Part Ten: Unspeakable
"Come on, Hermione..." Harry swaggered slowly to his feet, wriggling his legs free from the bedsheets with great effort. "Can't you just wait five more minutes? Call in sick; they'll never know." Clumsily, he crept up behind Hermione, wrapping his arms around her waist as she watched him in the mirror.
Beginning to twist her hair into a loose bun, Hermione smiled at his reflection. "Harry," she said, giggling as he dug his fingers gently into her ticklish sides. "You know perfectly well that I can't do that. The Ministry doesn't allow sick days for my department."
"But you work in the Department of Mysteries...would they even know you were gone?"
"Ha, ha." Hermione scoffed, turning to face Harry and lacing her fingers through his. "Just because the Ministry is lax with your field of work doesn't mean they'll be flexible with mine." She smiled, kissing him lightly on his forehead. "I'm not an Auror."
"That's right, you're an Unspeakable." He said very matter-of-factly, his grin being broken by a yawn. "What do you do in there anyway?"
"Same thing I do here." Hermione shot back, mimicking Harry's factual tone. Then, giggling as she threw him backward onto the foot of the bed, she added, "Unspeakable things."
The light from the pensieve cast a silvery glow on Hermione's tear-stained face as she watched the memories flicker and swirl before her in the liquid-like mist. It was good to be back here, in a ramshackle room above the Leaky Cauldron, surrounded by the remnants of love and a sleeping child. During the visit to the clinic, Lily had stayed with a cousin of Hermione who had three girls all close to Lily's own age, and was thankfully tired out quickly; when Fred and Hermione had arrived back at the house later that evening, Lily was already asleep. To Hermione's delight, she had stayed in her deep trance throughout the length of the drive and had not stirred even when Fred lifted her from the car and settled her into their rented room. This meant that, for at least one more day, Hermione could stave off the great telling of truth that was to soon come.
Turning to take in the sleeping form of her daughter on the left, Hermione sighed as a single tear slipped from her thin cheeks into the frothing pensieve and another image bubbled up to the surface-- a thin, freckled man with sad eyes and hair the exact colour of the center of a flame.
"Hermione," The voice from the doorway caused Hermione to jump a little in her seat, her attention having been focused on the mountain of paperwork in front of her. She looked up to see Ron leaning against her doorframe, smiling sheepishly. "The Minister just sent some of the Aurors out to investigate some suspicious activities in Burmingham. Harry was with them...I thought you might want to know."
"Oh." said Hermione, crestfallen. She should have known that Ron at her doorway so late at night could not have been good news. Years ago, Ron had somewhat unwillingly taken the position that his brother, Percy, stepped down from after the Ministry Of Magic replaced its former head Cornelius Fudge with a former classmate of Hermione and Ron, Justin Finch-Fletchy. It was a far cry from Ron's ambition of becoming an Auror like Harry, but it was a safe job, a steady chance for Ron to recover from the tumult that marked his childhood.
"You alright, there?" Ron asked, leaning a little further into the doorway to her office and wavering there as though unsure whether or not he should enter. This behavior had become somewhat of a staple of Ron's later life; though he remained loyal to his friends and always willing to engage in the most dangerous activities to help them out, his personal life was an anomaly as he became introverted and bumbling, stealing only furtive glances at the confidence he had once possessed in himself.
"I'm fine." Hermione replied unconvincingly, heaving herself away from her desk with a huff. "It's just that Harry and I were suppose to go out tonight, after work." She laughed tersely, "It was supposed to be a make-up date for the last time he was called out at the last minute."
"Well, he couldn't help it." Ron answered, his confidence in Harry evident in his tone. "It's in the job description, you know." He looked down at his feet, scuffing his sneakers absently against the door frame and biting his lip as he thought. Then, as though the words were escaping his mouth just moments before he was able to catch them, he looked up. "I could take you out for a bite when you get done there, if you'd like." He spat, blanching even as he spoke. His eyes bulged and his cheeks turned to only a few shades lighter than his vibrant hair as he added in a hurried mumble, "You know, since it's dark and-- and, I mean, if...you might be lonely."
Hermione smiled sweetly. "That sounds like an excellent idea, Ron. We haven't spent time together without Harry around in ages."
"Right." He said, turning quickly on his heel to leave. Just as he put his foot out to begin his voyage to the lifts, he turned back. "Just as friends, you know, our date-- !! I, I mean...our...uh...not-date." He took a steadying breath, ending his barrage of words with, "Our dinner.", and turned quickly to leave.
"Of course." She said to his retreating figure, chuckling to herself as she turned back to her work.
With a last deep breath, Hermione pulled herself off of the bed and made her way to an old wooden trunk at the end of it containing everything that was left of her life as a wizard. Wordlessly, she placed the pensieve back in its velvety case and crawled back under the covers, sending a last sweeping glance around the room to see her daughter breathing deeply on the opposite side of the bed and Fred, in the corner, snoring peacefully.
"Come on, Hermione..." Harry swaggered slowly to his feet, wriggling his legs free from the bedsheets with great effort. "Can't you just wait five more minutes? Call in sick; they'll never know." Clumsily, he crept up behind Hermione, wrapping his arms around her waist as she watched him in the mirror.
Beginning to twist her hair into a loose bun, Hermione smiled at his reflection. "Harry," she said, giggling as he dug his fingers gently into her ticklish sides. "You know perfectly well that I can't do that. The Ministry doesn't allow sick days for my department."
"But you work in the Department of Mysteries...would they even know you were gone?"
"Ha, ha." Hermione scoffed, turning to face Harry and lacing her fingers through his. "Just because the Ministry is lax with your field of work doesn't mean they'll be flexible with mine." She smiled, kissing him lightly on his forehead. "I'm not an Auror."
"That's right, you're an Unspeakable." He said very matter-of-factly, his grin being broken by a yawn. "What do you do in there anyway?"
"Same thing I do here." Hermione shot back, mimicking Harry's factual tone. Then, giggling as she threw him backward onto the foot of the bed, she added, "Unspeakable things."
The light from the pensieve cast a silvery glow on Hermione's tear-stained face as she watched the memories flicker and swirl before her in the liquid-like mist. It was good to be back here, in a ramshackle room above the Leaky Cauldron, surrounded by the remnants of love and a sleeping child. During the visit to the clinic, Lily had stayed with a cousin of Hermione who had three girls all close to Lily's own age, and was thankfully tired out quickly; when Fred and Hermione had arrived back at the house later that evening, Lily was already asleep. To Hermione's delight, she had stayed in her deep trance throughout the length of the drive and had not stirred even when Fred lifted her from the car and settled her into their rented room. This meant that, for at least one more day, Hermione could stave off the great telling of truth that was to soon come.
Turning to take in the sleeping form of her daughter on the left, Hermione sighed as a single tear slipped from her thin cheeks into the frothing pensieve and another image bubbled up to the surface-- a thin, freckled man with sad eyes and hair the exact colour of the center of a flame.
"Hermione," The voice from the doorway caused Hermione to jump a little in her seat, her attention having been focused on the mountain of paperwork in front of her. She looked up to see Ron leaning against her doorframe, smiling sheepishly. "The Minister just sent some of the Aurors out to investigate some suspicious activities in Burmingham. Harry was with them...I thought you might want to know."
"Oh." said Hermione, crestfallen. She should have known that Ron at her doorway so late at night could not have been good news. Years ago, Ron had somewhat unwillingly taken the position that his brother, Percy, stepped down from after the Ministry Of Magic replaced its former head Cornelius Fudge with a former classmate of Hermione and Ron, Justin Finch-Fletchy. It was a far cry from Ron's ambition of becoming an Auror like Harry, but it was a safe job, a steady chance for Ron to recover from the tumult that marked his childhood.
"You alright, there?" Ron asked, leaning a little further into the doorway to her office and wavering there as though unsure whether or not he should enter. This behavior had become somewhat of a staple of Ron's later life; though he remained loyal to his friends and always willing to engage in the most dangerous activities to help them out, his personal life was an anomaly as he became introverted and bumbling, stealing only furtive glances at the confidence he had once possessed in himself.
"I'm fine." Hermione replied unconvincingly, heaving herself away from her desk with a huff. "It's just that Harry and I were suppose to go out tonight, after work." She laughed tersely, "It was supposed to be a make-up date for the last time he was called out at the last minute."
"Well, he couldn't help it." Ron answered, his confidence in Harry evident in his tone. "It's in the job description, you know." He looked down at his feet, scuffing his sneakers absently against the door frame and biting his lip as he thought. Then, as though the words were escaping his mouth just moments before he was able to catch them, he looked up. "I could take you out for a bite when you get done there, if you'd like." He spat, blanching even as he spoke. His eyes bulged and his cheeks turned to only a few shades lighter than his vibrant hair as he added in a hurried mumble, "You know, since it's dark and-- and, I mean, if...you might be lonely."
Hermione smiled sweetly. "That sounds like an excellent idea, Ron. We haven't spent time together without Harry around in ages."
"Right." He said, turning quickly on his heel to leave. Just as he put his foot out to begin his voyage to the lifts, he turned back. "Just as friends, you know, our date-- !! I, I mean...our...uh...not-date." He took a steadying breath, ending his barrage of words with, "Our dinner.", and turned quickly to leave.
"Of course." She said to his retreating figure, chuckling to herself as she turned back to her work.
With a last deep breath, Hermione pulled herself off of the bed and made her way to an old wooden trunk at the end of it containing everything that was left of her life as a wizard. Wordlessly, she placed the pensieve back in its velvety case and crawled back under the covers, sending a last sweeping glance around the room to see her daughter breathing deeply on the opposite side of the bed and Fred, in the corner, snoring peacefully.