It had taken him years - almost two decades - to work up the courage for this - this this. What this was, was hard for Harry to specify. Interrogation? Confrontation? Confession? Whatever it was, Hermione hadn't made it any easier by bringing him to the crypt they'd found partly excavated during the attack on Hogwarts, at the base of the Gryffindor tower.
It had been covered with rubble before they could explore it, so it merely added to the deadly, deathly mood of the day. Somehow, some why, she had managed to find it again. And even tidy it up. It seemed she wanted to make this encounter as uncomfortable as possible for both of them.
But Harry had been denied answers for too long.. It was as simple as that. He was past his snapping point. So he would be patient but insistent, and Hermione was going to give him the answers he needed. He didn't mind wheedling, guilting, flattering, or anything else it would take.
"I want to talk," Harry began.
"So you said," she answered, rather emotionlessly.
"About ... about..."
"Us," she finished with him. "Oh, don't look like that," she continued, as he stared at her, feeling suddenly upset. "It was plain as the nose on your face, Harry. And who knows you better than I do?"
"Then ..." Harry said tentatively, "then ... why?"
"Why what?" she asked, lifting one eyebrow.
"Why everything! Why ... Ron? Why not us?"
"I'm not going to make light of your question, Harry. Instead, I will tell you the truth, or some of it. The truth is, the 'why' is a long story, and it won't make you happy at all to hear it. It will make you sad. Angry. Sick. But definitely, definitely not happy. And I bear you no ill will. Is your happiness less important than your curiosity?"
"By this point," Harry fired back, "yes. I have had no peace this year. Last year, I vowed this would be the year. But I kept being a coward. I don't want to stew over this for a full twenty years. I have that much pride left."
"All right, but what makes you certain I didn't naturally transition away from you? After all, Ron was your best mate. He must have had some sterling qualities."
"Taking Ron out of the equation for a moment, there was that discovery I made in 6th year. It's pretty hard to get around that."Harry paused. "You know, Trelawney was right, wasn't she. Did I ever tell you about when I was hiding in the cloak and she passed by me, reading Tarot cards as she walked. She suddenly muttered 'What's this? Someone is very near. Someone hostile to the querent.' Then she dismissed it as nonsense. I mean, why would someone you predict the death of every week be hostile to you? I think a lot of her Divination was like that - if you don't like the things you see, ignore them and hope they go away."
"You mean, she was right about me not having the Inner Eye?" Hermione asked, with a smirk.
"Yes," agreed Harry. "But I was thinking of the other thing she said as you stomped out of class."
Hermione's imitation of Trelawney was spot on: "My dear, you will never-r-r experience the Higher-r-r Delights of Vision because you are too enamoured of your mad, MAD SCIENCE!" She even imitated her dramatic gestures flawlessly. Harry laughed a little, weakly.
"I mean," he said, after a bit, "the business in sixth year."
"Technically, I started in fifth year," Hermione corrected. "It took until almost your discovery before he was grown."
"By 'he' you mean 'me,' right, Hermione?" Harry said, a bit sarcastically, "or do I mean not me?"
"A bit of both," Hermione said. Her small but visible smile looked a bit wistful.
"You will concede, I think," said Harry, matching her tone for the first time, "that combining human cloning and golem raising, not to mention all the memories you took from me, is the very definition of 'mad science.'"
"I suppose I would," she granted.
"But anyway, given that ... what did all the Ron stuff amount to?" Maybe this would be his first real answer.
"I said I wouldn't make light of your questions, and I won't. You know, there was a certain element of keeping my options open, playing the field, and so on then."
"Still," Harry said, prodding her.
"Okay, most of that was cover. I never wished you to find out, you know."
"That you grew your own Harry Potter, and you kept him disillusioned under your bed with copious amounts of Dreamless Sleep potion, and Draughts of Living Death whenever you left Hogwarts? Don't blame you a bit. I remember really, really wondering why you needed so many memories after I went to sleep Friday night and woke up Monday morning."
"He agreed to it," she said.
"You know you'll have to turn in your Spew badge for that, right?" Harry said. "I mean," he continued, "what choices did you give him. Does ... what he was ... even make real choices?"
"Oh, yes," she said. "I did tell him he wasn't you. We froze the ageing process, too, when he caught up with you. So he would grow old along with you, and live about as long, too."
That was news to Harry. He'd assumed, somehow, that clones and golems both were unstable and short-lived. "Oh. Now I almost regret suggesting you ... euthanise him. It."
"Well, your point that that was what would happen anyway if he were discovered was hard to counter, Harry. Don't let your conscience fret over things you can't control."
Somehow, that reminded him suddenly of her other Grand Mad Science project. "Did you ever finish the Polyjuice stabiliser?" Harry asked. He didn't know why he was letting the conversation drift. He was afraid it was cowardice. He was afraid he was still afraid.
The expression on Hermione's face was hard to read, all of a sudden. She merely nodded. Suddenly, Harry wondered if that project had played a role in the long story she didn't want to share with him. It felt as if it did.
"The potions book was one part in three the dark magic spells Snape wrote in the margins ..." Hermione began.
"Professor Snape, Hermione!" Harry interrupted. The look he got back made him decide not to do it again.
"One part," she continued, "cover for the clone, just like some of the business with Ron and Lavender. Though as to that, it did hurt how evil he was, rubbing my nose in the fact he didn't think I was desirable."
Harry thought of interrupting, but just nodded instead. Hold your questions until the end of the lecture, he thought.
"And another part," she finished, "I admit was me being threatened by how good you were becoming at potions. I really didn't want you picking up that I had finished my permanent polyjuice project."
"Wait!" Harry demanded, definitely upset now. "Was that your plan after the not-me died? Get a boyfriend willing to become me permanently?"
"No, not at all, Harry," she answered. She looked thoughtful. "Quite the contrary."
"You keep dodging the question! Why are you doing that? Why did you do that? Why not just have the real me, without all the weirdness and the drama?"
"And how," she retorted, "could I know for sure that was an option? First Cho, then Ginny, when was there a chance to confess without breaking my heart and ruining our friendship?"
Harry could tell she was sincere, however wrong it seemed to him.
"There has to be more to it than that," he decided.
"Well if you call a fight for our lives against the worst dark wizard in history and his vast legions of evil something more," Hermione snapped. "When, again, was romance supposed to bloom?"
"In the tent?" Harry asked. He must have sounded distraught, because she suddenly looked worried and a bit guilty.
"I had plans after Ron left, but it seemed too sad to get together just because we were doomed. It would be like admitting it. Looking back, I was being ridiculous."
"So, you wanted to ..." Harry began, hesitantly.
"Very, very much, and every single day. You remember how Ron used to pull me aside and run you down, and I played along? Before he left - thinking you wouldn't overhear?"
"I doubt I'll ever forget," Harry admitted.
"Well, you have to know I was pacifying him. I mean, I wasn't a bit like that after he left. But anyway, after he returned, I pulled him aside and told him there wasn't going to be anything between us, not ever."
Harry's eyes widened. "So, what changed?" he demanded.
"Last chance, Harry," was all she replied.
"To hear the story?"
"To not hear the story. And it might be the last chance for us, too. Even our friendship."
Looking in her eyes, Harry realised she was serious. He had rarely seen such a vulnerable expression on her face. It reminded him, in fact, of their first year. And to a degree, of the start of their third year.
"That will never happen," Harry said. Hermione seemed unconvinced.
"Never say never, Harry."
With that, she pulled out a picture. It showed them together, cuddling near the homely structure that was Shell cottage. He didn't remember doing that, but it had been a confused and harrowing time. As he watched, the Hermione in the picture moved, and over her shoulder, he could see Ron and another person flying around, playing tag. He was hidden behind Hermione, but when she saw the fliers, she suddenly Disillusioned him. Then he saw the face of the other flier - he remembered now. It was Harry.
"You didn''t ... you never ..." Harry stuttered.
"I don't understand how you could imagine I would - or could," she said, coolly.
"How in bloody hell did 'he' get to the cottage?"
"He was always there after sixth year ended. That's where he rested. I told Fleur everything, and she understood. Well, he Living Death rested. Fleur used his ... coffin? I guess, you'd call it that - like with a vampire? Anyway, she used his box as a table. No one ever twigged. Remember how I extracted all those memories when we were at the cottage?"
"You said it was for our strategies!"
"It was!" she said. It seemed to Harry, sincerely. "But I didn't waste them after planning, is all."
"You were ... you were bloody updating your Harry Potter sex doll? And you made fun of Ginny?"
"He's not a sex doll, he's a person. He's like ... your twin. Sort of."
"He doesn't have a soul, Hermione."
Hermione had a triumphant gleam in her eye. "That's where you're wrong," she said.
"What do you mean?" Harry replied, shocked.
"Well, you and I are no fit judge of whether someone has a soul, but there are beings who are," she said.
"You didn't!"
"We did. We went to Azkaban island, assuming not all of them were gone. And we were right. He went ahead, and lo and behold they swarmed him like he was meals on wheels. And before you say 'happy thoughts' I'll point out those demons will never pass up a soul to go after that thin gruel. I wasn't that far away, but they swarmed him." After a pause, "Good thing we both had strong Patronuses."
"Why, in the name of all that is good, did you do such a mad thing," he demanded.
"He wanted to know. Apparently, as you grow a living person, a soul grows. Or it attaches. Or something."
Harry's head lowered, all by itself. "So ... that's the story? My actual rival is ... me? Or rather, not-me? You've been having an affair with him?"
"Not ... exactly," she began. "I might as well make a clean breast of it. When the worst happens, it will comfort me that I was capable of that much."
She looked Harry in the eye. He could swear hers had grown to half again their normal size.
"You remember when we returned to Hogwarts? You bolted off to look for the diadem, and Ron and I went somewhere, right?"
Puzzled, he nodded.
"Well I think Ron had decided we were goners. And unlike me, he had no qualms about spending our remaining hours having sex."
"So you two were ... ?"
"No, but not for lack of effort on his part. He disregarded what I'd said in the tent. He grabbed my arm and dragged me to Gryffindor tower. He planned to ... screw me on his old bed. And when I tried to get loose, he told me refusal was not an option and said some rather bad things about you. Even though you gave him that awful pander about me being like a sister."
Harry's fists tightened and his nails bit into his palms a little.
"We came across the crypt. It was excavated by the Carrows. They were going to throw the muggleborns in there after they were - done with them. Ron was having such a time with me - he kept his wand trained on me so I wouldn't scream out - though he pointed out that having his way with a muggleborn would probably get him readmitted to Hogwarts with extra house points. Anyway, he decided to drag me into the crypt and straight up force me. I guess his manhood was still offended that I would dare to refuse him. He said he knew we were lying, that we were shagging in the tent and the locket told the truth. Anyway, what he didn't know - what he couldn't know - was that the other Harry had followed us to Hogwarts, and was hiding in the crypt. When he heard me struggling, he crouched down and when we came down into the entrance, he hit Ron with something that broke his arm - but unfortunately, not his wand arm. Ron threw me down and while Harry caught me, Ron took advantage of the higher ground to cast a Bombarda that buried him under part of the wall. I saw red, and ... and just like you in the bathroom ..."
"Sectumsempra?" Harry asked, quietly. Her silence answered him.
"He would have survived," she finally said. "He was badly injured, but it was like Malfoy. But I had nowhere to take him to ... and ... and I didn't want to. I thought the other Harry was dead, so I planned to ... to wait Ron out. But then ... Harry moved. And ... and. ... " Suddenly, her speech became more rapid. "And then I took some of Ron's hair and, and his blood. And I took my permanent Polyjuice out of my bag, and I put the hair and blood in, and I turned it over nine times deosil and nine widdershins, and I ... I pinched Harry's nose and forced it down his throat. He coughed a little, but it was enough. Enough to .. to work. And I realised that that was my - our only chance. So I ... we ..." She stood up. Harry had scarcely noticed they'd both sat down on the dusty ground of the crypt. Hermione went to the corner farthest from the entrance. Lumos, she said, then tapped the wall and said, "Requiescat in pace". A plaque appeared, on the door to what looked like a reliquary - was that what the niches were called? Harry's baffled brain couldn't remember.
The plaque read
"Ron Weasley, 1981-1998. He deserved better. So did we all."
"It made sense at the time," he heard Hermione say. "When we're gone - as in dead and gone - the illusion will end, and they'll find him."
"So." Harry was surprised he could get even a small word out. Hermione had killed Ron. Under the starkest circumstances, but still. And then lived a lie for 19 years. "So, after that, the Ron I knew was ... Not-Me?"
"If you won't call him Harry, call him Ron. It's been his name most of his life by now."
"No!" Harry shouted. "I don't think I will do that." But then he noticed. Hermione was so afraid - of him - that she was shaking.
"Why did you tell me now?" He asked then.
"You asked," she said, in a quiet, lifeless voice.
"What does it mean, then?" he wondered out loud.
"He's leaving me. To see the world," Hermione said.
"Seriously?"
"Seriously. He's always resented you a little. I guess it made playing Ron a bit easier."
"Wait ..." Harry pondered. "So when you two came back with that cock-and-bull story about how you got the basilisk fangs ..."
"That was the truth. If you hadn't been so overwhelmed and obsessed with Ravenclaw you would have realised you don't learn Parselmouth like I claimed Ron did. Instantly from hearing it once."
"But other Harry is ... how did that work?"
"Dumbledore didn't know everything. The other Harry had your memories of making that body open the Chamber. Making Ron's body do it was difficult, but after many tries, he got the feel for it. He said that - that it was more a feeling than a sound."
"So what do you want out of this?" Harry asked. Hermione looked at him meaningfully. "Me? You want me to leave Ginny?" She nodded.
"It's a good time for it. You two have come to the end anyway. It will make her feel better to blame me." Hermione paused, then said, "She's started cheating on you."
"What?" Harry was at a loss for words for a while. "Who is it?" he finally asked.
"It's a couple of someones.. She's more resentful and restless than committed."
"Did ... he say why he's leaving?" Harry ventured.
"He says 'he' about you in exactly the same tone, if that's a clue." Hermione looked pensive. "He said he wants to go somewhere he can be who he is. Not Harry, not Ron, not a thing - just his own man. He'll pick an identity of his own and stick to it. He'll write the Weasleys now and then. He'll come back and play Ron for the big events. But that's all."
"Fine. I'll talk to Ginny. No one will be too surprised. Lots of them thought it would be you and I, anyway."
If Harry could wrest one thing to salve his pride, it would be the startled look on Hermione's face.
"But you did wrong, Hermione. Real wrong, not like rule-breaking, but something a little evil. You should do - should have - some sort of penance."
"What do you imagine would work for that?" she wondered.
"Easy.. For you, your mad, mad science is like the Elder Wand for Dumbledore. It leads you to places you're better off not exploring."
"But my fall from grace ties in to your habit of recklessly throwing your life away pursuing dark forces. Can you give that up?"
Harry thought about it. He had done his bit. If Hermione wanted to raise a second family with him, the least he could do was stay around to see them grow up, too. He nodded.
"Is it a deal?" He prodded.
"It is." she said, as Harry reached out for her.
They shook on it. It wasn't as if he was going to kiss her in a bloody crypt
Notes:
I wasn't obvious about it, but this is basically a retelling of some elements of Mary Shelley's Frankenstein: or The Modern Prometheus.