Summary of the Flashbacks: The flashbacks proceed in non-sequential order and are highly fragmented. The basic timeline is that during the war Hermione, Harry and Ron were all officers in the same unit, which Harry commanded. Hermione is wounded in battle and rescued by Draco, who is serving as a spy. Draco is frustrated by his lack of recognition for his role in the war against Voldemort, and is eager for any friendly word. Meanwhile, for her own protection, Harry removes Hermione her from his unit to man a desk job. In the same battle in which she had been wounded, Ron's brother, Fred, was killed, causing him to be irrational and impulsive. Desperate for revenge, he seeks for Harry's influence in getting him a position for a highly dangerous mission of which Fred was supposed to be a part. Recognizing the capacity for disaster, Harry refuses all of Ron's requests. Meanwhile, he and Ron go on an away mission, leaving Hermione alone and feeling useless. She and Draco meet, commiserate and become friends. Upon the return of her friends, Hermione begins a love tentative love affair with Draco. Harry then talks her back into rejoining the unit, hoping her presence might anchor Ron's temper. She leaves, but when she returns she discovers the depth of Draco's passion. It is implied that at sometime afterward they realize their mutual love.
Chapter XII: All in the Past Part III
by Jenni
"Where's Hermione?" Harry demanded. Beside him Ron shrugged and continued to stare at the table. They were in the briefing room, waiting for their teammate, but the delay in their report was not what concerned Harry. He wanted Hermione to come because afterwards he had something important to say to her: that he had just realized the depth of his stupidity in leaving her behind. Having her back in the unit just felt right. They were a team: her, Ron and him. They belonged together. He never should have stuck her with some desk job.
After they had returned from the field sometime around noon, Hermione had promptly disappeared into her barracks. She had been covered in sweat and dirt, but she was beautiful. She had pulled her hair from its tight bun and tossed her curls over her shoulder. Then she had smiled at him… Right then, Harry knew that he could no longer deny his feelings. He would tell her!
And then maybe she would feel the same way! Already he was dreaming of a future with children and laughter.
It puzzled him now as to why Hermione hadn't appeared at the meeting. She had said that she would come. It wasn't like her to be absent.
They both began and ended without her, which angered Harry. Beside him Ron had barely noticed. He was still staring at the table when everyone got up to leave.
"Are you coming?"
Ron blinked. "Yeah…sorry." Then he retreated once again into his brooding. Harry swallowed uncomfortably, knowing there was nothing he could say to ease Ron's pain. It had been several months now since Fred's death, but this was the first family member Ron had ever lost in the war.
Harry didn't feel that platitudes or comfort would be of any use. He knew from personal experience that only time could help.
The two men separated at the door of headquarters with barely a goodbye. Harry doubted that Ron even noticed that they had parted.
'He won't forgive me for not giving him the mission," mused Harry. 'He is a grown man…I can't shelter him.' He thought for not the first time that he should just speak to the colonel. Just because he might recommend Ron was no indication that they would assign him to Romania.
'I'm not sheltering him,' thought Harry. 'I'm sheltering myself. I would never forget it if I sent him to his death.'
His feet took him to the women's barracks, where Hermione had disappeared earlier in the day. He forced himself to remember the important words he had intended to tell her, and so pushed the matter of Romania out of his mind completely.
Harry entered the barracks a minute or two later and ascended the stairs, dodging two women as they scurried down the stairs. One of them recognized him and ran back up.
"Major Potter!" she exclaimed. Harry allowed himself to be distracted for a moment, but he didn't recognize the woman addressing him.
"Yes?"
She was wearing her uniform blouse and skirt, but her hair was balled up in a white towel on the top of her head, which she was supporting with her hand. She seemed nervous.
"Are you looking for Hermione?"
Harry smiled. "Yes, do you know where she is?"
The woman blushed a little. She cast an unreadable glance at her friend, standing at the foot of the stairs. Harry didn't know what it meant. He suspected that he would have to be a woman to interpret it. "Er…" the girl stuttered. "I'll go tell her you're here."
"No, that's ok, I'll just go up," Harry said. "Unless she's sleeping. Is she sleeping?"
The woman blushed redder, which perplexed him. "Maybe. I'll go see. Just…stay here."
And she ran upstairs. Confused, Harry remained on the steps. He didn't know why he had stopped. He had barged into Hermione's room countless times. Maybe it was just because he was nervous.
Eventually the same woman came racing back down. Harry looked at her anxiously.
"She's not here," said the woman nervously. "Have you tried the mess?"
Harry felt thwarted and aggravated. He had no intention of going to the mess, where he might miss Hermione again. Eventually she would be coming back to her room.
"If you don't mind, I'll just go up and wait for her."
The woman blocked his path. "You're really not allowed."
Harry felt his temper rise. He looked for some rank insignia on the woman's collar, but found none. Yet he knew intuitively that this woman was of a lower rank. "Move out of my way," he ordered.
She did as she was told, and Harry was free. He continued to bounce up the stairs, still rehearsing what he planned to say inside his head. "Hermione, I was foolish," he practiced. He scrapped that. "Hermione, I have these feelings…" No. "Hermione, I love you."
He walked down the corridor, found Hermione's door and raised his fist to knock. Before his knuckles hit the wood, the door opened. Hermione stepped out, looking bedraggled and wearing her uniform. Harry noted that a few of the buttons were missing, and the ones that remained were hooked into the wrong holes of her coat.
"Harry," she greeted.
"What happened to you?"
"Oh, I…um…fell."
Harry felt that he could cry. Hermione was standing in front of the door, blocking his entry. Someone was inside the room.
All his enthusiasm deflated as he surveyed his friend's appearance. No wonder that girl had tried to stop him. The whole barrack probably knew about Hermione's affair, whereas he had not heard so much as a hint.
Harry didn't have the courage to ask who was waiting inside. Instead, he forced himself to smile. "I can see you're occupied," he said with a laugh. He forced the corners of his mouth up into a smile that he doubted was convincing. But Hermione didn't ask him whether everything was all right like she usually did when she caught him pretending. Harry felt his heart constrict with pain. "I'll come back later," was all he said.
He turned and walked numbly down the hallway, trying not to hear the door as Hermione closed it behind her again. He heard a masculine voice asking her a question, but it was muffled. His identity was safe.
A week later Harry was sitting in the mess when the colonel found him. He shot up from his seat and stood at attention.
"Potter, how d'ye do?"
"Fine, Sir," he answered.
"Good. Good. I'd like a word with you."
Ten minutes later they were circling the pond as the colonel puffed on his pipe. "As you know we're missing a man for the Romanian mission. Your unit has some of our best people in it, and we were just wondering if you had any input on a new candidate. We heard that Weasley was interested in the position."
Harry frowned. "He may have said something to that effect, Sir."
The colonel scrutinized Harry. "You don't think he would be a good choice."
"I never said that, Sir."
The colonel nodded. "You didn't have to. I know he's your friend, but we need all the help we can get. We were seriously thinking of offering him the position. But I have also heard that he's become something of a wild cannon."
"Sir, his brother was killed recently. That is to be expected."
"Ah, yes of course," the colonel said, stroking his chin in a thoughtful manner. Harry couldn't care less what the man was thinking, and had no intention of recommending anyone today. His mind was still on Hermione and the anonymous gentlemen secreted in her room. She hadn't even seen fit to tell him that she had found someone.
Then again, he mused, it might be a good sign that she hadn't mentioned him. Perhaps it wasn't serious. Just a fling.
"Major?"
Harry was startled out of his reverie to find the colonel watching him with raised eyebrows. He was obviously waiting for an answer to a question that Harry had not heard.
"I'm sorry, Sir. Could you please repeat that?"
The colonel did not seem particularly annoyed by this request. Instead he pulled a pipe from the pocket of his robes and tapped it with his wand. "Creo nicotianam," he commanded. Then he lit it with a set of muggle matches. He took Harry's confusion to be in response to this and he explained, "I found them on a bench in Muggle London. Seemed a shame to waste them. Fascinating things."
But Harry's attention had wandered again. He was thinking of Hermione, wondering who her lover could possibly be.
"I say, Potter, look around your unit. Tell me if you see anybody good or if you change your mind about Weasley. It's a shame you can't go, but you're too important here."
"Yes Sir," Harry replied, blankly. "I'll get right on that."
It was another ten minutes before they parted, and Harry tried his best to concentrate, but failed miserably. However, by the time the colonel had disappeared outside the doorway, Harry's attention reverted to the status of his unit rather than Hermione. He had recently been informed that two new recruits were coming to replenish his numbers, and he would be in charge of training them. They would be green. Straight out of school. Actually, one of them had never finished school due to the war, but had been granted an emergency wizarding license by the Ministry.
The thought of such inexperience among his ranks dismayed Harry. These two boys could endanger the rest of them on a mission. A vivid picture came to his mind of a bunch of headstrong boys running out into the field, giving away their position. Or worse…cowering in the mud when it was time to charge. Perhaps someone would stop to urge them onward; he would be distracted. Then… 'AVADA KEDAVRA!"
With a shiver, Harry stood up from his table, prepared to head towards the men's barracks where he was to meet his recruits. In his head he worked out what he would say and the tone of voice in which he would say it. No doubt these boys would have heard of him, but he was just another commanding officer. He couldn't have them staring at his scar in wonder while there was a battle raging in front of them. No, he would have to get rid of that right away.
Harry was so engrossed in his own thoughts that he didn't notice where he was stepping when he reached the narrow couplet of stairs before the exit. His shoulder rammed into another man's, causing the stranger to fall back a few steps.
"Oh, excuse me," Harry said quickly in order to rectify his clumsiness.
When he looked up, he saw Draco Malfoy staring back at him with a curious expression on his face. Malfoy seemed to be examining his reaction as if he were confused at his politeness. Harry, for his part, felt neither hatred nor pleasure at this accidental meeting. He was merely preoccupied, and Malfoy was someone harmless who just happened to be in his way. Without offering a single hint that he had recognized him, Harry stepped around him and out the door.
Later on, on the day that Harry and Draco had met accidentally in the mess, Hermione was boxing up the last of her desk supplies, for her status as an officer on the field had been reinstated, and now she would never return to Barrack 49 of D Camp. She hefted the box into her arms and walked eagerly out the door. Her eagerness was not due to the fact that she would no longer be trapped in an office, but because Draco was waiting for her outside the gate.
She had never been so happy in her life, and she was practically floating. She could barely contain her smile when she approached him. He too was grinning madly. He had been especially happy tonight for some reason.
"All set then?" he asked, already knowing the answer.
"Yes. Everything is in this box."
Draco made a great show of peering over the top to see its contents. "Good God, Granger," he exclaimed. "You're a pauper."
"Good thing I've got me a rich man," she joked.
He smiled fondly at her. "Well, I assume we're going back to your quarters since you'll want to drop off that junk."
She nodded the affirmative. Then quite consciously she brushed up against his shoulder. "Isn't it a lovely evening?"
Draco surveyed the endless expanse of red gold that lined the horizon. It was indeed breathtaking. His eyes wandered down to Hermione's beautiful face, the slight part of her lips.
"Do put that box down," he said.
"Why?"
"Because I am going to kiss you."
Hermione laughed, but decided to be coy. She placed the box in Draco's hands and exposed her cheek for him to kiss. He did so gladly.
"You're in such a good mood tonight," she said, pointedly. "I have no idea why tonight is so different from any other night."
Draco decided that she was still being coy. He had been in a good mood all day, ever since he had run in to Potter at the mess. He had been going there to meet Hermione, and the casual way with which Major Potter had greeted him—polite and accepting even—made Draco think that Hermione had finally told him about their relationship. And if Hermione had told her friends, then maybe that meant she loved him! Really, truly loved him. And better yet, Potter hadn't even glared at him.
He had imagined all day what she might have said to them. Maybe they had gotten angry. And then she would have told them how well he treated her, how good a man he was, how much she loved him.
Draco set down the box and swept her into his arms.
She giggled like a school girl and allowed him to kiss her.
Four days later it seemed that Ron had given up begging Harry to recommend him for the mission. He no longer brooded in corners or remained distant during conversations. He was stern and sad at times, but never quiet. It was just like back in the Hogwarts days after he and Harry had started talking to each other again after a fight, no longer remembering the reason for the argument. His rejuvenation was a welcome change for Harry, who was relieved that he no longer had to worry about his friend's recklessness.
He was glad that at least one friend was being open with him again, for Hermione was still being as elusive as always. And her mystery man remained a mystery. Though his curiosity (perhaps jealousy would be a better term) still existed, Harry had long since stopped trying to find the identity of this person. He decided that he didn't want to know. For all he knew, it might be a good friend of his. Someone he'd have no right to envy and even worse: someone he would have to congratulate.
As long as Hermione didn't tell him, Harry could deny that it was happening. He supposed this was what a cuckholded husband felt like. Helpless, hopeless…hopeful. Yet he was not a husband. Aa husband might have followed his wife, or he might have her followed. He could hold her accountable for her ill behavior. Harry could do none of these things, no matter how sorely he was tempted. And so, the more Hermione was absent, the more he tried to pretend he didn't care. Indifference was easy to feign so long as Hermione was absent. And then, on the fifth day since his briefing with the Colonel, Hermione plopped down beside him in the officer's mess. He had been sipping his scotch, wondering where his friends were; and her sudden appearance was a pleasant surprise.
But when she said, "Hello," without a single apology for her absence, Harry was not happy so much as angry.
Even so, Harry swallowed his anger like a lump of lard that stuck in his throat. "Hello, stranger."
Hermione blushed a little, which Harry did not like. He only wanted her to blush for him. "There's something I've got to tell you," she said, choosing to ignore his reference to her absence.
He braced himself for the worst and prepared to look happy for her. Whoever it was must be a decent bloke, and after all…since he himself had never spoken…well, he couldn't have expected Hermione to wait forever. It was his own fault that he had lost her.
Hermione looked at him square in the eye. He took a breath. "You had better say it quickly if it's to be said easily," urged Harry.
"Yes, how right you are. Well you see, it's Ron."
Ron? Harry had been completely unprepared for the mention of Ron, and now that it was out he was utterly confused. It was impossible that Hermione should be carrying on an affair with Ron, for Ron had been by his side half the time that Hermione had not. At the mess, at meetings, at anywhere, begging him to help him go to Romania.
Romania.
He realized before Hermione said another word that she was not talking about her new man at all. At once he was both relieved and furious. Had she any intention of ever telling him? In his irritation, he spat out, "Oh goodness, what about Ron?"
"I'm worried about him," she said, surprised by his callousness. "He just packed his duffle bag this morning and left the barracks. I ran into him on my way out. He said…"
"You were leaving the men's barracks?"
Hermione blushed again and drew herself back a bit like a puppy that has been smacked across the nose. It was obvious that she had slipped, and it was equally obvious that she did not appreciate that he had called attention to her error. Yet she avoided an awkward silence by blundering on without making any further reference to the incident. "Yes…" she almost acknowledged, "But Ron is what's important. He said he had sought assignment somewhere else and that his request had been granted. So he's going, you see. And I just thought, maybe he would have told you why."
Harry had choked on his scotch when Hermione had revealed this piece of news and was still coughing. He hacked like a man dying, more for show than for anything else; for he wouldn't have to talk while he was coughing, and he was aware that Hermione was waiting for his answer. He sputtered until his throat hurt, and hoped he would pass out.
Ron had left?
Not a single thing came to mind, except for total astonishment. Hadn't he seen Ron this morning? Hadn't they arranged to meet for dinner at the mess? There had been no warning. No hint. No words of good-bye or sad looks or enigmatic words. If what Hermione said were true, then he had simply given up on him, bypassed his advice and rank and friendship…and gone. How could Ron have done such a thing? How could he even have gotten onto the Romania mission without his recommendation?
Harry turned to look at Hermione. He couldn't tell her where Ron had went, because technically the mission was top secret. Although, Harry thought bitterly, that hadn't stopped Ron from finding out.
When his choking finally ceased, Harry was forced to struggle for an answer, and found that he could not quite look at Hermione. All thought of her suitor was gone—had been buried under the utter grief of losing his friend.
It was like losing Sirius again. He didn't know where Ron had went, and he couldn't bring him back.
"He…um…didn't mention anything to me," Harry whispered, his throat strangling the words like a hangman's noose. But he was prevented from giving any further explanation when Draco Malfoy appeared at the bar.
Harry gaped at the tall figure, who had not yet noticed him, kissing the top of Hermione's head in such a familiar way as to leave no doubt in his mind who that man had been in Hermione's room.
For the second time that day, Harry nearly choked on his scotch. He felt as if he had been shot. What could he do? Ron? Hermione? Both of them had gone behind his back.
"Oh," said Malfoy with some surprise. He glanced at Hermione as if to ascertain how he ought to behave, and then stretched out his hand in a greeting. "I'm sorry, Potter, I didn't see you there."
Numb with shock, Harry took the proffered hand and shook it with constrained English politeness. "No offense taken," he said. And none had been taken. Not really. In truth, Harry could not feel insults. He felt only this burning, wrenching pain from within his chest. Breath was impossible; he merely gaped at Hermione.
Hermione was fidgeting in her seat, but she sensed none of his turmoil. After all, she didn't know that Ron was in all probability going to his death. And she didn't know how violently Harry loved her. How the only sight he wanted to greet him in the morning was her face; how he had longed for some word of her as he had gripped his wand like it was his last link to sanity before a raid. She merely curled back her lips in a nervous smile and said, "Harry, you know Draco."
Harry, you know Draco… She said it as if Draco had been some average bloke from London that he had met once at a luncheon and not the boy who had striven to make him so miserable back at Hogwarts. Her tone was friendly, casual as if they had not been discussing their best friend a moment earlier. And yet, her eyes lit up as she spoke his name, making it clear that for her there was no other man in the world but Draco Malfoy. She was in love. She was so happy.
Her happiness didn't make the pain any less. Harry denied that her happiness made his pain more.
Yet later on, Harry would spend much time wondering whether his reaction would have been the same had it been Seamus kissing Hermione at the bar or Neville or Dean. Perhaps had it not been Draco Malfoy, Harry would not have excused himself from the bar. Perhaps he would not have gone out for that walk where his thoughts had turned so dark and his intentions turned so cruel.
Perhaps he would not have gone to speak to the Colonel without regard for his secretary's plea, would not have thrown open the door to headquarters, stomped into the room and barked, "I've got a man for you. Someone better than Ron Weasley. He's perfect for the mission, and I'm only sorry that I didn't think of him sooner."
After he had done it, Harry had felt quite satisfied with himself for a whole two minutes. But then he felt terrible. Worse than terrible: he felt like Judas. He paced around the men's barracks like a man who has just killed his best friend in a fit of rage. And that was perhaps what he had done. Perhaps he had saved Ron. That was his one consolation. Perhaps he had saved Ron. But Ron would have gone to his death voluntarily, and Malfoy…
Poor Hermione. Harry saw at last that he didn't deserve her. No wonder she had picked Malfoy.
Harry Potter had never spoken. Harry Potter had pinned her down to a desk. Harry Potter had caused her to meet Malfoy. Harry Potter had sent him away.
No, that was silly, he told himself. Malfoy wasn't obligated to accept the mission. He would be briefed; he would refuse, and that would be the end of it.
But surely he would tell Hermione, and then Hermione would be so angry with him for meddling…and his excuse that he had been trying to save Ron would hold no weight with her. Surely, he had lost her. Even as a friend, she had been lost. His honour as a friend was gone too. He was not sure which loss was the worst. For not the first time in his life, Harry contemplated suicide. But he was not suicidal, and so he rejected the idea before it had fully formed.
Around midnight he climbed the stairs to his room, there to find a note pinned to his door. It was from Ron. He skimmed it quickly, then crumpled it into a ball and unlocked his door. A piece of chipped paint came away with the adhesive tape that had attached the note to the wood, leaving a comical void in the middle of the frame.
"Dear Harry," the letter read.
"I couldn't tell you. I know you would have tried to stop me. I'm going somewhere else, but don't worry. It's not where you think. I'm not cut out for that mission anyway.
I'll write you when I can, and hopefully we'll meet again someday.
"Your friend,
Ron."
An answer to a few reviews (Forgive me if I didn't respond to yours. I'm lazy.) :
Serpent de Feu – You've been there since the beginning, and I appreciate your patronage and support. I also love your Fic recommendations to the "Sleeping with the Enemy List."
Cho Chang – Emotional Dark Hole – I'm sorry the story is confusing. At times it is very confusing to me as well. I've tried repeatedly to read it over, but each time I start cringing and decide to change things. As a consequence, nothing is ever written. It is merely revised.
Kou Shun'u– Your guess is amazingly close! The translation of "Logoi Ergon" is "Words of Deeds" if I remember correctly. The translation isn't very significant at all. I was merely taking first year Greek, and that was the only thing I could think of. I felt that Latin is overused (and frequently misused) in fanfiction. I wanted an older sound.
A fan… - Thank you! My belief is that the fics that are updated the most get the most reviews. Since I haven't updated very frequently, and because my plot is so confusing I think people forget about me.
Pearls994forever – Thank you so much for the encouragement! Yes, my reviews were deleted. I had about 29 or so, which would have given me almost one hundred right now. No, I'm not angry or discouraged, but I will admit that if you hadn't sent me such a nice review, chapter 12 would probably have stayed on the shelf for a few more months. I've had about 7 pages sitting on my hard drive since March. I've been writing a lot, actually, but not so much in the Harry Potter fandom. If you look on my profile, you'll see one new D/Hr story (very short) and a bunch of short Lord of the Rings stories featuring Eowyn and Faramir. A lot of Harry Potter fans are also Lord of the Rings fans, so if you want to try some of those to hold you over, you're more than welcome. J