AN: Sorry for the late posting! Thank you so much to everyone who favorited/followed, and many hugs to everyone who left a review! You are all darlings: LightofEvolution, JLLove, anjiepotter05, thehedge, I was BOTWP, kartastrophe, Jd-dox, PinkSlytherin, and guest! I'm so glad you're all enjoying the story :D
Here's Harry...
Changing Scenery
Chapter 14: Seams
As Harry followed Hermione out of the Ministry and into Diagon Alley, he was uncomfortably aware that it had been over a week since he'd seen her. He couldn't help but notice as he walked behind her that she looked good. Very good. He'd never really had a reason to appreciate the fact that Hermione resisted the Ministry dress code by wearing very smart muggle clothes, but he found himself more than a little interested in the way her bum filled out the tight knee-length skirt and the black stockings she wore underneath. Oh great, get aroused right before you sit down to lunch with her. Fantastic. Harry was grateful that as an Auror, he was forced to wear the Ministry-mandated robes. They were thick and designed to provide a barrier against spells, but they worked equally well at hiding inopportune erections.
Harry wasn't surprised when Hermione led him to the little café they usually went to. It was a bit crowded, but they managed to squeeze into a table at the back. After the waiter had come and taken their orders, Hermione flicked her wand to raise privacy wards.
"So, uh, how have you been?" Harry asked. Oh fucking brilliant. You sound like a fourth year who's never talked to a girl.
"I've been…good." She fiddled with her fork. "I resigned," she blurted out.
"Wait, what? You're leaving the Ministry?" Harry asked, an edge of panic tinging his question.
"Oh, um, not yet." She blew out a breath and then placed both hands in her lap. "I'm finishing out my open cases and then I'll leave. I'm leaving Felicity in charge. You remember her? I mentioned her to you a few weeks ago. She's really nice, and I'm sure she'll do really well and she'll be great for the department, of course." Hermione abruptly cut off, her cheeks turning ever so slightly pink. "But how, uh, how have you been, Harry?"
He cleared his throat. "Good, I've been good. Busy. Really busy. The charges against Dunham should go to the Wizengamot next week."
"Oh! So you've gotten the case ready?"
"Yeah, I was going to owl you, actually. You'll have to testify, if you don't mind." Harry felt much more comfortable now that they were discussing work.
"Of course. But I haven't had a chance to check Dunham's work yet. Not thoroughly. And I'll probably need an expert in Potions and one in Charms to go through the journals with me. There's so much going on that I'd need someone to help sort out the bits of the spell and the ritual and the potion he was using. I've checked some of his Arithmantic equations, but they don't make sense out of context." She tapped her fingers against the table. "It's really frustrating, actually. I hate the thought that some insane murderer is outsmarting me."
Harry smiled at her reassuringly. "I think the insanity rules out any cleverness. You probably can't sort it out because it doesn't make sense. But I'll ask Robards if he knows any Potions or Charms people who are discreet who would be able to consult."
"That'd be great, Harry." Hermione smiled brightly at him.
He absolutely would not admit that little butterflies took up residence in his stomach. He was just a bit hungry, that was all.
When their food arrived a few moments later, before the silence that had descended could become awkward, Harry was very grateful. They both tucked in, but out of the corner of his eye, Harry could see Hermione fiddling with her unused spoon and her water glass and knew that she was building up the nerve to talk. About, well, everything, he supposed.
"I went to Malfoy Manor this weekend."
Harry jerked his head up so fast he might have given himself whiplash. "What?" That was not what he'd expected to hear.
"Malfoy invited me," Hermione said quietly. "He sent me a note a few hours after I received his invitation to the Samhain Ball. He said he wanted to give me the chance to…confront my demons, as it were."
Harry sat there dumbfounded for a moment before reaching out to take the hand that was clutching her fork so tightly her knuckles were white. "Why didn't you tell me?"
Why didn't I think of her when I got the invitation? I should have known she'd get one too! He knew that she still had nightmares about that day. She'd told him a year or so ago after a maudlin night spent drinking muggle whisky and reminiscing and remembering.
"I don't know," she said, in a way which suggested that wasn't quite true. "I just, I suppose I didn't know what to tell you. But I went."
He stroked his thumb over the back of her hand. "Are you okay?"
She shrugged. "I think so. It wasn't fun, of course, but it felt…not good, exactly, but there were demons that I don't suppose I'd ever really faced and I got to face them."
"I would have been there for you, you know that."
She nodded. "I know. But this was something I needed to do alone."
"And Malfoy let you do that?"
Her mouth twisted. "He was surprisingly mature about the whole thing. Well, for a while."
He recognized the look in her eyes. That fucker. "What did he do?" he asked angrily, though he carefully kept his grip gentle.
She sighed heavily. "Nothing, I suppose. Not really. He was a just a giant prat."
I can't arrest him for that. Pity. "Do you want me to go talk to him?"
Hermione smiled at him again, although it was dimmer than it had been earlier. "I appreciate the thought, but no, Harry. You know you could be suspended. And besides, I'm sure Kingsley has you on security for the Ball, so you'll have to play nice with him."
Harry pouted over dramatically, eliciting a small chuckle. "I suppose. And Kingsley has me on "make nice" duty more than security."
"Figures," she said.
Harry noticed that Hermione had yet to withdraw her hand. That bolstered his courage enough for him to ask his next question with studied nonchalance. "Are you going with anyone?"
Hermione's puzzled look followed by a slight blush told him that she'd guessed his motive. "Um, no, I don't think so."
Harry resolutely ignored the fact that he could feel the tips of his ears turning red. "You could come with me. Might keep you from being bored. And that way you'll only be seated next to one pompous Wizengamot windbag."
Hermione batted her eyelashes. "Why Harry Potter, are you asking me to the Samhain Ball?"
Harry rubbed his free hand through his hair. "S'pose I am. Are you saying yes?"
She smirked. "Only so I don't have to listen to two windbags."
Harry grinned, feeling lighter than he had in ages. Very carefully, making deliberate eye contact, he lifted her hand to his mouth and brushed a kiss across the back. "I look forward to it."
The next week and a half passed in a rush of trying to sort out getting Malfoy's case to trial and arranging security for the Samhain Ball. Mostly that meant endless meetings.
He met with Robards four times in eight days. Harry interviewed Dunham one more time, but he'd descended so far into madness that Harry didn't get any more information. Aurors who'd been sent back to the abandoned house where they'd found Malfoy had uncovered the bodies of the four victims Hermione had mentioned buried behind the house. They'd been given proper burials in a Ministry graveyard. Hermione and Harry, as well as the other Aurors assigned to the raid, had attended the short service given for all of them, and Malfoy had made a short, surprising appearance as well. He hadn't spoken to either of them, but Harry swore he could feel Malfoy's eyes even though every time he looked over, Malfoy was looking somewhere else.
Hermione had owled him new information as she went through the diaries, and they had more than enough information to put Dunham in Azkaban for life. One of the things Hermione had lobbied for, before she settled into working at the Department for Magical Creatures, was an end to Dementors at Azkaban. Due to all the bad memories from the war, she'd been successful. Because of that, the harshest penalty a witch or wizard could receive was a life sentence in Azkaban, which was a still a gloomy and depressing place even without the Dementors.
Dunham's trial was set to begin the day after Samhain.
When Harry wasn't busy with Malfoy's case, he was busy coordinating security for the Ball. Even though it was being held at the Manor and hosted by Malfoy, so far Harry had only spoken with Narcissa Malfoy, who was apparently in charge of managing the Ball. Harry had visited Malfoy Manor several times, and each time, it was Narcissa who met him and showed him around and allowed him to cast whatever spells he needed and then served him tea before he left.
Despite the fact that Narcissa Malfoy had saved Harry's life all those years ago, they hadn't developed a relationship that could be termed anything more than "very polite." Harry respected her, but he hadn't made any efforts to befriend her. The exchanged niceties when they crossed paths and no more. At least she's not bad to work with.
As the week dragged on and the Ball drew closer, Harry found himself anticipating seeing Malfoy again. He hadn't seen him but for that one time and hadn't spoken to him at all since that Friday night nearly three weeks ago.
He and Hermione went out for lunch almost every day. They talked a lot about the case, but they also did something someone might have called flirting if it weren't so terribly awkward.
The weekend before the Ball, Harry did something he usually avoided at all costs – went clothes shopping. He'd owled Ginny and asked for her help. Normally he went alone, but he was terrible at buying formal robes, and even he had to admit, reluctantly, that Ginny was useful for shopping. She'd sent back an enthusiastic agreement and they'd arranged to meet Sunday afternoon at the Leaky Cauldron.
Harry Apparated to the Leaky ten minutes late after trying to figure out what one should wear to go clothes shopping, failing, and then ending up in trainers, jeans, and a t-shirt. Ginny, who was leaning against the wall by the Diagon Alley door of the Leaky, rolled her eyes when he popped into view.
"I don't know why I bother, really I don't. You're hopeless, Harry." She smirked at him before giving him a hug.
Harry ran a hand through his hair, absently trying to pat it down. "Hey, Ginny. Thanks for doing this."
Ginny tucked her arm through his and then started dragging him down the street. "Nonsense. You know I'm happy to help." She gave him a very not-subtle once-over out of the corner of her eye. "You desperately need it."
Harry looked down at his clothes. "Er, yeah, probably."
"Not probably, darling. Definitely."
Ginny kept up a running stream of conversation as she dragged him down the street and into a new tailor that was called "Bespoke and Befitting." The shop windows held several mannequins wearing wizarding robes that looked far too fashionable to be comfortable. Harry grimaced.
"Ginny, are you sure about this place?"
Ginny looked in the direction of his gaze before rolling her eyes. "Yes, now come on."
She pulled him inside and then walked up to the counter to talk to the young man standing there. Harry stood there awkwardly while they chatted. The man, who was wearing robes that were finer than anything in Harry's wardrobe, glanced over at him before clucking and turning back to Ginny.
Just because I like to be comfortable doesn't mean there's anything wrong with the way I dress. Harry tried to tell himself that when yet another man in a suit came out and walked over to Harry. He was older than the man at the counter and his dark brown hair had a few threads of silver.
The man held out his hand. "Daniel Blishwick."
Harry shook his hand. He didn't recognize the man, but the last name was vaguely familiar. "Harry Potter."
The man's mouth quirked, and Harry didn't need to guess why.
"Pleased to meet you. If you'd follow me, we can start your fitting."
Ginny gave him a little wiggle of her fingers that clearly meant he should follow Blishwick and then grinned at him. "Have fun!"
Harry frowned at her before following Blishwick into a back room.
Blishwick guided him onto a small raised platform. He Summoned a measuring tape and then starting flicking his wand to direct it.
"So, Miss Weasley was a bit vague on what exactly you were looking for. If you wouldn't mind filling me in?"
Harry was grateful for the slight distraction from the strangely snake-like tape wrapping around various portions of his body.
"Well, the, uh, the Ministry ball is coming up. For Samhain, that is. And I realized that I needed new dress robes." Which wasn't quite true. Harry had a perfectly decent set of dress robes hanging in his closet. Sure they were six years old and a little short and a bit ragged around the edges from repeated use of Scourgify to clean them. Okay, maybe I do need new robes. And not that Harry would say, but he did want something that was maybe a little more flattering. Not that he was trying to impress anyone. Definitely not.
"I see." Blishwick flicked his wand again and the tape flew back to its spot and then a column of bright blue numbers blinked into existence, floating next to him. Another flick of his wand and the numbers transferred themselves into neat lines of black ink on a piece of parchment that Blishwick held. "Do you have any preference for the dress robes?"
"Well, if they could be comfortable, that would be good." Harry resisted the urge to run a hand through his hair. At least Blishwick wasn't as judgmental as some of the tailors Harry had visited. He had yet to make any comment on Harry's current attire.
Blishwick blinked and then nodded. "I will take that into account. I meant more particularly if you had a preference for color or style?"
Harry felt a blush creep up his neck. "Oh, right. Uh, not really. I'm not sure I know much about dress robe styles."
"We'll go classic, then." Blishwick flicked his wand at the back wall, which consisted entirely of shelves devoted to bolts of fabric. Black fabric floated towards them. "You say that you need them for Samhain, so I will have to work a bit more quickly than I usually do." For the first time, his voice sounded disapproving.
"Er, sorry about that." While he was glad that Blishwick wasn't giving him special treatment because he was the Chosen One or the Savior, Harry did feel bad about him having to accommodate him anyway. "Will they be ready?"
Blishwick gave a delicate shrug. "You don't require anything extravagant, so it won't be terribly difficult. I should be able to finish them today. Although you will have to extend your appointment."
"Of course, no problem," Harry rushed to say.
Blishwick smiled slightly. "Have a seat, Mister Potter."
He waited until Harry had done so and then started twirling his wand through the air, manipulating the bolts of fabric. A green bolt joined the two black ones that had floated over earlier and the three twisted around each other in a dance that was nearly mesmerizing. After a while, several large pieces cut themselves off the rolls and then the bolts floated back to their place on the wall. The parchment that held the numbers floated gently into the air beside the twisting mass of fabric and Blishwick seemed to look at both at the same time as he worked.
Harry watched from a chair pushed against the same wall as the shelves that contained various measuring tapes and bits of equipment Harry wasn't sure about. There was a table next the chair which held several wizarding magazines as well as a copy of that day's Daily Prophet. Harry picked up Quidditch Monthly and flipped through it, dividing his attention between that and watching Blishwick.
After what must have been more than an hour, Blishwick stepped back and dabbed lightly at his forehead with a handkerchief he pulled from the air before Banishing it again. Harry watched as he walked around what was now very clearly a set of robes, inspecting it closely, occasionally flicking his wand to adjust something. Finally he stood up and gestured to Harry.
"Please try these on, Mister Potter," Blishwick instructed.
Harry walked over and he didn't have time to awkwardly request Blishwick turn around or something because he'd already left, closing the door behind him. Harry quickly changed into the robes, leaving his clothes on the chair he'd been sitting on. Harry wasn't sure how, but Blishwick returned at the exact moment he finished slipping into the outer robe.
"If you wouldn't mind, Mister Potter," he said, gesturing at the platform.
Harry quickly stepped up, only just avoiding tripping on the hem of the robe.
Blishwick raised an eyebrow but otherwise didn't comment. He then walked around Harry as he had around the robes before.
"If you don't mind, Mister Potter, I will make some adjustments. You may feel some slight tugging or pulling on the fabric." He raised his wand in expectation.
"Of course." Harry purposefully kept his hands loose, avoiding the temptation of reaching for the wand that was strapped to a holster on his forearm.
Blishwick then began a series of adjustments and the sensation of fabric pulling and tightening and loosening was indeed quite strange.
Finally Blishwick stepped back. He walked around Harry once more before nodding sharply. He Levitated a large full-length mirror from its place leaning against the wall and moved it in front of Harry.
"What do you think, Mister Potter?"
Harry stared at himself in the mirror, only just keeping from gaping. He hadn't really thought a pair of nice robes could make that much of a difference in how he saw himself, but he looked like a completely different person. Even though the robes were mostly black, they looked nothing like the heavy black Auror robes he wore on a daily basis. These were smooth and shimmered with a pattern that seemed to shift and swirl, drawing the eye to what Harry personally considered some of his better features, and even managing to make his hair look less messy, somehow.
"These are great, Mister Blishwick," Harry said sincerely.
Blishwick smiled, more than he had the entire visit. "Excellent. I'll have these sent to your house. You can arrange everything with Alan at the counter. Have a good day, Mister Potter."
Blishwick shook his hand again before leaving Harry alone to change.
The day of Samhain, Harry woke up excited but also with what felt like a lump of lead in his stomach. He went through his morning routine almost without thought. It wasn't until he was tying the laces on his trainers that he felt his mind catch up with his body and his chest tightened. He finished tying his shoe aggressively and then stood up. He grabbed a jumper and pulled it on before gripping his wand and Apparating.
Like he had every year since the war, Harry Apparated to Godric's Hollow. He walked slowly down the lane that was quiet this early. The nearly-silent pop that accompanied his Apparation, a consequence of Auror training, had not disturbed the early morning stillness. At the end of the road, a wrought iron gate rose up, interrupting a low stone wall. Harry walked through, feeling the faint brush of magic that recognized him as a wizard. He walked the well-worn path to his parents' grave and then sat on the ground in front of the cold slab of marble. He cast a Warming charm before tucking his wand away.
He brushed his fingers over the carved letters, letting the sadness and pain come. Hermione and Ron had both offered to come with him back when he'd started doing this, but he'd told them he didn't want company. This was something he needed to do alone. As he sat there, he allowed the tears to drip down his cheeks, rubbing them away every once in a while with the sleeve of his jumper.
He wasn't sure how long he sat there, but it was long enough for him to purge his soul of some of the dark feelings that had built up in the year since he'd last visited. Even though he'd enjoyed seeing more of Malfoy than he had in years, his presence had also stirred up bad memories from the war. He was sure the same was true for Hermione. He thought of her face when she'd talked about her visit to Malfoy Manor. Well, maybe she hasn't been enjoying his company.
Finally, he rose. As he did every year before he left, he conjured a wreath of white lilies in front of their gravestone, just as Hermione had done all those years ago. He rested his hand against the cold stone for a moment before turning around and leaving the cemetery.
For the first time, he had something to look forward to on what was usually the saddest day of his year. Harry walked down the lane with a hint of a spring in his step, and as he Disapparated, he thought that his parents would like to see that he was moving forward.
AN: I have a question for you all, lovely readers! This fic is being cross-posted on AO3, and I asked this question there as well: so, I have a little mini-chapter about Hermione and Ginny getting ready, and I want to know - do you guys want to see it? It's from Hermione's perspective. Draco's chapter isn't quite ready, but I promise there will be a nice long chapter about the ball! So, go straight to the ball, or a little mini-chapter first?
Please review!