Homeward Bound
…
"I don't want to look into your eyes one day and see no love, no life."
-Dr David Evans
…
Royal London Hospital
It was two in the afternoon when intern doctor Hermione Granger finished her shift. She clocked out as she normally did, said bye to her colleagues, and left for the carpark. Today had been a long and stressful day, more so than usual. One of the doctors in her team had been caught up in a car accident and that meant he couldn't come in for work.
They had been short-handed on one of the busiest days of the year, and Hermione could barely keep up, even with all the pepper-up potions she'd downed. The thought of slipping it into some of her colleague's drinks did cross her mind, but that would be unethical even though Pepper Up was one of the few potions that didn't draw upon the drinker's magical core.
Upon reaching her Mini Clubman, Hermione plopped herself unceremoniously into the driver's seat and let out a long sigh.
She locked the doors and then reclined her seat. Harry's flight would land in two hours, that gave her about an hour to have a nap.
Fishing her phone out of her day bag, Hermione set a timer for 40 minutes. The optimal power nap length is 20 minutes, but she gave herself a generous time period to fall asleep first.
Unfortunately, despite being exhausted, sleep did not come easily. Harry was coming home sooner than expected. The thought of seeing her childhood best friend again made her giddy with excitement.
Soon, the 40 minutes was up, and she had to shut the alarm off. Yawning and rubbing her eyes, Hermione started the engines and made her way to Heathrow Airport.
…
Arrival Terminal
It took a bit of waiting until Hermione saw the neatly cut mop of black hair. It was the only way to keep the untameable hair under control.
He wore a collared navy sweater, with the sleeves pushed up to his elbow, and dark grey field pants paired with hiking boots. It was a stylish rugged look that Hermione had picked it out for him before he had shipped out.
He had his backpack slung over his left shoulder, while the duffel bag was carried in his right hand.
The moment a pair of chocolate eyes locked onto emerald greens, their wide smiles threatened to split their faces in two. Hermione quickly broke into a light jog, faster than what was socially acceptable, but she didn't care. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him into a tight embrace. To her great delight, he returned it in equal measure.
His shoulder feels like a rock, she thought inwardly.
"Hi, 'Mione."
"Harry," she breathed.
Pulling away, Hermione quickly panned her eyes up and down him.
"You look good," she beamed.
"Thanks, you too," he smiled.
Last time she saw him was at his graduation ceremony where he donned the coveted tanned beret. He had looked thin and wearied. But his time abroad seemed to put some meat back onto his bones. She still wasn't quite used to seeing him without glasses ever since he got LASIK surgery.
"How was your flight?" she asked, as they headed towards the carpark.
"A bit cramped, but alright. We stopped over in Japan."
"How was it?"
Harry smiled. "Food's great, and I got you something."
He reached into his travel backpack and pulled out an ornate box.
"I know how much you wanted an extra fine fountain pen, so, here's my late happy birthday present for you."
Hermione smiled back and gave him a quick peck on his cheek.
"Thank you, Harry," she said, placing the box into her handbag. "Did you get any sleep?"
Harry shook his head.
"How long have you been up for?"
He looked at his watch.
"Little more than twenty hours."
"Did the babies keep you up?"
Harry shook his head again.
"I just couldn't sleep," he shrugged.
"Well, it's a two-hour drive to your grandpa's house. You should try to get some sleep."
Harry titled his head slightly.
"Are you sure?" he asked his voice filled with concern. "Didn't you just finish your shift?"
"I'll be fine, Harry."
"Isn't that what I'm supposed to say?"
Hermione gave a short chuckle. "So, you are self-aware."
"Look, Hermione, I can drive if you want," Harry offered again.
"You've been up longer than I have. You need to sleep."
"But I've just been sitting on a plane," Harry argued. "You've been working."
"I had a nap," Hermione grinned triumphantly.
The two fell into light conversation after that. It was mainly Harry asking her about her work and how she was handling two placements, to which she answered in detail.
Upon reaching the car, Harry placed his luggage bag into the boot, while he kept his travel backpack upfront with him.
"Sleep, Harry," Hermione said softly.
Driving on the M25 was a relatively quiet affair once they got out of the greater London area. Hermione did her best to keep the ride as smooth and stable as possible to keep Harry asleep. Occasionally she'd glance at the passenger seat to see how he was doing. She'd never seen anyone sleep with such poise and posture in a chair before.
Usually, her parents would slide down their seats and turn into an unjumbled mess. She was no better.
Originally, the plan was for Hermione to pick up Harry from the airport and return to the apartment in Merchant Square they shared. They'd rest and then drive up to Cambridge the following day to surprise Harry's grandfather, David Evans. However, because today was David's birthday, Hermione had been the one to suggest driving up today. They could've apparated, but there was something decidedly fun about a road trip. Something that most wizards just wouldn't get. Not to mention they would have to apparate a few times due to the sheer distance – and multiple apparations within a short time frame was exponentially taxing.
They were nearing Hatfield when Hermione entertained the idea of pulling over somewhere and getting something to eat. Her stomach was grumbling, and she'd only eaten half a lunch at work before an emergency called her back into the fray.
Seeing a Shell station, she decided to pull up into it and fill up. Hermione brought her Mini to a halt by the bump and turned off the engines. She then looked over to Harry and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.
"Harry?"
Immediately, Harry's eyes flew wide open. She heard the sharp intake of air hiss through his lips. And quickly, she retracted her hand.
Hermione mentally scolded herself. She had read dozens of biographies, and countless more journal articles. She should've known this would happen. He blinked a few times, confusion clearly written on his face, before he realised where he was.
"Sorry," she apologised.
She saw a brief flash of shame across Harry's face before he schooled it back to normal.
"It's alright," he mumbled, before yawning.
"I need to fill up and get something to eat. Would you like anything?"
"Uh," Harry thought for a moment, rubbing his jaw. "A salt and vinegar crisps, thanks."
As Hermione refuelled the car, Harry fished his phone out of his pocket and checked the traffic updates as well as any messages he might've received while he was gone.
When Hermione came back to the car, she had a bag of salt and vinegar crisps, and two bottles of water in hand.
"Want me to drive?" Harry asked.
"You don't have to."
"I'm not going back to sleep anytime soon," Harry stated. "You look like you can use the rest."
"Alright," Hermione relented.
After putting the snacks and drinks onto the centre console, the two swapped positions and adjusted their seats as necessary.
Harry turned the engines on, put the car into drive, and headed back out onto the motorway. Hermione, on the other hand, opened a water bottle and placed it into the cupholders, before opening the bag of crisps.
The two ate in relative silence with Hermione's music playing softly in the background. It was a nice feeling, just being one in a sea of many.
Glancing over at Harry, Hermione could tell that his experience was not so relaxed. Despite his calm body language, his darting eyes and ever panning head gave him away.
"Okay, so tell me, what's everyone else been up to?" Harry asked genuinely.
"Neville's running a plant nursery," Hermione listed. "Luna's out on an expedition with her beau."
"Luna's got a boyfriend?"
"Yes. Rolf Scamander, he's very sweet."
"Wow, congrats Luna," Harry said, slighting pursing his bottom lip in appreciation. "Always thought her and Neville would be an item."
"Hate to burst your bubble, but Neville's with Hannah Abbott."
"Oh, I remember her," Harry murmured, remembering the badges the Puffs wore during the Tournament.
"You're never going to let that go, huh?"
"Maybe one day, when I'm old and grey," Harry said dryly.
The rest of the trip was spent updating Harry on what his classmates were up to. It wasn't as intellectually stimulating as some of the other conversations he had with Hermione, but the lightness of it all was greatly welcomed.
…
Cambridge
They reached David Evans's home a little after 5:30 pm. Hedgerows lined the perimeter of the land, and behind them, the oaks and yew trees towered. Beyond the gates was a beautiful two-storey house where Hermione had spent a few holidays with Harry.
It was a French-inspired neoclassical masterpiece in Hermione's amateurish opinion. Beaumaniere limestone walls, broken up by indented lines, dark wood timber window frames paired with iron wrought front doors, and a dark grey tiled roof. At each corner of the house, there were a smattering of vines that were paired with cypress trees which gave the home a more lifelike feel. But the trees and the vines were tightly trimmed to prevent them from overpowering the architecture.
"Home sweet home," she said wistfully, as Harry steered the car up the long driveway.
"Lotta people here," Harry said, seeing the cars.
"Well, it is your grandpa's birthday."
Harry shot her a look, arching an eyebrow.
"Grandpa likes his birthday parties to be at the country club," Harry said, a slight suspicion in his voice. "They're here for me, aren't they?"
"Okay, you got me," Hermione admitted. "What gave it away?"
"A hunch."
"Can't pull a fast one on you anymore, can I, Potter?"
"Got to wake up really early for that one, Granger."
Parking the car, the duo quickly got out and pulled on their coats. The cold winter air was coming in, and the forecast suggested that there could be snowfall later in the night.
Upon entering his childhood home, Harry could hear the rapid footfalls of the children running about.
"They're here! They're here!" they cheered.
Teddy Lupin was the first to give Harry a hug, followed by Victoire Weasley, and then Jason Black.
"You lot've grown since I last saw you," Harry said with a smile. "How've you two been?"
Lupin was the first to talk, regaling Harry about his adventures in a muggle primary school, with Jason Black.
"I want to go to your school too," Victoire sighed.
Harry gave a slight nod of approval at the young Weasley's ability to maintain the statute of secrecy.
"Ask your parents!" Teddy suggested.
Hermione gently steered Harry and the two children into the lounge, where people were waiting.
There were the Weasley family, the Lupins, Sirius and Cassandra Black, Aunt Petunia and her family, Katie Bell, Oliver Wood, Dean Thomas, Jordan Lee and Seamus, who made the magical side of the visitors. And for the muggle side, there were Hermione's parents, David Evans's closest friends (including Charles Whittaker), and Harry's two friends from primary school, Jimmy Chan and Louis Talbert – both of whom were now in the RAF.
Greetings and hugs were exchanged, all of which brought a smile to Harry's face. Molly and Harry's grandfather left the kitchen to welcome Harry home. Molly treated her son in all but blood to a bone-crushing hug, and David gave his grandson a quick hug before placing a cup of hot chocolate into his hands.
"Welcome home, my boy. How have you been?" David asked, placing a hand on his shoulder.
In an instant, he could feel his grandfather's sagely eyes on him.
"Doing alright," Harry answered.
David gave him a look that Harry couldn't quite describe. It was like dread, trepidation and compassion all mixed into one.
"Do you need me to help with anything?" Harry asked, hoping to escape his grandfather's all-knowing eyes.
"No, no," David shook his head. "Go and mingle. Molly and I have everything covered."
"But it's your birthday."
"And you've just gotten back, son," David countered. "Go have fun with your friends."
The Weasley twins were entertaining a group of youths with their banter as they played Mario Kart. Harry wondered where the Nintendo console came from since his grandfather was a hardcore PC gamer – or as hardcore as someone could be at his age and in his profession of medicine.
"Hey, hey Louis," Fred sniggered. Or was it George?
"What?"
"Blue shell!"
"Bloody hell, stop bullying me, you ginger!"
The twins roared with laughter, snatching victory from Talbert.
"Harry! Hermione!" Ron called.
Their redheaded best friend was lounging in an armchair, with three puppies snuggled atop his reclined form.
"I'd hug ya, but I'm a little busy," he continued, looking at the puppies as if he was a proud father. "Sorry, Harry, looks like I'm their number one now."
Harry held his hand over his heart and threw his head back in mock anguish.
"You'll have them back when he's gone," Hermione smiled.
"How ya' been, mate?" Ron asked.
"Been good, when did you get back? Thought you'd still be on tour."
"Coach's given us a few days off. Thought I'd pop by, you know? See the pups."
"That hurt," Harry said.
"Everybody loves the pups more than you, Harry," Hermione teased.
Harry threw her a mock glare.
"You can make your own souffle," he said.
"I'll be good."
The trio then talked about what Ron was up to with his Quidditch team before being told dinner was ready.
"Harry… could you get me a plate?"
"You're going to stay here?" Hermione asked incredulously.
"Well I can't move, now can I, Herms?" Ron simpered, looking down at the puppies. "It's illegal."
"I know, but this is you," Hermione stated. "You, and Doctor Evans's cooking."
"But puppies," Ron emphasised.
Harry shook his head and picked one of the pups up and placed him on the ground. The young canine immediately sprung into action, darting off for his food bowl.
"They're hungry too, put em down and let's go eat."
Dinner was a raucous affair with a half dozen different conversations going on at the same time. Harry was happy to be back and to soak it all in. After desert, the attendees broke off into smaller groups to enjoy the amenities that the home offered.
When the night ended, most of the guests, including the Weasleys, left. While those who lived further away were billeted into the guest rooms. Of course, since there were more guests than there were rooms, the young adults had volunteered to sleep in the loft, like back when they were kids.
Hermione, Harry, and Petunia's two daughters Eveline, and Catherine Mildner had rolled out inflatable mattresses and covered them with duvets. Louis and Jimmy had brought their own sleeping bags and mats.
"So, ghost stories?" Catherine asked with a roguish glint.
"Oh no," Eveline interrupted, shaking her head. "I'd like to sleep, thank you very much."
"Aww c'mon," Catherine pleaded, her eyes turned to Harry.
"Don't look at me," he said, raising both hands. "I don't like ghost stories either."
"Why not?"
"Scary," Hermione interjected.
"For you or for him?"
"Both."
Catherine and Eveline looked at Harry as if he'd grown two heads.
"You're scared of ghost stories?"
"I know, I don't understand it either," Hermione shrugged. "I wanted to read him ghost stories back at school, but he'd just shot off."
"You read stories to him? That's so sweet," Eveline cooed.
Jimmy looked over to Louis.
"Why didn't you ever read me stories?" he asked.
"Because you – and I quote – hated my shrill voice," Louis answered.
"But I asked you after puberty."
Louis shot Jimmy a look.
"My voice cracked a lot."
"I know, woulda been hilarious," Jimmy sniggered. "Oncuuuh Uhpon a tieeeme."
Talbert poked Jimmy in the side for mocking him with a faux cracked teenaged voice.
"Okay," Catherine interrupted. "Well, I'm not sleepy yet, how 'bout you lot?"
"Trivia?" Louis suggested.
A round of heads nodded.
"Trivia it is," Catherine smiled.
…
Trivia had been fun, largely due to Louis and Jimmy bantering. But after the clock showed 2am, everyone had gone to bed. Sleep had always come easy to Hermione, but tonight, it seemed to elude her.
She heard movement from Harry's bed. Her eyes turned to see his form slowly shifting along the sleeping mat. He turned and soon she could see his face. His brows were furrowed, and his jaws were tense. A part of his face would twitch, and she wondered what he was dreaming.
A moment later, she heard the soft yet sharp intake of air. He was awake.
Quickly and quietly, Harry pulled back his duvet and got up from the sleeping mat. He ran a hand through his messy hair and picked up his travel backpack before leaving the loft.
Hermione decided to follow but being mindful not to wake up Jimmy who was a notoriously light sleeper from their younger days.
She padded quietly down the stairs and found Harry waiting for her.
"Heard you follow," he said softly.
"Yeah. What's wrong Harry?"
"It's my shoulder. I forgot to put meds on it."
"What's wrong with your shoulder?"
"It's uh," Harry paused. "It's a long story."
"Harry," she said, using the same tone she would use on students breaking curfew at Hogwarts.
"I got bitten."
"By what?"
"Bruxa."
"Bruxa!?" Hermione almost shouted.
"Shhh," Harry gestured, pointing upstairs. "Didn't wanna worry you, 'Mione. I'm fine."
"Don't 'Mione, me, Harry," Hermione chided.
"Seriously, I'm alright, 'Mione," Harry reassured.
Hermione just quirked an eyebrow that spoke of all the times Harry had to visit the hospital wing-back at Hogwarts.
"What do you need me to do?" Hermione said, stepping closer to Harry.
He ran his hand through his short hair and looked at the medication on the counter.
"I could use some help putting the stuff on," he finally answered, knowing she wasn't going to yield.
"Alright," Hermione agreed.
He could almost hear the victorious smirk in her voice.
"We need to prepare it first though," Harry said, leading her back into the family room where the kitchen was.
The Neosporin derivative needed to be microwaved, and then three cloves of garlic and a dollop of peanut butter added to it. Hermione would've loved to have been in the same room as the researchers when they discovered that combination.
Scientific research was truly a process of stabbing in the dark.
When the microwave alarm chimed, Hermione took the bowl of paste out, added in the crushed garlic and peanut butter. She mixed the concoction as she walked over to Harry. He had already taken off his T-shirt, draping it over his lap.
Hermione found herself staring. Sure, she'd treated plenty of topless toned men in her line of work. But this was Harry. This was different. He was her best friend, it's difficult for her to remain clinical.
I'm a professional, she reminded herself.
"I've been thinking…" Harry began, snapping her out of her thoughts.
"Uh oh," Hermione teased.
"Why didn't you go into the DMLE or law? I always thought that's what you wanted to do, SPEW 'n all."
"It was tempting," Hermione started. "Terrible hours, low pay as an intern, but then you make it through and it's terrible hours and great pay."
Harry looked up at Hermione who flashed him a quick smile.
"Besides, who'd patch you up if I was a lawyer?"
"Didn't you wanna change the world?" Harry asked, recalling their conversation before NEWTs.
"I did," Hermione admitted softly. "But you know what that world is like."
Harry nodded in agreement. Despite Voldemort having been gone for over two decades, the malevolent blood ideology he espoused was still prevalent.
"How's the shoulder?"
"Stiff."
Placing the bowl of salve onto the coffee table, Hermione then placed a few cushions at her feet.
Harry shot her a quizzical look.
"What're you doing?" he asked.
"Your shoulder is locked up, you've barely moved your neck to the right the entire night. You need a massage."
"You don't have to, Hermione."
"Harry, sit," she repeated firmly, albeit kindly, gesturing to the cushion by her feet. She waved her wand at the bowl of salve, casting a stasis charm on it.
He eased himself onto the cushion, careful not to have his bareback touch her exquisitely smooth legs. He felt it would be a little inappropriate considering how much Hermione worried over him.
"Finite incantatum," she canted.
The glamour charm was removed, and Hermione immediately gasped. She knew he'd try to cover it up. She never realised it was this bad. Harry's entire right trapezius was black and blue. The muscle stretched from the base of the head, down to the mid-back, and where the shoulder met the arm. All of that was one angry bruise that radiated from bite mark at the crook of his neck.
"Oh my god," she whispered, placing a warm hand on his left side.
"It's gotten better," Harry said optimistically.
His attempt fell flat when he felt Hermione's worried eyes bore through the back of him. She leaned forward, brushing her hair behind her ears as she got a better look at his chest. His deltoid and pectorals looked fine, much to her relief.
"You know what? Lie down on the couch for me, it'll be easier that way."
"You don't have to do this."
"I know, but I want to," Hermione said warmly.
How could he say no to that?
She transfigured one of the cushions into a face cradle, like the ones on the massage tables. Intuitively, Harry lay face down and Hermione began to work.
He heard pop open the lid of a massage oil bottle, and Hermione muttering a warming charm. The warm oil drizzled onto his shoulder, soothing Harry almost immediately. He felt her fingers dig into his back, gently working away the knots.
"Sweet baby Jesus," Harry murmured.
That got Hermione to laugh.
"What was that?" she giggled.
"One of the guys on my team says it."
"He's an American, isn't he?"
"Yeah."
Hermione resumed her ministrations.
"Bloody hell that feels good," he whispered.
"Well this next part is going to hurt," she warned apologetically.
Harry was about to ask what she meant when his eyes shot open in pain. His muscle screamed in horror as Hermione carved a path with her elbow.
"How are you doing?" she asked softly.
"Fine," Harry managed to gurgle.
"Let me know if it's too much."
Harry nodded.
Hermione's elbow continued to move along the sinews of his trapezius for another half hour. Once she was satisfied the worst of the blockage had been kneaded away, Hermione opted to use her thumbs to work in close with the joints.
Her fingers moved deftly up to the nape of Harry's neck.
"Holy mother of god," he bubbled breathlessly.
Hermione felt her cheeks grow warm.
She cleared her throat and pulled away, much to Harry's disappointment.
"Okay, sit up and have a stretched."
Harry did as he was told. He rolled his shoulders, they still hurt but they had more movement than before. Then he craned his neck to the left.
Pop.
Harry's eyes widened. It was the first time his neck joints popped.
"That's new."
"Feels good doesn't it?" Hermione asked.
Harry nodded.
Hermione then gently placed her had at the base of her skull and slowly craned her head to the right. It was like hearing crushed bubble wrap. Then she cranked her neck to the left, eliciting the same ripple of pops again.
"Wow," Harry just said blankly. "Doesn't cracking your neck tear arteries or something?"
"Only if you wrench your head violently ninety degrees."
"But that's what you did, at Hogwarts"
"Not anymore."
Hermione stretched and gave and arch her thoracic slightly, causing another gentle ripple of pops.
Harry grimaced.
"You'll learn to love it," Hermione grinned. "C'mon, time for the salve."
…
The house was still quiet when Harry woke up. He made his way down into the kitchen, turning on the TV to fill the silence while he prepared breakfast for the guests. There was a news piece about a new drug that was hitting the streets. Something called magic blue.
As Harry prepared the waffle batter, he listened to how the drug was described by authorities as Heroin 2.0. It was more addictive but as far as anyone knew, did not run the same risk of overdosing.
Harry didn't need to be a narcotics specialist to know how magic blue could potentially change the landscape of the drug trade.
"Morning Harry."
"Morning Aunt Petunia."
"Need me to help with anything?"
Harry looked around the kitchen. He had already chopped up the fruits and had the ice cream sitting out to be easily scooped.
"I think I've got it covered."
"Well in that case, I'd like to ask you something."
Harry saw a barely perceptible impish smile cross his auntie's features.
Oh no, he groaned inwardly.
"What's going on between you and Hermione?"
"There's uh… nothing going on, Auntie," Harry sputtered.
Petunia looked unconvinced.
"As thick as he is, even your Uncle Cameron asked me if something's going on between the two of you."
Harry tilted his head.
"Uncle Cameron isn't thick."
"Darling, I like to think I know my husband quite well. When it comes to love, he's thicker than an atlas."
Harry's auntie placed her elbows onto the countertop, clasping both hands together as she looked pointedly at him.
"There isn't," he answered quietly.
Petunia's expression softened.
"Why not?"
"We're busy. She's doing her residency, and I'm away half the year," Harry explained. "It wouldn't be fair to her."
"Shouldn't she get to have a say?"
Harry gave her a quizzical look.
"Darling, that girl is absolutely smitten with you. Her parents even let you two live in that apartment."
"It's for logistical reasons," Harry stammered.
Petunia chortled.
"Is that what you children are calling it these days?" she beamed with mirth. "Harry, a girl like Hermione is rare. Don't take too long, alright?"
…
They were sitting in the upstairs lounge, watching the snowfall outside. Hermione was leaning against him with her laptop on her lap. She was reading the latest journal articles, whilst scribbling notes by hand into a notebook. He couldn't help but smile when he saw the nondescript matte black fountain pen, he'd gotten for her.
As he stroked one of his grandpa's puppies, Baxter, behind the ears, his mind drifted back to his conversation with Petunia.
He'd always known. Somehow, he always knew her feelings for him ran deeper than mere friendship. But having someone else tell him, having Petunia tell him what she knew, it made him more conscious of everything Hermione did.
She'd always sit on his right whenever they were on the couch watching the movies. Whenever he was in the kitchen, she was never too far behind to help him prepare the food.
He noticed whenever they were at the dining table, they'd always angle themselves towards each other.
He wanted to be with her in the worst way, but to be with him would be unfair. He would be gone half the year, maybe more.
He'd seen the statistics. Witnessed them personally.
One tour breaks a bad marriage, two breaks a good marriage, and three breaks a great marriage.
Maybe they could pull through, but to have her wait for him, that was unfair.
"What're you thinking about?" Hermione asked, breaking him out of his thoughts.
"Just… divorce rates in my line of work."
The brunette witch placed her laptop off to one side with her notebook and pen.
"Did someone just divorce?" she asked, giving him all her attention.
"Something like that. Just thinking about how anyone could make it work."
"Harry," Hermione said warmly, placing a hand on his lap. "Anyone lucky enough to have you would do everything to hold onto you."
"You think so?"
Hermione smiled as she nodded.
"Thanks, means a lot coming from you," Harry said bashfully.
"So, what brought this on?"
"It's just, I want a family."
"You'll get there one day, Harry."
He felt captured by her warm chocolate orbs, it filled him with a sense of stillness that he longed for.
"Oi, love birds!" Louis interrupted. "Lunchtime."
Harry shot daggers at Talbert who just grinned ruefully from the stairs.
"C'mon, your old man's making lamb shanks."
The rest of their stay at Harry's childhood home was spent playing pool, table tennis, and video games, allowing them to relive their younger years without worrying about the outside world. But soon, it had to come to an end on a Sunday afternoon, when they drove back to London.
…
Merchant Square, London
Hermione woke to the sound of cooking in the kitchen. Throwing on her night robes, she made her way out of her room, and saw Harry at the waffle iron.
"Morning," she greeted.
"Morning," Harry returned, shooting her a smile.
"Need me to help with anything?" she asked.
"Bananas and strawberries, please."
Hermione walked over to the countertop, picked up a knife from the draws, and began slicing the fruit.
"So what are you doing today?" she asked.
"Nothing much," Harry answered. "Visit the physio, then go to the gym for a bit."
"Which physio?"
"In house at one of the barracks," Harry explained. "Hard to explain the bruxa bite."
"What time?"
"One o'clock."
"Free for lunch then?"
"Sounds like a plan. Apparate back here? Or near the hospital?"
"Near the hospital," Hermione decided. "Just in case there's another emergency."
"Alright, I'll send you a text when I'm done."
With Harry back, the duo settled into a new rhythm. Hermione's shifts were usually in the day, and so they spent their evenings at a nice restaurant, or at home with pizza and a movie. Even after Harry's two-week grace period was up and he had to go to Hereford for training, they were still able to keep their routine.
The joys of magic indeed.
…
Hereford
Hangar M looked like any other hangar in Hereford, except for the fact that its large doors have never been open since its construction. Simply put, Hangar M was Hereford's version of Hogwart's Room of Requirements only much bigger but nowhere near as refined.
It worked well enough, and that was all that mattered. The hangar was even loaned out to the other squadrons who urgently needed a mock set up for an upcoming mission.
Today, Harry and a few other troopers in M Squadron, had the hangar configured into a large duelling ring. Despite their preferences for firearms, duelling with a wand was a skill not to be neglected.
"Gentlemen, are you ready? Bout!"
Harry immediately dashed to his left, narrowly dodging a stunner. He countered with simple telekinetic spells, forcing Milton on the backfoot.
Channelling magic into his legs, Harry entered a dead sprint. He rushed his opponent, ducking right to avoid a body bind curse. Milton began retreating, throwing down transfiguration charms onto the sand. Patches of deep thick mud sprung into existence, shepherding Harry down a defined route.
He swore inwardly, realising what Milton was doing.
Harry ceased his advance, planting himself firmly where he was, and hurled stupefy spells at Milton. The veteran commando easily batted the attacks aside and riposted with a flurry of his own. Harry held his ground, dodging most spells, and parrying those that he couldn't.
He quickly crouched and pressed the tip of his wand into the ground, erecting a huge stone wall in front of him. It wouldn't hold for long, but it would buy him enough time to conjure swarms of hornets.
The clouds of angry insects leapt from his wand and flew high into the sky before barrelling towards Milton.
Harry then conjured icy water above his head to drench himself thoroughly. Cooling charms weren't enough and could create a feedback loop that cooked the caster.
Channelling magic into his legs again, Harry entered a dead sprint, moving faster than any normal human could. He headed off to his left, deciding to loop around to Milton's field of transfigured mud.
Harry quickly threw down transfiguration spells, causing rocky spires to leap up from the ground like sprouting trees.
Milton was still distracted by the deluge of hornets that harried him from all directions. A fiery lance leapt from his wand and freehand, burning down swathes of insects.
"Expelliarmus!" Harry shouted.
Milton rolled out of the way, choosing to endure the stings of the insects than to lose his wand.
Seeing his opening, Harry decided to chance it. Willing himself out of existence, Harry apparated with a pop and winked back into normal space. He reappeared just a few feet from Milton, who had finished dealing with the hornets.
"Stupefy!"
Milton had shifted clear of Harry's wand and raised his own to counter.
Harry needed to end this duel soon the only way he knew how. He closed the distance and wrapped his arm around Milton's wand arm, wrenching it free and tossing it aside. But Milton didn't make it an easy trade-off, and Harry found himself wandless too.
The two grappled in melee, blocking and delivering blows as quickly as they could. It was like a deadly dance where a punch could be fateful. They were using a martial arts form based on those developed by Shaolin Monks. The ancient arts focused on channelling one's own energy to augment the durability and strength. But it relied on movement for effectiveness. One could not turtle indefinitely to outlast the opponent. Movement was necessary to the form.
To the online, it was like hearing sledgehammers slam against metal. Magic, even without a focus, like a wand, could be devastating.
Instead of blocking, Harry decided to take a blow to the chest from Milton, which gave him an opening. The raven-haired wizard delivered a punch to the older wizard's knee, causing Milton's stance to buckle. Harry then kicked with his right leg, his shins crashing into Milton's side.
The man's body violently lurched to Harry's left, allowing Potter to deliver the final blow. With an open palm, Harry wandlessly cast a telekinetic blast that boomed like thunder. In an instant, Milton was thrown clear, and skidded into a mud pool.
Harry heard a ripple of applause from the stand. He quickly jogged over to Milton and offered a hand, which the older veteran gladly took.
"Good bout," Harry said.
"Good bout," Milton agreed, shaking Harry's hand.
"Potter, good use of cover, but don't rely on apparating too much," Mac advised. "A prepared enemy will always place anti-apparation wards."
Major Johnathan "Mac" MacMillan was the commander of M Squadron. He was a tall man with greying raven hair and piercing blue eyes. Despite hailing from Manchester, his accent was light. Like many of the men in M Squadron, Mac had attended Hogwarts. His magical background had helped shaped M Squadron into what it was today, and by extension, Task Force 256.
"Alright, Graves and Ernst, you're up."
Once duelling was over, the Hangar was morphed back into a regular shooting range.
The main target they would be using is a paper print out of a gunman holding a woman hostage. The gunmen had platinum blonde hair and looked like a certain ferret Harry knew from Hogwarts. The woman bore a striking resemblance to a certain fatalistic seer professor. This was no coincidence, but Harry was surprised that no one had brought it up yet.
"Let's focus on the Mark Twenty-Three today, lads," Mac said. "Milton you're up."
Harry and the other SAS troopers stood behind the safety line, while Milton took up a ready stance. There was a slight jitter in his fingers as he went through the prep motions. Mac pulled a shot timer from his belt and held it close to Milton's head.
"Shooter ready?"
Milton gave a quick nod.
"On standby."
Mac squeezed the timer, causing a pitched tone to ripple across the range.
Milton's immediately drew the Mk23 pistol from his holster and delivered two rounds to the male target's head.
"You still got it," Mac said approvingly.
"Thanks, sir," Milton said, flicking the safeties back on and holstering his sidearm.
"Potter, you're up."
The target repaired itself, the two bullet holes disappearing.
"Shooter ready?" Mac was holding the timer close to Harry's ear.
Harry gave a curt nod. The pitched tone screeched through the air, his hand flew to his sidearm. In one smooth motion, Harry drew the pistol from his holster and brought the sights onto his target.
"SYBILL TRELAWNEY," Harry roared. "LEAVE MALFOY ALONE!"
He squeezed the trigger seven times, each shot landing true. The cardboard Sybill Trelawney never stood a chance against .45 ACP.
The SAS Commandos were laughing their asses off.
"What the hell was that, Potter?" Mac sniggered.
"Well, sir," Harry mustered as seriously as he could. "I used this divine piece of kraut engineering to dump half a mag into Sybill Trelawney's inner eye."
That earned him a few more laughs.
"You muppet," Mac shook his head. "Run that again."
"But I've already saved, Malfoy, sir."
"I'm sure Trelawney will strike again," Mac shot back with a grin.
Harry spent the better part of the day running through the different drills and burning through close to a thousand rounds of .45 ACP with the Mk23 Pistol.
Though most special operations outfits around the world had shifted to modern 9mm rounds which offered similar ballistic performance to .45 ACP, the heavier .45 ACP still found use amongst units like M Squadron and TF256 due to its higher enchantment saturation point thanks to cube law.
"Alright, wrap it up gents, I've got another batch coming in," Mac announced. "Remember to swing by the armoury. New kit's just arrived. Get comfy with it, we've got an op coming up."
When training was done for the day, Harry stopped by the Quartermaster to pick up his travel backpack.
"Gear's good. Enchantments won't need to be recharged for another month," said the Troop Sergeant Major.
"Thanks, Sarge," Harry smiled.
He headed out of the armoury, and towards M barracks where there was a fireplace installed. Tossing the green powder into the fireplace, Harry disappeared in a blaze of emerald.
…
Merchant Square Apartments, London
It was just after 4 pm, and Harry was in his room sorting out his new equipment. Normally, SAS Commandos did not bring home their equipment, but M Squadron was allowed special privileges. Not because they were any better than the other squadrons in standard skillsets – because they weren't, but it was because of their unique ability to deal with occult threats.
This often translated into M Squadron Commandos bringing their new gear home to test out while they did housework, alone.
Harry was issued a few new sets of the next-gen multi-cam pattern combat apparel from an American company that specialised in high-performance combat clothing. They were like the set he wore in Bolivia, but the newer fabrics were a bit lighter, tougher, better breathability and greater stretchability. All of that translated into a slimmer cut to reduce the risk of snagging. Integrated joint protection came as standard.
The plate carriers with Faraday mesh lining had more durable soft padding to help distribute the weight of the composite armour plates. While the depleted uranium sheets in the composite plates possessed excellent magic-insulating properties, the Faraday mesh was to cloak the magical signatures given off by the cushioning and weight reduction charms.
The helmets were unchanged. They were FAST OpsCore shells with a Faraday mesh covering, and an aluminium lining which performed extremely well against mind-altering spells and auras. Those conspiracy nutters were certainly onto something when they made their foil hats.
When Harry had kitted himself up. He did a few lunges to make his range of motion wasn't restricted, or if any buckles dug into his skin. Satisfied, he reached for the expensive piece of kit in his bag. The Panoramic Special Applications Optics. This lovely piece of tech was a master class of enchanting and engineering. It looked like any other panoramic night-vision set but cost about as much as an F35 Pilot's helmet. And in Harry's opinion, it was worth every dime. It could operate in areas with high ambient magical energy – the biggest killer of electronics. It had ultra-high definition full-colour night vision capabilities, thermal imaging, and on top of that, it could see through objects like a magic eye. However, due to the complex engineering behind it, it couldn't let the operator to see what was directly behind them. Hence the necessity for it to have a panoramic set up.
He attached the optics onto the helmet mounts, and wandlessly turned off the lights. The high-pitched whine filled his ears as he activated his optics, and in an instant, his world came back in full colour.
Harry couldn't help but flash himself a shit-eating grin in the mirror.
It was time to clean the house.
…
The sun had set over the horizon by the time Hermione had made it back to the apartment in Merchant Square. She checked her mailbox, only to find it empty.
Harry must've gotten them, she thought.
Taking the lift back up to her floor, she fished out her keys and entered through the front door. It was almost pitch black, but the sound of Metallica and a Dyson vacuum greeted her.
She flicked the lights on and immediately saw Harry in full kit. He looked like a deer in headlights.
"Harry are you larping?" Hermione asked, barely containing her amusement.
"You know what larping is?"
"I know what larping is," Hermione shot back. "And you're doing it."
"It's not larping if I'm one of them," Harry countered cheekily.
Hermione gave a short laugh and shook her head.
"Oh Harry."
"Do you want to eat in or go out, tonight?" he asked.
"Let's go out. My treat," Hermione answered.
"Sounds good."
"Go get changed. I'm going to freshen up."
"Yes ma'am," Harry mock saluted.
Hermione rolled her eyes at her goofy friend as he walked back into his room.
He wore a business casual ensemble to be on the same level of formality as Hermione. He wore an off-white business shirt with hidden button-down collars, a deep navy blue sweater, beige chinos and brown leather business boots.
Harry and Hermione were currently at a bar that was frequented by white-collar professionals. Despite the more upscale clientele, the food served here was rustic and hearty. Hermione loved the fish and chips, especially the in house tartare sauce that had bits of gherkins in it.
After ordering at the bar, Harry led Hermione to a corner spot that overlooked the rest of the establishment, as well as being near two exits. It was no accident he chose that booth.
"So what've you been up to?" Hermione asked, taking a sip of her cider.
"The usual," Harry shrugged. "Training, and testing new gear."
"So larping?" Hermione smirked.
"You're just jealous," Harry said with mock haughtiness.
"You say that a lot. I think you're jealous."
"Indeed I am. You get to be in air-conditioned comfort while I'm out kicking doors."
Hermione rolled her eyes good-naturedly as she took another swill from her drink.
There was a question on the tip of her tongue. She had always wanted to ask, but there had never seemed to be the right time for it or rather, enough time for it. But now seemed as good a time as any. They had settled back into their routine, and now she felt like they were comfortable enough with each other to get an honest answer.
"Harry, what made you join?" she asked tentatively.
"Join?"
"SAS," she clarified. "I thought you wanted to become a doctor like your grandpa, or an Auror."
"I uh… hmmm," Harry frowned, trying to articulate an explanation. "You remember the tri-wizarding tournament?"
How could she forget? Everything was going fine until Fourth Year. The first three years of Hogwarts was fun and carefree, but all of that came crashing down when Harry's name was called from the Goblet.
It was by some sheer miracle of Sirius Black and Professor Remus Lupin that the tournament didn't end in any bloodshed. The two of them had instantly known that something was wrong with Moody when he failed Black's subtle identification test – in the form of innocuous conversational questions. When they discovered Barty Crouch Jr, that threw a wrench into the Death Eaters' plans.
"The Ministry wasn't going to do anything. They just covered it all up like everything was fine. So that ruled our Auror or DMLE."
Hermione could agree with that sentiment.
"Anyway, when I got home, grandpa had already called up a G-Man friend, Charles Whittaker," Harry continued. "See, the muggle government doesn't trust the Ministry as far as it can throw it, and Whittaker is part of the team that keeps tabs on the Wizarding World. He talked to me, said that even with Voldemort gone, the purebloods were still a threat, and no matter what, I would be in the middle of it."
"Because you're a symbol," Hermione concluded.
"Yes," Harry confirmed. "If they kill me, more will come out of the woods to support the purebloods. After the attack on the Wizarding World Cup… I decided to take up Whittaker's offer."
She remembered that horrific attack. Dozens of wizards and witches killed, and double that number for the muggle bystanders. The tickets to the Quidditch tournament was Harry's graduation gift for finishing his undergrad in medical science.
"I thought the tournament would be the first and last time I'd have to deal with them. But they're still out there."
"And what would've happened if you didn't make it through selection?"
"Whittaker probably would've gotten me to work for him in one form or another. Maybe a spy even," he let out an uneasy laugh. "I don't think I'll ever be free from it. Not until they're all gone."
Hermione gave him a sympathetic smile and gave his arm a reassuring squeeze.
"You'll get there one day, Harry," she said sincerely.
"One day," Harry nodded with a soft smile.
The conversation turned to lighter topics, such as film production news. Hermione was never really one for celebrity gossip, but film production news where corporate politics and money was the name of the game, she just couldn't resist. Harry never realised such a niche topic could be so engrossing, then again Hermione was always a great storyteller.
The night eventually came to an end, much to Hermione's disappointment. Having Harry back almost reminded her of their younger days – when they didn't have a care in the world. She needed to work tomorrow.
"Goodnight, 'Mione."
"Night, Harry."
…
"Magic and metal have a strange relationship. Steel and copper are good conductors of magical energy, while aluminium is an excellent shield against magics that attack mental processes. Depleted Uranium is an excellent magic insulator."
-Dr Carlyle Helberg
Author's notes
Originally this story was going to start off with how Harry would've been dropped off at his maternal grandfather's home instead. Monte Kouya was going to be Chp~10 or something like that. However, I felt like that would've made this story too long and detract from the main theme that I'm going for.
Hopefully, I've made things clear enough so that everyone has a rough idea of what the history of this AU has been. Harry's maternal grandfather played a huge role in raising Harry, as well as keeping Sirius Black from chasing after Pettigrew. Black uses the political and financial resources of House Black to act as a bulwark against the purebloods, as well as giving Remus the opportunity to teach at Hogwarts much sooner.
Their presence at the Triwizarding Tournament manages to thwart a Death Eater plot.
…
I wonder how many of you would've picked up the plaid league reference.
…
Thank you so much, Lucis Ambulo for telling me how to find that missing story.