Consonant Harmony
- Act I -
Two Divorces and a Dinner
"How do you feel, Harry?" asked Hermione as she wrapped him up in a consoling embrace. All of the pictures of past ministers lining the walls of her office stared down at them, intent on hearing the details of what was sure to be a fascinating conversation.
"Devastated," he replied as he returned the hug. "Totally numb."
"I understand. I felt the same way when I left Ron. I thought I would feel better, but getting to better has been a long wait."
"I thought I had finally put the pain and ugliness in my life behind me after Luna, and I settled on our decision," Harry went on, his face showing the desperate pain swirling within him. "She stayed with Rolf and I stayed with Ginny. Life was supposed to get better after that."
"Yes. Yes it was," said Hermione as she stepped back and sat down on the couch in the corner of her office. "But there are things you don't know about. Things you need to know."
"What do you know, Hermione?" he asked urgently, hungering for anything that could help him make sense of the situation. "What do you know?"
"Sit down," said Hermione as she motioned to a spot next to her. "This is not going to be easy to hear."
Harry sat down and looked at his friend, his confidant of so many years. He was clearly wondering what could be so powerful that she was treating it in such a serious manner.
A little over a year had passed since Harry and Luna had made their final decision on the resolution to their shared life inside the puzzle. It was a hard, painful decision, but once made, it allowed them to move on with their lives.
Ron and Hermione had split up at about the same time. Harry had never really spoken to Hermione about it. He did not know how to start the conversation.
Luna and Rolf had moved forward with their careers in magizoology. They were now traveling the world in search of new and interesting magical creatures while their sons were building their careers and starting families.
Harry and Ginny were moving forward in the same manner. Harry was busy assisting in several things at the Ministry. Ginny was traveling all over writing articles on quidditch matches. However, something never felt right, and of late, the disturbance in Harry had increased.
Harry could not put his finger on it until Ginny dropped the bomb on him a couple of months ago. She told Harry she was gay. She had known for a long time but had been fighting it. She was leaving him to move in with an international quidditch star from Ireland named Aeraca McBain at her seaside manor near Strandhill.
The Weasley family, which had over the years proven itself to be some of the most resilient people on Earth, accepted Ginny's announcement in stride and gave it the same loving response they had given Ron when he broke up with Hermione. Even Molly, whose dementia had nearly erased her from reality, seemed happy.
"Ginny is the only member of the Weasley family that still talks to me," confided Hermione. "The rest cut me out after Ron and I split up. She told me a couple of months ago she was considering breaking up with you, but she never said why. When she came out, it was just as big a surprise to me as to anyone."
"Fine," said Harry, sounding confused. "How is that supposed to make me feel better?"
"There's still more you need to know," replied Hermione as the faces on the wall all leaned in to hear the details. "I was in total shock when Ginny spilled her story. I felt betrayed. I still feel betrayed."
"Okay. Okay," said Harry, getting a bit impatient. "Get on with it, then."
Hermione took a deep breath. It was clear she was searching for a way to begin. Finally, after several protracted moments of silence, she began.
"In the summer between our first and second years, Ron told his mom that he really liked me, but he was scared that I liked you more. Molly hatched a plan that was so secret that no one knew it, not even Ron."
By now, Harry was staring at her, as were all of the pictures. Where was this going to go? He had no idea.
"Molly concocted a mild, but effective love potion," continued Hermione. "She started slipping it into the cookies and other treats she would give me. My confusion about which of you I liked best slowly disappeared. I became infatuated with Ron even as you became my best friend."
Harry's expression turned to shock as the words forced their way into his mind. He would never have expected such a thing to be possible, especially from Molly. She was the kindest, most loving person. Such subterfuge on her part was inconceivable.
"So you're saying," interrupted Harry, "that while Ron's affection for you was genuine, yours for him was manufactured?"
"Yes. That is exactly what I am saying."
So," said Harry, cutting back in, "when he got sidetracked with Lavender it was fine on his part. Fun, actually. But your devastation and anger were real, albeit induced by the potion."
"Yes. It was very confusing," she replied, her voice sounding academic. "I was distraught at a level I could not imagine. I couldn't make sense of it."
"Okay. That explains a lot about the way the two of you acted over the years," said Harry. "But anyway, what does this have to do with me? Not to be rude, but I thought this discussion was going to somehow involve my situation at least a little more directly."
The pictures on the wall were starting to look bored. What had started out as a promising story was not achieving the level of excitement they anticipated.
"Yes, It does directly involve you. It is just that it is hard to tell you," said Hermione, her voice suddenly sounding stressed.
"Well, get on with it," said Harry with an impatient note in his voice that was enough to regain the attention of the pictures.
Just then, there was a knock at the office door. It was Hermione's secretary, Anjou. She was there to remind her of a meeting in a few minutes. Hermione told her to push it back an hour. She needed to finish up here first.
"Now," she said with a big exhale as Anjou left and she returned her attention to Harry. "This may be difficult to accept, but she swears it is true and I have no reason to doubt her."
"Yes. Yes. Go on," urged Harry with an encouraging hand motion.
"Molly started getting worried during our fifth year that you might try to interfere with Ron and me. She had heard about my visit to the Champion's Tent during the tournament through the article by Rita Skeeter in The Prophet. Ginny told her about me giving you my towel and kissing you after the Second Challenge. Molly's determination to see Ron and me end up together was becoming obsessive. She had failed with Charlie to the point he moved away. She was not going to fail with Ron."
Harry and all of the faces on the wall were paying strict attention. It was now clear something unexpected was going to appear. All of them were trying to figure it out.
"According to Ginny," continued Hermione with a big inhale and exhale, "her mom started giving both you and her the same potion she was giving me. Ginny was very firm in saying she knew nothing about it. She only found out about it at the same time things between Ron and me started to go downhill."
"What the bloody hell!" exclaimed Harry in an incredulous voice. "Are you saying the only reason Ginny and I got married was because of Molly's love potion?"
"I don't know if it was the only reason, but it was certainly a major factor."
"So what happened?' asked Harry. "How did Ginny find out about it?"
"Ginny said," Hermione began, to the rapt attention of Harry and the portraits, "she was visiting her mom. They were baking cookies. You know the cookies. The ones she is always sending to you and Ginny. They're the same ones she was sending me."
"Yes, I know them well," said Harry with a nod.
"You know how Molly has been losing her memory and all."
"Yes. It bothered Ginny a lot to see her mom slowly slipping away."
"As they were mixing the dough Molly asked Ginny to hand her the Piège de Amor. Ginny asked her "What's that?' Molly said 'It's the love potion. It's there in the shimmery bottle. I've put it in all of the cookies I've sent to you and Harry and Hermione for years."
"She was dosing us with her cookies?" said Harry, a shocked expression on his face.
"Yes. Apparently for years. It wasn't until her mind slipped far enough away that her treachery was discovered. Ginny put an end to her mom's trickery and that is when things started to fail between Ron and me. I started to realize how far apart we really were. I was on the verge of becoming the Minister and he was a kid in a joke shop who never grew up."
"Then why did it take so long for Ginny and me to fall apart?"
"I think it is because deep down Ginny really loves you and always has. You're a great guy and were always committed to your family. I don't think you ever found time for destructive thoughts. It was Ginny who was fighting the demons of hiding her true nature and feelings from everyone. I think she was trying to hide them from herself as much as she was from you. Unfortunately, with the absence of the love potion, those feelings eventually overwhelmed her and she had to come out and leave you."
The pictures of the ministers were all now gathered in the massive portrait of Ottaline Gambol. They were engaged in a philosophical discussion about the situation as Harry sat stunned by all of the revelations.
"This is beyond anything I could have imagined," said Harry in an exasperated tone. "It explains a lot, but at the same time, it is like being told that the life you have been living for the past thirty years has all been a lie. I might as well have had another Horcrux in my head."
"I know, Harry," said Hermione in a sad voice as she reinstituted the hug they had shared earlier. "I felt the same at the time and still do. It's like I have been living someone else's life and was never given a chance to live my own. I feel robbed...cheated."
"What can we do?" asked Harry as he pulled Hermione tighter. "I suppose there is nothing we can do. But I just wish...uh...I...uh...I don't know. I just wish."
"Do you think, Harry…" started Hermione as she wiped at the tears rolling down her cheeks, "...do you think it's our time?"
"Our time? What do you mean 'our time'?" replied Harry in a puzzled manner.
"Our time," repeated Hermione. "I feel like we were stolen from each other before we ever had a chance together. Maybe this is our time...our chance."
"Ooooh," gasped Harry, not letting go of Hermione's hands, Harry looked intently into her tear-stained, stern, and beautiful face.]"Maybe it is."
Hermione pulled Harry closer, mashing their lips together like strangers who had almost known each other for years, and who were finally going to get acquainted. They kissed for several moments among the sounds of approval, disapproval, and wonderment coming from their painted audience. They only broke apart when there was a knock at the door.
Once again, it was Anjou. There was an official-looking envelope in her hand. She said it was from the French Ministry, and the front of the envelope was marked 'Most Urgent'.
"I'm sorry, Harry," said Hermione as she walked over and took the delivery.
"It's okay. We can talk more about this later," said Hermione as she cautiously pointed to her lips in hopes of Harry getting the hint to wipe her lipstick off his. "Let's set up another meeting. We can meet for lunch, or maybe dinner."
"Dinner. Dinner would be fine," replied Harry as he moved to follow Anjou out of the office while trying to discreetly remove the evidence of their kisses. "Send me a message telling me when and where."
"Bye, Harry," said Hermione in a voice just off enough from normal to cause Anjou to do a double-take.
Harry followed Anjou through the door. "Have a good day," she said as she stopped at her desk.
"Yes...uh...you, too," replied Harry as he kept walking. The taste of Hermione was still lingering on his lips and working its way into his mind and toward his heart as he headed for the exit. Nothing he could have imagined could have prepared him for the events of the past hour.
Two days later, Harry was awakened by an owl at his bedroom window. Ginny had left him their home in Maidenhead because she had promptly moved in with Aeraca.
The owl was carrying a message with the seal of the Minister for Magic. Harry quickly opened it and looked at the words.
"Harry,
Let's meet for dinner tomorrow at Clos Maggiore at 7:30 pm. I have reserved a table in the courtyard conservatory. We can talk more about the other day. Please let me know if you can make it.
Hermione"
Harry felt a stirring in his heart that he had not experienced in years. It was almost like when he had made his first-ever date to go to the Yule Ball with Pavarti Patil way back in his fourth year at Hogwarts. He ran to his desk and started writing a reply.
"Hermione,
I will definitely be there. I am very anxious to continue our discussion from the other day. Oh! Knowing you, I suspect this is a fancy restaurant. How should I dress?
Harry"
Harry tied the message to the leg of the owl and sent it on its way. It was not a long flight to the ministry from there. He suspected Hermione would receive the message shortly after lunch. That would provide her ample time to reply and for him to make ready.
The day passed and Harry had just sat down to a dinner of fish and chips with mushy peas from a nearby takeaway. Just as he started to shake malt vinegar on his fish and chips there was a loud thump against his window causing him to splash his Sarson's across his arm and the table. It was an owl...presumably from Hermione.
Harry jumped up, wiping his arm with a napkin as he hurried to the window. His heart leapt when he saw the Minister's seal on the message in the bird's beak. He took it and hurried to open it.
"Harry,
"I am very excited about our dinner tomorrow. You are correct. This is a fairly fancy restaurant. I suspect you learned a lot about dressing for things like this during your days in Vancouver and Buenos Aires. If you think you will need help, tell me. I'll ask my house-elf Missy to come assist you.
Hermione"
Harry was all smiles as he read the message. She had dotted the 'i' in the message with a heart. This caused him to almost shiver. He felt like a schoolboy once again. He pulled out a sheet of paper and a pen so he could write back.
"Hermione," he began.
"I will see you tomorrow night. I am pretty certain I can dress myself. You can critique my efforts when I get there.
Harry"
He thought for a couple of minutes about what he could do to equal the little heart over the 'i' in Hermione. However, he could not think of anything. So, he rolled up the message and attached it to the leg of the owl. A moment later the message was on its way and the dinner was set.
The next morning, Harry finished his breakfast. Afterward, he decided to sort out his clothes for the evening. After a bit of wandering up and down the clothes in his closet, he pulled out a pair of burgundy pants and matching vee-necked sweater, and a pale blue shirt. He then selected a dark blue, zippered vest that contrasted nicely with the pants and a slightly darker, two-button blue jacket with a thin, notched collar. Since it was going to be cool outside, he did not think this would be too much. The only thing left was the tie and socks.
He had a wealth of ties, socks, and belts in the closet. Unfortunately, they were heavily weighted with Gryffindor scarlet and gold, and Holyhead green and yellow. Of the blue ones, he had a solid, dark blue, as well as a dark and light blue one with diagonal striping, a medium blue checkered one, and a couple with random patterns. After a bit of thinking that he might need to go tie shopping, he decided what the heck and went for a burgundy-based, silk Jerry Garcia tie and matching socks that Luna had given him for Christmas several years ago. He planned to tie it with something called a Trinity-Eldredge knot he had learned the spell for from George many years ago.
The rest of the day passed painfully slowly, not unlike the times preparing to take an exam from Snape back in the day. Finally, it was time to get dressed.
It had been a while since he had last attended a fancy dress affair. He struggled a bit getting everything on. Oddly enough, the easiest part was tying the tie, which was accomplished with a flip of the wand and a couple of words. Once he slipped his feet into his navy blue Prada loafers he felt ready for whatever was going to occur.
At 7:00, he apparated to The Leaky Cauldron. From there, he took an Uber to the restaurant. It was twenty past seven when he arrived. As he walked toward the entrance, he saw a lady wearing a strapless, periwinkle blue, evening dress getting out of a stately, older Rolls Royce. As he got closer, he realized it was Hermione.
"Oh my," he exclaimed, causing her to turn her head. "You look bloody amazing. You look like you're ready for us to go to the Yule Ball."
Hermione looked over Harry and said with a grin, "I should say the same. I suppose your hair could do with a bit of combing, but that's to be expected. I know Luna didn't teach you to dress this way. Who taught you?"
"I learned a few things on my own over the years. I'm not entirely dim."
"Well, we'll see about that, I suppose."
They both hesitated, then giggled like a couple of school kids going on their first dates. Harry offered his arm and Hermione took it. They walked inside with high hopes swelling in their hearts.
As soon as Hermione said, "Two for Granger," the confundus charm Hermione had placed on the reservation activated. They were escorted to a cozy table in the corner of the courtyard conservatory under the branches of the cherry tree and with a nice view of the crackling fire in the center of the room. The lighting accented Hermione's black pearls and matching earrings. Their peacock highlights were almost hypnotizing. Harry had a hard time not staring at them.
Jean-Pierre introduced himself as their server for the night while he poured them some water and presented them with the menus. He said he would return in a couple of minutes after they had a chance to look them over.
"This place is awesome, Hermione," said Harry as he looked around the room and at the cherry tree. "How did you arrange it? You can't just snap your fingers like you're at the ministry."
"Confundus charms work on muggles, too," said Hermione with a subtle smirk.
"Brilliant. Bloody Brilliant," replied Harry as he started to laugh.
The menu was embossed in gold with 'Clos Maggiore' in fancy letters. Under it was the notation, The world's most romantic restaurant. The first page offered a variety of appetizers. They settled on Cornish Crab with crispy brioche, radish & cucumber broth. For their second course, they would both be having a Baby Spinach Salad with goat cheese & balsamic vinaigrette. Hermione was going to have the Native Lobster with fennel, tarragon, orange & lobster sauce for her entrée. Harry was opting for the Cornish Sea Bass with chorizo, beurre blanc & bell pepper. The appetizers and entrée, almost like it was planned, would all pair nicely with a fine Chardonnay. They decided to ask Jean-Pierre for his recommendation.
Once they had settled on their order, they started to talk about the future while they were waiting for Jean-Pierre to return. When Jean-Pierre finally appeared, they placed their order along with selecting a vintage bottle from the Lynmar Estate Susanna's Vineyard on his recommendation.
"How are we going to do this?" asked Harry in a very serious voice as he took a breadstick from the basket while returning to the topic of the night. "How are we going to know if we're doing the right thing?"
"That's a good question," replied Hermione as she looked into Harry's eyes. "I've been giving it a lot of thought. I don't know. There's no book I can read on the subject. I don't think this is much different from dating back in school. We have to give it time and see what happens."
"Maybe we should just go back to our first year at school and see what happens," said Harry, sounding half-serious, half flippant.
They both looked at each other, then cracked up and only stopped laughing when Jean-Pierre arrived with their appetizer and wine. Harry approved the wine after some stylish swirling and slurping, and they both got sidetracked as they enjoyed the crab.
As they were finishing the last bites, Harry said, "We do have to think through this. You, of all people, should know we need something of a plan. You're the Minister for bloody sake. We can't just go about this like school kids. We can't be making you and the Ministry look foolish."
"You're right, Harry," replied Hermione. "We do need to be careful."
Just then, Jean-Pierre returned and cleared the table. Harry and Hermione continued to talk in an attempt to make sense of everything until Jean-Pierre brought them their salads.
They both stopped to enjoy them. For a few moments, everything proceeded in contemplative silence, until Harry exclaimed "Blimey!" as he set his wine glass down hard enough for some of it to slosh over on the table. He picked up his water glass. "I forgot about not drinking wine with a vinaigrette. That was bloody disgusting."
Hermione put down her salad fork and started laughing. "I thought you were more cultured after all of those years living among muggles."
"Shut it," snapped Harry, trying but failing not to laugh at himself.
They finished their salads and Jean-Pierre appeared once again to clear the table. He was a model of efficiency. One might think he was part house-elf. A few moments later he was back with the entrees.
Once again, the conversation waned as they enjoyed their meals. Hermione's lobster had been split and broiled before being covered in its herbs and sauces. It was clear that she knew her way around a lobster by the way she handled the claws and tail before picking out the choice parts of the body. Harry ate his filet while admiring her careful operation.
As they finished, they restarted their conversation. "What do we do?" asked Harry. "Should we date? Can we attend functions together?"
"I think we need to go slow, " came the reply. "I think we can do what we want, but we just can't be too obvious that we are doing more than socializing. Everyone knows we are friends. As long as we don't do anything crazy, I think we'll be okay."
Jean-Pierre reappeared out of nowhere once again. As he removed the plates, he asked if they would be having dessert.
"Yes," said Harry before Hermione could react.
"Very well. I shall return with the dessert menu."
Jean-Pierre returned a moment later with the menu. After carefully examining it, Hermione asked, "Could we have strawberries and cream, instead of yogurt? I find yogurt a bit bitter to my taste."
"Yes, we have done that in the past," said Jean-Pierre. "Our dessert chef will be happy to accommodate you."
"Wonderful. Do you have a bottle of Château d'Yquem open so that we could have two glasses?"
"Allow me to speak with the sommelier," said Jean-Pierre as he turned and left.
"You are pulling out all of the stops," remarked Harry. "I had that once in Buenos Aires. The bottle cost more than the rest of the meal."
"It's a special occasion," replied Hermione as she reached across the table and put her hand on Harry's. We've waited a long time. We're worth it."
Jean-Pierre returned a moment later. "You are in luck. The sommelier does have an open bottle being kept in our nitrogen system. He can provide two glasses, but the price, as you know, is expensive. Two glasses will be two hundred and fifty pounds."
"That's fine," said Hermione cheerfully, like she was buying a couple of soft drinks.
"Very well. Give us a few minutes to properly chill it."
While waiting for dessert, Harry and Hermione chatted more about managing their relationship. Both of them were quite concerned about appearances. If they were to proceed, they did not want any extraneous complications muddying the waters. They wanted things to appear right and proper.
Jean-Pierre finally appeared several minutes later. He sat down a beautiful bowl of strawberries and cream that would wow the stuffiest of the Wimbledon crowd. The restaurant sommelier, if the tastevin hanging around his neck was to be believed, had two glasses on a silver platter.
"Two glasses of Chateau d'Yquem, madame," said the sommelier in a thick, French accent. "I have chilled it to twelve and a half degrees. I hope you enjoy it."
"Thank you," said Hermione as Harry nodded his approval. Jean-Pierre and the sommelier left as Hermione put a hand back onto Harry's. She took one of the silver dessert spoons and picked up a creamy strawberry and offered it to him. Harry took the bite and smiled at how good it was. Hermione took a strawberry for herself as Harry picked up his wine glass. The wealth of glycerin in it clung to the inside of the glass as he gave the golden liquid a swirl exposing its amber and caramel highlights. As he raised the glass to his lips, he placed his nose inside so he could breathe in the bouquet as he took a sip and swished it around inside his mouth.
"Ohmigawd", gushed Harry as he put the glass down. "This is amazing."
A few seconds later, Harry picked up his spoon and offered a strawberry to Hermione. She took it off the spoon like a dewy-eyed schoolgirl and savored it before he picked up her glass and helped her taste her wine. The two of them continued feeding each other like giddy teenagers until the strawberries and wine were gone. After that, they just stared into each other's eyes. No love potion could match or manufacture the feelings they were experiencing at that moment. This amortentia was of their own making.
After several moments, they were interrupted by Jean-Pierre, who arrived to present them the bill. They decided it was probably time to call it an evening. Hermione pulled a platinum-colored card from her purse and gave it to Jean-Pierre. He left to process the payment.
"I am going to summon my car," said Hermione. "I can give you a ride home if you would like."
"Uh...yes...sure. That would be great. Yes," sputtered Harry.
Hermione looked around and pulled out her wand. She made a quick wave with it and put it away before anyone saw her. "Navon will be out front in a moment. He is very efficient."
Jean-Pierre returned a moment later and Hermione signed the slip. Harry and Hermione got up and headed toward the exit. Their meal had lasted two hours, but the enjoyment of it made it seem like two minutes.
- Act II -
The Wildest Fire Starts with a Single Spark
As they exited the restaurant, Hermione's black Rolls was waiting for them at the curb.
Navon opened the door and Hermione got in, followed by Harry. As Navon closed the door, Hermione licked a finger and reached over to remove some errant strawberry cream she had not noticed in the subtle lighting of the restaurant from the corner of Harry's mouth. Harry flinched a little at first, but let her remove it.
"You had a bit of dessert on your cheek," she said as she put her finger into her mouth and cleaned it off as if she was giving it a passionate kiss.
"Uh...thanks," said Harry.
"How about we go by my place first. Navon can take you home from there."
"Sure. That will be fine."
"We're going to my place," Hermione told Navon.
"Of course, madam," he replied as he pulled away from the curb and into traffic.
The interior of the Rolls was luxurious at a level unaccustomed to Harry. The leather of the seats and upholstery was the softest, most supple he had ever felt. The trim appeared to be real walnut, not plastic or a cheap veneer. The highly-polished handles on the ashtrays and other accessories were most certainly sterling silver, not chrome.
"Is this yours?" asked Harry, a bit overwhelmed.
"It is the Ministry's, actually. The prime minister provides it from the Queen's fleet for my use and for that of his liaison from the Ministry."
Well, it's very nice."
Hardly five minutes later, the limo pulled up in front of a pub called the Red Lion that sat barely a block from Number Ten Downing Street. Navon got out and started around to open Hermione's door.
"This is where you live? You live in a pub?"
"It has a hidden residence up top. It is sort of like Number Twelve Grimmauld. Come up and see it. I think you will like it."
Harry hesitated, then said, "Sure" as he moved to get out.
Hermione stepped back as Harry exited the limo. "Will that be all, Minister?" queried Navon.
"Yes, for now," she replied.
Hermione and Harry walked up and entered the pub. A few heads turned to stare at the clearly overdressed, even for this neighborhood, people who just walked in. Hermione ignored the looks and walked to the stairs leading to the upstairs dining room.
Halfway up at the point where the stair made a ninety-degree turn to the left, Hermione took Harry's hand and made a motion with her free hand. Without missing a step, she moved through the wall with Harry in tow like they were entering Platform 9 ¾ at Kings Cross Station.
"Welcome to the Minister's residence," she said with a smirky grin.
The room was stately, yet cozy, in a classical sense. All of the woodwork was dark and covered with ornate carvings. The furniture was plush and regal. There were pictures of past ministers hanging everywhere. One wall was covered floor to ceiling with enough books to be a small library.
The next room contained a large, long dining table with a candelabra befitting a palace hanging over it. There was a single setting of table service at one end, given that Hermione now lived here alone. However, the china cabinet along the wall promised it could fill the table with service for as many as could fit. Next to the table stood a house-elf wearing particularly nice clothes.
"Can Missy be of service to you, Madame Minister?" asked the elf.
"No, Missy. We are fine. I will summon you if I need anything," replied Hermione.
The elf disappeared with the snap of a finger. Harry looked at Hermione, not certain as to what to say.
"Missy is a free elf," remarked Hermione. "She chooses to serve of her own free will."
"Then she is like Dobby...uh...was," said Harry in a melancholy voice.
"Exactly. But let's sit down," said Hermione as she led him to a small couch back in the other room. "Would you like something to drink?"
"No. I'm fine," he replied, as he dropped down into the overstuffed seating.
Hermione sat down next to him as they prepared to start to talk.
"I hope we know what we are thinking about," said Harry, trying to open the conversation. "I find it all a bit scary."
"I know," replied Hermione. "We have known each other since our first day at Hogwarts. We have been friends, best friends for years, but this is different. This is all new."
"At Hogwarts, the other students and I weren't always nice to you at first," said Harry. "We were put off by how smart you were. I'm not certain that if Quirrell hadn't let that troll into the dungeons that we would have ever got on."
"If you and Ron hadn't come looking for me...well," said Hermione as she put her hand on Harry's, "I'm not certain I would be here."
"I'm not certain if you weren't always there that I would be here."
"That would be unacceptable," said Hermione, looking into Harry's eyes.
"Totally unacceptable," he replied as he took her wrists and pulled her gently towards him. They wrapped their arms around each other and started kissing with a fire that had been smoldering beneath the surface and had finally burst out into the open.
They kissed, hugged, and caressed for several minutes until Hermione pushed back to separate them. "What's the matter?" asked Harry.
"Nothing," breathed Hermione, her face florid from the excitement. "There's still something I want to show you if you want to see it."
"What's that?" said Harry with a deep inhale, his face equally flushed.
"I haven't shown you the Minister's bedroom," she replied.
"Ooooh," said Harry. "Are you sure this is the time?"
"Yes, Harry," said Hermione, helping him up as she got to her feet. "I think it's past time."
Hermione led Harry past the dining area to a hallway. They went past a loo and a couple of closed doors to a particularly ornate door at the end of the hall. Hermione opened the door and they entered. Inside was a huge, four-poster bed with a canopy that was some of the finest linen-work Harry had ever seen. On one wall was an incredible, carved armoire reaching almost to the ceiling. Next to it was an equally fancy dressing table with a mirror. Bottles and containers of make-up and perfume covered the top of it.
On the other wall were some folding doors Harry assumed to be for a clothes closet and a desk that looked like a miniature version of the massive desk in the Minister's office at the ministry. Several piles of papers and scrolls of parchment were on it as well as an inkwell, sealing candles, and a quill made from the wing feather of a bird Harry thought might be a Snallygaster from the pictures he remembered seeing in Care of Magical Creatures class.
"This is spectacular," gushed Harry. "Well, the whole place is spectacular. Life as the Minister is good."
"Yes, it is good. Very good, indeed," said Hermione as she sat down on the edge of the bed.
Harry looked at Hermione, not sure whether or not he should join her. All of his instincts were telling him to make the move. However, his natural shyness was holding him back.
Finally, after a few moments of awkward silence, Hermione stood up and unbuttoned Harry's jacket. Then, she unzipped his vest exposing his sweater.
"For Merlin's sake. How many layers of clothes are you wearing?" she laughed as she leaned back for a look. "You're like opening one of those Russian nesting dolls."
"Too many, I suppose," he chuckled as much at himself as at her comment. "I wasn't really thinking about...well, thinking about what I think we are going to do at the time. Just let me handle it."
"Okay," she said, continuing to chuckle at him as she turned around. "Unzip my dress, then."
Harry grasped the tiny talon sitting just between her shoulder blades and ran the zipper down as far as it would go. The back of the dress split apart as Harry's eye popped at the creamy flesh of her back revealing itself like the discovery of the inside of a perfect banana. He gasped as he released it and it fell to the ground almost like it was melting into a puddle of periwinkle. Hermione was virtually naked underneath it. The only things she had on were some delicate, lacy, blue knickers and a thin, almost transparent excuse for a bra. Harry started removing his jacket, vest, and sweater as Hermione reached around and unhooked her bra.
By the time he started to loosen his tie she was removing her undies. "And you guys complain about all of the clothes we women wear," she snickered as she chided him.
All Harry could do was continue to undress. He was now unbuttoning his shirt as he kicked off his shoes. Hermione, who was now completely naked, got down on her knees and pulled off his socks as Harry finished with his shirt and started tugging his undershirt over his head.
As he turned to put the shirt on top of his other clothes, Hermione reached around and unbuckled his belt before unfastening his pants. Harry recoiled a bit from the touch due mostly to being ticklish. This encouraged Hermione to change to actually tickling him. This caused him to double over as he tried to sound angry as he told her to knock it off.
She stood up once she stopped and Harry finished removing his trousers and was down to his knickers. A suspicious bulge in the front of them indicated Harry was more than ready for the next step. Hermione reached up to remove them, but Harry stepped back and removed them on his own.
They stood there, two frightened, young Hogwarts students trying to look stoic, trying to look composed and not giggle as they looked at each other. In the nearly forty years they had known each other. Neither of them had seen the other even partially disrobed. Now, here they were, standing naked an arm's length apart. Hermione was still slim and trim with barely a sag or wrinkle. The birth of two children had kindly spared her. Harry still looked pretty good, too. He looked almost ready for the quidditch pitch. But, all of that was nearly invisible to their minds.
Finally, after an eternity of flutters, Harry moved forward and embraced Hermione. Their lips met as they fell back onto the bed, neither of them sensing the trembling of the other because of all of their own. Their ardor quickly consumed them like a flame on dry tinder. They made hot, steamy, passionate love, the kind intent on collecting on a long-overdue bill until they finally collapsed like the last skeletal wall of a once raging house fire in a shower of sparks and flames before being left to quietly smolder until finally going out. They woke up sometime later and rekindled their lust for a brief reprise before passing out for the rest of the night.
The sound of a gentle tapping at Hermione's chamber door roused them at eight o'clock. It was Missy, she had come to discreetly remind Hermione that she had meetings this morning.
Harry and Hermione wrestled their way out of the mess they had made of the bed. It looked like it had been caught up in a frenzied tornado. They both looked at it with sheepish grins.
"We smell like a pair of plague rats," said Hermione as she waved her hand in front of her nose.
"What did you expect," smirked Harry, "daisies and daffodils?"
"Well, no. But I was hoping for better. I'm certain Missy will have some sort of clever comment about the laundry waiting for me when I return home."
"Then I suggest we clean up," quipped Harry, "Maybe we can lessen the damage."
With that thought in mind, they wrapped themselves in one of the sheets and hurried into the loo. After a mutual shower and a little more counterproductive frisking about, they emerged from Hermione's chamber in C minus condition to find a sumptuous breakfast waiting for them. Harry was now wearing his shoes, pants, and dress shirt. Hermione was wearing a very fluffy robe that had been waiting for her in the loo.
"Missy took the liberty of preparing breakfast for both of you, mistress," said the cheerful elf.
"That was very thoughtful of you, Missy," said Hermione. "Thank you."
"Missy is proud to serve the Minister."
"I am very fortunate to have you," answered Hermione. "I always appreciate your efforts."
They sat down and enjoyed a breakfast filled with bacon, bangers, French toast, scrambled eggs mixed with bits of onions, peppers, potatoes, ham, and cheese, as well as pumpkin juice and frothy cappuccino. By the end, they were beginning to feel human once again.
"I really should be going," said Harry as they finished their meal. "I have to be at the Ministry for some meetings and I don't think the clothes I have here will do."
"I'll have Navon take you home," said Hermione.
"Thank you."
A few minutes later, Harry had gathered his clothes and was ready to leave. They embraced for a long kiss before passing through the magical portal. It was too early for anyone to be in the pub, so no magic was necessary to conceal them. Hermione and Harry kissed again before she let him out the door.
"Are you okay, Harry?" she asked as he headed for the waiting limo. "Let's meet for lunch in a day or two. I'll check my schedule."
"I feel good...uh...better than good," he replied. "Message me a time."
- Act III -
What are you thinking?
Two days later, just before noon, Harry received a message suggesting they have lunch at two-thirty in the Ministry dining hall. They shared that lunch and several more, a couple of dinners, a quidditch match between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, a day at a Renaissance festival, and several other outwardly innocent activities giving the appearance of two friends hanging out together. Meanwhile, behind this facade, the conversations, intimacy, and...well, there are a lot of sketchy adjectives available...lovemaking was rapidly building the relationship to new levels like pressure building up inside a pressure cooker. They knew it was getting closer and closer to the time they would have to announce themselves. If they did not, they were getting more and more likely to be outed by those who were beginning to notice the frequency of their public appearance. While no one can solve the equation 3x+1. Their equation was quickly becoming closer to being 1+1.
One morning, a message sailed into the room where Harry was talking with some aurors from outlying regions. Harry unfolded the little, pink airplane and saw a short message that made his heart smile. It said:
"Harry,
Meet me at one-thirty for lunch.
H"
The large H was written in a fancy bit of calligraphy. It was the first she has signed herself in that fashion. She normally signed herself as Hermione. However, one day she had signed herself as Hermione Jean Granger Minister of Magic. That caused a lot of hee-hawing when he met her later.
Harry quickly wrote the word 'Excellent' on the paper and refolded it. He then flipped it into the air where it dutifully flew off on its return route.
Harry went on with his meeting like the note was just a trivial matter of minor importance. He finally wrapped with them at one-twenty-five and promptly headed off in the direction of the dining hall. When he arrived a couple of minutes later, he saw Hermione as she was just taking her seat at her private table.
"AHA!" he exclaimed as he walked up to the table and hopped into a seat. "So you're H. I was wond…"
"...who did you think it was," she cut in.
"I was considering Hagrid. It could…"
"...shuttup," she snapped with a smirk as she fidgeted with the wand in her hand. "You know Hagrid can barely write and spell."
"Well, I…" he never finished as he started to laugh just as Pippsy, Hermione's personal elf inside the Ministry appeared to serve them.
"How may Pippsey serve you, Minister?" asked the diminutive elf.
Hermione smiled at the elf as she rubbed the tip of her wand on her neck like she was scratching an itch. "Wǒ yào shuǐ zhǔ jiǎozi hé suān là tāng, qing" she said without missing a beat.
"What the bloody hell did you just say?" asked Harry in a shocked voice before Pippsy could ask for his order.
"I asked for boiled dumplings and a bowl of hot and sour soup," came her reply in a matter-of-fact manner. "If you order foreign food in the native language, you get better food."
"I didn't know you spoke...uh...Chinese is it?" replied Harry, still sounding a little amazed.
"It's a spell I picked up. It's really quite useful," she said, sounding a bit smug.
"How many languages can you speak with it?" asked Harry, now quite intrigued.
"Well, there is a different spell for each one. I know about twenty."
"That's bloody amazing."
"Yes, but you must have spoken at least a hundred different languages in the puzzle."
"Well, yeah. But I don't remember any of them," he said, twisting his face."
"Pity."
Pippsy was standing by patiently as they talked. Such was the lot of a Ministry elf. Unlike Missy, Pippsy was bound to her job serving the Minister for Magic.
"So, if I wanted food from India, could you order it?" asked Harry.
"Yes, actually, Hindi is one of the language spells I learned," she smiled.
"Can you order me some samosas and Mulligatawny soup? I have fond recollections of them?" he asked in a hopeful voice.
"Pippsy," said Hermione as she once again rubbed her neck with her wand tip, causing the elf to look at her attentively. "Samose aur muligaataavanee soop, krpaya."
"Will that be all, Minister," asked the elf.
"Yes, Pippsy."
The elf disappeared with the promise to promptly return with their food.
"So, how should we proceed with our...uh...affair," queried Hermione, cutting to the chase of the reason for their meeting.
"I...uh...I don't know," stammered Harry, clearly searching for an answer. "I just thought we could give it a go and see what happens."
"No," responded Hermione. "We need a plan. We can't just leave it to chance after all of this time."
"I don't think we can plan this. It's not possible," said Harry. "None of my relationships were ever planned. They just happened. Cho and I just happened. Ginny and I were manufactured. Luna and I...uh...well, we know that story all too well. But it just happened. All of them went forward on their own schedule and ended or succeeded on their own."
Hermione sat there, looking at him with a quizzical expression as if to say 'Okay, and why is this relevant'.
"I think you were married too long. I…" started Harry, getting cut off mid-sentence.
"...and what's that supposed to mean?" said Hermione in a suddenly perturbed voice.
"I mean...uh...have you actually dated anyone since you broke up with Ron?" replied Harry, trying to salvage the situation.
"Well...uh...No. I have been really busy…" said Hermione, still a bit riled as she tried to justify the reality of her having not dated in decades.'
"...That's it," began Harry, sensing he was regaining his footing. "I think we may be a bit rusty at it. We might need to train up a little. Learn as we go."
"Of course," responded Hermione, seeming to be cooling down. "You're right. We are no better than we were back in Hogwarts trying to learn the ropes of dating and such. So, how do we do it? Should we just wing it?"
"I think we just need to proceed in a dignified, respectable fashion. You're the Minister for Magic…" started Harry before getting cut off.
"...And you're the hero of the war. The hero who killed Voldemort. People still remember that."
I mean," said Harry, cutting back in. "We need to be cautious. We need to protect your...uh...our images while we sort things out in private."
Just then, Pippsy reappeared with their food. She placed Hermione's dumplings and soup on the table. The steam was still rising off the dumplings indicating they were fresh from the boiler. The soup looked delicious. Its brownish-red broth was loaded with shrimp, strips of pork and bamboo, little cubes of tofu, and many other items. Its aroma announced to the world that it was spicy and succulent.
Hermione poured a small bowl of blackish-red sauce over the dumplings and picked up a pair of intricately carved chopsticks that resembled small wands as Pippsy served Harry his food.
Harry's plate had five samosas on it. The spicy aroma immediately reminded him of Chennai and the Ramans. The bowl of soup looked and smelled equally delicious. He could see a bountiful quantity of shredded chicken mixed with the finely minced pieces of carrot and other vegetables swimming in the spicy, lentil broth.
Their conversation got sidetracked as they turned their interest to their food. Hermione picked up a dumpling with the chopsticks like she had been using them all of her life. A big smile blossomed on her face as she savored the first bite.
Harry picked up a samosa and brushed it through its accompanying sauce. "UMMMM!" he exclaimed as he bit into it. "Spicy potato...and that mango chutney. These are fabulous. Just the way I remember them."
"I'm glad you like them," said Hermione before taking the first taste of her soup. "I told you these language spells got you better food."
"Better! Bloody amazing."
Hermione smiled as she picked up a dumpling and reached across the table to offer it to Harry. He opened his mouth and she placed it inside. His face lit up as he started to chew it.
Blimey, Hermione," he said as he swallowed the last bit. "That is delicious. Those spells are amazing. What else have you been hiding from me?"
"I don't know," she purred with a devilish grin. "Maybe you should hang around and find out."
Pippsy reappeared a few moments later as they were finishing the food. "May I get you anything else?" she asked.
"Two butterbeers," said Hermione. "Put a stick of ginger in mine."
"Right away, Minister," replied the elf as she disappeared with a snap of her fingers.
"I've been thinking," said Harry as he looked at Hermione. "Do you remember the Battle of Hogwarts during the war?"
Uh...yes. I seem to recall it," said Hermione like she wanted to say 'Really?' to such an obvious question.
Do you remember when we were searching for Rowena Ravenclaw's lost diadem in the castle?"
"Kind of," she said, rolling her eyes upward. "You were doing most of the looking for it. Ron and I were searching for basilisk fangs as I remember."
"But we were doing it like students researching a paper. We did that with all of them. We hunted the most carefully guarded secrets of the darkest wizard of all time like we were trying to get an outstanding on one of our O.W.L.s. I think Dumbledore was approaching in a similar fashion."
"Okay...uh...fine. But what does that have to do with us?"
Just then, Pippsy reappeared with their butterbeers. She sat them down and disappeared so Harry and Hermione could continue their conversation. Harry picked up his and took a drink being careful not to get the froth on his nose.
"Aaaah!" exhaled Harry as he sat down the glass. "That's spectacular. I haven't had a butterbeer in ages. I remember the first time I ever had one down at The Three Broomsticks. I thought it was the best thing…"
"AHEM!" said Hermione, interrupting what was certain to be an interesting anecdote. "You were saying before…"
"Oh yes. Sorry," said Harry as he tried to refocus. I was talking about us searching for Horcruxes."
"Yes. You were."
"I don't think I ever told you about this. Anyway, I was running up the stairs to the Astronomy Tower while all hell was preparing to erupt outside. I had no idea where the diadem was or what it looked like. But I had to start somewhere."
Hermione was looking at him, still confused about where he was heading. But, she decided to let him go on for the time being.
Luna tried to stop me. She said we needed to talk. I told her I was too busy to talk to her and started back up the stairs. She screamed at me to stop and listen to her right now. It was kind of startling. I had never seen that side of Luna."
"That is actually shocking. I have never seen Luna really get mad and raise her voice."
"Exactly," said Harry, picking up where he left off. "She said...well it's completely brilliant...that I should remember what Cho said. Cho said no one alive had ever seen it. I looked at her like 'so'. Then she said the answer was obvious. We had to talk to someone who was dead. Then she had me walk downstairs to a place and talk to The Grey Lady...uh...Helena Ravenclaw. Helen told me the diadem was hidden in the Room of Requirement."
"Great," said Hermione with a puzzled look on her face. "I never knew that. It was brilliant. But what does it have to do with us?"
"I'm not sure, but I think it could be everything. The point is the way Luna thinks. She lives outside the box. You, me, just about everyone lives and thinks inside a box. I'm not certain the box even exists for Luna. She sees things no one else can with great clarity," said Harry as he took the last sip of his butterbeer.
"So," said Hermione with a tentative note in her voice as she picked up her glass. "Are you suggesting the solution to our relationship lies outside some box? Just how are we supposed to get outside this box?"
"That's what I am pondering," replied Harry as Hermione finished her drink. Can you get us another couple of butterbeers?
Hermione immediately snapped her fingers and Pippsy appeared with a pop.
"What can I get for you, Minister?"
"Two more butterbeers, please."
"Yes, Minister," said the elf as she disappeared with another pop.
"Do you remember when we were hiding out in the Forest of Dean?"
"Yes. It's a beautiful place," Hermione said with a smile drawn from the remembrance.
"You said maybe we should just stay there...grow old together. Maybe you were thinking more clearly then. You were away from Molly's cookies."
"I think it was just wishful thinking...a fantasy. I wasn't really suggesting…"
"...I know. I know," said Harry, jumping in. "Do you remember when we were in the restaurant?"
"Of course," she replied as Pippsy reappeared and sat down their fresh drinks before disappearing.
"I said something to the effect of maybe we should just go back to our first year at school and see what happens."
"I remember. That was funny. As if…" Hermione chuckled, then suddenly stopping mid-sentence as she saw that Harry was not chuckling, even a little. Her eyes opened wide and her jaw dropped a little. "Are you serious? Tell me you're not serious? I don't think that's even possible."
"Would you do it?" said Harry, his face as serious as she had ever seen him. "If it were possible, what would you do? Would you go back to our beginning and see if our love is meant to be?
"I don't know...uh...uh...uh...that's incredibly dangerous to even think about. You remember what McGonagall told me about using the time turner. And she was only talking about four or five hours. You're talking about decades."
"I know," said Harry. "I think we could do it with the Room of Requirement. We would have to be insanely careful. But I think we could do it."
"Well...if you really want to discuss it, maybe we should go back to my office," said Hermione in a bit of a nervous voice as she glanced around the room at the few people still eating. "You never know when prying ears can be listening in. We need a secure space."
"I supposed your right, of course," agreed Harry, starting to smile as he went on. "This is the craziest thing I think we have ever considered. And that's saying something, isn't it?'
They quickly finished their butterbeers and stood up to leave. They keep a professional distance between them for the benefit of any prying eyes as they exited. A few moments later, they entered the security of Hermione's office and closed the door.
"There," said Hermione as she chose to sit down on the couch instead of behind her desk. "There's a lot of security surrounding these walls, but you know that. Most of it was put in place by the Auror office. We can talk without the Rita Skeeters of the world listening in. So, what are you thinking?"