My life
You electrify my life
Let's conspire to ignite
All the souls that would die just to feel alive
"What?!"
"Shh!" James looked over his shoulder to the stairs, hazel eyes brimming with worry that Harry's outburst might rouse Hermione's curiosity and draw her downstairs. "Merlin, Harry, keep it down."
"Sorry—but you cannot be serious." Harry set his bottle of water on the kitchen counter with a small thud, his head already mid-shake when he raked his fingers through his untidy hair. "James—Dad, you…you're absolutely mad"
"If wanting you both to be happy makes me crazy, well then so be it." James turned his attention back to his son, his lips thinning just slightly. "I just think it makes sense for you two to remain together. I see the way you look at each other."
"And if you think she doesn't look at you the same way, you're bloody daft," Harry quipped with a well-timed wave of his hand. "You know you don't want that either. I can practically feel the way you feel about her."
"Of course I don't want that, but—"
"But nothing." Harry slapped his palm on the counter, the sharp strike punctuating his edict as he set his jaw, the thick muscles running up his neck bulging under the tension. "This…this marriage works! Hermione knows it, I know it, and you bloody well know it, too! I'm with Hermione on this one. Fuck them. They can't force us to marry her and then demand she pick only one of us when they change their mind. Regardless of the whiplash they're giving us with this damn amendment, what they're doing should be bloody illegal!"
"They're the law, Harry. I'd also like to remind you that as an Auror, you're obligated to follow the laws that the Minister and Wizengamot set." James tapped his fingers against the kitchen island, hazel eyes peering over the rim of his wire frame glasses to hold Harry's gaze. "Regardless of our personal feelings, we swore an oath to uphold the law."
"I swore that oath under the pretense that our Minister was not a fucking troll." Harry crossed his arms as he held his father's gaze, unblinking. He was right, they both knew it, but Harry also knew James' dedication had less to do with the validity of what the Ministry was trying to pull, and more to do with his perceived inability to reason with Thicknesse and the powers that be if James came out as against the amendment.
Silence settled between them, neither willing to back down. This was far from the first time the pair had argued over the years, but it was the first time James could ever remember Harry being so adamant. Breaking eye contact first, James reached up under his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose as he took in a large gulp of air, letting it fester and burn in his lungs before he released it into the tense kitchen.
"What would you have me do, Harry?" James' hand fell limply onto the cold surface of the kitchen island. "Go tell Pius that I disagree and want to remain married to Hermione—who in turn is also married to you?"
"Uh…yeah, actually that sounds pretty spot on."
"Harry…"
Harry shook his head, tongue sliding across his teeth as he pursed his lips. "Don't. Don't do that—use that disapproving dad voice." Taking two decisive steps back from the island, Harry put some more distance between them. He began to pace the length of the room, keeping his eyes downcast so he didn't have to deal with the visual of his father frowning at him in a bid to guilt him further. "I get it, okay? I do, but this isn't…this isn't some stupid bloody law, alright? This isn't a noise ordinance, or like—like some regulation on Kneazles—this is our bloody lives! This is so much bigger than what it started out as."
Twisting and tugging the tips of his hair into soft peaks as he spoke, Harry kept his gaze averted to give himself the courage needed to finish. "I don't think any of us planned for this to work—but it does. I know you feel it, too. 'Mione is right, we can't stand by and let them make our choice for us again. So, fire me, or put me on leave, or do whatever you need to do—Merlin knows I don't need the bloody paycheque—but I won't sign and neither will Hermione. I'm going to stand by her choice. If she doesn't want to choose, I'm not going to force her. If you return even an ounce of the feelings she has for you…then you shouldn't either."
James remained silent as Harry's words washed over him, the impact of their truth puncturing past the walls of logic he'd tried to build since waking up and finding that damn letter. Not so long ago, James would not have hesitated in joining Harry and Hermione's fight. He would have gone down to the Minister's office and refused to leave until he'd been granted an audience. He would have demanded change—fought for it himself.
But that James was years—if not decades—gone, hidden under years of parenthood and countless nights fighting with his own morals just so he could keep a steady income for his son. That James didn't see how change from the inside was possible. That James was more like his son turned man who stood before him now, pleading his heart—his cause—and begging for James to join them. Begging him to stand not only for himself, but for the woman they both loved.
"Do not misinterpret my hesitation for lack of affection, Harry." James leaned over, his elbows pressing against the cold granite countertop as he moved to cover his face with his hands, his fingers slipping beneath his glasses and pushing them up his forehead. "I just want what's best—for both of you."
"It's not your position to parent us anymore—it hasn't been for years...and based on what I've seen—well, you certainly don't have that type of relationship with Hermione or myself any longer…"
A sharp, tinny laugh slipped from his throat as James tried to determine at what age Harry finally grew from boy into man—because in this moment, it was more apparent than ever before. "I won't ask her, or you to make the choice. But know that I cannot join your fight—at least not publically. If there is any chance of getting Pius to change his mind, I need to remain in charge of the DMLE."
A jolt of hope fizzled through Harry's veins, his heart skipping a beat. He took a deep breath, willing his pulse to slow to a steady cadence as he focused on the granite countertop. Lifting his eyes to find his father once more, he allowed just the corners of his mouth to tug upwards in a hopeful smile. "So you'll help then?"
"I'll do what I can…legally."
A slow smile spread across Harry's lips, his cheeks lifting the corner of his glasses and he would have let out a small whoop had it not been for the look of dread still lingering in his father's eyes. "Thank you."
James' eyes rolled in time with a wave of his hand. "I haven't done anything yet, and Godric knows that it might all be for nothing, so don't start. Just…give me some time to figure out what we can do. Go take care of her, keep her mind from scheming up new ways to raise hell for a while, yeah?"
The slow trickle of Harry's laughter filled the kitchen. While James' request wasn't unfounded, they both knew Hermione well enough by now to know that Harry would have a better chance at getting kneazles to stop chasing gnomes. Once Hermione had her mind set on something, it was nearly impossible to deter her.
Especially if Harry was backing her.
"I'll do my best." While not a promise, it seemed to do the trick because James tugged his glasses back down his face, setting them high on his nose as he returned a soft smile.
James spoke up after several beats of silence, tossing his hand towards the far side of the room to gesture towards the kitchen's exit. "Well, go on then—I've got some work to do."
Harry nodded, his hand moving to rub the back of his neck as he began to back out of the room—torn between listening to his father or running around the island to hug him. He knew James needed time to gather his thoughts about how the three of them would navigate fighting the law while still appearing in compliance with the Ministry. Likely, he'd need some time to sort out his own feelings about the situation as well.
But more importantly, James needed space—which was the exact opposite of what they both knew Hermione required.
"Uh…what about dinner?" Harry paused at the threshold, lingering just under the archway as he looked up at his dad. He was headed to the refrigerator in pursuit of what Harry could only imagine was an ale—or maybe something stronger like the whisky they kept in the freezer.
James looked over his shoulder as he pulled open the fridge, his lips pushing to the corner of his mouth as he lifted his eyes towards the ceiling in thought. "I mean…I can cook, but I doubt—"
"Yeah definitely not that." Harry widened his eyes to emphasise his point with a firm shake of his head, earning a small blip of laughter from James.
"Fair enough. Take away, then?"
"Chinese?"
"I'd rather not, we just had that earlier this week. What about fish and chips?"
"Eh…What about that bistro on 3rd street? 'Mione likes their Asian pear salad."
"Okay. I'll handle it—'bout an hour work?" James reached into the fridge, withdrawing an amber bottle that he lifted towards Harry with a raise of his brows.
Harry declined the offer of the beer with a shake of his head. "An hour works for me. I'll let her know." As he slipped from the room, his socked feet thumped loudly across the hardwood of the ground floor.
Taking the stairs two at a time, he made the climb to the second story quickly and moved to the bathroom at the end of the hall. Pausing just outside the door, he rapped his knuckles lightly against it.
"Come in."
Her voice was soft, still thick with sorrow and apprehension, and even though Harry couldn't see her just yet, he knew the look in her eyes conveyed the emotions she was unable to mask.
Turning the knob, Harry moved into the darkened bathroom and gently closed the door behind him, making sure not to so much as allow the wood to snap against the door frame. "How are you feeling?"
Hermione was still in the bathtub, thick bubbles clinging to the surface of the hot water, hiding the most intimate parts of her body. Her hair was piled high on her head, held with a precariously placed wand. "My head doesn't hurt anymore."
"Well that's always a good start." Harry crept across the room before lowering down to his knees beside the tub. Loosening the magic watch from his wrist, he tossed it onto the counter, letting it clatter to thelittered surface before he turned to face Hermione. "Any calmer?"
Lifting her hand from the water, she draped her arm over the rounded edge of the tub, droplets of water dripping off her fingertips, soaking into his denim clad thighs as she reached for him. "Sure… my thoughts are less manic and more calculated now."
Harry laced his fingers with hers, stroking his thumb across the back of her knuckles, making sure to linger at the wedding band to press the pad of his thumb affectionately against the martial runes. "Should I be worried or excited about that?"
"In your position? Excited. If you were the Minister? Worried." Hermione squeezed his hand before bending forward, small currents of water drifting around her torso as she leaned in to press a kiss against his fingers. She traced her lips with his knuckles, eyes glazing over with an almost far-away look as she looked down into the steamy waters, losing herself in what Harry could only imagine was a rather intricate plan to make the Ministry see the value in allowing polyamorous marriages.
"Hey—you were supposed to come in here and relax, remember?" Harry chided delicately. "I don't think scheming is a relaxation technique."
Hermione lifted her eyes from the water, the corner of his lips curving in a gentle grin. "You are aware that I won't be able to relax until I have a plan, right?"
"Of course, but I was hoping we could figure that out tomorrow after your thoughts have settled and you're in control of your magic again." Harry slowly pulled his hand from her hold as he pushed some of the fallen curls back off her forehead.
Leaning into his touch, Hermione's eyes drifted closed, momentarily giving in to the lull of Harry's magic that whispered against hers. She let her hands fall under the suds again, disappearing from view. Soon only the soft sounds of their breaths and the gentle flickers from the candles that Harry had lit for her earlier filled the room.
He wanted to tell her they'd fix it.
He wanted to promise her that they would be okay.
He wanted to take her pain, her anxiety, her fear away and make the world right.
And more than anything, he wanted her to be happy.
"Will you join me?" Her voice was barely above a whisper as she cracked open her eyes, peering up at him with a small twinkle of hope shimmering over the sadness that coloured her amber eyes.
Harry's brow furrowed, his head cocking to the side just a fraction of an inch. "In the bath?" The question seemed so daft, but it had been ages since Harry even considered climbing into the tub. Sure, he'd used the pool sized tub in the prefect's bath, but that was more about extracurricular activities and less about bathing or relaxing.
Hermione nodded, a small tinkle of breathy laughter dancing off her tongue as she shifted in the water until her kneecaps broke the sudsy surface and she scooted down, making room behind her. "Please?"
Harry hesitated—James was going to get dinner for them in an hour, and technically speaking, while he didn't have much paperwork to finish, he did have some reports due tomorrow that were in need of serious revision. But when she wrapped her arms around her legs, resting her chin on her knees, a small layer of bubbles covering her neck, Harry couldn't find it within himself to deny her.
His knees creaked in protest, popping audibly as he rose up onto them and pulled off his shirt, letting it gracelessly fall behind him. Using the side of the tub, Harry stood up and made quick work of unlatching his belt and unbuttoning his trousers. Pushing his trunks and jeans down in one motion, he peeled off his socks and left his clothing in a heap on the floor—likely in the danger zone for collecting water.
Although Hermione was most certainly well acquainted with his body, Harry couldn't help the soft bloom of pink on his cheeks as he stood under her watchful eye. He didn't hide his nakedness from her, but opted to make quick work of sliding into the hot water behind her.
His long legs slid on either side of her body, trapping her between his knees, and just as he settled back against the slope of the bathtub, Hermione scooted back until he felt her hips slide against his inner thighs.
Lowering her legs into the water once more, their limbs tangled beneath the bubbled surface as she leaned until her back was pressed tight against his front. Harry curled his arms over her shoulders, resting one palm against her chest, the soft beat of her heart acting as a marker for his own.
His eyes drifted closed when he felt the weight of her head against his shoulder, the soft tickle of her curls brushing against his skin. He tried to provide the strength, love, and support she so clearly needed through touch alone.
They laid under the hot water in silence for what felt like ages, their magic weaving together in unspoken words.
Hermione knew her fingers and toes were pruned and her skin was red from the magically charmed waters. She had admittedly spent far too much time in the safety of the bathroom, but she wasn't ready to leave just yet when facing the outside world meant potentially losing the men she loved.
"Harry?" Reaching up, she plucked his hand from her shoulder, lifting it in front of her to casually examine the size difference between their palms and the faded scar on the back of his hand, tracing the letters with her index finger.
"Hmm?"
"If…If they won't listen...if they break us up, you'll stay, right? You won't leave me and find some other witch who…who isn't hopelessly in love with two wizards—who will choose just you."
"What?" Harry withdrew his hand from her hold. She could feel him stiffen behind her, sitting more rigid in the water before he grasped her waist and turned her around until she straddled his lap.
The water sloshed from the bathtub with the rapid movement, splashing messily across the floor, but before she could so much as protest or scold him for making a mess, he lifted a hand to her jaw, holding her gaze. "'Mione, I won't ever—ever go anywhere."
Her hands rested against his shoulders, thumbs brushing across the sharp angle of his clavicle nervously. "I know…I do, but—"
"But nothing. You're it for me…you've always been it. And I'm sorry but if what the three of us have is so bloody wrong, why does it feel right? Why does it feel like it was meant to happen?" Harry lifted his brows, emerald eyes shining as he cocked his head to the side. "I know you don't believe in fate—"
"Because it's rubbish."
"—but even you can admit there is something about this that just feels… I don't know, by design?" He let his hand trail down her jaw, fingertips brushing across the column of her neck.
Of course she felt it—how could she not when it felt as if their union was damn near written into the essence of the universe? How could she ignore the way their magic weaved into the spaces of her heart, filling voids she didn't know existed? How could she deny the longing she felt for both men? It wasn't just sexual in nature, it was almost as if she needed them like she needed air to breathe—like they had been the thing missing from her life for so long, even though they had been there the entire bloody time.
"I do." Her tongue darted out, moistening her lips as she nodded. "But…What I'm wanting isn't normal. It isn't—"
"According to whom? The Minister? The Wizengamot?" Harry wrinkled his nose, his lips lifting in a small sneer as he shook his head. "Fuck don't get to tell us what's normal or not when they can't feel what we feel."
Tars lined her lower lids, the overwhelming emotion of realising that Harry was willing to stand—to fight with her, for them—regardless of the consequences was almost too much to take. "So, you'll do this with me? You'll fight?"
"Hermione…I've ridden on the back of a dragon, swallowed very questionable potions, and faced a bloody basilisk with you." Harry laughed, his smile widening with each memory as he spoke. "Facing the Ministry pales in comparison to our past. Truth be told, there isn't a damn thing I wouldn't do with you—for you."
Author's Note:Song: Starlight by Muse
Sorry for the delay! I am starting a new job and hope to settle into a routine here soon while posting and such. Hang tight folks! I can still promise 1 chapter a week. :)
until next time. xx