AN:: Revised AP 28
"Mione..." Ron whined. "You said you'd be home for dinner last week, and you never were!"
Hermione had just walked in the door, sick to her stomach from another meeting with Voldemort, so dealing with a whiney husband was one of the last things she wanted to do. It showed in the glare she leveled at him. So stern that he actually dropped back a step.
She sighed. "Honestly, Ron. I had unexpected things pop up. I couldn't help it." She shook her head, and took off her black robe, hanging it up beside the door.
He watched silently as she went into her bedroom and appeared a moment later with a hair tie, which she quickly bound her hair back with, and gave a sigh of her own. "Look, I'm home now..." She said resignedly. "Why don't we have that dinner?" A smile touched her lips, but not her eyes. However, all Ron saw (on purpose) was the smile. Punching his fist in the air like the teenager he seemed to mentally be, he said-
"Be right back then!!!" and was in the floo and on his way to his mother's almost before she could blink.
"Almost twenty-three and still depending on his mother." A sneer that would have made Snape proud, had he seen it, touched her face. It faded quickly though as she continued to stare in the direction of the fire-place, and finally she just shook her head in silent amusement and settled down on the couch to wait, absently renewing the charm to disguise the death-eaters mark.
A good fifteen minutes passed before the flames of the fire turned green and Ron emerged wtih various shrunken packages, which he took into the kitchen and began to unshrink and reheat. Hermione stayed on the couch the whole time, her eyes closed, head leaning back. She was just too weary to even try to read. All she could really think of was she wasn't in the mood to put up with her husband at the moment. This feeling was reaffirmed when he walked into the living room again and bent down behind her to place a kiss on her forehead.
Her breath caught.
She couldn't repress a slight shudder and twitch from the pain the light contact caused.
"Ron, I'm not a--" The bushy haired young woman started to say, but then stopped and restarted her sentence. "Is dinner ready?"
She looked up at him questioningly after a moment.
He nodded.
She groaned quietly and got to her feet, heading into the kitchen quickly so he wouldn't try to touch her.
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~~3 days later~~
A tousled-haired young man stood outside Gringotts bank, head tilted back as he looked over the rather magnificent structure. One said to be the safest place for something, besides Hogwarts.
He snorted.
How many times was it that Voldemort had managed, somehow or another, to extend his grasp inside the school? How many times had Harry faced him down? But those were just battles. Many, many battles. Now, with the love of his life gone, he didn't care. Living was pointless, really. It wasn't like the public actually cared about him. Everyone only wanted "The Boy Who Lived" to be their precious savior.
Laughter bubbled up inside him, and spilled out. The mock-joy drew the glances of passer-bys, and soon word had spread.
Harry was alive, and he was...laughing?
"Wotcher, Harry!" He froze, the laughter fading.
"Hallo, Tonks," he said, without even turning around.
"We've been worried about choo, ya know?" The currently flame-red haired metamorphmagus stepped up beside him, laying a hand gently on his arm.
Harry flinched. "Please don't." He said it quietly, still never bothering to look at her.
A frown appeared between blood-red eyebrows, and Nymphadora Tonks, who would only answer to Tonks, withdrew her hand. "Sorry..." she said quietly.
He nodded. "S'okay. I'm just a bit...under the weather."
/Cruciatus after-effects...bloody annoying./
"Ahh…" Immediately she took it as meaning he was still just having trouble dealing with Ginny's death. It had hit many people hard, but especially the Weasleys, who had so far in this war—before Ginny—managed to not lose a single child. Percy didnt count. He'd broken ties with the family of his own free will, and to Ron, Fred, and George, was as good as dead.
Bringing her hand up, she rubbed at the back of her neck, wondering what to say next.
He solved the problem by abruptly turning to face her, and giving a brief smile. "Well, I've got things to be doing. Bye." Then he walked inside, without any further ado.
Minutes later, Harry emerged, his money bag full to the brim, and he headed to one of the spots that he normally would not have been caught dead in of his own free will. Flourish and Blotts.
The place was ...well, Hermione had thought it was magnificent, and Ginny had rather loved it herself. To him, it was just a musty old bookstore. Its only saving grace was the fact that it held knowledge. And knowledge...is power. He'd just recently come to understand what Hermione had been getting at with her love of books. He started to rush through, but forced himself to slow down, to amble down the aisles, eyes drifting over the various titles.
So You Want to Become an Animagi? This is What You Need to Know found its place in his arms, as well as Stealth: A Muggle AND Wizarding Skill: How to Make the Shadows Your Friend. He added a book of 103 Humourous Potions to the pile, and then closed his eyes, reaching out and grabbing one from the shelves. It turned out to be For the Bachelor Wizard: Easy Make, Easy Bake! Spells to Keep the Meat on Your Bones. This time, surprising him, he laughed genuinely. It was...fitting. Then he got the books that he was truly interested in. The Most Deadly Dangerous Curses—What You need to Know and Antidotes to the Unfamiliar—Saving Graces for Deadly Times.
He'd put them all to use.
Making his way to the counter, he forced himself to chat amiably with the owner as he paid for his purchases, and purchased a small carry-all bag enchanted to hold 10 times more than the normal amount it looked to. About ten fake smiles later, he was finally out the door, and he hurried to an alley, leaning against the brick wall and breathing deeply. Being around people being so...bright...so happy...made him want to scream, to curse...to hurt. And that just wouldn't do. At least not yet.
When he was sufficiently under control, he visited the robes shop, and left his address, paying ahead of time. "Finally..." he murmured, walking out into the crowded street, but paying no attention to those around him.
An eye-blink later, he was gone.
Then, he was home.
He took a moment to look at the outside of the home he and Ginny had bought. It wasn't anything fancy. A simple, dark red, two-story, with silver trim. Ivy had been allowed to grow as it wanted, as long as it didn't cover the windows, and small flower-gardens blossoming with brilliant colours edged the natural-stone walkway leading up to the door. The house was pretty, but over-all, Harry had favored the backyard more.
Specifically the Quidditch pitch.
That had cost a pretty penny. But it had been worth it. Most of the time when they were home, they had found various friends over, and all of them in the back-yard holding impromptu Quidditch matches.
Memories swamped him as he put down his tote-bag, and walked to the kitchen window, looking out at the pitch.
Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Fred, George, and himself indulging in a group hug after defeating Remus, Bill, Charlie, Dumbledore, and Tonks in a game.
Ginny tugging him to her for her "victory" kiss after beating him at a game of Catch the Snitch.
The expression on her face when she'd came out on their first anniversary to find the whole area covered in yellow rose petals, with Morning Glory Ivy snaking its way around the goal posts.
Her discovering the cushioning charm.
Him discovering that trailing a rose along her skin turned her on.
Both of them laughing and kissing, laying under the sun, after having made love.
The bright red of her face, and of Remus' face, when he'd dropped by the say hello, and found them both, still starkers.
Suddenly the temperature in the house dropped. He instinctively drew his wand, and strode to the front door.
He opened it.
Saw who was there.
And promptly slammed it shut.
A minute later, an insistent knock sounded.
He refused to answer.
The door was blasted open with a well-done "Reducto!"
So, he did the first thing that popped into his head.
Snape hit the porch like a sack of potatoes, and Harry grinned, then shook his hand out.
"Hello, Snape. Repair my door before I reducto you," he said cordially as he put the same hand down to help the Potions Master up.
Snape got to his feet, sneering at Potter. "We've got work to do, Potter. And you need to explain yourself."
Harry matched his sneer with one of his own.
"Contrary to what you believe, I'm not stupid, and I..." He stepped forward, making the greasy-haired Death Eater spy step back.
"Don't." He took another step, and so did Snape.
"Owe." By this time they were almost off the small porch.
"Anyone."
Step.
"A damn."
Step.
"Thing."
They halted, inches from each other.
Snape glared at him. "You really think the Dark Lord is going to believe you turned?"
Harry smirked. "I guess we'll find out if I really turned or not when Dumbledore drops dead, won't we?"
Snape blinked, and the sneer fell from his face, and then he sighed. "I just... Potter, Why?" Curiosity and sadness showed on his face. "After all that's been done."
Green eyes stared at him. "Exactly."
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Authors Notes: Props to my beta, Jamie!!!Thanks to all those who've reviewed! I really appreciate it. Also, I'm surprised no ones made a connection concerning Hermione. Really, really think about it. Next Chapter dedicated to whoever sees the obvious. Review please???
"Mione..." Ron whined. "You said you'd be home for dinner last week, and you never were!"
Hermione had just walked in the door, sick to her stomach from another meeting with Voldemort, so dealing with a whiney husband was one of the last things she wanted to do. It showed in the glare she leveled at him. So stern that he actually dropped back a step.
She sighed. "Honestly, Ron. I had unexpected things pop up. I couldn't help it." She shook her head, and took off her black robe, hanging it up beside the door.
He watched silently as she went into her bedroom and appeared a moment later with a hair tie, which she quickly bound her hair back with, and gave a sigh of her own. "Look, I'm home now..." She said resignedly. "Why don't we have that dinner?" A smile touched her lips, but not her eyes. However, all Ron saw (on purpose) was the smile. Punching his fist in the air like the teenager he seemed to mentally be, he said-
"Be right back then!!!" and was in the floo and on his way to his mother's almost before she could blink.
"Almost twenty-three and still depending on his mother." A sneer that would have made Snape proud, had he seen it, touched her face. It faded quickly though as she continued to stare in the direction of the fire-place, and finally she just shook her head in silent amusement and settled down on the couch to wait, absently renewing the charm to disguise the death-eaters mark.
A good fifteen minutes passed before the flames of the fire turned green and Ron emerged wtih various shrunken packages, which he took into the kitchen and began to unshrink and reheat. Hermione stayed on the couch the whole time, her eyes closed, head leaning back. She was just too weary to even try to read. All she could really think of was she wasn't in the mood to put up with her husband at the moment. This feeling was reaffirmed when he walked into the living room again and bent down behind her to place a kiss on her forehead.
Her breath caught.
She couldn't repress a slight shudder and twitch from the pain the light contact caused.
"Ron, I'm not a--" The bushy haired young woman started to say, but then stopped and restarted her sentence. "Is dinner ready?"
She looked up at him questioningly after a moment.
He nodded.
She groaned quietly and got to her feet, heading into the kitchen quickly so he wouldn't try to touch her.
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~~3 days later~~
A tousled-haired young man stood outside Gringotts bank, head tilted back as he looked over the rather magnificent structure. One said to be the safest place for something, besides Hogwarts.
He snorted.
How many times was it that Voldemort had managed, somehow or another, to extend his grasp inside the school? How many times had Harry faced him down? But those were just battles. Many, many battles. Now, with the love of his life gone, he didn't care. Living was pointless, really. It wasn't like the public actually cared about him. Everyone only wanted "The Boy Who Lived" to be their precious savior.
Laughter bubbled up inside him, and spilled out. The mock-joy drew the glances of passer-bys, and soon word had spread.
Harry was alive, and he was...laughing?
"Wotcher, Harry!" He froze, the laughter fading.
"Hallo, Tonks," he said, without even turning around.
"We've been worried about choo, ya know?" The currently flame-red haired metamorphmagus stepped up beside him, laying a hand gently on his arm.
Harry flinched. "Please don't." He said it quietly, still never bothering to look at her.
A frown appeared between blood-red eyebrows, and Nymphadora Tonks, who would only answer to Tonks, withdrew her hand. "Sorry..." she said quietly.
He nodded. "S'okay. I'm just a bit...under the weather."
/Cruciatus after-effects...bloody annoying./
"Ahh…" Immediately she took it as meaning he was still just having trouble dealing with Ginny's death. It had hit many people hard, but especially the Weasleys, who had so far in this war—before Ginny—managed to not lose a single child. Percy didnt count. He'd broken ties with the family of his own free will, and to Ron, Fred, and George, was as good as dead.
Bringing her hand up, she rubbed at the back of her neck, wondering what to say next.
He solved the problem by abruptly turning to face her, and giving a brief smile. "Well, I've got things to be doing. Bye." Then he walked inside, without any further ado.
Minutes later, Harry emerged, his money bag full to the brim, and he headed to one of the spots that he normally would not have been caught dead in of his own free will. Flourish and Blotts.
The place was ...well, Hermione had thought it was magnificent, and Ginny had rather loved it herself. To him, it was just a musty old bookstore. Its only saving grace was the fact that it held knowledge. And knowledge...is power. He'd just recently come to understand what Hermione had been getting at with her love of books. He started to rush through, but forced himself to slow down, to amble down the aisles, eyes drifting over the various titles.
So You Want to Become an Animagi? This is What You Need to Know found its place in his arms, as well as Stealth: A Muggle AND Wizarding Skill: How to Make the Shadows Your Friend. He added a book of 103 Humourous Potions to the pile, and then closed his eyes, reaching out and grabbing one from the shelves. It turned out to be For the Bachelor Wizard: Easy Make, Easy Bake! Spells to Keep the Meat on Your Bones. This time, surprising him, he laughed genuinely. It was...fitting. Then he got the books that he was truly interested in. The Most Deadly Dangerous Curses—What You need to Know and Antidotes to the Unfamiliar—Saving Graces for Deadly Times.
He'd put them all to use.
Making his way to the counter, he forced himself to chat amiably with the owner as he paid for his purchases, and purchased a small carry-all bag enchanted to hold 10 times more than the normal amount it looked to. About ten fake smiles later, he was finally out the door, and he hurried to an alley, leaning against the brick wall and breathing deeply. Being around people being so...bright...so happy...made him want to scream, to curse...to hurt. And that just wouldn't do. At least not yet.
When he was sufficiently under control, he visited the robes shop, and left his address, paying ahead of time. "Finally..." he murmured, walking out into the crowded street, but paying no attention to those around him.
An eye-blink later, he was gone.
Then, he was home.
He took a moment to look at the outside of the home he and Ginny had bought. It wasn't anything fancy. A simple, dark red, two-story, with silver trim. Ivy had been allowed to grow as it wanted, as long as it didn't cover the windows, and small flower-gardens blossoming with brilliant colours edged the natural-stone walkway leading up to the door. The house was pretty, but over-all, Harry had favored the backyard more.
Specifically the Quidditch pitch.
That had cost a pretty penny. But it had been worth it. Most of the time when they were home, they had found various friends over, and all of them in the back-yard holding impromptu Quidditch matches.
Memories swamped him as he put down his tote-bag, and walked to the kitchen window, looking out at the pitch.
Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Fred, George, and himself indulging in a group hug after defeating Remus, Bill, Charlie, Dumbledore, and Tonks in a game.
Ginny tugging him to her for her "victory" kiss after beating him at a game of Catch the Snitch.
The expression on her face when she'd came out on their first anniversary to find the whole area covered in yellow rose petals, with Morning Glory Ivy snaking its way around the goal posts.
Her discovering the cushioning charm.
Him discovering that trailing a rose along her skin turned her on.
Both of them laughing and kissing, laying under the sun, after having made love.
The bright red of her face, and of Remus' face, when he'd dropped by the say hello, and found them both, still starkers.
Suddenly the temperature in the house dropped. He instinctively drew his wand, and strode to the front door.
He opened it.
Saw who was there.
And promptly slammed it shut.
A minute later, an insistent knock sounded.
He refused to answer.
The door was blasted open with a well-done "Reducto!"
So, he did the first thing that popped into his head.
Snape hit the porch like a sack of potatoes, and Harry grinned, then shook his hand out.
"Hello, Snape. Repair my door before I reducto you," he said cordially as he put the same hand down to help the Potions Master up.
Snape got to his feet, sneering at Potter. "We've got work to do, Potter. And you need to explain yourself."
Harry matched his sneer with one of his own.
"Contrary to what you believe, I'm not stupid, and I..." He stepped forward, making the greasy-haired Death Eater spy step back.
"Don't." He took another step, and so did Snape.
"Owe." By this time they were almost off the small porch.
"Anyone."
Step.
"A damn."
Step.
"Thing."
They halted, inches from each other.
Snape glared at him. "You really think the Dark Lord is going to believe you turned?"
Harry smirked. "I guess we'll find out if I really turned or not when Dumbledore drops dead, won't we?"
Snape blinked, and the sneer fell from his face, and then he sighed. "I just... Potter, Why?" Curiosity and sadness showed on his face. "After all that's been done."
Green eyes stared at him. "Exactly."
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Authors Notes: Props to my beta, Jamie!!!Thanks to all those who've reviewed! I really appreciate it. Also, I'm surprised no ones made a connection concerning Hermione. Really, really think about it. Next Chapter dedicated to whoever sees the obvious. Review please???