Fridays with the Family
Judging from the cacophony coming from the entranceway, a great and evil act had been committed. The kind of great and evil act that was such a regular part of life that Harry was able to suppress his immediate urge to draw his wand and go on the hunt.
This was not that kind of evil, oh no, this was the kind of evil that was a pleasant little reality in the existence of Harry Potter. But the best part of this kind of evil, was that it was something truly magical, yet required no spells, wands or any of that nonsense.
This was not the first time that this most grievous of sins had occurred. Indeed, it wasn't even the first time that it had occurred that year. But it was the kind of rare sin that he coveted deep down, where even he feared to tread.
The fallout from such a sin that was so distinct; Harry knew instantly and exactly what had happened.
He paused and lowered the glass of milk which he had been about to pour into the pot, placing it on the bench as he listened in, eager to hear what happened next.
Firstly, the door slammed into the wall as it was opened with the force of a harried witch who constantly surprised Harry with her way of moving with such speed and force that stopped just shy of completely knocking doors off of their hinges.
Next was a scurrying of feet, as a coat was placed in its preassigned position on the racks, before said rack was unceremoniously knocked to the floor.
That, of course, was when the cursing began. Not cursing as in the horrible spells that were designed to do horrible things to people. More the kind of cursing that happened when a person was having a bad day and that small inconvenience had occurred that finally sent them over the edge.
That small inconvenience such as a coat rack placed in the exact same location that it had lived in with for years. A coat rack that Harry could no longer remember if he had brought it into Grimmauld Place when he had moved in, or if it had been part of the Black family furniture.
Whoever the aspiring interior decorator had been was of no consequence, though Harry did suspect that the very person currently inolved in removing from its place of residence may have been the culprit. That fact did not save the ill fated rack from crashing to the ground like the physical manifestation of the end of the witch's patience.
Harry moved into the doorway to watch down the hall. It was a show for the ages.
She was manually picking the coat rack up and attempting to arrange the coats back into their positions. Positions she had assigned in the first place, mind you. As she did so, she became more and more frantic. Naturally that led to a 'one thing hanging, two things falling' situation which brought no end of amusement to Harry as he watched the unfolding display.
Her hair, while slightly more controlled then in their Hogwarts days, retained its bushy nature as it fought just as hard to escape form her bun as she fought to keep the coats on the rack. It happened when she got frazzled like this, something that was about a treasured rarity at this point.
He took a moment to appreciate the colourful language she was sprouting, language that she wouldn't dare utter in the presence of Teddy. Had it been one of his day with the larrikin lad he called a Godson, her language would have been much more contained and full of decorum. Had Teddy been present, she would substitute her currently favoured off-colour word for fornication with the name of a certain former Minister of Magic.
Well, he hoped anyway.
He took another moment to marvel at it. There, In the flesh, was a beast so rare that it had become the stuff of legend. Harry wished he had his camera. He wondered how much the Quibbler would pay for a photograph of such a rare and mysterious magical creature. He suspected that it would be quite the hefty fee.
It was the rarest magical creature of all.
A tardy Hermione Granger.
He watched as this almost never before seen creature was finally able to win her end of the film battle with her great foe of the age. She gave what could only be described as sharp exhale of attempted composure, satisfied that everything was in its place. Which is precisely when she spun just in time to see him there, leaning against the door frame and watching her with some amusement.
Her face, which had been set in its scowl, remained in that place. She gave him a look that dared him to judge her. He gave her a look right back that informed her that he was, under no uncertain terms, doing exactly that.
It was a battle for the wills. A battle even more extreme then the now famous battle of the coat rack.
And it resulted in another tremendous defeat for Hermione.
Her frustrated glower turned to embarrassment and she gave him a sheepish smile. A sheepish smile that was accompanied by an entirely unconvincing shrug.
"I knocked over the coat stand." She mumbled, a small blush coming to her cheeks.
"I heard." He couldn't contain the amusement as it crept over his features. "So did the neighbours, Diagon Alley, and I suspect half of Hogwarts."
Her small smile of embarrassment grew and she let out a musical laugh that only served to make Harry smile just that little bit more. His heart soared when she did that. When she laughed.
When he made her laugh.
She quickly set her features back into a small smile. "Git." She huffed, as she raised her chin in a faux haughty manner and approached him.
She wrapped her arms around him and gave him a squeeze. He held her right back.
"Hey." He said into her bushy mane.
"Hey yourself." She whispered into his chest. "Sorry, I'm late."
He laughed and released her, ignoring the ardent protestations of every part of his being that told him to hold her. To never let her go. To take in her breathtaking scent. That mixture of vanilla and citrus that always served to remind of a place that didn't feel entirely real.
A place he had never quite really known.
A home.
He gave his head a small shake. Such thoughts came from that place he stayed away from. They were dangerous.
They were certainly not to be trusted.
Besides, he was on a mission here. He had orders. It was out of his hands now.
She followed him into the kitchen, rolling up the sleeves of her cardigan as she did so.
"What do you need me to do?" She said as she looked around the kitchen. "What are we cooking for dinner?"
Harry laughed lightly and approached the table, pulling out a chair. "I need you to sit, relax and take a load off. It's mostly done."
She gave him a look. One of those looks. One of those unimpressed looks that told him that she was annoyed. Harry knew that look. He knew to stare it down, because she wasn't actually annoyed at him. It just looked that way. She was annoyed at herself.
I know her looks, for fucks sake.
"Harry…" She trailed off. "I'm-"
"Under no obligation to help me cook." He finished for her. "I have had a day off. You have been at work all day. I decided to get started a little early. Thought you might appreciate time to just sit down and relax. Take it easy. Which might just be the hardest thing for you to do. I know it's been crazy for you lot with your new law coming in."
Hermione put her hands on her hips and gave him a look.
"We had a deal."
"We did." He agreed, pouring a glass of Pinot Noir and handing it to her, before pointing quite insistently at the chair. "That deal is that we would cook, together. However. Today is one of those days where I had the time to get it done. So now I just need to put in the milk, and we can let it simmer. The longer the simmer, the better the dish."
It was with great reluctance that she took the seat, and possible even greater reluctance that she took the wine. Though she took a small sip and sighed in pleasure.
"Is this the one from the French winery that we really enjoyed?" She asked with eyes closed.
"The one that you enjoyed, yes."
"I love this wine. I think it might just be my favourite."
"It is your favourite." He confirmed. "You say that you think it's your favourite every time you drink it."
She took another small sip and then opened her eyes to look at him.
Those wonderful, beautiful, gorgeous orbs of chocolate with flecks of gold.
Get it together Potter. Stick to the plan.
When has that ever worked for you?
Quidditch?
The point stands.
"Milk?" She finally blinked herself back into consciousness. "Are we having what I think we're having?"
"We are." He grinned at her as he upended the glass into the pot. "Spaghetti Bolognaise."
She sighed. "I think it might be my favourite."
"It is your favourite." He said, as he joined her at the table. "You say that it's your favourite every time you eat it."
She gave him a look. An odd look, but a look none the less.
She gave him what could not ever be denied to be a look. One that he struggled to read. Which was rare in itself.
"I am sorry I wasn't here to help with the preparation, Harry. I just lost track of time."
Harry just waved away her apology and poured himself a glass as he sat opposite her at the table.
"Now, tell me about your day."
Hermione chewed her lip as she looked up at the ceiling in thought.
"My day?" She mused. "My day was good, actually. I got plenty of work done on the new bill this morning. Sorted that. Had a meeting with Geric and the other Senior Prosecutors about its implementation."
"How did that go?"
"It went well." She said with a shrug.
"It went well like a normal person says it went well, or it went well like a Hermione Granger says it went well?"
The way she could pull of such an affronted look, despite it being a longstanding joke between them made Harry wonder if in another life Hermione hadn't been destined for the stage.
"Harry Potter. I don't at all know what you mean."
"Let me rephrase. Did you end up in a stand-up argument with any or all of the people in the room?" Harry raised an eyebrow at her, almost scared of the answer. "Did you get threatened with demotion, forced resignation, or long-term care in the spell damage ward of St Mungo's for…oh what was the word they used last time?"
"Heresy."
"That's the one." Harry said, snapping his fingers as if a long-held mystery had been solved through the miracle of forty five minutes of barely scientific work. At least, that's how it worked in the TV serials that Hermione made him watch. "Or was it Apostasy?"
"It was Heresy." She said with a shrug as she moved to his fridge and took out several dips and freshly cut carrots he had there in preparation for the entertaining they would be doing that very evening. "And no, surprisingly. No accusation of vaguely religious prosecution types today. It was all cordial. Which was handy, it meant I spent much of the afternoon on my book."
"I can't believe you can write at work." Harry muttered, taking a piece of carrot that was so generously offered his way and popping it in his mouth. "Well, I can. It's you after all. You never did know how to take things slow."
"That's me alright." Hermione offered him a winning smile. "And that is the one thing I never did learn."
Harry rolled his eyes at her.
"The one thing?" He asked, his tone pointed.
"Yep." She replied with an arrogance that was not at all true. "The only thing. Just that. Nothing else."
"You sure about that?"
"Certain! Anyway!" She continued on, not giving him a chance to protest her point. "I found an editor who is interested."
"How difficult that must have been…"
"I don't appreciate your sarcasm, Harry Potter. Just because I'm ploughing a crowded field."
"You can say that again."
"Might I remind you that you agreed!" Her voice rose slightly to a tone that brokered no argument. "We had a lovely conversation about it. I remember it very clearly. Like it was yesterday."
"It was six weeks ago."
But if Harry thought that simple snide comment was going to be enough to stop the oncoming, light hearted lecture, he was wrong. He knew it wouldn't. Beside, he didn't want her to stop. So she continued.
"I said, 'Hey Harry, I'm going to write a book.'
And you said, 'That's sounds like a great idea, oh, Hermione, wise one. Woman who has saved my life innumerable times. I would support you in everything you do.'"
Harry gave her a look at the horrible impression of his voice. I mean, his voice wasn't that deep. And he didn't think he spoke that slowly. Almost like a Crabbe or Goryle figure.
But it did nothing to deter her as she took off, continuing her fabricated memory of their conversation.
"And I said. 'Good, because it will be the true story of our time at Hogwarts and the war.'
And you said, 'Well I'm glad someone is going to tell everyone my deep dark secrets. I'm the least private person in the world. It's about time we dug out the last few secrets I have and told them to the world. I wish everyone knew all about my life and my feelings.'"
"Is that how that conversation went?"
"It sure is. I remember it vividly. Need I remind you that one of us has an eidetic memory, and the other can't seem to remember that I have an eidetic memory?"
Harry had to fight. Absolutely battle, to keep the laughter from spilling out of him. It was a true war. A rough as the one with Voldemort. But he managed it. Somehow.
"I don't quite remember it like that."
"Oh, you don't?
"Nope." He said, raising a hand to tick items of his fingers. "Firstly, I don't sound anything like that."
"Yes, you do." She tried to play innocent for as long as she could. It was not for very long. "Okay, maybe not."
"Secondly-"
"I should have made it more broody and melancholy. Like a sorry attempt at an angsty Batman or something."
"Secondly," He continued as if she hadn't spoken. "I don't think I can even pronounce the word inumable. Bloody hell. Innumabel..."
He blinked at her as she gave him a wicked grin.
"Holy Merlin, that word sucks. Point is! I wouldn't say that."
"You say it all the time when you've been drinking."
"I thought we didn't talk about what we said when we were drinking." He raised an eyebrow at her as if daring her to to do exactly that. That would start a battle in which both sides were very well stocked with ammunition.
"I thought there was only a few things we didn't talk about."
It was out of her mouth before she could stop it. She had done it now. She had been so caught up with their banter that she had let it happen. That slip up never happened. Not anymore. They didn't mention that.
Harry gave her a look. A meaningful one.
"Point is." Hermione cleared her throat and continued with a voice that was slightly too high pitched for her. It was almost as if she was putting on the voices again for the fake conversation that she had played out just moments before. Only she wasn't.
"Point is. I found an editor."
"Anyone I know?"
"No." Hermione said nonchalantly, gradually feeling the settling of the mood back into normal. "She's wonderful though. She's from Lancashire. Comes very highly recommended. I think she will handle our story with the respect it deserves, Harry."
Harry gave her a look. Then he shrugged. "If you think it's best Hermione. I gave you permission to write the story, to give people perspective. If you could wait to publish it until after McGonagall made her decision in regard to the Defence posting, that too would be most welcome. Call that a favour for an old friend."
Hermione started to smile, but then her face froze. It was contorted and twisted. Her mouth fell open and her jaw dangled just that little bit more than was usual in the company of others.
She was speechless.
More than that. She was frozen.
In shock.
In horror.
Harry raised an eyebrow and took another sip of his wine.
"Harry." She finally gasped, her hand darting out to grab his in a vice like grip. "It was today, wasn't it?"
He couldn't help the lopsided grin that began to tug at the corners of his mouth. That was something that he could not control. Just like the laugh that threatened to escape at the look on her face. So, he didn't say anything. He gave that laugh no chance to escape. No chance to come running out the end of his tongue and springboard into the air like the divers at the Olympics that Hermione had made him watch.
Just because one of them had become a muggle action hero, didn't mean it meant they should watch the diving every time the Olympics came around.
"That's why you had the day off?"
He nodded.
"I'm so sorry." She finally managed to strangle and wrangle the air into forming those words. "I'm so so sorry, I forgot. I got caught up with everything at work and with the book, and the excitement of the new editor! Then I was late. I was late and I was in such a rush and I knocked over the bloody coat stand and I got caught up in everything and I, well, I completely forgot it was today!"
The traitorous laugh escaped.
It had been one hell of a paragraph that had come out, almost as one word. A very, very long word. One that was accompanied by the bright flame of colour that swam up her cheeks and showed her shame.
One I which she promptly hid behind her hands.
"Oh god, I'm such an awful friend." She mumbled into the protection of her palms. "I'm actually the worst. I was into you for weeks about this – don't argue with me Harry, you know I was."
Her eyes darted up to meet his, before diving back behind the cover of her fingers. "I even set a reminder." She scoffed. "Fat lot of good that did me. I set a reminder. Look!"
She waved her wand and a series of words sprung up. It made the air look like a muggle planner. It had the date, the time, and Harry had time to glimpse a quick 'To-Do' list in the air between them.
On that 'To-Do' list was a series of words that shone in gold. The were illuminated more brightly and then anything that surrounded them.
'Today is Harry's interview. Today is an important day. Ask Harry how he went. He will do exceptionally.'
Harry looked up at the words and smiled.
"You really must teach me that spell."
"You wouldn't use it." She scoffed as she groaned and lowered her head back into her arms. "You're like Ron in that regard. You prefer a life of chaos, disorder and anarchy. I'm such a terrible friend, Harry. You must be so angry with me."
"I'm not at all angry at you, Hermione." He said simply. "I could never be angry with you."
"That," One of her hands shot up, her finger raised in contrast to his point. "Is a lie."
"But a well intentioned one?" He smirked as she raised her head to look at him. "Aren't you going to ask how it went?"
She shook her head. "I can read you like a book, Harry." She sighed. "I'm really sorry. I can't believe you didn't get it."
Suddenly her eyes darkened and her voice contained an edge.
"It's ridiculous, Harry. Simple absurd. How could you not? How could YOU not get it? You only defeated the darkest wizard in a century-"
"Hermione-"
Harry knew what shew as doing. She was building herself up. She was on her way to get full on Hermione high-horsed, and if he didn't stop her, she'd be on her way to Professor McGonagall's office to give her a piece of her mind before the hurricane of her mood had run out of steam.
"Maybe, four times while still in school, plus when you defeated him in what was supposed to be your seventh year-"
"Hermione…"
"Then! Then! What do you do? You go straight to the Auror Academy, because they beg you too, and since then what has happened! Dark Wizards! Dark Witches! You fight them all, because you are Harry, bloody, Potter! You're the boy-who-lived, and they won't be happy until you die young!"
"Hermione!"
"Don't interrupt me Harry, I'm onto something here. You lead a team, and all everyone talks about is how Harry was so brave here, and Harry was so brave there! They don't see what it's doing to you! The injuries! The damage! What it is doing to your bloody mind, Harry Potter!"
"For God's sake, Hermione!"
"And now that you decided that you want to teach. Maybe arm the next generation to prepare for the next generations battles. Help raise a new competency level within young Witches and Wizards. Then they decide, no, you are too valuable on the front lines!"
"HERMIONE!"
"What?"
She froze. He would have laughed at her if he wasn't so glad that she wasn't ranting at him.
She looked a treat. More of her hair managed to escape from her bun. It bundled around her face and down her back. A frazzled mess of the frustration she had just expressed. Her eyes were danger, raw and pure. Ready to go to battle with anyone that dared to stand in her way in regards to this particular topic.
"You think I didn't get it?"
She stared at him. Then the colour came. The paleness of her fury replaced by the tinged pink of embarrassment.
"Uh…You got it then?"
Harry ushered her back to her chair with a wave. She obliged. Sitting across from him and staring at him the studious gaze she usually reserved for a particularly new and informative book.
"No." He said, and her mouth opened. He knew she was about to launch into another full-on tirade, so he reached over and grabbed a hold of her hand as it sat on the table. "But I won't know for some time. I'm not the only person they are interviewing, Hermione. You know there are others. You knew I wasn't likely to find out today."
She looked embarrassed. Her head dropping and her eyes peeking up at him from behind her eyelashes.
"That-" She mumbled in apology. "Is actually quite reasonable. That makes sense."
He offered her a smile, and absently ran his thumb along the back of her hand. He didn't miss the shiver that ran through her at the contact.
But she didn't pull away.
He relished that.
"How did you it go, then?" She mumbled, her eyes not leaving the stroking thumb on the back of her hand.
He breathed a thoughtful breath.
"It went alright, I think. Felt like I was back in first year when we lost all those points. Wasn't the Minerva we have tea with from time to time, that's for sure. It was back to Headmistress McGonagall. I almost forgot how intimidating she can be. But she seemed satisfied with my experience."
Hermione snorted. "Lucky she knows what happened. Otherwise I wouldn't put it past you to downplay it all."
Her eyes moved up to meet his and he offered her a small smile.
"Have to wait and see now. They have some pretty good contenders. See how we go."
She gave him a small smile.
"You've got my vote, Harry."
"I don't think it works that way, Hermione."
She smiled again at him sadly.
"I vote for anything that gets you out of that office."
A silence descended between them. Not awkward. Maybe uneasy. Slightly uneasy. It was a topic they had covered before. Frequently.
She was worried about him.
There eyes met, and they lingered. Lingered for longer than was appropriate. But they didn't care. They didn't care because it was the way they were.
It was like they shared information in the looks and the touches they give.
Finally, Harry broke the silence.
"Why did you think I hadn't got it?"
"Well…" She hummed, chewing her lip thoughtfully. "It was just the set up, right?"
"What do you mean?"
"Oh, Harry." She indicated towards her glass of wine with her free hand. "This wine, it's my favourite wine. The spaghetti bolognaise? Your home cooked version? That's my favourite food. These dips, the cheeses and chocolates I saw in the fridge. They are all my favourites."
Harry blinked at her, missing the point. But for all the points he missed, he did not miss the point that she too had completely and utterly missed the point.
"Well, don't you see?" She smiled at him shyly as he shrugged. "It's all the kind of things we would have if you were consoling me. You've historically done that when it comes to you and me. When you feel bad about something, especially if it effects both of us, you go out of your way to try and make me feel better."
I don't know if it's quite like that… is it?
I'm pathetic.
"I saw it all and then when I remembered, I put two and two together. I figured you had bad news to tell me. Harry, I'm so relieved. I'm sure she will pick you. She'd be a fool not to have you teaching Defence at Hogwarts."
Harry gave her a small smile.
A smile that Hermione entirely missed the meaning of.
A smile that's very meaning sailed entirely over the top of her head.
But one that's meaning bounced around the back of Harry's mind, like a half-hit bludger.
A meaning that bounced through his mind in the voice of the man who had said the words to her. A very good mate of his.
The infamous Hitchwizard.
"If you aren't willing to tell her. Show her. Actions speak louder then words. Get her the things she enjoys. Show her how much she means to you. How much you mean to her. Show her how well you know her, and how well you want her to be happy."
"So?" Hermione said slowly, meaningfully. "Where are your favourites?"
He slowly pulled his hands from hers and missed the small wince that flew across her face in response.
He instead reached up and scratched the back of his neck.
I'm no fucking good at this.
XxxxX
A few hours later and the awkwardness of the moment was forgotten in the gathering of friends. The family.
The family that they had chosen.
They filed in, in ones and twos, making their way into the kitchen with hugs and 'how do you do's.
Ginny was there of course, ready to complain about her poor treatment by the 'Daily Prophet', which had benched her several months ago. She talked amicably with Hannah, who had found her way into the family through ways and means that no one knew or cared to understand.
Hermione was with them, catching up on the happenings of the week as they waited for the late comers.
Well, Ron. Ron and Luna. They were always late on a Friday. There was always an excuse when Ron and Luna were late on Friday, but it was needless. Friday was the night that the terrible twosome of trouble spent the night at Grandma and Grandpop Weasleys.
It meant they had the night to unwind and spend with the family.
It also meant they had several hours to themselves. Everyone knew what happened in those hours. Everyone knew in entirely too much detail, thanks to Luna's frankness about everything that occurred in the bedroom.
That had taken some getting used to.
Neville and Harry chatted easily with Lucky and Peyton. Lucky, an Australian Wizard, was Harry's Silver, his second-in-command of the Auror team he led. He had come over on exchange one year, and worked alongside Harry.
He had also met Peyton, a Healer from St Mungo's. A marriage, and now it was the final trimester before their family expanded.
And he had never left. Peyton liked to joke he had never left because of Harry, but everyone knew the truth. He was just another in a long line of people that had gotten stuck in Harry Potters orbit. And now he joined them weekly.
"Do you reckon if I just start serving the food, it will summon him?" Harry asked the assembled crowd as they began to sit at the table. "I swear his nose still leads him around."
"I don't think it's his nose leading him at the moment." Hermione replied with a grimace. "Though I would agree that it is an appendage that sticks out…"
Hannah shook her head. Harry chuckled. Ginny looked appalled.
"What's gotten into you, Hermione?" She asked. "You seem relaxed. Have you started seeing someone?"
Hermione gave Ginny a look. It was one of those looks that said she knew exactly where the conversation was going. Hermione though, unlike Harry, was much better at cutting this off at the pass.
"Oh, don't you know?" Hermione's voice was so sickly sweet with faux innocence that Harry found that it didn't match her in the slightest. In fact, Harry's was of the opinion that Hermione could be pointing her wand at him and screaming 'Avade Kedavra' with a level of intent that would make Bellatrix Lestrange proud, and it would still be less of a match to Hermione than her current voice.
"Know what?"
"Harry and I have been shagging this whole time. It's such a scandal. But, we simply can't take hiding it anymore. We are ever so madly in love. The lovest of loves."
"That's not a word-" Harry cut in, trying his best to get one over her, but it did not work.
"It wasn't a word, Harry dearest. Harry bear. Harry boo-boo." Hermione's straight sugar smile turned on him and he cocked an eyebrow at her. "But then you came along and you made me so in love, sorry, made us so in love, that you made up a new word. Lovest. It's going in the book."
Harry suppressed a smile. Hiding it behind a bewildered shake of his head.
Which he also used to hide that other part of that. The other part that which was not so much a lie.
Ginny rolled her eyes.
"I'm sorry, but seriously? Harry boo-boo?" Ginny's laugh was all flowers and wine. But a sweet wine. A desert wine. A moscato. "No one in their right mind would dream of calling Harry that!"
Ginny's laughter, matched by Hannah, meant that they missed the look of fire and vengeance that Harry shot towards Hermione. A look that was greeted by a smug look of satisfaction.
"Oh, wouldn't they?" Hermione almost purred. It was so unlike her. So unlike what people saw of her. That prim and proper Muggleborn out to prove something to everyone that the circumstances of birth mattered little in the matter of achievement.
But it was part of her game. The game she played every time someone tried to insinuate that something was happening between Harry and Hermione.
Harry denied, but Hermione leaned into it. Taking it to the world of ridiculousness. To the point of the absurd.
It was little wonder that Harry, the man who read Hermione like the books she so adored, could never find the truth when he looked into the topic he so dearest wanted to read.
"Who?" Peyton said, suddenly interested in the banter of the table. "Who called you that?"
"No-one. Hermione is being ridiculous. No one has ever called me that!"
"That's a lie." Ginny said suspiciously, narrowing her eyes at the pair of them. "Go on Harry, who gave you the old Lavender Brown treatment?"
A crack saved Harry from the horror of answering. A crack right outside the door before the sound of it opening and Ron and Luna arriving.
A crack that gave Harry enough time to give Hermione a look of betrayal. It was mock betrayal, but betrayal none-the-less.
Hermione, for her part, responded to such a fearsome look from such a respected man with her trademark look. She poked her tongue out at him.
He snorted and looked away.
"Speaking of Lavender Brown and being madly in love since way back when, Hello Ron." Ginny stood and moved over to embrace her brother. "Luna. Glad you could both join us at last. I'm sure glad that Harry's Spaghetti is happy to simmer, or we would have all eaten without you."
Ron looked affronted. Whether it was from the mention of his ex-girlfriend, or the sheer horror of the thought that food would be served without him present to enjoyment, it was difficult to tell.
Luna just gave Ginny a happy smile. "I'm sorry we're late, everyone. But we have brought an appetite. Only one appetite, mind, we've well taken care of the second for the time being."
"Luna!" Ron yelled.
"Classic Luna." Neville chuckled. His use of her name was just one in a myriad of well rehearsed reactions to Luna doing her favourite thing. Oversharing.
Some acted as though they were about to faint from the scandal. Others laughed.
In Luke's case, he just raised a finger in silence. Everyone knew what it meant. That was number one. They were all comfortable he'd get to five by the end of the night. If it was a slow night.
"Oh calm down, Won-Won." Luna smiled as she began to greet the assembled people. "Everyone knows you always have that appetite."
"Which-" Hannah began. "Stupid question. Don't want to know."
Luna let out a breathless giggle. "Silly Hannah, is that chair next to you free? Thank you, I'll be happy to tell you all about it…"
Hannah looked at the others for rescue. But there was none to be had. It was not exactly like Luna had a habit of speaking about such topics at a volume that only the nearest could hear anyway…
XxxxX
"How's life in purgatory, Ginny?" Neville asked, with an innocence that didn't match his smirk. "I thought your latest article about Kneazles making you live longer was a simply fascinating read."
Ginny presented Neville with a finger that was considered highly rude in polite society. Not that they were in polite society, but, it conveyed her response and feelings on the matter quite effectively.
"I think she's right." Luna remarked, in defence of her sister-in-law.
"Same." Said Ron, seriously. This drew a pause from the rest of the table as they turned to look at him. "I mean, reading that article seemed to draw my life out by several bloody decades."
The men laughed, the women frowned, and Luna poked him in the centre of his forehead. So all had resumed to be correct in the world.
"I just miss it, you know." Ginny lamented. "Writing genuine articles about genuine happenings in the world of magic. Now its all Harry-Hermione days."
"What is a Harry - Hermione day?" Harry asked, rather dumbly. "Or do I not want to know?"
"It's a slow news day." Hermione sighed rolling her eyes. "When they have nothing better to talk about, they talk about when we are going to get together."
"When are you going to get together?" Neville asked with a faux innocence that did not at all help. "Asking for a friend."
Harry gave him a look. He suddenly had even more regrets about asking Neville for help.
"Asking for your bet on the sweeps, more like." Luke grunted from next to Harry, earning him a glare from Hermione. "Oh, relax, Hermione. I'm just joking."
Hermione shook her head.
"Besides. His bet is way too soon."
Harry groaned. It was long and comical and went for entirely too long.
"I don't know why we are friends." He remarked as he fixed himself a plate of spaghetti. "Honestly. Do I hate you?"
He paused his dinner making to give Luke a long and pointed stare.
"Yep. I definitely hate you."
Luke laughed and clapped James on the shoulder. "You love me. I mean, not as much as you love Hermione. But you do love me."
"I love spaghetti." James shrugged. "Spaghetti, Garlic Bread, Quidditch, and there ends the list."
"Teddy." Hermione supplied.
"And Teddy." Harry nodded vigorously in agreement as if he had missed out the most important thing on the list. " And the twins. Not the tall prankster types. The little disaster types."
"Bless." Luna said from her end of the table.
"Your home cooked spaghetti is pretty great, Harry, I'll give you that." Neville remarked from his place next to Ginny. "I do love it. But you know, I don't think I'm entirely alone in that feeling."
It earnt him a look from Harry. A look from Harry that got him a smirk in return.
"I'm glad you love it, mate. I truly am." The drawl of his tone wouldn't have been out of place spilling from the mouth of Draco Malfoy. "I made it just for you."
"Just for me? I'm touched."
"By a litany of women, I'm told."
It stilled the room. Not because it was particularly harsh. It was not a dining table that was for the feint of heart. The surprise was probably that it came from Peyton. She said it simply and matter-of-factly, as was her way. And it stuttered them to silence.
Hermione was the first that started to snigger. She was joined by Harry, then Ginny and then the rest of the table erupted into gales of laughter.
Neville couldn't help but chew on his lip. He was the getter, so it was always fun to see him get got.
Eventually he too rewarded them all with a chuckle.
"Anyway, Ginny." Neville said, as he started to cut into his spaghetti. "Any word on when you will get back to hard hitting journalism?"
Ginny rolled her eyes. "Soon, I hope. I can't believe they stuck me in the desk of non-news."
"Well," Harry said nonchalantly, "Writing an article about Samuel Trekdel cheating on his wife with his assistant was always going to be a bold move."
Hermione turned and gave him a narrow eyed look. "You can't say that it didn't need to be written!"
Her voice contained so many hints of warning it could be the cockpit of a fighter jet when someone had missile lock. And Hermione's eyes were the missiles, screaming towards their target with laser focus.
"I'm not, Hermione." He held up placating hands towards her. "I promise I'm not. I'm simply saying that writing an article about the majority owner of your publication having an affair is not a positive career move."
Hermione gave him a look. A long look. A long, assessing look.
But she seemed satisfied that he was being genuine, so she shrugged. "He's got a point."
"Well, his wife was always lovely. She didn't deserve that."
"She probably didn't deserve to have her dirty laundry all over the front page of the Sunday edition either." Ron shrugged. "But then, I never did understand women."
"You say that like you do now, lovely." Luna remarked, causing Ron's ears to shine just a simple shade of pink. "You can't even brew my monthly."
"Anyway!" Ron's tone brokered a desperate plea to change the subject. "What's the next article?"
"Well… It's stupid, but the editor says that if I do a good job, then I get back to my old desk."
"You do stupid so well." Luke said, as he ripped off a piece of garlic bread. "So, I have every faith in you."
"Why do we invite you again?" Ginny bit back. "Who are you?"
Luke laughed.
"You invite him because of me." Peyton remarked, As she rubbed her belly, one that was carrying a small child that she was more than ready to have come into the world. "It has nothing to do with the fact that he and Harry love to try and outdo each other into who can get themselves into more trouble that the other has to get them out of."
"Nothing at all." Harry shrugged. "Nothing to do with that in the slightest."
"Exactly," Luke agreed sagely. "It has nothing to do with the fact that it is only Harry that gets himself into trouble. It is always me who pulls his arse out of the fire."
"That's not how I remember it…" Harry trailed off.
"Your memory is shit, mate." Luke said simply, as if it was obvious, before he turned back to Ron. "You sure you don't want the job back, mate?"
Ron barked out a laugh. "All yours mate. I did it for long enough. I'll stick to the laughing business now, thanks!"
"Must be failing with your jokes." Ginny shot from next to him. "Lucky you have George to carry the actual humour in the business."
Ron gave her a sarcastic look, as only siblings can.
"I'm starting to think we were wrong, everyone." Neville remarked from across the table. "I think Harry actually loves Luke."
Luke laughed. "He'd be batting above his average there."
"He'd be batting above his average with an actual bat." Ginny shot across the table, getting a laugh from the assembled friends.
"Rude coming from your ex there mate." Lucky continued to give Harry a look. "Not wrong. Just rude."
"Hardly call her an ex." Harry responded with a shrug. "More like-"
"The one who got away?" Hannah offered with a salute of her wine glass.
"The old flame haired flame?" Luna threw in for good measure.
"The one who was loved and lost?" Ron added.
"Or the one who was never loved at all?" Ginny contributed, causing a moments awkwardness, that she belied with her own laughter.
Laughter that took a moment before Harry found it in him to join in. It was still an old bruise. Yellowed, but still outlined on his past. Not that they hadn't worked out, breaking up had been the right decision, more the fact that they had never really started again post war.
The war had ended, and they had tried for a little while, but neither of their hearts had been in it. They had parted amicably as friends after a few months of awkward moments and mismanaged expectations.
It was good that they had, for it meant they had retained the ability to be close friends, even if they hadn't worked as romantic partners.
But Harry still sometimes felt guilty for the way it had gone down. He just hadn't been able to love Ginny, despite his best efforts.
"Or maybe," Neville's eyes had taken on a glint of evil. "Maybe, we should call her 'the-one-that-wasn't-Hermione.'
That brought a pause. An awkward stillness as everyone did their very best not to look at everyone else. In fact, everyone did such a good job at not looking at other people, that later in the evening the conversation would turn towards decoration ideas for the dining room. For some reason, everyone had developed an opinion on the matter, and no one knew why it had taken so long to be brought up in the first place.
"Who'd want to be Hermione?" Hermione finally said, raising her glass against the awkwardness that stretched on for what seemed like an age. "I hear such terrible things."
It seemed to take the edge off, but only slightly. The heaviness of Neville's joke, to which he was still happy with, still remained floating around them like a dementor with social anxiety.
"The worst." Ginny added. "But she's no worse than that red haired demon."
"Harpy." Hermione chuckled. "She was a harpy, remember?"
Ginny smiled as she remembered that article that had been written by a certain animagus busy body in the immediacy of the end of her relationship with Harry.
"Good thing you never married, I'd have had to call you 'Harpy' Potter."
She then giggled, extremely satisfied with her joke that made zero sense to anyone else at that table. Anyone that is, besides Ginny and Harry. And they both joined her in laughter.
It broke the awkwardness and everyone allowed themselves to enjoy the joke. For all of Ginny Weasley's qualities, one of her core attributes remained the fact that she was not Hermione Granger. It was a quality she shared with all but one of the people present at the table.
When the laughter settled, Neville turned more serious. Perhaps he was eager to move on from his joke that might have hit just a little bit too close to the nose. Even he knew that he couldn't play that card.
Not yet, anyway.
"How are you going to go without Harry around, Luke? Assuming his interview went well today?"
"Your interview was today?" Luke raised an eyebrow at Harry. "That's why you had the day off? Shit. Mine isn't for a few months. I didn't think you had to interview."
A silence greeted his remark.
A silence that ticked by with the seconds of the clock.
A silence that led a bunch of wildly drawn conclusions that were as different as the people present.
"You're interviewing aswell?" Hermione asked, as confused as everyone else.
"Of course!" Luke missed the stares he was getting as he poured more parmesan on his food. "Can't let him go alone, he'd get himself hurt."
There was more silence then as more and more people tried to put the pieces together of the puzzle. The problem was of course, that everyone had a piece from a different puzzle, and none of them fit.
"You know that curse was lifted?" Hermione said pointedly. "Years ago."
"What curse?" Luke said, finally looking up at the assembled crowd. "The job doesn't even exist yet, how could it possibly be cursed."
Harry went to speak suddenly, having cottoned on to the problems that were quickly arising in his life. He was beat by a determined Hermione. He was always beat by a determined Hermione.
There was no shame in that. Everyone was always beat by a determined Hermione.
"The post of Defence Against the Dark Arts was cursed for nigh on fifty years. How did you not know this?"
She had gone into what most people would call 'teacher Hermione' mode. 'Teacher Hermione' mode was a mode that had such single minded focus that she was difficult to pull from it.
"Is that what they are calling it?" Luke shrugged. "That's a terrible name. Anyway, I can't believe you had your interview today, mate. How did it go? Would have been better if you could have gone in with another Dolohov binning under your belt, but I guess we will have him by the time I interview. Guess I'll get to use him. You've got your name though, you'll be right. You can always throw the Voldemort thing around though."
"Luke." Hermione said simply, dangerously. "What position are you talking about?"
"The ICW International Fugitives Team, of course. What are you talking about – ow!"
Peyton's kick under the table would have been subtle, but it was possibly the least subtle thing that had happened since three of the persons present at the table had used a dragon to escape from a bank, some years before.
For all their years of friendship, and for all the years they had gathered at a dinner table on Friday evenings for weekly catch ups, awkwardness had not been a common companion at the table.
It was mostly a night of laughter, friendship, toasts, and occasionally a bit too much of the naughty water.
This night was different. It was different in that a third awkwardness had descended upon the table, like an unwanted guest, or a ghost of the past.
But this awkwardness, the third one, was different. This awkwardness was brought about in the worst way.
It was exposing a simple and salient truth.
Harry hadn't told Hermione something important.
And now the payment of that fact had come due.
"And you've applied for this too, Harry?" Hermione's eyes, normally dancing in the light of her thirst for knowledge, turned towards him. The curiosity was still there, of course it was, but that curiosity was focussed in on him as if he was a particularly interesting pray animal, and Hermione was the predator.
They met. Their eyes. Thats when he saw what she was doing her ever best to hide. Pain. A stab of pain. Or hurt. Or betrayal. One that he found almost impossible to look into.
One that hurt him almost as much as he had hurt her.
"I didn't apply. Robards approached me a few weeks ago and said I had a spot if I wanted one. It was up to me."
Hermione continued to look at him.
"And what did you say?" She spoke slowly, such was her mood.
"I said I would think about it." Harry was pleasantly surprised that his voice was even, if a little low. Contained almost.
"I see." She said with a nod. "And what does this position entail?"
"Ah-" Harry chewed on his bottom lip as he searched for the words to offer his reply. The reply would of course be the truth. The truth, in this case was easy. He could tell her exactly what the position would entail.
But those fleeting words of truth just really seemed to dance out touch for his mouth to find, capture, and enunciate them.
"Well, I suppose it was a good thing you didn't interview for it today, Harry. It would be hard to sell yourself against a position you can't even explain."
Her words were like ice. They seemed to bring down the temperature of the room down be several stages.
Harry still found he couldn't meet her eyes. But he spoke anyway. While in his mind, he could articulate the moment when he had decided not to tell her, he just couldn't seem to find in that moment the why.
Either way it was pointless now. She was hurt by his omission.
The payment had come due.
"Effectively much like I'm doing now. Except global. Stepping up. Basically International Aurors that can cross borders."
Hermione nodded, reaching forward and raising her glass to her lips. He could see it in them. The way they searched the rear of the room for a reason to stay dry. Like they imagined the ice of her tone was a dry as that which filled the dance halls of the country.
"Ah. Of course. That would make sense from the position. Silly me."
Her voice had again risen several octaves. Risen in that way that showed she was fighting the tears. Fighting the tears that threatened to let loose.
If anything, Harry was surprised. He had expected anger. He had expected her to be stern with him. Frustrated. Maybe anger.
He had not expected this.
"You did say you wanted me out of that office…" Harry offered lamely. It was a terrible thing to say and he knew it.
He knew it when she shot him a look that said very plain and very clearly just one word. 'Don't.'
"Hermione…"
He didn't manage any more than that.
"It sounds like a wonderful promotion, Harry. I'm very happy for you. Very happy indeed. I think you should go for it. You know. If the current class of Dark Magic user isn't reaching your standard, then you should step up you know? Don't want to be a big fish in a small pond, hey?"
"Hermione…"
But it was useless. She was amongst friends here. She was amongst family. Her guard had lowered.
He was not saved by the company. The company who were doing their best to be respectful about the fact that they were staring at the unfolding situation, like someone had cast a sticking charm on their eyes and faced it towards the unfolding drama.
"I mean, why let only the British send you into hell, why not give everyone else a chance? The Germans. The Chinese. Oh, I do here that there is a rather nasty outbreak of Inferi in South Africa at the moment. Perhaps you ought to go and risk your life in the middle of that. Hey?"
"Hermione…"
"Then you can come on home and I'll patch you up and give you a little ruffle of your hair and send you back out there with a manly bum slap. A big ole 'Go get em, tiger.'" Why don't we just keep on doing that? Because, that sounds so much more fun then teaching at Hogwarts, which has only been your dream since you taught US, at Hogwarts."
She was not yelling. Not at all. Not even slightly. Her voice was elevated and there was no missing her words.
Just like there was no missing the tears as they steamed down her cheeks. The moment she lost it. The moment where her emotions got the better of her. The moment when she couldn't hold it back anymore.
That moment.
But there was no judgement. None at all. Not here. Not from the assembled family.
Keeping Harry safe from his own hair brained schemes had always been Hermione's great passion. So the tears were very in character for that passion.
Harry's voice, in contrast. Lowered. It went to low that it could barrely be heard by anyone, let alone Hermione.
But she heard it. They all did. Like the clanging of a bell.
"The position is in Australia. I would move there if I accepted."
Hermione gave a silent, sarcastic, 'Oh'.
Then she nodded. Big nods. Big, obvious nods.
Like a golden cat in the back of a car. Her head just nodded. Up and down. Down and up.
"Of course it is. So you're moving away aswell. Perfect. Yep. That's… that's so perfect. That's the perfectest. Absolutely. See! See, Harry! That's so perfect that I've just concocted another new word to put in the book. Perfectest."
Harry reached and gently took a hold of Hermione's arm. He could feel how tense she was.
"I guess I now know the ending of my book."
No one spoke.
"Then he moved to Australia. And he got himself killed. The' boy-who-lived' became the 'man-down-under.' Six feet under… down under. Get it? You get it."
Harry felt his voice constrict.
This is all going to shit.
"Anyway! That's a lot of fun talk about that topic. But I might go and use the loo, if you don't mind. I can't wait to come back and hear about how you're all moving away too. Will be awfully splendid chat."
Before he could do anything, she pulled her arm out of his grip and strode through the door, her footfalls thundering down the corridor.
Silence was all that was left in the wake of the slamming of an upstairs door. The upstairs door that was definitely not the bathroom. The upstairs door that was definitely the room at Grimmauld Place that Harry kept reserved for Hermione. The room she decorated and used whenever she needed a break.
Whenever she wanted.
Harry began to stand, but Ginny beat him to it.
"Perhaps this one might be better for me." Ginny told Harry as she began to follow after Hermione. "Not often any of us get to say that to you, hey."
Her joke fell as flat as the atmosphere of the room, before she too was gone.
Harry looked around at his assembled guests. His mouth moved, but no sound came out. Instead, just the defeated sound of him slinking back into his chair and looking at his half eaten meal.
He looked up at Neville who was leaning back into his chair. He was giving Harry a look.
A look that was not entirely fitting to the mood of the situation.
It was not an awkward look away, nor was it the look of sympathy towards him.
Instead, it was a look that, unless Harry misunderstood, was one of sheer and utter triumph.
But while Neville may have been feeling good about the situation, it did nothing to improve Harry's mood.
He found he disliked Neville in that moment.
XxxxX
Hello,
And welcome back to 'The Hitchwizard'. I have been on a prolonged break from writing due to the nature of my word at the moment. Life and work and all those things have meant that I have not had any time to put pixel to page recently.
For anyone reading this who is following 'Remember What I Forgot', I am still working on it as much as I can when I have time. I just don't have a great deal of time at the moment. By way of an update, I've pretty much finished the first draft of the next chapter.
I did however write most of this in the last few months and decided to finish it and post it. i did this for several reasons, one, the style of it is a lot of fun for me to write, as it is so different from RWIF. It is also light-hearted and full of banter. I quite enjoy writing banter.
I'll make no promises as to when the next chapter of either comes out, but please know that I haven't abandoned my work. I've just been pushed to do other things in the meantime.
Thank you to all those who have read, and are reading and reviewing. They help much more in getting me back behind the keyboard than you think.
Cheers,
ATG