December 31st - 1998
It was going to be an evening of celebration. The new year held hope and promise of a brighter future for the wizarding community, one that would be free of the death and destruction that had clouded the previous. The surviving members of the Order and their families had all gathered for the count down at their old headquarters, 13 Grimmauld Place. The party guests were scattered throughout the old house in the kitchen and dinning room, merrily chattering with one another while they sipped on firewhiskey and Dragon's Gin Punch.
Hermione snorted liquid out her nose, spewing it all over her top as she laughed at her boyfriend. Ron had accidentally stood under the mistletoe next to his mum, and Molly had teasingly placed a wet kiss on his cheek, causing his ears to burn with embarrassment. To his annoyance, George had managed to snap a picture of them with his dad's camera. As Ron angrily chased his brother through the crowded house, trying to retrieve the photo, Hermione began searching for an unoccupied bathroom to wipe off her now damp shirt. After finding that the downstairs loo was occupied, she made her way up to the fourth floor where she knew she'd find a vacancy.
Looking into the upstairs bathroom mirror, Hermione quickly cast a drying spell and fixed her loosely curled hair. Anxious to get back to the festivities, she hurried out, but stopped in the hallway when she noticed something that caught her eye. The door to Sirius's old room was slightly cracked with a dim light peaking through.
Slowly Hermione pushed open the door and found Harry sitting on the edge of the large bed, a half empty bottle of champagne in hand. He looked up at her immediately with a uncomfortable grimace and Hermione oddly felt as though she'd intruded. She gave him a quizzical look as she stepped into the room and pulled the door closed behind her.
"Harry, what are you doing up here?" she asked with concern, her eyes searching him.
"I just needed a minute," he replied with a forced smile. "I'll be right down."
Studying her friend closely, Hermione noticed Harry's glazed over eyes and sluggish demeanor. It was apparent he was drunk, or at the very least, extremely tipsy. Her gaze fell on the bottle of champagne clutched in his hands, noticing it was the same cheap brand they'd shared together exactly one year ago. A beverage she'd avoided since.
"Tell me you're not up here torturing yourself with the past," Hermione said softly, sitting down on the bed next to him. She made sure to leave a small gap between them.
"I'm not," he replied, earning himself an unconvincing look from Hermione.
Harry had been unreasonably hard on himself after the battle, and more so after having found Hermione unconscious and bleeding in late May. Even after she'd returned home from the hospital, he'd still blamed himself for everything. Somehow he thought he should have foreseen her pregnancy and her subsequent torture at Malfoy Manor. Hermione thought that after the summer they'd both moved passed the guilt and blame, and the two hadn't talked about that night or it's consequences since before she'd gone to Australia in July.
"You look like you've had a bit too much to drink," Hermione said with a gentle smile. "Come down and have a glass of water. You're missing all the fun."
Harry ignored what she said and stared at her intensely, lost in his own thoughts. After a moment, he spoke.
"Do you ever think about it?" he asked softly.
The question caught Hermione off guard, and she wasn't sure if she should answer truthfully or not. Of course she thought about it. It wasn't something one could just forget. It was the very first thing she'd thought about when she woke that morning, but she'd quickly forced it away. Whenever memories of that night entered her mind, she never allowed them to linger.
"Sometimes," Hermione said honestly with a heavily sigh. "At first it was hard not too."
Harry continued to look at her, his expression turning dark.
"What if I told you I think about it all the time?" he said, barely above a whisper. "That I can't get the thought of being inside you out of my bloody mind."
Even for drunk Harry the remark was completely out of line. Hermione was stunned and her mouth parted slightly as she searched for words to respond. What did he expect her to say to that?
"Harry..." she said awkwardly, shuffling slightly to the side to put further distance between them.
"I love Ginny," Harry said quickly, his green eyes wide and glossy, swirling with confliction. "I really do. I love her so damn much, and I'm so happy for you and Ron... but that night with us... something was there, right?"
Hermione said nothing. This was dangerous for them to be talking about. They'd come so far without anyone learning what they'd done; why was he doing this? They'd decided together to leave that night behind, and both of them had found love after the war. Didn't he know it could ruin everything? Didn't he understand that it didn't matter if there was something there?
For the first time in her life, Hermione had a boyfriend, and not just anyone, someone she'd had a crush on since her third year. She and Ron had now been dating for just over seven months, and though there had been moments of difficulty, the two of them had proved to be a well matched couple. What was Harry doing dredging up something that they'd promised not to?
Harry was still looking at her, desperate for an answer.
"Tell me I'm not going mental and that you felt it too," he breathed with a crack, his voice fragile and pained.
Hermione didn't want to answer him, she really didn't, but when she looked at him and saw his anguished expression, she couldn't deny him the truth.
"I felt it." She'd barely whispered the words, afraid of what she knew to be true.
Hermione had felt something. She remembered the way her skin had tingled at Harry's touch and how his kiss had made her spin. She'd experienced a whole different kind of pleasure with Harry she never knew existed. He'd been her first, and he'd certainly left his mark. There had even been times while she'd been with Ron that memories of Harry had intrusively entered her mind, reminding her of their secret.
"We should go back downstairs," Hermione said quickly, standing to her feet.
She didn't get far before she felt the light grasp of Harry's hand on her arm, turning her towards him. Before she could speak, he swiftly connect his lips with hers and she froze in shock.
As his mouth moved against hers, Hermione melted into him, feeling the same desire she had exactly one year ago. He tasted like peppermint and smelled of strong whiskey, different than last time, but equally addictive.
The kiss intensified and just as she felt herself letting go of all rational and logical thoughts, he abruptly broke away. They stood facing one another, exhaling heavily as they both tried to catch their breaths.
Hermione opened her mouth to speak but no words came out. Harry offered her a sad smile, his eyes filled with an emotion she couldn't quite place.
"I don't regret that night," he said quietly. "I know that you do, but I don't."
Before Hermione could even process what Harry had just said, he was gone, leaving her standing in Sirus's old bedroom as she reeled with what had just happened between them.
...
Internal Memo
To: All Ministry of Magic Personnel
From: Minister Granger
As many of you may have read in yesterday's edition of the Daily Prophet, an article was written about me and Auror Potter, claiming that we have been engaged in an inappropriate relationship. I want to assure all Ministry employees that this is simply untrue. I know that stating this alone will not convince everyone, which is why this morning I met with the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and asked him to question me while under Veritaserum. After having drank the potion, my position remained unchanged - I have never had a romantic relationship with anyone while at the same time working together professionally.
I'd also like to make it known that any allegations stating I've had an affair outside of my marriage are completely false. Although this matter is personal and not related to the Ministry, I felt it pertinent to include given the rumors that have been circulating.
In regards to my medical history, I ask that my privacy be respected. I will not be answering questions about my prior health conditions or previous hospital stays.
I trust this serves as sufficient to address the recent speculations. Thank you all for your continued efforts at the Ministry.
Sincerely,
Minister Hermione J. Granger
Hermione had been in damage control mode since leaving for the Ministry at seven in the morning. She'd already been in three different meetings, and she was finally feeling as though she could relax. From what she'd heard, no one on the Wizengamot had seemed to believe the article in The Prophet, and to Hermione's delight, the Chief Warlock had a personal grudge against Rita Skeeter. He'd seemed to think the entire article had been rather ridiculous and urged Hermione not to make a spectacle out of it. "Respond once, move forward, and don't fixate," he'd wisely advised, and Hermione intended to do just that.
Hermione had also contacted St. Mungo's and had been assured by the hospital's director that he would be launching an investigation into how her medical records had been leaked. She hoped that this may give her some clue as to who their mystery blackmailer was, though she doubted they'd be hearing from him again. The damage had been done.
Relieved that her morning was going better than she could've expected, Hermione finally felt hunger pains after having had zero appetite for the last few days. She called to her assistant that she was running out for lunch and would be back in about a half hour.
Hermione managed to step onto the lift just as the doors were about to close. Her heart stopped when she saw she was alone with the one person she'd hoped she could go the day without seeing.
"Hey," Harry said lightly with a small smile, casually leaning against the lift wall.
"Good morning," Hermione replied with a nod, pressing the ground floor button on the panel with a shaky hand.
Earlier that morning Hermione had promised herself she wasn't going to avoid Harry, but she wasn't quite ready to face him either. She'd been naive to think that the memories wouldn't bother her. She hadn't realize how real reliving them all would be, and how it would change the way she saw him. Even though it was decades ago, to her it felt like just last night Harry was trailing kisses down her collarbone and fumbling off her shirt.
"Probably dangerous for us to be alone in here," Harry quipped with a small grin, trying to lighten the mood. "Who knows what those idiots will think if they see us coming out of the lift at the same time."
Hermione didn't find his remark funny. Actually, she hadn't even be listening to him at all. The sight of him had thrown her for a loop, and she found herself staring at his familiar lips, her mind pulling her back to the memories she'd relived overnight.
What was that?
I - I don't know,
Did you... did you like it?
Yes... did you?
Yes... can I... can we... can we do that again?
"I read your memo," Harry said as the lift started to move, breaking Hermione from her thoughts. "It was good. Hopefully it will keep the rumors at bay."
"I wouldn't count on it."
Harry offered a sympathetic smile as an uncomfortable silence fell over.
"So..." he began, his voice lowering. "Did it work?
"It did," Hermione replied, hoping he didn't notice the flush she felt rise to her face.
"And?" Harry asked expectantly.
"And I remember why I hate champagne," She quipped, hoping to keep the conversation light.
"Hermione," Harry said with annoyance at her deflection, his eyes observing her closely. "Are you okay?"
"I'm great."
Harry looked at her skeptically.
"Okay, so I'm not exactly great but you know what I mean," Hermione said quickly. "I'm good. I'm fine."
"Alright," Harry said slowly as the lift stopped and the doors opened. "I'll catch up with you later?"
"Absolutely."
When Harry exited the elevator, Hermione exhaled deeply and closed her eyes. Since she'd woken up that morning, she couldn't stop the memories of his lips on her body from infiltrating her mind. Being with him was nothing like she'd thought it would be, and it had started something with inside her she couldn't explain; something had been ignited, and Hermione was starting to worry that whatever it was, she wouldn't be able to put it out.
...
Rose had spent the day home alone. When she'd woken in the morning, both her parents had already left for work and Hugo had gone to spend the day at the Burrow. She'd bummed around the empty house, ignoring the owls swooping in with mail every few minutes.
Rose was still not able to shake the thought of her mum and Uncle Harry from her mind. She couldn't believe she almost had a half-sibling who's father also happened to be her uncle. What would have happened if her mum hadn't lost the baby? Would she have even been born? The entire thing was so messed up and gave Rose a headache whenever she tried to make sense of it.
Rose was distracted from her day of nothing when she heard someone rummaging in the kitchen, and curiously she made her way downstairs to investigate. She found her dad sitting on a stool at the island, a plate of cookies in front of him that he hadn't touched.
"What are you doing home?" she asked. It was still early for him to be back from work.
"Just didn't feel like being at the shop today," Ron answered with a shrug.
"Press?"
"Flocks of them," Ron replied with irritation. "They've surrounded the shop making it impossible for customers to get to the door, and anyone that does actually manage to get inside just wants to ask me about the article."
Rose frowned. Her dad hadn't seemed like himself for a few weeks, and now that she knew why, she was even more so concerned. He'd always been the jealous type, and Rose knew that he wasn't coping well with the news that his best friend had once been with his wife, no matter how long ago it was.
"Are you okay?" Rose asked gently. "Like really okay?"
"Yes, I'm fine," Ron answered dismissively. "Soon this will all be yesterday's news and people will find something else to talk about."
Rose wasn't sure she agreed. As far as she knew, all the previous gossip stories about her parents had been false. With this particular article having some truth, Rose feared that discussion about her mum's relationship with Harry would be never ending.
"Are you mad at her?" Rose asked, taking a seat next to her dad.
Ron heavily sighed.
"Yes, but that doesn't mean I'll be mad forever," he said, and then asked, "are you?"
"It's hard to describe what I feel," Rose said, and then wrinkled her nose. "Other than thoroughly grossed out. That I'm sure of."
"Me too," Ron replied with a harsh look of disgust.
"Are you and Uncle Harry going to stop being friends?" Rose asked, unable to mask the worry in her voice.
"I... " Ron faltered, and then smiled slightly. "I probably shouldn't be talking about this with you."
Rose rolled her eyes, but decided not to push. Her dad was already worked up enough with everything that had happened in the last few weeks.
"I'm worried that our family's going to change," Rose said after a moment. "Is that stupid?"
"No," Ron answered quietly. "That's not stupid at all."