"If You Only Knew"
Chapter 10
The rest of the day went about as well as the first half had gone, which wasn't very well to be quite honest. He'd forgotten how incredibly stubborn Hermione could be.
Harry gathered the only positive thing that could be gained from this meeting was that he'd discovered that Ron's feelings for Hermione remained platonic. Any feelings he may have had for the young witch remained in the past and that was an enormous relief.
Ron, however, seemed to be feeling anything but relief. In fact, he looked downright irritated.
"I swear, that woman drives me so barking mad. Has she always been so . . . so . . . pigheaded?"
A burst of laughter escaped Harry and he clutched at his stomach for breath. "And you're a patron saint, Ron? You're just as bad as she is! Maybe worse, what with your temper and all?"
The redhead ignored the comment. "I have been spending the last hour trying to convince her to come back home. And she's still not budging!"
"You didn't really expect this to be an easy task, did you? She seems to have a life here now, Ron," Harry said quietly.
The admission was a hard one. But it was also fact—and one that he couldn't fault Hermione for. After all, he'd built a life for himself back in New York. In the beginning, he hadn't thought it would be possible, but it had been. Finding a friend in Kate had changed everything. And Hermione seemed quite content with her new life. She loved working with those kids, that much was evident. Her face had been lit up like a Christmas tree while she was chasing them around the room. Plus she had Alec. If Alec was anything to Hermione like Kate was to him, their attempt to get her back home would be that much more difficult.
Ron sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "It would all be so much easier if we could just figure out why it is she left in the first place. If we could discover the root of the problem, we might be able to convince her to come back." He paused and looked warily at Harry. "You don't think it had anything to do with . . . well, you, do you?"
Harry's eyes narrowed. "What on earth are you talking about?"
The redhead shifted uncomfortably and his face took on a hardened expression. "Well, I mean . . . I mean you two . . ."
Realization dawned on Harry and he immediately understood Ron's discomfort. "Oh. No," he said truthfully after he thought about it. It was something he'd considered once already and he'd dismissed the theory. "If she left because of what happened, why'd she wait so long to do it? Four years is a bit of a delayed reaction, don't you think?"
"Yeah, but then Hermione's never really done anything normally, has she?"
He thought about it and chuckled at the truth of it. "You have a point. Nonetheless, I can't see her taking off because of what happened with us," he said cautiously. That subject was still sensitive and he didn't know how to approach the topic without setting Ron off. While he was glad that no punches had been thrown at the discovery, he almost would have preferred it. At least then he would have known where he stood. This walking on eggshells stuff was driving him mad. But it didn't seem right to be the one to bring up that particular line of conversation. If Ron was happy ignoring it, he supposed he could be, too. Or at least pretend to be. For now. He would bring it up later when they weren't trying to work together to get Hermione back home. Then they could hash it out like they should be doing.
"Well, I don't know what else to try. I've thrown everything at her that I could think of. I guess it's your turn," Ron shrugged.
Harry paled. Ron was leaving it up to him to get Hermione to go back to England? Was he mental? "Uh, I don't think that's a good idea."
"She'll listen to you."
He shot Ron an incredulous look. That was laughable. Hermione had never listened to anyone, let alone to him. Granted, all their days back in Hogwarts, that was probably for the best, but still. Ron had definitely overlooked a few things. "You really are mental, Ron. She's not going to listen to me. She hates me!"
"She'll listen to you," he repeated. "And she doesn't hate you. She's angry and confused and hurt, but she doesn't hate you. I don't think she knows how to hate you."
"Oh, that's debatable."
Ron sighed and leaned his head back against his chair. "Look, we did all this work, came all this way so we could find her. Now that we have, you're just going to let it go? You're going to give up?"
Harry shook his head. Ron made it sound so simple, like Harry could simply snap his fingers and Hermione would gladly agree to go back with them. "It's not as easy as you're making it out to be, Ron. We're all different now. There are things we don't know about each other, things—"
"That's bullshit. Maybe on the surface we're different, but underneath, we haven't changed. You still know her, Harry. You can make her come home."
Before Harry had the chance to argue, Ron was up and out of his seat and heading toward the bathroom. Terrific.
He couldn't even begin to work up a reasonable argument for her to go back to England with them. Like Ron had mentioned, maybe if he knew what the cause of the running was in the first place, he could have another leg to stand on, but he felt like he was up the creek without a paddle.
The idea that she had left because of their night together had crossed his mind, but it seemed impossible for that to be the reason, not to mention remarkably egotistical. Since he'd been told of her disappearance, his brain had been concocting all sorts of theories about why she left and had come up with nothing. It just didn't seem like the Hermione they were all familiar with. She never ran from anything.
So why did she run this time?
Unless . . . unless she ran because she didn't have a say in the matter and thought there was no other way around it.
Ideas began swirling around in his mind. This was an angle he hadn't considered before. What if she'd run to protect someone? But who? And why? And why wouldn't she have gone to anyone for help?
"I'm going to Hermione's!" he shouted across the room "I think I've got something."
He didn't stay to hear Ron's reply. He disapparated out of the hotel room and quickly made his way to Hermione's place. Costas had been predictably thorough in his tailing and discovered her living arrangements in addition to her work place. Harry thanked his lucky stars he'd met Costas in New York those few years ago.
Unsurprisingly, Hermione had chosen a modest, homey cottage type house in a muggle neighborhood. It appeared to be a sleepy street, free of crime and worry. The lawns were superbly kept (what little there was of them, anyway), clothes were hung out to dry. It all looked it should be the picture for a postcard, especially with the way the sun was setting in the background.
He smiled a little bit and wrapped his knuckles gently against her front door. It would be hard work to get her out of this place, but he was suddenly feeling quite up to the challenge.
A moment passed with no answer, so he knocked again and this time, the door crept open.
"Back so soon to try again, Ron—?"
She cut herself off when she saw she completely got the wrong wizard. Harry shrugged and offered her an apologetic smile. "Sorry to disappoint you. Not Ron."
"I'm busy," she said curtly. "Go away."
Hermione moved to close the door, but Harry's fingers curled around the barrier, stopping it from shutting. She attempted to shove the door in his face and his lips curled in amusement at the effort. He could have sworn he even heard her grunt from behind the door and he was beginning to wonder why she hadn't pulled out her wand yet.
"You have three seconds to move away from this door before I blast you to the ground myself."
Ah. There it was.
"Hermione, don't. I just want to talk to you."
"Well that's nice, but I don't want to talk to you. You've been ignoring everyone's existence for the last five years, so I don't see why now is any different. Go back to wherever it is you came from."
As much as he didn't want to do it, he saw no other way around it. There was no other way to get her to listen to him, otherwise. She was being stubborn as ever and he needed to talk to her.
"All right, first, I'm going to ignore how incredibly hypocritical that was. Second, I didn't want to do have to do this so quickly, but seeing as you've left me no choice, I really don't see a way around it."
"What are you talking about?"
Her interest was definitely peaked, so that was a plus. Though to be perfectly honest, he'd known she would be interested. Curiosity was human nature and even more so in Hermione's. She couldn't resist learning about the unknown. "Oh, just that I have a hunch about why you left England." Through the crack of the door, he saw her pale just the tiniest bit and he felt the pressure on the door ease up. "And, I know they weren't always the greatest things back in our schooldays, but my hunches have improved immensely since becoming an Auror. They're almost never wrong," he whispered.
The door opened.
Harry fought back a grin when she stepped off to the side. "Come in," she said through her teeth. "And stop looking so smug. I swear I've forgotten how annoying you can be."
The grin escaped him and he waited for her to guide him to a place where they could sit and talk. But she wasn't moving anywhere. She was just staring and staring. And staring some more. He was beginning to feel a little uncomfortable at the scrutiny. "What?"
"I just . . . you look different," she said quietly. She cleared her throat and started walking further into the cottage. "Let's move to the sitting room."
She moved quickly and gave him little time to take in his surroundings, which, he suspected was done on purpose. Still, with his line of work, he had to be able to observe things in the blink of an eye. If he happened to get bested and got disarmed and kidnapped, he couldn't say, "Excuse me, but could you slow down so I can get a better idea of where I am? That would be great—thanks!" No, he was used to fast-paced movement, so he was happy he could quickly take in his surroundings. And from what he could see, she kept most of her belongings from her old place in England, so there wasn't much new to observe. From the front door, there was a narrow hallway equipped with a shelf along the top of the wall, which she used for all of her pictures. An unfamiliar cat was curled up in the corner of the shelf, sleeping. He wondered if Crookshanks was still around.
He decided he'd take a chance and ask. "Do you still have Crookshanks?"
Halfway down the path, it veered off to the right with an archway and that was the kitchen. Once they got down to the end of the hall, there was a narrow set of stairs to the left and an entrance to what he supposed was a living room.
Her reply was stiff. "He's out in the yard. He likes chasing the gnomes. This way."
Hermione led him through the left entrance and gestured for him to sit on a large white armchair. She sat down on the matching couch, positioned in front of a fireplace. "This is really nice, Hermione."
"I like it just fine. It was hard to find, though, but I knew the woman who was renting it out." Then she laughed and shook her head, though it was quite humorless. "Why am I telling you this? I can chalk it up to habit, I guess."
"Hermione—"
"You said you think you know why I came here. Care to fill me in on your sudden enlightenment?"
"Hermione," he started again. He was about to tell her that he wanted to talk about what happened, about why he left, but the look on her face warded him away from that line of conversation. Before he would have no problems pushing her to talk things over, but things were different. He didn't know the boundary lines that now existed between them and he didn't want to push his luck. So he stuck with 'enlightening' her. Well, for now he would stick to enlightening her. Eventually, he would get her to talk to him properly. He would. He shook his head and let out a resigned sigh. "Ron said you spoke with a reporter about a month before you left, but we haven't been able to figure out who it was. I have a hunch."
"Of course you do," she muttered under her breath. "But what does the reporter have to do with anything?"
Harry smiled when she asked the question. Her eyes shifted away from him and that was sign number one that she was lying. She'd never been able to hold eye contact with him when she lied. "Oh, I think that reporter has everything to do with this. And you want to know what else I think?"
"Not really."
"I think that reporter was Rita Skeeter and I think she had something on you. Blackmail of some kind." The surprise couldn't have been clearer on her face. She didn't even bother trying to hide it, which let him know he was right on target. So his hunch had been right. The question was, what could that pesky woman have possibly had on Hermione? "Here's the thing that confuses me, though. You wouldn't run on plain old blackmail. That's not you."
"Who says there's blackmail involved?"
"You did," he offered, "when you didn't make some derisive snort at the theory. If I'd been wrong, you would have told me so." At her silence, he continued on. "Like I said, you wouldn't run on blackmail. You'd fight back. You're not one to be backed into a corner. So my guess is that you're protecting someone. I just can't put my finger on whom because I don't know the circumstances of the dirt she's got on you, if it is in fact, Rita Skeeter. Am I wrong on that?"
She tilted her head to the side and frowned, then released a long sigh. "No. That infuriating woman one-upped me."
"What did she have on you?" he asked quietly.
He watched her serious expression and waited patiently. He could practically see the wheels in her head spinning, debating the pros and cons of opening up to him and telling him the truth. More than anything, he wanted her to tell him what was going on, to be able to come to him again. But maybe that was hoping for the impossible. Neither one of them had dealt with what happened between them properly—she'd decided it was best to pretend it had never happened and he'd run away. Clearly they were experts at communication.
Harry held in a snort at the thought. Communication experts. Right. Well, no matter the exact cause of the current circumstances, both of them were at fault for the awkwardness in the room that had never existed before. He missed how easy things used to be between them.
He missed her.
Harry bit back a frustrated groan. This whole situation blew and he hated how she was right in front of hm, but he couldn't even do anything about it.
He was beginning to believe that she would keep him in the dark about everything because she spent so much time debating things in her head. He could actually see her listing the pros and cons in her head. However, his worry that she wouldn't say anything was evidently unwarranted. Because even though when she started to speak, she was cautious, still hesitant, he could see the decision in her eyes—she was going to tell him. "Well, I suppose that since it involves you, you have the right to know."
His eyes narrowed and he felt his entire body tense. That didn't sound good at all. "What are you talking about?"
"Apparently we had a little bit of an audience during our little tryst." Tryst. He tried to ignore the pang his chest felt at the careless word and keep focus. But it wasn't easy. That moment, however short-lived it had been, had been beautiful. At least for him it had been. And hearing her use that word to describe it hurt more than he thought it would. He pushed the tug of pain down and ignored it, otherwise he definitely wouldn't be paying much attention. "She had irrefutable proof that we were together and threatened to use it against us. And you know she would have."
Oh yes. Rita Skeeter would have loved the chance to trump Hermione after she'd been humiliated by a meager fourth year student at Hogwarts. Hermione's blackmail had wounded Skeeter's ego immensely, not to mention in her mind it had degraded her. Having been forced to write for The Quibbler, the little credibility she'd possessed had taken a huge hit. So, yes. Harry knew just as well as Hermione that Rita would have used any material on the pair of them to her advantage.
"You're right," he said wearily. "She would have used it in a heartbeat. How did she get it, though?"
Hermione shrugged. "Beats me. She still hasn't told me and I haven't been able to figure out how she did it. It's maddening that she's been able to get one over on me, but I saw the proof with my own eyes, Harry. It was there and it was very real. And when I first discovered the proof, I investigated every possible angle as to how she got it—even her using her animagus knowledge. I've come up with nothing. It's highly disturbing knowing she was obsessed enough to resort to watching two people have sex."
Disturbing, indeed. Memories burned in his brain, images flashed, unrelenting. He still remembered everything about that night and the fact that someone else was there to witness the best and worst night of his life made him beyond angry. But this wasn't about him—it was about helping Hermione and he had to remember that. He couldn't lose his focus. Ron was counting on him to try and get her back home. "Okay, fine. She had blackmail on both of us. But what did it have to do with you running?"
"It's a long story," she said slowly. "And it's one that I don't know if I have the energy to tell."
That much was true, he could see. She looked worn down and maybe even a little bit defeated. It killed him a little to see her like this. She'd always been so energetic, full of life. He couldn't help wondering how much his and Ron's sudden appearance in her life was attributing to her weariness, though. He didn't remember her looking so tired before when they'd first showed up. "Well you've gotten this far. You can take your time, however long you need to take."
"I don't even know where to start, really. I guess it began with your fight with Ron at Hog's Head that night. You two were overheard and someone tailed you. They knew you stayed at Neville's for a while and waited for you to leave—I have no idea how they found out about Grimmauld Place, let alone how to gain access to entering. I guess the how of it doesn't really matter, though. Anyway," she said after taking a deep breath, "she got what she needed. And she couldn't have been more thrilled with it."
Harry could only imagine. Rita Skeeter basked in other's misfortune. As long as a good story could be drawn from it, the lives of those involved didn't matter one iota to her. And he wasn't at all surprised about Skeeter discovering Grimmauld Place. If any reporter was determined enough to figure it out, she was that lone reporter. And as much as he would like to say otherwise, that annoying reporter was smarter than he cared to give her credit for. Now he would have to get new security for the house.
He made a mental note to tell Oliver about it as soon as possible so he could work on something. Chances were, Hermione had already taken measures to secure the house after she found out its whereabouts had been discovered, but still. He'd rather switch it. It would probably be best to keep updating the protection around the house anyway, just to be safe.
"Okay, so we have the blackmail. Why did she wait so long to come to you with it?"
"She wanted the dust settled first, she wanted the element of surprise. Anyway, other reporters had been nagging Ron and me for ages for your whereabouts. They hounded us, tailed us, spied on us. Harry Potter disappearing was big news."
He sank into the chair, wishing beyond anything that he could have at least kept the vultures off of his family and friends. "I know it's not worth much to you, but I'm sorry. I had reasons for leaving and the press was one of them."
Her eyes sparkled with rage. "Did you have reason for leaving without saying goodbye? Not even to the Weasleys of all people?"
And there she was again, the pot kelling the kettle black. The hypocrisy of the statement ate at him. She left too, yet there she was, ragging on him? "Do you want to get into that right now?" She pursed her lips together and looked away. He snorted and bit back frustration. "Yeah, I thought not. Perhaps, then it's probably best we stick to the topic. So the reporters hounded you—Ron told me that. What else?"
He expected a little bit of resistance and was surprised to find none. Instead, she dove right in with the explanation again. "One day, she'd cornered me during my lunch break. She'd looked weird—had a funny expression on her face, so I'd instantly been on my guard. Mind you, you should always be on your guard around that woman, but nonetheless, I'd been even more suspicious of her than I usually am. Anyway, she'd looked so smug and proud of herself, like she'd just come across crown jewels. And, in a way, she had jewels. Her information was valuable and she'd wasted no time in presenting it to me. Apparently, her original intent with the material had been to blackmail me into telling her where you were. None of the reporters believed Ron or me when we'd said we had no idea where you were. So she thought maybe I would talk and be more truthful with a little bit of incentive and I guess she wanted to be the one to locate the untraceable Harry Potter and get her moment of fame.
"Well, when I'd told her the same thing I'd told everyone else, she got angry. Then she threatened to go to 'the bumbling redhead,' as she so kindly referred to Ron. I couldn't tell her anything different, and I panicked. So I made one last effort to look for you and came up empty handed. When she and I met up again, we came to an agreement. She wanted some sort of 'justice' for the humiliation I dealt her back when we were still at Hogwarts. She hated me—still does, I imagine—and she wanted me gone and out of her life for good. She said if I left and stayed gone, she wouldn't 'dish the dirt' on me to the Weasley boy. She didn't care that there would be other people hurt by exploiting that information; she just wanted me to leave. She wanted to be able to say she won."
His mind was spinning. He never would have guessed that she would cave into something like that. It just didn't seem like her. "And that meant leaving as fast as possible, without letting people know where you were going, without letting them know you were safe?"
Hermione sighed. "I wanted to let them know, I did. I didn't want Ron to have to go through the same thing twice. But anything I would have said to them, especially to Ron, would have led to questioning. Ron wouldn't have accepted it. And you know it."
He did know it. They never would have just let her go without trying to convince her she was making the wrong decision. It was one of the reasons he neglected to say anything to the Weasleys. But at least now he knew the reason behind her leaving—she'd done it to protect Ron from learning about their night together. And now that it was out in the open, she could come home. There was no blackmail left to worry about. "Okay. I understand why you left. I get it. But none of that matters now. Hermione, you can come home."
She snorted. "Have you not been listening? If I go back there, she'll go straight to Ron. He'll get hurt even more than he already has been and—"
"He knows."
She froze, her eyes growing wide. Disbelief shown on her features and her jaw dropped. "What do you mean he knows? How can he know?"
Harry took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. This was his trump card—if it failed, he had no idea how to get her back home where she belonged. "He asked me if we had ever been together and I wasn't going to lie, not when he asked me right out. I told him the truth in hopes that I could at least salvage what was left of our friendship."
Hermione shook her head, defeated. "Oh yeah? And how'd that work out for you? I can just imagine that Ron was jumping for joy."
"Actually, he handled it really well. He's pissed, yeah, but I think that maybe with a little time and effort, things will be okay. I—" But his thought was cut off at that moment because his owl flew in through Hermione's open window. The bird dropped a note in his hands, hooted happily and waited for some sort of treat. Harry gently stroked his beak and it nipped at his finger. "Sorry, buddy. I don't have anything for you here. I left it at the hotel."
"I have some food. I'll get him water, too."
"Thanks," he said quietly.
He looked at the front of the envelope in his hands, recognizing the feminine scrawl automatically as Kate's. His fingers tore the sealed flap open, then reached for the waiting stationary inside.
Harry,
I hope this letter finds you well. Teddy and I haven't heard from you in a while, so he wanted to check in. He misses his Uncle Harry. He's getting into everything—the little guy is far too intelligent for his own good. Just yesterday, Ted sneaked his little hands into the cookie jar. I would have punished him, but he looked too darn cute when he got caught. You should have seen his face.
Harry smiled at the image. Oh, poor Kate. Ted was doing a number on her—he'd gotten caught with his hands in the cookie jar more times than Harry could count, so it was no new experience for him. But he probably knew he cold fool Kate. Harry could just imagine Ted putting on an innocent face for a grand effect, using his adorable looks to his advantage. He was certain that by now, he had Kate wrapped around his little finger. Unable to help himself, he started laughing. His godson was a little sneak. He had his mother to thank for that, no doubt.
There's something you should probably know, though. I wasn't going to mention it, but it's happened more than once. Harry, I think someone's following me. I'm keeping an eye on things and I'm never letting Ted out of my sight, I swear. I haven't noticed anything for a week now, so I really don't think it's anything to worry about. I just wanted to keep you informed since Teddy's with me—I'll keep updating you if anything else happens, which, I don't think it will. Things have been quiet.
So how is everything across the pond? I hope you've been able to keep a low profile like you wanted and those awful reporters are leaving you alone. Any luck on catching the bad guys? We miss you!
All my love,
Kate (and Teddy, too!)
His smile faded at the rest of the message. He trusted her instincts, so if she said someone was following her, it was probably accurate. Kate wasn't a paranoid woman with an overactive imagination and he could sense the worry she felt for Teddy's sake over the situation. But he had to get a grip and not let himself jump to conclusions—she wouldn't have even mentioned it if it hadn't been for Teddy, he knew that much. So it couldn't be too serious.
"Everything okay?" Hermione asked from behind as she placed a bowl of water down for his owl.
"I don't know," he said truthfully. "I'm not exactly sure what to make of this letter, actually."
"What's it say?" She peered over him and he couldn't breathe for a moment. It didn't even occur to him that she was reading the note like they hadn't been apart from each other for five years. Her nearness washed away the time and just like that, he could remember how she felt in his arms. So soft, so incredible . . . so right. Her scent invaded his senses and she smelled exactly like he remembered, better even. Then the functioning part of his brain noticed her body tense and he grew confused. He was about to ask what was wrong with her, but he had no need to. She answered for him as though she could read his mind. "Your girlfriend sounds worried. You should write her back."
Girlfriend? What was she on about? He hadn't had a girlfriend—well, a serious girlfriend—in years. Ginny was probably the last serious relationship he could a lay a claim to. Unless . . . .? He burst out laughing as he realized that she thought Kate was his girlfriend. He hadn't even given her closing a second thought because that was how she signed off all of her notes. He hadn't considered what it must look like to a perfect stranger. "Kate is not my girlfriend, Hermione. She's a close friend and Ted's nanny. That's all."
"It's none of my business," she said with a shrug.
Anger flooded through him. He really was pathetic. He'd spent the last nearly six years of his life pining over her and for what? Even now, after all this time, she refused to acknowledge anything between them. And he was through not knowing why. "It could have been your business."
Her lips thinned and she rolled her hands into tiny fists. "Don't. Don't do this."
"Why not? We both have had five years to ignore it. Don't you think it's time to talk everything out? Don't we owe ourselves that much?"
"I don't owe you anything," she tossed out. The venom in her voice shocked him. He wasn't aware that she could speak that way to anybody, except maybe someone like Malfoy or Rita Skeeter. "You screwed everything up when you went to Ron and told him about that night. Everything I worked for was for nothing now!"
The chance to ask her what she meant was lost because in the blink of an eye, she was gone. And to further add to his confusion, the last thing he heard, was a strangled sob echoing through her cottage.
It didn't take him long to figure out that she'd gone to Alec. It was clear that Alec was his Kate and she would be the first person he would go to now. On the rare occasions that he and Hermione would get into an argument in the past, he would have guessed she would go to Ron—maybe Ginny, but that was pushing it. If she had a row with someone else, Harry had automatically been deemed her confidant. But things were different now. She had a new go-to person and he would freely admit that he missed being the one she could count on. He hated that he had a part in upheaving her life right now.
There wasn't anything he could do about it, though, and surprisingly, he didn't regret coming back to England. In fact, he was oddly grateful for the opportunity. Had it been left up to him, he wouldn't be in Greece, confronting his past. He would still be back in New York, behaving like a coward instead of facing things head-on. With each day he spent in back in England, he could feel himself returning more to his old self every day. And he was surprised to discover that he had missed the old Harry.
The new Harry definitely wouldn't be eavesdropping on anyone close to him. He'd kicked the habit long ago when his eavesdropping sessions had brought him nothing but trouble. Now though, he didn't really have much choice if he was going to get anything out of Hermione. He was oddly elated that he didn't even feel the least bit guilty for it. In fact, he felt a bit of a rush being back under his Invisibility Cloak, "investigating". Yeah, it was weird that it was Hermione he was spying on, but it didn't lessen the new-found adrenaline pumping through his system.
"I don't know what to do, Alec," she sobbed.
His adrenaline rush slightly stilted (though not completely), Harry felt much like a peeping Tom under the guise of his Invisibility Cloak now that he was confronted with tears, but he was at a loss. Desperate times called for desperate measures and he was pretty damn desperate. This would be one way he knew for certain that he could learn more about Hermione's time in Greece and what she'd meant earlier when she'd said he screwed everything up.
Alec moved a comforting hand over her back and despite the fact that Harry knew very well the man was not interested in Hermione (or any woman for that matter), his gut involuntarily clenched at the sight. "Hermione, you knew he would be here one day, you knew that if anyone would find you, he would. You've told me yourself many times."
"Yes, I know. But I never dreamed he would tell Ron everything!" Her voice cracked and she sniffled into the other wizard's chest. "All the lies . . . they've all been for nothing."
He heard a long sigh and wished they would just get this conversation over with. "I know this isn't what you want to hear, but maybe this is for the best."
Hermione looked outraged. "What?"
Alec threw his hands up in surrendering gesture and he actually appeared to be scared. "Hear me out. Look, it's all out in the open now. It's not your burden to keep anymore. Maybe . . . maybe you can even tell this Harry fellow how you really feel about him. You can be happy for once." Harry's heart pounded loudly in his chest and he was wondering how they weren't able to hear it—it sounded as loud as a drum to him. What was this guy talking about? What did he mean when he said Hermione could tell him how she really felt? He thought she'd already made her feelings noted. Was that part of the lies she was talking about? "Hermione, I've known you for a little over a year now, and it's been a great year at that. But . . . I don't think you belong here. And I think you know it."
Tears pooled in her eyes and she lifted her chin slightly. "You don't want me here anymore?"
An exasperated sigh filled the room. "You know that isn't it at all. On the contrary, I'd tie you up and keep you here forever if I could."
"But—"
"Hermione, nothing is keeping you here anymore. The blackmail that wretched Skeeter woman had over you is no longer an obstacle, so if you ask me, Harry did you a favor when he told Ron the truth. You can go home now."
"Ron does want me to go back with him," she admitted in a voice that was barely above a whisper. "He spent most of the afternoon trying to convince me."
"Then what's stopping you?"
She sniffled. "Don't you see? Harry's going to hate me when he finds out what I've done. He doesn't like me much now as it is. I've already hurt him more than enough, don't you think? If I tell him the truth, I'll lose him more than I already have."
Harry's mind was completely spinning. None of this story Hermione was relaying to Alec made any kind of sense to him. When she'd left her house, Hermione had made it sound as though she were furious with Harry. But now it seemed as though the person she was really angry with was herself. Then there were all the romantic implications involved. And she really believed that he didn't like her very much? Though the last thing Harry felt like doing was laughing, the idea was so absurd that it clearly warranted laughter. She was supposed to be the brightest witch of their age. And she thought he didn't like her?
Well, he supposed she was right in a way. He didn't like her very much—he was in love with her. And that was a concept he couldn't seem to get her to grasp.
Jealousy rippled through him as Alec tucked a finger under her chin and forced her to look at him. Part of the jealousy was the fact that he couldn't bring himself to dislike the man anymore. Knowing he'd been there for Hermione the last year was comforting and for that, he could at least make an effort to not hate him on plain sight anymore. Plus he seemed like a decent man and he could see why Hermione was so evidently drawn to him. Damn it. "Tell him," he said again. "He'll forgive you."
Listen to him, he thought frustratedly. He wanted to know what was going on. What exactly did he need to be told?
"So I'm supposed to tell him that I lied to him when I told him it was 'just hormones'? You think he'll forgive me for that?"
Shock overwhelmed him. Did he really just hear what he thought he did? Did she really just say that she'd lied all those years ago? He felt lightheaded and wasn't sure what to do.
She'd lied. The last five years of his life had all been based on a lie. On her lie. He'd spent all this time thinking he'd completely tossed his friendship with Ron down the drain for nothing because he definitely wouldn't have made a move on Hermione if he thought she'd only felt attraction for him. He wouldn't have risked his friendship with Ron for a romp in the hay to satisfy an itch. And it turned out it could have been worth something?
He couldn't help thinking how different his life would be if only she hadn't lied. Why would she have done that? What purpose did her untruthfulness serve?
"You didn't see his face," she continued in a whisper. "I knew it would hurt him when I made the decision to lie, but I . . . Damn it, I thought I'd done what was best!"
"How can you be sure that was the best thing for everyone, though?" Alec questioned lightly. "I understand that you wanted to protect Ron and Harry, but you can't control everything Hermione. You two—three, actually—are going to have to sit down and talk this all through if you have any hopes of ever getting your friendship back on track."
Harry had heard enough. And Alec was right—they did have to talk. Only he was going to have a few words with Hermione first and he was going to have them now.
He tore off his Invisibility Cloak, his face undoubtedly contorted with anger. Alec jumped in fright and fell out of his seat, emitting a string of curses, while Hermione appeared to be frozen. Harry knew he probably should have waited to confront her, but he was damn tired of being the sacrificial pawn in everything. So she'd lied to protect Ron, had she? Evidently his feelings hadn't mattered and that made him absolutely livid. He wanted an explanation and he wanted it now. Of their own accord, his fingers rolled into fists. "Explain," he bit out. "Now."
Okay, so first things first, I must apologize. I had hoped to aim for August, but these last two months have not been a good month for me. I'll spare you all the details, but I haven't been able to write and this is the first opportunity I've had to get an update to you guys. I promise, that this will get finished. It might take me a while to get there (which is why I waited until I was so far into it to post it in the first place). So thank you guys so much for the patience you've given this story and to me. I appreciate it!
Also, I won't have time to get individual reviews. I'll try my hardest, but I'm not sure if I'll be able to or not. There were a LOT this time around, which I absolutely love you guys for! Heh. Maybe I'll start replying to review as they come instead of waiting until I upload a new chapter. Hmm.
Okay, so we learn a little more about Hermione, yay! Her actions probably don't make a lot of sense, but I hope this explanation with Rita Skeeter helped to clear a few things up. She really didn't have a choice if she wanted to keep things tight-lipped. She'd sacrificed her chance to be with Harry because she knew that how they got together was wrong and that it would hurt Ron in the end and maybe cost Harry his family. She didn't want that, so that is why she left the way she did. Everything will come together in the end, I promise.
All that being said, I hope this was okay. I'd been out of practice writing for this story, so I hope it had a good flow. All in all, I'm pretty satisfied with how the chapter turned out. First draft was horrendous. *shudder* Also, if you happen to catch any mistakes, point them out so I can fix them pretty please! I edited this, but I tend to miss things. Heh.
Things will be wrapping up soon, hopefully. I'm aiming for 15-20. This will definitely not go over 20 chapters. If it does, scold me please. Lol.
Now on to the thank-yous! You guys were seriously awesome for leaving all these reviews. You rock!
jafr86, pawsrule, quinzy, F5Chaos, furin-a, oceanluvr, Aaron Leach, laurieoflove, SorrisoD'amore, major wallace, ooSuperBatGirloo, 31EliZAbeTH919, RoxyBabyX, carbon12.011, dracoluvathatiam, Dannie Tomilinson, toooldforthis, sunshine21409, Hypno (7 times), lycus, magicslifer, and Wind Kunai.
Phew. I think that's everyone.
And that concludes this update, I believe. Please keep those reviews coming! They're inspirational, they are. :)