Warmth. Almost uncomfortable.
It stung at her face, covering only part of it. She shifted and found it hard to open her eyes. When she did, the light was glaring and a blur covered her sight. Her arms and legs were not cooperating, heavy like cinder blocks had been attached to them. Taking a deep breath, she smelled pollen, baking dough and something familiar.
Her eyes cleared and she saw a wooden ceiling with a few missing boards. Light streamed playfully through the windows, onto her and the bed she was lying in. She was at the Burrow. Letting her head fall to the side, she spotted a pale face and dark tangle of hair. He looked peaceful, his head cradled in a pillow with star motifs. She felt a desperate urge to be by his side.
Forcing her body to shuffle, she shifted to the edge of the bed. The arm she put out to catch herself gave out, too weak to support her weight. Her chest hit the fluffy carpet with a thump. She crawled over and lifted her ams on the cotton covers, sweat dripping off her face and down her spine from the effort.
Dampening lengths of hair obstructed her view. With a desperate grunt and heave, she rolled herself next to him. Her muscles trembled with exhaustion from travelling the pitifully small distance. But next to her she could feel the movement of his breath and the warmth of his body. With a whimper, she let her head fall onto his shoulder. She put her hand on the bare skin above the collar of his shirt and relished in the steady pace of his beating heart.
Ba-dum.
Ba-dum.
The sunlight felt nicer now she was turned. Her breathing calmed and she relaxed.
Ba-dum.
Ba-dum.
She let out a deep sigh and felt how raspy her throat was.
Ba-dum.
Ba.
Dum.
She saw bleary green eyes staring back at her. A pearl of happiness exploded in her chest seeing him awake.
"Hrm –"
He coughed and she shook her head, putting a hand on her throat, mouthing 'water'. His lips looked as dry as hers felt. Looking around and stretching his atrophied muscles, he grabbed a painted cup on a night stand. With a grunt, he threw it at the east wall; it shattered with a loud clang. They both propped themselves up as they heard the tumult downstairs. Two voices, very recognizably the Weasley parents.
They followed the noise of heavy footsteps up the stairs, and Molly came to stand in the doorway, her eyes misting up.
"Aaarthur!" she shrieked. "Arthur, they're awake!"
"You're awake," she said softly, kneeling beside them.
She brought them water and doted over them for a while, asking if they wanted anything. It was a bit overwhelming for the two. Arthur expressed his happiness at their awakening as well. She had owled both Ron and Ginny and they would be coming over shortly. But she wanted a moment alone, with him.
"Could… you give us… just a moment. To talk?" Hermione asked, her throat still feeling a bit raw.
"Of course, dears. Of course. I'll come back when they get here."
The door closed and they were left alone. As soon as it did, Harry brought two fingers to her chest. "That scar..."
She had another sip of water and cleared her throat. "You got cursed. Someone came… Cudas."
Harry nodded in recognition. "Expert on curses."
"Yes. She said I could help save you. But it… it was dangerous, and I ended up, like this."
His eyes were fixed on her cleavage, inspecting the dark red mark.
"It worked," she said with a smile. Her hand went up to comb through his hair. "We're both alive."
He huffed, looking for words. In the end, he just smiled back. "Thank you," he said, resting his head against her shoulder. "If it were you..."
"Shush," she said, rubbing his back. "We don't need to say that any more."
"Any pain?" he asked.
She didn't feel any, aside from the soreness of lying in bed. "No. You?"
"Little."
As they pulled away, she realized how glad she was that things had turned out well. They'd done it again, he had done it again, coming back from certain death. "What do you think the press named us?" she asked.
"Sleeping beauties?" he said with a smirk.
"Twin scars?"
"That's awful," he said. "How long have we been out?"
"I don't know," she answered thoughtfully. "What are you thinking?"
"Nothing," he said, brushing the wild hair out of her eyes.
After a while, Ron came up. The fact he had a beard clued them in that they hadn't just slept for a few days. He seemed hesitant approaching them, like he might scare off a frightened animal. Harry thought to break the silence.
"How long have we been sleeping?"
"Eight months," Ron said, sitting down on the bedding to face them.
He reached out and took both their hands. "We really thought you might not ever wake up," he said, his voice heavy with emotion. Suddenly embarrassed for some reason, he rubbed his palms on his trousers. "Listen, Harry. There's something you should know."
"What?"
"Ginny, she..." Ron couldn't look Harry in the eye, but Harry was looking dead ahead. "She started seeing someone."
Hermione lightly grabbed Harry's wrist. He didn't blink, and she felt the steadfast thump-thump of his calm heartbeat.
"I see," he said.
"You're… okay?" Ron asked.
Harry ran a hand through his hair. "Where are my glasses?"
Hermione spotted them on the dresser next to the door. "Over the –" They flew into her hand. "– there..." She unfolded them and handed them to Harry, who took them gratefully.
"Glad to see you're still as brilliant as before," he said, putting them on. "I don't think the wizarding world would forgive me if I caused Hermione Granger to lose her talents."
"Well, screw them," she said.
"Right," Ron laughed.
"Oh, Ron. What did they end up calling us? In the papers I mean."
Ron snorted. "Slumbering dragons."
"Raawr," Harry said lazily.
She giggled too loudly, her throat still sore.
"So you feel okay?" Ron asked.
"I think so," Harry said, rubbing his chest. "It's crazy. I honestly thought it was over for me when that curse hit. Jeffrey… he was a good hit wizard. It's a shame."
"You knew?" Hermione asked.
"We took our target down together, but by the time we had he was dying. And I –" Harry blinked, glancing to his side. "I guess I'm lucky."
Eventually, Ginny arrived. They were able to stand up and do some light walking, within the Burrow. Ginny left giving Harry a hug. There seemed to be no bad blood there. Ron told Hermione he had an apartment in London, but she didn't feel right leaving Harry's side just when they woke up. There might be complications, and they would need to check into St. Mungo's at some point.
They had some soup with crackers, their stomachs used to a diet of nutrition potions slowly remembering how to digest. She joined Harry later in the early summer night on the porch, under the stars. He seemed pensive.
"Something on your mind?" she said.
"The bloke we were hunting was a wizard by the name of Oril. Very skilled, very elusive. His compound was under Fidelius, we suspected. Now I'm certain. What do you think happens when a Fidelius runs out of secretkeepers?"
It took her a matter of seconds to put the pieces together.
"You have it?" she said. "You got the location when you killed him."
"Got it in one go," Harry said with a smile. "I realized a while after I woke up. When I remembered how I got cursed. That place has to be full of dark artefacts, all kinds of knowledge, he was a bit of a collector. What would you do?"
Before the accident she knew what she would say. But something had changed. She felt the need to ask him. "First, do you feel any different? I know I do. It's hard to put into words, I feel –"
"Calm? At ease? Yeah, surprising I suppose. I'm not going to complain, considering."
"I'm not sure it would be best for such dangerous things to end up in the DoM, or the Ministry. That is if they don't outright destroy them. And when you were hurt… What was used to save you could be considered dark magic! What if some life saving treatment was hidden in there?" She folded her hands in her lap and looked up at the clear starry sky. "I guess that's my answer."
"That's not a bad way to think about it," Harry said with a grin. "Kreacher!"
The elf popped up in the open air with wide eyes, breath ragged. "M – M – Master is returned. Mistress Granger!" He got on his knees before them. "Kreacher thought master was gone for good. Kreacher was preparing the axe for his head to hang next to his kin. Forgive us, Master." He stood back up. "What can Kreacher do?"
"Kreacher, I want you to put Grimmauld Place in order. I'll be living there shortly. I also want you to prepare the library for further additions."
The elf stood unblinkingly for a moment, as if Harry had stated he would declare himself King. "The library, master? THE library, the pride of the Black estate will see… additions?"
"Yes. And make sure it has a nice sitting area. I have a feeling one witch might want to spend time there in the future."
She smiled brightly at the suggestion. "And Kreacher," she said, "we want you to take care of yourself. You look weak."
She'd long learned that appealing to the elf's sense of pride to serve was the best way to get him to do something for himself.
He bowed deeply, returning to a proud stance. "Kreacher lives to serve the Noble and Ancient House of Black." And he disappeared with a pop.
"Noble and Ancient House of Black," Hermione echoed.
"Deeply in need of rebranding in my opinion," Harry joked.
The next day they were surprised to know Cudas had portkeyed over to St. Mungo's already. She did some tests, both with some potions and with spells. By the end of it she had a smile on her face. "This must be the most successful case of a curse split I have ever seen," she said. "But then I've never seen two subjects with such high resonance. Very, very fortuitous. You've experienced no side-effects at all?"
"No, I feel great, in fact," Harry said. "Aside from the whole coma thing."
"Same thing," Hermione said.
"Well I have emergency portkey privileges. Just call me up on the Quantico landline if anything comes up, they'll notify me."
On the way back through the halls Harry got a mischievous smile on his face. "You know how to make portkeys, right?"
"Of course," she smiled back. "One day back and you're already trying to get me into trouble. Is it the compound?"
"It's in Transylvania, I can apparate us the rest of the way."
"Fine," she agreed. "Not in the least because I'm curious as to what books the place might have."
It wasn't too hard to fix the portkey, not for her. It required some precise arithmantic calculations but the spell was a simple thing. She enchanted a lip gloss stick which they used in an alley near St. Mungo's.
"Didn't I buy you that?"
She twirled the gloss in her fingers and opened it, applying some on her lips. It was a warm pink colour. "My welcome gift to the DMLE? Yes."
"I got you a quill stand as well," he reminded her, a nice one too.
"Of course."
The portkey took them to the top of a hill and Harry was ready to apparate to their destination.
"Hold on," he said extending his arm. She hooked hers with his.
Apparating with Harry was a smooth experience, like floating on air as opposed to the other times she side-alonged. They arrived somewhere in a forest, the cries of birds she couldn't identify filling the air.
"A castle?" she asked.
"That's a bit old-fashioned don't you think? We're talking about a modern dark wizard here."
He walked over around the trees. A little further was a concrete construction. Harry scribbled something on a piece of paper and showed it to Hermione, and she could see it too.
"A bunker," he said, "much less conspicuous."
"Smart."
"I told you he was. It's a new world for the Dark Arts."
They went towards the entrance, on top of which was a non-functional lantern.
"Any defensive hexes or curses?"
"Probably," Harry said, lifting his wand, and flicking it.
Like a pulse, the magic travelled forward in the tunnel, lighting up at intervals. "Explosive trap, about twenty feet in."
"Can you disarm it?"
He chuckled and moved forward. He flicked his wand again and a bolt shot out towards the trap. It set off, but instead of the blast moving outward, it collapsed in on itself. He raised an eyebrow back at her.
"Yes, very good, Mr. Crack Auror."
They continued onwards through the underground maze. Sometimes Harry would pause and send out a pulse, sometimes he would cast a spell to disarm something. They passed a more complex trap which they had to duck to get past. Eventually they came into what looked like a living room. Nice chairs, a table and cupboards full of crockery. Even a small stove. Yet the whole place seemed haunted.
"Nice hideout, if a bit dark," he said.
"Home, sweet home?" she answered, sitting down in one of the chairs.
Harry found some tea in the cupboards. He set water to boil and peeked in the adjoining rooms. When he went to the one on their right, he looked back to her knowingly.
She sat up. "Library?"
"Bingo."
She hurriedly made her way past him, into the library. It was a good size, four bookcases lining the walls lit by magical light. "Magick Moste Evile, wow. I've been on the lookout for that one, a classic."
"An ominous title if there ever was one. Might want to check if it's cursed first."
She did, but the books on that shelf at least seemed unprotected. "Strange," she said.
"With a Fidelius he might have gotten complacent."
"That reminds me," she said, turning back. "If there was a Fidelius, then who was his secret keeper?"
Harry's face soured. "I imagine that's what we'll find in the last room."
"Oh," she said, the realization coming over her. "I didn't think that was even possible."
"I'll go check."
"I'll go with you," she answered.
Sure enough, in the west room was a cell with a desiccated corpse. Eight months in a dry environment like this had turned living flesh into unrecognizable leathery skin.
"Starvation," Harry said, "terrible way to die."
"Doesn't look like he has more than the rags he's wearing, male it seems."
"No other belongings in here either."
It was indeed a dark place. You could smell it even aside from the decomposition. "What was in the other room?" she asked.
"That… I'm not sure."
"Should we –"
"We can take a look," he interrupted. "But it's not something we can take to Grimmauld."
Indeed it wasn't, and they packed up the entire library, which ended up bearing no surface level curses to protect the books. They timed portkeys back for all their goods, something she had to figure out more in detail on parchment. But a few hours of work later, they were in the ancient mansion's drawing room with their pilfered knowledge.
Kreacher appeared with big eyes, feather duster in hand. It was slightly comical.
"Such… a bounty master has brought. The library is ready, if you please."
They levitated the books into the library, which amazingly was in perfect order, distasteful furniture and all. Six new bookcases lined the walls, making for a quite impressive collection.
"This entire place is invaluable," Hermione said with awe in her voice. "There must be more forgotten knowledge in here than in any other place in Britain."
"Could this be my thank you gift, for you saving my life?" he asked hopefully.
"Oh don't think you can get even so easily," she shot back. "I still expect a proper thank you gift."
"Will do," he laughed. "No lip gloss, I promise."
Back at the Burrow, they learned Kingsley had requested to see them, not surprising at all and even welcome. Eight months presumed gone would make for quite the story, and consulting Kingsley on what to do going forward would be a good idea. There was no doubt in her mind that Harry would make a grand comeback as Auror, and she probably would be having her comeback by his side in the DMLE.
Ron and George came over this time, as well as Bill and Fleur. Victoire had grown a lot since their slumber, and it was a delight to have the family back together in such a way. But there was a veil of complicit mischief hanging over the dinner. Working together on something illegal and secret brought with it a forgotten sense of nostalgia. It might look bad, if they were found out, but that was unlikely, and at worst they would get a slap on the wrist.
It made everything else feel rather mundane, and as much as Ron tried, it was hard for him to keep her attention. Even so, there was no more putting it off. She would move into Ron's flat after their meeting with Kingsley, even if she knew she would spend a lot of time at Grimmauld in the coming weeks.
The trip had taken its toll on their recovering bodies, and when the stamina potions wore out, they went straight to bed.
The next day she saw Harry dressed in his full Auror robes. Apparently Ginny had brought over his things in the morning. She changed into a formal attire as well, frowning at a pair of heeled black leather shoes.
"Nervous?" he asked, fixing his badge onto his cloak.
"No," she answered. "Anxious to get back in the saddle really. I had a look through the papers of the past months and unsurprisingly there hasn't been much change to catch up on."
"The Ministry, slacking off when we're not around?" he said in mock surprise.
"Thinking about it, my motives for saving your life might have been a bit selfish. There is no way I would pick up your slack too."
She stood up and flattened her skirt, looking in a mirror. The scar was still visible, but she didn't want to button up her shirt to the neck and look like a nun. "How do I look?"
"Nice," he said.
"Can I ask you something?"
"I have an inkling, but go ahead."
"How come you're not bothered about Ginny… seeing someone else?"
He put his hands on his hips and for a brief second she was reminded of the superheroes in her father's old comic books.
"Pining seems a bit petty after dying for the third time," Harry said with a grin. "And she's been lovely anyway. George told me she came to visit twice a week even later on."
"Looking to put yourself back on the market?"
He just kept a smile on his face and winked. The way she remembered it, he had never been this laid back, but it was a good look.
They met Kingsley in the Burrow's living room with tea and biscuits. The large man hugged them kindly and expressed how glad he was they were both doing well.
"You don't know how glad I am to see you both back on your feet. I brought today's Prophet if you don't mind."
They both nodded, and smiled at the headline. 'SLUMBERING DRAGONS AWAKE: GRANGER'S GAMBIT PAYS OFF EIGHT MONTHS LATER'
"I assume you'll want to do a press conference," Hermione said.
"There's no rush, really," Kingsley reassured. "They've waited eight months, they can wait a while longer."
"I think we're ready to get back in the public eye," Harry said, glancing to Hermione.
"Yes, we're recovering quite well."
"I shouldn't be surprised," he responded in surprise. "About you surprising me, I mean. I can set up a press conference for tomorrow. Anything you'd like to keep off the table?"
"I think we can handle ourselves," Hermione answered. "How about our positions at the Ministry?"
"You'll be fully reinstated, of course. There's actually been quite a push to get the both of you in more prominent positions. I've told them that we're still waiting to see what happens, but you were already overqualified. I'll let you decide. You're free to take as much time as you like."
"We'll think about it," Harry answered.
They chatted a while longer about how their colleagues were faring. Nothing out of the ordinary, save for one of Harry's colleagues getting a promotion.
"It has been really good seeing you," Kingsley said with a hand on their shoulders. "And with such vim, I can't quite hide my excitement. I'll be there tomorrow with portkeys to take you to the Ministry. Better to keep the floo clear for your first appearance. If you change your mind, just contact me, we really don't mind you taking your time."
"Pleasure as always, King," Harry said.
"Likewise," Hermione added.
They finished their tea in peace.
"So you're moving in with Ron this evening?" Harry asked.
"I guess so," she sighed. "He's shown me the pictures. The apartment is quite roomy. Will you be moving your stuff into Grimmauld then?"
"Yes. Kreacher has been working overtime, wouldn't want to disappoint him." He turned to smugly look at her. "Jealous I'll get first crack at the library?"
"Extremely."
Harry went on ahead, leaving her to meet with Ron at half past five. They'd already moved most of her things at Ron's place. Technically their place now, as he would have it. After visiting the bedroom – a separate bedroom she noted – she sat down with a cup of tea.
She brought it up. "Two bedrooms."
"Yeah. I – I wasn't sure how things were going to turn out."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean… I don't know. You just woke up but it's been eight months for us. I've missed you."
"Yes," she sighed. "I suppose I haven't now I think about it. One moment I was in terrible pain and the next I woke up in the Burrow next to Harry." She got predictably jealous thinking how Harry was probably already cataloguing the books they found with Kreacher's help. "You have all the papers from when we were under?"
"In those boxes."
She levitated the pair of boxes filled with copies of the Daily Prophet. They were almost all the more wordy Sunday edition. Save for one on top which said: 'TWO WAR HEROES MISSING? MINISTRY DODGING STATUS OF POTTER AND GRANGER'
She arranged the papers on the coffee table, taking her time going through each one. Aside from their coma, there wasn't much news at first glance.
"God, you'd figure it was the Ministry that entered a coma eight months ago. Whatever happened to our anti-corruption initiative?"
"It got put on hold," Ron answered. "Hermione?"
"What?" she said, continuing to read an article on a long past Wizengamot session.
"Can we talk?"
"About?"
"About us? Going forward? Hermione, it's been eight months."
Feeling a hand on her arm she recoiled. She just felt annoyed at the hurt look in his eyes.
"I need space. Yes, like you said it has been eight months, where I was in a coma. I do need time to readjust." She calmed herself with a deep breath. "I'm doing a press conference tomorrow with Harry."
"Explain to me how that works?" he answered, clearly frustrated.
"Well it's obvious isn't it? Since the Ministry can't get any real work done without us kicking them in the arse, we don't have much of a choice. Every day we spend doing nothing the Ministry is just backsliding quite grandly. And they're not even aware of it." She gave him a look and returned to the papers. "Neither are you, it seems."
He scoffed. "What's gotten into you?"
"I don't know, Ronald. Maybe some sense finally made its way through."
