Chapter 23: A Pensive Truth, Relieved
Harry never told anyone what happened with Gryffindor's quill the previous evening. As soon as he got back to the dormitory he deposited the memory into his Pensieve and decided to leave it there until the most opportune moment. He didn't know why he wanted to keep it from his friends or his wife, he only figured that it would get blown completely out of proportion and then somehow it would be leaked to the press- and that was the LAST thing he needed. He didn't want the press having a field day saying all sorts of slanderous things about Ginny. The possibilities were endless- how she was 'only with him for his title' or worse, 'his fortune and legacy'. Harry just didn't need that right now.
After he made sure the memory was securely locked in his Pensieve, Harry adjourned downstairs into the common room to find Hermione, Ron and Ginny waiting for him so they could walk to the returning feast together. It was wonderful to see everyone looking so refreshed and carefree back from Christmas Holidays, and the entire school had an enjoyable evening. After the feast it was back to the Common Room for a rather raucous game of Exploding Snap, and then Harry and Ron bid a rather sooty-faced Ginny and bushy-haired Hermione goodnight.
Barely one full day into the semester and Harry was already feeling ready for another Holiday. Classes had resumed in their usual gusto, and Harry began working with Professor Luenebraum more in depth on their Battle Tactics and escape plans. It was after they had a meeting with Hermione about an improved Stunning Spell she had formulated that Harry found himself sitting in the kitchens with his best female friend, discussing the most morose topic he could ever think of.
"Hermione," Harry began, attempting to keep himself busy with one of Dobby's Snickerdoodle cookies. "I—I want to talk with you about, um, the future and, um, my plans should, um—"
Hermione straightened up immediately, and took Harry's hand across the small table Dobby and Winky had set up for their evening snack.
"Harry, it's all right. Anything you want to discuss with me I won't tell Ron and Ginny if you don't want me to. I know it's harder to talk with them about these things, they're just… so…"
"Emotional?" Harry supplied, smiling slightly.
Hermione inclined her head briefly. "Well, I suppose that's a good way of putting it, yes."
Harry gulped down the last bite of his cookie and took a large sip of milk, immediately regretting that now he had nothing to occupy his hands. He reached for a napkin, and began idly shredding it into strips.
"It's just, well…"
Harry wasn't entirely sure as to where to start, but looking up finally at Hermione he saw her reassuring smile, and knew that it was his best friend he was talking to—his sister, really—and knew that bluntness would be the easiest path.
"What is it, Harry?" prompted Hermione.
"Well… ever since last summer, I've been having dreams."
"Dreams, Harry? You mean nightmares, don't you?"
"No- not nightmares, dreams. I mean, nothing like normal dreams. I mean, I had a dream about Dumbledore's library, actually, only I didn't know it was his library at the time."
"Interesting… Dumbledore told me he gave you access to the library. I have to say it must be fascinating!"
"It was- I mean, it is. It's just, my dream pictured the library precisely as it is in real life, only I don't know how it could because I'd obviously never seen it before."
"What are you trying to say, Harry? You're leaving out a key point."
"What are you talking about, 'Mione?"
Hermione laughed, and shook her head in Harry's direction. "I'm surprised Ginny hasn't pointed it out to you by now, seeing as she's known you for nearly six years."
"Pointed out what?" asked Harry, somewhat confusedly.
"When you're not telling the entire truth, or holding back information you're not entirely sure should be passed on, your hair flattens to your head- as if trying to hold it in."
Harry's hand immediately went to his scalp, which made the Hermione laugh even harder. He had always thought his hair had a life of its own, now this just proved it.
"Either way, Harry, you can tell me if you wish. On a strictly personal or professional level, whichever you feel more comfortable at."
Harry smiled, and sighed. "I feel comfortable at either with you, Hermione, you know that."
Hermione beamed, "Thank you, Harry. That's very kind. So- what's been bothering you?"
"In my dream- the one where I visited Dumbledore's library- I immediately found the book that showed me a way to defeat Voldemort."
"But that's wonderful news!"
Harry shrugged. "I know I should think of it that way. But… it makes me nervous."
"Nervous?"
"Yeah- nervous. I don't know why, but… well, it's like this—Now that I know I have a way to fight Voldemort, I almost feel as if it's a death sentence."
"Come on, Harry! Why would you feel that?"
"It's just that ever since I came back to the wizarding world and found out about Voldemort I've had this mission, you know, this ultimate goal of defeating him."
"I see…"
"And now that I know a way to defeat him, I feel as though once I do my life will be complete—that there won't be any reason to go on living. All I've been brought into this world to do is defeat Lord Voldemort. Once I've done it—what's left?"
Hermione sighed, shrugged and raised her hands to the heavens. "I honestly couldn't tell you, Harry. As much as I want to, there's really nothing I can say to convince you that life would still be worth living. That's something every wizard has to find out for themself."
"See that's the thing- I already know what there is to live for. There's Ginny. There's Ron and you. There's starting a family. And at the same time I wonder if after all the craziness I'll even be able to LIVE a normal life."
"Normal life can be just as crazy, Harry, let me be the first to tell you that!"
"I know!" Harry sighed. "That's why I'm worried about looking in that book. I'm afraid of what will happen after I do what I'm supposed to do. Maybe life will go to being wonderful. Maybe Ginny and I will raise a family and you and Ron will come to brunch every Sunday with your kids. Part of me thinks that. But another part of me keeps thinking that I'll be hexing everything that moves, blowing apart the baby's nursery because one of the toys has me thinking Voldemort is sneaking through the window!"
"I can see where that would be a problem. I think Ron, Ginny and I will have the same problem- though to a lesser degree, of course."
"You know how things are, what with me and the press and all, and— well, what would they say about me then? They would just go on and on about the Boy-Who-Lived is now the Boy-Who-Went-Mental. The press just…" Harry gestured hopelessly, looking for the words to describe just exactly how he felt about the press.
"You're tired of the lies they spill about you every other article, and I don't blame you, Harry. I don't know how you handle it sometimes—take this morning, for example."
Harry cringed, recalling the moment the owls came swooping in with the morning's mail. His ears were still ringing with the squeal Parvati had let out at the sight of Witch Weekly's cover- a full, color shot of Harry and Ginny in their wedding robes.
"Ooh, Ginny!" she squealed. "Wherever did you get these? They're GORGEOUS!"
"Wherever did I get what?" Ginny asked, with a mouthful of porridge.
"These robes!" ogled Lavender. "And Harry! You're looking particularly dashing, I might add!"
"Um, Parvati," asked Ginny, giving Harry a worried glance, "can I look at that?"
Harry leaned over Ginny's shoulder, and his heart nearly hit the floor. Apparently Parvati and Lavender had been too focused on Ginny's wedding robes to notice the flashing title screaming "Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Married!" Looking to Ginny, Harry felt his heart ache for her. She didn't need this. As if she wasn't enough of a target already, now she was going to be number two on Voldemort's hit list- right between Harry (at number one) and Dumbledore (at number three).
"Oh, Gin, I'm so sorry—" he began, but Ginny cut him off with a giggle.
"Harry, your hair really NEVER does lie flat, does it?"
"Um, no, Gin, it doesn't. You're not upset?"
"No, Harry. I'm not- this gets us out of having to tell everyone ourselves… in a surprising and cruel sort of way."
Harry grinned, and kissed her on the cheek. "Now I know why I married you Gin."
"Not my stellar good looks?"
"Nah, you always laugh off the serious stuff- but the good looks are nice, too."
The Witch Weekly article circled the Great Hall at record speed, with many taunts coming from the Slytherin table about Ginny being 'in trouble' and Harry doing the 'honorable thing' (Harry noticed that Malfoy remained uncharacteristically quiet). Congratulations and hexes alike came from the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables, and several blank stares of disbelief coming from the Gryffindor side of the hall. In all, the morning ended with Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny having to leave the Hall deflecting hexes on both sides from wizards and witches alike jealous of Ginny and Harry's relationship.
"So what else did you want to talk to me about?" prompted Hermione, startling Harry out of his reminiscing of that morning.
"I want you to have my Pensieve," Harry blurted, following immediately by shoving another cookie in his mouth.
"What? Harry—it's your Pensieve! Don't you need to use it?"
Harry blushed. "Well, yeah, but I didn't mean NOW, exactly. I just mean… well, the Press, Hermione. If something happens to me, I—"
"You don't want people like Rita Skeeter making a highly-colored and inaccurate story of your life," Hermione supplied tactfully and Harry nodded gratefully.
"Exactly. If I—well, if things don't go as planned, I want the world to know what really happened. Because I know that someone will try to tell all about me even if it's just to make money, just some random witch making me out to be some stupid romance novel hero. I would rather have that person be someone I love and trust. Someone that has been there through it all, and can tell the truth for me."
Hermione smiled, and her eyes sparkled with tears at what her best friend was asking her. If Harry died, he wanted her, Hermione Jane Granger, to write his biography. To tell the truth to the world about everything from his life at the Dursleys and the Sorcerer's Stone to his marriage to Ginny and the final battle with Lord Voldemort.
"Harry," Hermione began, not sure of what she really wanted to say, "are you sure? I mean- there's got to be loads of better people to do this than me."
Harry merely shook his head and smiled. "No, Hermy. No one else has been there for everything. No one else but Ron, and we all know his essays are bloody awful. I could never ask Ginny to do it- it would break her heart to even have the conversation, let alone actually pick up a quill. You're the only one I trust with this, Hermione. Please say you'll do it."
Hermione dried her eyes carefully with her napkin, and nodded.
"All right, Harry. I'll do it."