laugh as Hermione pulled away with a devious smile. He moved to Ginny and gave her a goodnight kiss as well, and started to walk away. "You both don't drink our whole stock, or you'll be sorry in the morning," he said over his shoulder, halfway up the stairs.
"We'll try," Hermione called as Ron reached the second floor landing.
"Can't promise anything," Ginny said.
"Dig your own graves then," he said, as he walked the last couple of steps and disappeared at the top of the stairs.
"Good night, Ron!" Ginny called.
"I just love that man. He's just so, ahhh—" Hermione said, her eyes sparkling, as she looked towards the second floor, "I just want to eat him up every time I see him, rip his clothes of and—"
"Ew, that's my brother. I rather you not share your sex life with me," Ginny said, laughing.
"Oh, I know, but he's so." Hermione stared dreamily into the ceiling, in the direction of her and Ron's room. "You seen those eyes, and that hair, his arms, his—"
"Yea, whatever." Ginny pulled herself up from the sofa. "Anyways, I got an idea, come on," she said, pulling Hermione up by the arm with difficulty. "Let's go on an adventure, you and I," she told her, holding herself up against Hermione, as Hermione did the same.
"Where we going?"
"Its a surprise," Ginny muttered, as she guided Hermione to the front door.
Hermione hit the coat-rack, banging it against the wall as she tried to get her's, and Ginny's cloaks off of it. "Shhh," she whispered at the coat-rack, putting a finger to her lips to signal silence. She managed to remove the cloaks from the rack, and pushed Ginny's cloak into her arms. Cloaks finally on, Ginny slowly opened the front door, and they walked out into the night, closing the door behind them without making a sound.
"You think he'll notice?" Hermione asked looking up to her lit bedroom window.
"If he does, it'll be too late," Ginny thought out loud with a smile. "Hold onto me," she said, grabbing Hermione by the hand as they reached the front gate.
"What?" Hermione said, looking down at their clasped hands, but Ginny didn't answer. She closed her eyes, and concentrated on the place she wanted to go to. Then, without warning, she turned on the spot, and with a loud crack, they both disappeared.
ooooo
Hermione grunted as she stood up from the ground where they had landed in a pile of limbs and robes. The abrupt apparition, and harsh landing, had sobered her a bit. Blinking slowly, she looked around at the lamp lit streets. Every curb was lined with cars, and the street lamps were electrical, not fueled by oil.
"Where are we?" Hermione asked, eyebrows narrowed.
"Come on, you'll find out soon enough." Ginny pulled her by the arm, and guided her to the closest building.
With her wand, Ginny unlocked the front glass door, and pulled Hermione in through the door, and across the lobby to the the base of the stairs.
"Why don't we use the lift." Hermione said.
"The what?"
"The lift," she repeated, grabbing Ginny by the shoulders, and turning her towards a set of brown, metal doors, and pointing.
"Oh."
Wobbly on their legs, they walked over to the lifts. "I didn't even know there were lifts here. Last time I was here I ran out, didn't even look," Ginny said as Hermione pressed the up button. The doors slid open almost immediately.
"You ran out?" Hermione started as they walked into the lift, but stopped, "—wait, what floor?" she asked, her previous query forgotten.
"Uhm…I think it was the top floor," Ginny said, trying to remember. The only time she had been there, she had been rather distraught, and she hadn't bothering to remember the apartment's location. Thinking back on it though, three floors made sense, so three floors it was.
"You think?" Hermione asked.
"Noooo," Ginny scoffed, then stopped to think, staring blankly at nothing in particularly, then she laughed and turned to Hermione. "Its definitely the third," she said, reaching over Hermione and pressing the button marked three.
Soon they were out of the lift, and Ginny was knocking on a door with the number 3B on it. Nothing happened, so Ginny knocked again, this time more forcefully.
"Come on, open up," she said, knocking a third time, leaning forward as if speaking to the door. "Open, open, open, open," she said, knocking with each word.
After a moment, Ginny raised her fist to knock again, but froze. There were footsteps coming from behind the door. She stepped back as she heard the bolt click open. She smiled, as the door swung open to reveal Tomas in his night clothes, rubbing at his sleepy eyes.
"Ginny?" Tomas said, confused, as he recognized her.
"Oh, Ginny, he's too young for you," Hermione blurted out as she took in the boy.
"What?" Ginny turned around with half a laugh, "Hermione don't be silly, this is Tomas," she said pointing at the young man. "He's the best friend a girl can have."
"What about me?" Hermione asked.
"Oh, you're different. You're Hermione, he's Tomas," Ginny answered, looking back at Tomas as she said his name.
"I know I'm Hermione, but how does that change anything?"
"I doesn't, but if he's Tomas—and that makes you not Tomas, and him not Hermione." Hermione thought for a moment, and then laughed.
Tomas sighed. They were drunk. Great. She liked Ginny, a lot, but he didn't want to hang out with her and her drunk friend in the middle of the night.
"I—" Hermione started to say, but Tomas interrupted her before they could talk themselves into a drunken loop of nonsense.
"You want to come in?" Tomas asked, moving out of the way, and motioned for them to go in.
"Don't mind if we do," Ginny said, her conversation with Hermione completely forgotten, as she pulled her friend in by the hand.
"So what's going on, what are you doing here?" Tomas asked after he closed the door behind himself. He looked up at the clock on the wall, "Its one in the morning," he said, "is everything alright?" he added, looking back at Ginny and her friend, waiting for an answer.
Tomas thought that the woman with Ginny looked familiar. What had Ginny called her just now; Helena, Hanna?
"Oh, well I thought you might want to meet Hermione. You said you loooved her books, and that you couldn't wait to meet her. Well here she is, in all her glory, Hermione Weas—" she stopped mid-sentence and turned to her friend, "how do you put it in the books?"
"Granger," Hermione answered, not taking her eyes from the boy.
"Okay, Hermione Granger in books, Weasley everywhere else," Ginny said, turning back to Tomas, presenting Hermione with both arms spread out, like she were presenting him with a grand gift. "Hermione, this is Tomas Potter," she said introducing the two.
"Potter?" Hermione said puzzled, looking at the young man in front of her. She was definitely sobering up.
"Granger, the author?" Tomas said, waking up completely.
"Yes!" Ginny said with a smile.
"Oh, wow. It is such an honor to meet you," he said, extending a hand to the confused Hermione. Tomas seemed to no longer be disturbed by the sudden, middle of the night, drunken visit.
"Pleasure," Hermione said taking the young man's hand, and shaking it, then she turned back to Ginny. "Did you say Potter? Are we in his house? In Harry's—is he his?" she said, pointing at Tomas.
Hermione didn't wait for an answer. She started to look around the flat, turning her head from side to side, searching, as if Harry was going to jump out from behind some piece of furniture and surprise her.
"You mean Dad?" Tomas said, a big smile on his face, unable to contain his excitement at being in Hermione's presence. "I'll go wake him up. He just got back a few hours ago, probably why he didn't hear the noise you two were making, but he won't mind, trust me." He didn't wait for an answer, he was already walking to a door on the back of the flat.
"Ginny, why did we come here?" Hermione asked as Tomas walked into the dark room, but Ginny just put an arm around Hermione's shoulder, and leaned into her.
"Thought you might want to meet Tomas, he's a nice boy. He looks up to you, thinks you're marvelous." She smiled, poking Hermione on the nose as she said the last word.
"I can't believe he's Harry's son. I mean he called him dad, didn't he?" At that moment, Tomas emerge from the room, followed by a half asleep Harry.
"Ginny, is everything—? Hermione." He stopped.
"Harry!" Ginny called. She stumbled forward and Harry reached forward to catch her. She put an arm around his middle, and stood next to him. "Look who I brought," she said pointing at Hermione. "All we need now is Ronnie, and the group's back together. Wouldn't that be splendid?" she said to Hermione, but her friend had gone catatonic. To Hermione it did feel as if Harry had jumped out at her and screamed"Surprise!"
"Harry," Hermione said almost in a whisper, looking at the man before her. He was older, no longer a teenager but a man. It seemed as if fourteen years had only done him good, as if age had only improved him. He looked tired, and stubbled, but still he looked as alive as she remembered him. His eyes as bright and young as the last time she'd seen him.
"So, you're here then? For how long?" Hermione said with a grimace.
"Hermione, please, you're in no state to discuss this right now. Maybe you two should go home. Tomas, would you—?" he started to say again, trying to walk away from Ginny, but couldn't. Ginny was holding tightly onto him.
"Don't leave me again, Harry, please not again," she was saying, her arms had moved to wrap themselves around his neck. She was holding tightly onto him, as if her life depended on it.
"Ginny." Harry was trying to pull her away, she need to sleep off the liquor. "I'm not going anywhere. You need rest. Let Tomas accompany you home," he was telling her as he tried to pull her arms from around his neck.
"Don't make me go, don't go, please don't," she was saying, lower and lower each time, as if she were drifting into sleep.
"Ginny."
"We need you, Charlie needs you. You're…" she whimpered, "don't leave us again, Harry, please."
Harry had gone quiet, staring down at a now unconscious Ginny in his arms. He wasn't sure if he'd heard what he thought he'd heard. He looked back at Hermione with a terrified, confused look, but she looked down, away from him. He swallowed hard, and then swooped Ginny into his arms, and walked away into the room he had come out of. A moment later he was back empty handed.
"Did she say…?" Harry started to ask.
"I can't, Harry," Hermione said, interrupting him.
"Hermione." The tension was growing, Tomas had stopped smiling, he was looking at both adults in turn as they spoke.
"I think I'll go to my room," he said, and when he didn't receive an answer from either one, he walked away slowly towards his own bedroom door.
"The boy, he's mine?" Harry asked again.
"Harry, please. This is not a conversation you should be having with me."
"Tell me." This time the words came out in a pleading request, "tell me I didn't leave her pregnant, and alone." His voice had started to shake. "Tell me I didn't leave a son, that I left my son," his words were strained as he choked on them. "Oh bloody hell!" he cried out. "What did I do!? What the hell did I do!?" His hands were on his face, and he had fallen back onto the sofa, shaking. "What did I do?"
Looking at him, Hermione felt a need to comfort him, to tell him it would be alright, but pride stood in her way. Just because he was distraught, it didn't take away the years of suffering he had caused them all, specially Ginny. His pain wouldn't make her forget that she had suffered too, so had Ron, so had Mrs. Weasley who had loved Harry as much as she did her own children.
"Tell me!" he yelled, for a moment losing all self control. Startled, Hermione jump back a step. She took a deep breath, telling herself she needed to keep her feelings in check, and her wits about her.
"You—you did," she answered, and then turned around to walk to the room were Ginny was laying. Minutes later she walked out holding up a half asleep Ginny.
"She can stay—" Harry started.
"I'll take her home," Hermione said, walking by him and not bothering to even look at him.
"I can take you then—"
"—No, Harry, we'll be fine. We've done well enough so far without you. There's no need for your interference now, you've done enough."
ooooo
Hermione had dropped Ginny off home, given her to Alan, who had picked her up in his arms like he'd done so many times before. Thanking Hermione, he'd turned away from her, Ginny in his arms, leaving Hermione to close the door and go to her own house.
She'd arrived home to find a very worried Ron waiting for her.
"Jesus, Hermione, were did you two go?" Ron asked, walking forward until they were only feet apart.
"Ginny dragged me to a pub," she lied. "I took her home already," she added.
"Honestly, you two, leaving the house in the state you were in. Something could have happened, you could have been hurt," he said, more relieved than angry, pulling her into a tight hug.
"I know, I know. I'm sorry, Love, I should have used better judgment." She put her arms around him, and sighed. "Let's just go to bed," she said. He shook his head agreeing.
"Tired?" he asked.
"Exhausted."
"Long day, huh?"
"The longest."
