Chapter Eleven: Trembling Hand
Ministry of Magic
15th December 2009, 7.19pm
"I can't believe I agreed to this," Harry said. He was pulling at the collar of his dress robes as though afraid they were going to choke him at any moment, his posture stiff and uncomfortable. "This is the worst thing I've ever had to -"
"That is a horrendous lie," Hermione said, holding the door of the red telephone box open for him to step in behind her. "Stop being such a drama queen."
She reached for his collar, ignoring his grin as she straightened out the starched cotton, and smoothed his tie against his chest. The booth was so small that they were standing very close together, and she could feel the warmth of his skin through his shirt, and the sharp breath he took as he looked down at her.
For once Hermione, so well-versed in Harry's expressions that she would have said she could read him like a book, found herself unable to tell what he was thinking.
"Herm-"
The phone chimed their arrival in the atrium, and Hermione snatched her hand from Harry's chest.
"Best foot forward," she said, her own voice sounding oddly strained to her ears, and darted out of the box as fast as her feet could carry her.
One of the Ministry interns took her cloak, and Hermione shivered for a moment as the artificially cooled air hit her bare shoulders, before she made a beeline for one of the trays, charmed to float between the guests.
By the time Harry caught her up Hermione had already taken two glasses. She passed him one, conscious, in the moment he took to look her up and down, that her green velvet dress was new, and very expensive, and bought because Theo said it made her look "fucking sensational." Harry opened his mouth, closed it, swallowed, and seemed just on the verge of opening it again when Ernie Macmillan strode up to them and stuck his hand out with aggressive cordiality.
"Good to see you, Harry."
Hermione saw Harry bite his cheek before he drew a gracious smile onto his face and clasped Ernie's outstretched hand.
"And you, Ern. How's Improper Use of Magic these days?"
"Can't complain, can't complain," Ernie nodded absently. His eyes roved around the room, making sure people had seen him shaking Harry's hand. "And yourself? Managing to keep busy?"
"Oh, you know. Irons in the fire and all that," Harry said, taking a sip of his champagne and then pausing to squint at the glass. "Blimey, that's nice."
"Saint-Saëns," Ernie nodded sagely. "One of Gawain's favourites."
Hermione took a sip of her own champagne to stop herself from laughing as Harry's face darkened at the mention of Robards, and savoured the crisp taste as the elf-made champagne made one of the Violin Sonatas begin to play quietly in her head.
"Has you calling him Gawain now, does he?" Harry asked.
"Hah! Yes," Ernie chuckled, completely missing the acid in Harry's tone. "Likes to encourage an informal atmosphere with his department heads. It's really very -"
"I'm sure," Harry said, coldly enough that even Ernie paused, eyeing him uncertainly.
"Yes, well," Ernie blustered on after a moment, clearly casting about for something to say, before his eyes fell on Hermione. "Ah! Granger! You're looking lovely this evening. Still taking on those pro-bono cases?"
"Fight the power," Hermione said lightly, tilting her glass, and Ernie had half-moved to meet the toast before he paused, frowning.
"I'm not sure that's -"
"Oh look," Hermione said, stepping deliberately on Harry's foot in an effort to stop him from sniggering. "Neville's over there, we should go and say hello."
"Of course, of course," Ernie nodded, clearly relieved as he waved them away.
"You're terrible." Harry leaned down to murmur in her ear, catching her elbow as they moved between the other attendees towards where Neville stood against the wall on the other side of the room.
"No worse than you," Hermione replied, wondering whether it was the champagne or Harry's fingers on her arm making her feel light-headed.
This had been happening for a few months now: the odd skips of her heart when Harry looked at her a certain way, or touched her unthinkingly, as he was in the habit of doing, because they'd been friends for such a long time. Usually Hermione was alright - could count on the distraction of work, or of other people - but then there would be times like this evening when it seemed like her brain had short-circuited and all she could think was Harry - Harry - Harry - my dear friend, my darling -
"Alright Nev?" Harry said, his voice breaking into Hermione's treacherous thoughts.
"Oh, hi guys." Neville had been staring off into the distance, and now he blinked a little, as though surprised to have been approached, before smiling broadly. "Having fun?"
"Time of my life," Harry rolled his eyes. "But all the better for seeing you. It's been too long, mate."
"Yeah," Neville nodded eagerly. "Sorry about that, things have been -"
"Harry!"
Gawain Robards's booming voice crashed into their corner, cutting off whatever Neville had been about to say. Hermione watched as his features seemed to pinch together for a moment, and felt a wave of sympathy as Robards descended on them.
"Minister," Harry nodded curtly. "Nice party."
"Isn't it?" Robards was practically yelling, and Hermione winced, laying her hand on Neville's sleeve as he shrank back towards the wall. "Thought we'd put on a good show, thank everyone for their hard work."
Admittedly the atrium looked incredible. Real snow fell from the ceiling, melting away a few inches above the heads of the party-goers. Everywhere Hermione looked she could see the glitter of frost; sparkling filaments of tinsel spiderwebbed the walls, and bunches of holly and mistletoe were dotted about, red and white berries bright enough that they seemed internally lit.
"Thoughtful of you," Harry sniffed. "I like this champagne too, good vintage is it?"
"Ah yes," Robards smiled indulgently. "Year 2000, very fine indeed."
"Well I'm glad those legal aid cuts went towards something useful," Hermione said before she could stop herself.
Robards' expression turned frosty as he slid his gaze reluctantly away from Harry. "Miss Granger," he said, with marked distaste. "Nice of you to join us."
"Thank you for the invite," Hermione smiled guilelessly back at him, watching Robards's florid complexion darken a shade or two. Next to her Harry seemed to be having a coughing fit.
"Well," Robards said eventually. "Naturally. You are a valued employee of the Department for Wizarding Jurisprudence."
"I think I was the founding member," Hermione frowned. "But I might have got that wrong. As you've previously pointed out to me Minister, I am a very sil-"
"Oh wow!" Harry yelped, looping an arm around her waist and tugging her forcefully backwards. "Hermione I think - isn't that your favourite - we should go - bye Neville, see you later, Gawain!"
"Let me go!" Hermione hissed, as Harry guided her towards the dancefloor that had been set up around the central fountain.
"Not on your life," he muttered back. "I thought I was the one who couldn't be trusted around authority figures, I didn't realise I was here to chaperone you."
"I can't help it," Hermione groaned. "He's just so vile, and no one holds him to account for it, it's dis-"
"Disgusting, yes," Harry nodded, as they stepped through the charmed sound-barrier at the edge of the dancefloor, and the noise of a full band suddenly replaced the chatter of voices. He plucked the champagne flute from her hand and placed it on a passing tray. "However, he has the backing of the Wizengamot," he said, as he laid his right hand on her lower back and turned to face her.
"Well they're even more corrupt than the Muggle government." Hermione scowled as Harry caught hold of her right hand with his left. "What are you doing?"
"Playing gobstones," Harry said, as he started to steer her through the other dancers. "What do you think I'm doing?"
"You don't dance," Hermione said, feeling stupid when Harry looked at her like she'd gone mad.
"Since when?" He tipped his head quizzically to one side. "We've always danced together."
"Yes," Hermione nodded, "but -"
"But nothing," Harry smirked. "Stop being weird."
"I am not being - Harry!" She grabbed for his arm as he spun her back towards him, grinning.
"What were you saying?"
"You're insufferable," Hermione sighed, squeezing his shoulder gently to undermine the words.
"I know," Harry nodded. He was quiet for a moment, and Hermione looked up at him to see his jaw working. Against her spine she felt his fingers tense. "Herm-"
"Pardon the interruption," Theo cut in from behind and prised Hermione from Harry's grip. "But you appear to be hogging the prettiest girl in the room, Potter."
Hermione caught a brief glimpse of Harry's mouth flattening into a furious line before Theo whirled her away.
"What the hell did you do that for?" she demanded, punching Theo in the shoulder with the hand he wasn't holding.
"Trust me Granger," he smirked. "I'm doing you a favour."
"He was just about to -"
"He was just about to what?" Theo asked, raising one sardonic eyebrow.
Hermione winced. "I don't know, alright? But it seemed significant."
"I'm sure it was," Theo said. "But it's good for him to have to compete for your attention."
Hermione relented. She hadn't told Theo about her recent confusion, but she wouldn't have been surprised to find out he had guessed. It was a shame Harry seemed to dislike him so much, she reflected, because Theo was probably her second-best friend these days, and it was a real headache having to navigate between the two of them.
"Stop thinking so much," Theo admonished her. "You'll get wrinkles."
"Shut up," she told him, though she could hear her own laugh in her voice.
The tempo of the music ebbed, and Theo made a complicated step-change, somehow managing to protect his toes from Hermione's as he did so, before he leaned close, his mouth against her ear. "Do you think Potter's head would explode if I kissed you?"
"Theodore!" Hermione could feel her cheeks turning scarlet. "I can't believe you would -"
"Come on," he murmured, "you already know you like it."
They had kissed only the once: nearly a year ago, in Theo's office above the new independent bookshop on Knockturn Alley. Hermione had been helping him to go over bundles ahead of a deposition the following afternoon, and as the late night threatened to become early morning Theo had produced a bottle of very good wine that he had apparently summoned from his cellars at home.
It had been when they were partway through the second bottle that Hermione turned to him, squinted a little, and said, "You know, you're really awfully pretty."
Theo had responded by kissing her: a perfect kiss, deliberate and sure and neatly executed. Hermione had kissed him back, enjoying the taste of the wine on his tongue, and the crisp, vetiver scent of him, before she had realised that the usual heat that would have accompanied such a moment was lacking.
"Merlin," Theo had said, drawing back and looking at her. "I really wish I wanted to fuck you."
Hermione had choked with surprise, then started to giggle uncontrollably. "Oh my god, you're the actual worst. "
"Stop it," she said now, automatically releasing her grip on Theo's shoulder as he lifted their clasped hands and twirled her underneath his arm.
As she pivoted on the ball of her foot, Hermione spotted Harry standing at the edge of the dancefloor. She twisted her neck as Theo brought her back into hold, to see Harry watching the pair of them with narrowed eyes, even as he inclined his head to listen to something that Ron was saying beside him.
"See?" Theo said, shifting his weight and whirling her away in the other direction. "Potter can't keep his eyes off you. I told you this was the dress."
"He doesn't -" Hermione started to protest.
"Enough," Theo said firmly. "He was ready to murder me yesterday afternoon just for having tea with you, and you're going to tell me he's not jealous? Oh, don't look at me like that," he sighed, when Hermione stared at him in shock at his bluntness. "For two people who are supposed to be running a detective agency, you're shockingly bad at reading the evidence in front of you."
"I don't -" Hermione started to say, then relented, sagging slightly in Theo's arms. "Fine." She peeked hopefully up at him. "You really think he's jealous?"
"Oh darling," Theo laughed. "How could he not be?"
Hermione smiled, dipping her chin to hide her blush. "Be quiet," she mumbled.
When she glanced up, it was to find Harry still watching her, and Hermione felt a fluttering sensation in her chest.
"Steer us back towards him," she told Theo. "I want to -"
She broke off, frowning, as she caught sight of Marcus Flint shouldering his way through the crowd behind Harry.
Aside from the fact that the Ministry weren't really in the habit of inviting pub landlords to their parties, there was something about Marcus's taut, goggle-eyed expression, even in the low candlelight, that wasn't right.
"Theo," she said sharply, clenching her fingers where they rested on his shoulder. Theo turned to follow her gaze, and Hermione saw his eyes widen slightly as he spotted Marcus too. "Doesn't he look -"
"Potter!" Theo yelled, releasing his hold on Hermione and shoving her backwards. "Behind you!"
Hermione staggered, barely keeping her balance as she grasped Theo's sleeve. She looked up in time to see Harry and Ron whirl, their wands raised, before there was a roar of sound and everything went dark.
A/N: Oops.