Charming
Disclaimer: I don't own HP or any of these characters. That belongs to JKR, Scholastic Books, Warner Brothers, etc.

Chapter Twenty Six : Heart Moving

Saying that she had to speak with Harry was easier than actually doing so. Between the time that she left Hogwarts and arrived back at the flat, Hermione had thought up of a myriad of objections that he could possibly have to the plan. She wrung her hands as she waited him to come back home. Hermione had to tell him about the offer she had received, for he had been there when Flitwick had mentioned that he might know of a way to solve her problems. She hoped that this conversation wouldn't go too poorly. In a worst case scenario, she could see him marching out the door, never to return.

She didn't dare hope for a best case scenario.

When Harry finally did come home, Hermione leaped up from her seat, eager to greet him. She buried her face in his chest and clung to him tightly, hoping that he wouldn't take the news too badly. He bent down, breathing in the scent of her, before picking her up and carrying her back into their flat.

"Missed you too, love," he whispered softly, and Hermione knew he was smiling. "I don't suppose you have good news for once."

That was almost enough to start her crying once again, but she had sworn earlier to be stronger than that. She gulped nervously, before telling him the truth. "Not exactly good news. Professor Flitwick thought of a way to neutralize one part of the charm, but that's it."

"That's better than nothing. If one part is neutralized, it can't work, can it?" asked Harry. He placed her gently on the couch and took the seat next to her.

"No, I suppose it can't." Hermione found that she couldn't bear to look at him because she knew he was going to be so disappointed. "He suggested that I ought to consider going back to Hogwarts. Because the wards there are powerful enough to stop me from suddenly being transported to somewhere else."

Surprisingly, there was little reaction from Harry. He merely said, "I thought that only professors and students could live there."

"Yes. There is that. So they offered me a place as an assistant Transfiguration professor. I wouldn't be teaching everyone—mainly the third years to the sixth years. Which is more than enough to start with, I suppose."

"So you accepted, right?"

"No."

"And why not?"

"Because I wanted to talk it over with you first," explained Hermione.

"What is there to talk about?" said Harry. "We can't . . . you can't go on, never knowing when the charm might activate. It's a good idea that just might work. You really do need to try it."

"But I thought . . . we have this flat here and—"

"I know." He sighed. "I have become used to being able to wake up next to you, but if it's between that and your safety, I'll chose your safety every time."

"Oh! They said you could stay there as well, so long as we didn't make spectacles of ourselves."

"Not that we would be likely to," Harry noted dryly. "I've had enough of the spotlight to last me several lifetimes. But I really am confused now. Why didn't you say yes right away? Isn't teaching something you always wanted to do anyway?"

"Well, yes it is," said Hermione. She twiddled her hands together nervously. "I really do want to do it, as it's what I've dreamed of doing. But I thought maybe you wouldn't want to do it. That you wouldn't want to lose this flat, that you wouldn't want to be stuck in Hogwarts again."

"We shan't lose the flat. I hardly think you'll be paying anything to stay at Hogwarts, so we can keep it up. And I think that would be nice, for us to have a place to get away to once you do find a permanent fix." All of a sudden, his mood turned from jovial to solemn. "Frankly, it might be a good idea for you to take up that job offer regardless of the charm. I'm afraid that I still have enemies out there . . . and now that everyone knows about us, you've become a prime target."

"Say that I've become an even bigger target and you'd be closer to the truth," said Hermione bluntly. She gathered her courage and lifted her eyes to meet Harry's. To her surprise, there wasn't any anger in them at all, though it would be so easy and so understandable for him to be upset with her and the whole situation. The only things she saw in his eyes were love and concern for her. It made her feel so small for not believing in him like she should have, and she vowed to trust him more. She had to. She had already given him her heart. Once that had happened, she had no choice but to trust him to keep it safe and never break it.

"I know," he was saying. "But I'm still sorry that—" Hermione raised a finger to his lips to forestall his apology.

"No. You don't have to be sorry, Harry. If anything, I'm the one who should be apologizing for making such a mess of this situation . . . things could've been much easier if I'd just asked if you wanted a roommate, rather than using that charm. I would have never been in this mess if I had been honest with both you and Ron, and told you how lost I felt when we were approaching the end of our school days. But I didn't and the thing I most regret is how it's affected you." Hermione bit her lip. She did feel guilty about not doing everything she should have done, with never telling Harry how she felt before.

"Maybe you—and I—haven't always made the best choices, but at least we're together now, and that makes up for everything. And I'm not interested in might-have-beens, because my life might have been different if so many things hadn't happened. But they did and it's awful, but I have you . . . and for that I'm grateful." He pulled Hermione into his lap and his embrace. "So, you'll owl back to say that you'll take the job?" he asked. "You can borrow Hedwig if you like."

"I'll do that," said Hermione.

"Sooner's better than later," Harry said, a mischievous grin covering his face. "Before McGonagall remembers all the trouble we got into while we were there as students."

"What do you mean, all the trouble we got into?" Hermione asked. "As I remember it, you and Ron were always getting into trouble, and I had to go and save your sorry hides."

Harry gave her a look of injured innocence. "Hermione! Remember second year? Whose idea was it to break into Snape's cabinet and make that potion illegally?"

Hermione tossed her head, ready to give as good as she got. "That was only because I was trying to stop the two of you from getting yourself expelled by attacking Slytherin students. You know Snape would've expelled you if you ever gave him such an opportunity."

"And so your brilliant plan to stop our expulsion was to steal from Snape? Hermione, that sounds hare-brained enough to have been concocted by Ron," Harry said.

"I was twelve. Twelve years old, and I had to deal with the likes of you two. You got to give a girl a break if sometimes she didn't always think her plans through," Hermione reasoned. That earned her a pillow tossed directly at her face. "Gah! Fine, fine! I know when I'm not wanted here." She turned around to march into the kitchen, only to be pulled back by a pair of strong hands.

"Not wanted here? Hardly." Harry bent down to kiss her. "I don't think anyone could ever want you more than me."

Hermione smiled slyly, tilting her hips against his. Feeling him harden against her made her feel so incredibly sexy. "I certainly hope so," she whispered. "Now let me write that letter so we'll have the rest of the night free."

Reluctantly, Harry let go of her and Hermione trotted off into the kitchen to find a bit of parchment. When she had done that, she scribbled off a quick note to McGonagall, saying that she would be more than happy to accept the position at Hogwarts. She tied the letter firmly to Hedwig's leg, who looked a little cross at being sent out so late but nonetheless spread her wings and set off. That task done, Hermione returned to the living room, to find Harry nearly doubled over with laughter.

"Care to let me in on the joke?" she asked, leaning against the doorway and looking at him in askance. What could have set him off like that? she wondered. I wasn't away for that long.

"I just thought . . . of one . . . drawback to you teaching at Hogwarts," he said between bouts of laughter.

"And that is?" she prompted. "The fact that I won't be able to visit you at lunch any more?"

"Oh, there's that as well. Which is too bad." He frowned. "Maybe I'll just visit you instead. Besides you'll probably need my help to fight off your fan club."

Okay, he's lost it. It's time to call the mediwizards at St. Mungo's for him. "Harry, this is me we're talking about. Not you, remember?"

That only set him off once again. Hermione tapped her foot impatiently against the floor as she waited for him to calm down. Several minutes later, he had recovered enough to say, "I knew you'd say that. I don't think you realize how many blokes wanted you while we were at Hogwarts." He positively smirked at her. "You were on the list of the most shaggable witches at Hogwarts, you know."

Hermione refused to be baited like that. "I know that there is no such list, and if there happened to be one, I wouldn't be on it."

"Oh, no official list as such. Who'd want to write that down? Someone would find that out. But trust me Hermione, you were on all versions. If only for being completely unobtainable."

Hermione crossed the distance between them and poked him sharply in the chest, making Harry wince slightly. "Me? Unobtainable? Hardly. If that were true, how would that explain my current boyfriend?"

"Oh I'm an incredibly lucky bloke, don't you know?" he said. "And it is true. The only person you dated at Hogwarts was Viktor Krum. Who was a internationally famous Seeker to boot. How could anyone compete with that?"

"Maybe with a pair of green eyes and incredibly messy hair." Hermione ruffled Harry's hair fondly. She loved doing that. "Though I suppose you're an internationally famous Seeker as well. But I still don't think that—"

"Fine. Just wait till your first day there. The boys in your classes won't know what hit them." Harry snerked. "From McGonagall to you. It'd be like a dream come true for them!"

"And you're not jealous because . . ." Hermione asked. The fact that he wasn't jealous both amused her—for it let her in on the joke—and rankled her. Not that she wanted him to be the jealous, possessive type, but it would be nice to know that he didn't appreciate competition.

"Because a bunch of little boys like that will hardly hold any attraction for you, Hermione." He gestured expansively. "You've only dated older wizards for one," he went on. "I figure there's less competition there for me than at your current job."

"You never know. I might develop a fascination for Snape." Hermione's stomach turned at that thought. Harry's hair was nice to run her fingers through. Snape's hair . . . well, she didn't want to think of that, but it must be nasty given how greasy it was.

"Thank you Hermione for effectively removing my appetite for today," said Harry. He did look a little green. "And if you ever admit to feeling any sort of attraction to that greasy git, Ron and I will have to take you to St. Mungo's to get your head examined."

Hermione opened her mouth to laugh at that comment—when she felt the tingle of the charm activating. Desperately, she reached out to Harry, trying to anchor herself to him, but it was no use. The charm would not be denied, and she was pulled away before she could say another word.

Hermione had never been the type to frequent bars of any sort. She had only read about them in novels, and somehow, bars had always been shady places. The one she was currently in was worse than any she had ever read about. It was very seedy, very dirty, and very much a place she didn't want to be. Not to mention the fact that she thought that it was possible to get drunk off the fumes in here, the smell of alcohol was that strong.

On the bright side, however, she didn't land on Malfoy's lap this time. Because that would have meant her landing right on top of the bar and on all those glasses that were piled up in front of him. Having an arse full of broken glass would have just made her situation much, much more untenable.

Feeling like some fairy godmother in a story gone awry, Hermione resolutely marched towards the bar. Hermione supposed she could have just left Malfoy there—certainly, the charm didn't bind her to the person who needed her most—but she didn't think that would be right. Besides, she didn't know how safe she would be, alone by herself outside the bar. It was clear from its appearance, that this wasn't the sort of place that any Muggle-born witch should be by herself.

After all, only a bar in Knockturn Alley would call itself, "Faust's Choice."

"What's wrong, Malfoy?" asked Hermione as she took the seat next to him. For now, her best bet was to try to help him get out of whatever slump he was in. At the least, maybe she could convince him it was time to get out of this dump and return home. If she was lucky, maybe he would stop needing her more than Harry needed her. And she really hoped that Harry wouldn't put together all the pieces this time around.

Malfoy gave no reply, and Hermione wrinkled her nose. She tried to count the number of shot glasses in front of the wizard, but gave up in disgust. "Merlin! How many have you had Malfoy?" She reached over to take his current glass away from him, but he swatted her hand away.

"Oh," he said, looking at her with bleary eyes. "It's you." He screwed up his face as he tried to remember her name. "You're . . . my only angel. Angel. Yeah, that's right." He took a swig of his drink. "An angel that's just too good for me. And too good for here. So you must be a dream." He gazed fuzzily at her. "Such a lovely dream though." He reached out to touch her hair, and Hermione jerked away. Malfoy was acting very, very strangely.

He only sighed at her response. "See? Even dream Angel here doesn't want me. I don't stand a chance with the real one." He finished his drink in one quick swallow and sat the glass down again.

"Malfoy, you're dead drunk," Hermione told him. That's kind of stupid for me to say that though. He either knows that or is in no condition to care about whether or not he's drunk, she scolded herself after saying that aloud.

"Am I?" Malfoy looked at the bartender. "Am I drunk?"

The bartender grunted and set another shot in front of Malfoy. "Not drunk enough that you can't handle another drink," he responded.

"See?" Malfoy said, grinning. "I'm not dead drunk. Because if I was dread dunk, he'd have ignored me and not give me another drink."

Hermione repressed the urge to shake Malfoy. That might only result in him spewing all over her. "Malfoy," she started, determined to convince him to leave this place.

"I'm not Malfoy," he corrected her. "That's my dad. And I'm not my dad. I'm . . ." Once again, his brow furrowed as this time around he tried to recall his own name. "I'm . . Dray . . . no, Drake . . . no Drakkie! That's right. I'm Drakkie!" He put down his glass and held out his hand for her to shake. "Nice to meet you Angel."

Merlin! Who would have ever thought that Draco Malfoy was a silly drunk? Hermione pondered silently. A mean drunk, though that may be typecasting, or even a sobbing sad drunk, but a silly drunk? I can hardly believe it myself, and he's right in front of my eyes.

"You're supposed to shake hands, Angel," Malfoy was saying in front of her. "Angel is supposed to be polite. Even if Angel doesn't like me, she's supposed to be polite. She promised me." Hermione winced, but there was no avoiding it. She shook Draco's hand and he beamed at her. Maybe now that he seemed happy with her, she could convince him to leave.

"I think you've been here long enough Malf—I mean, Drakkie. Don't you think it's time for you to get home?" she suggested.

"Hey. Leave a bloke alone with his sorrows and his drink," the bartender called out to her. Hermione glowered in his direction, but that didn't have the effect she thought it would. He put down the glass he was polishing to lean over threateningly at her. "Keep on at it. I know several blokes who'd be glad to take a piece out of you."

"That would be stupid," Malfoy said, half in a stupor. "Angel is protected by Potter. You mess with Angel, you mess with Potter." At those words, the bartender jerked away from Hermione, as if burned. He slowly backed away from where she sat, but Malfoy went on. "But if you hurt Angel, you get to deal with me. Because I'm not good for much except for beating up people who hurt Angel. Right, Angel?"

He is? That would be kind of hard considering he'd have to start with himself. Gah! What am I thinking? He's drunk. Clearly, Malfoy does not know what he is saying. Best to humor him and get him to go home. "Right, Drakkie," she said. It was so strange to call Malfoy that. "And I really think we should get going home."

At the mention of home, Malfoy's face scrunched up. "Don't wanna go home," he whinged. "Don't wanna. It's Mum's birthday today . . . and I didn't get her anything, I hardly can keep the manor as it is while paying for a flat in London on top of all that. . . and Mum's so sad without Dad. It's all Dad's fault, but Dad's the only one who can make Mum happy. Drakkie isn't good for anything at all."

"Yes, you are," said Hermione. Merlin. I never knew. Poor Draco . . . having to try and keep his ancestral home, and not getting any appreciation for his efforts. His mum always looked like the cold sort . . . strange to think that she was related to Sirius. "But drinking never solved anything," she went on.. "So let's get going and maybe I can help you."

"You can?" Malfoy brightened up noticeably at her words.

"Well, I'll try at least." She stood up and held out a hand to him. "Come on, Drakkie. Let's get you back where you belong."

He dreamily took the hand she offered and smiled. His head thumped against her shoulder almost as soon as he tried to walk, and Hermione grunted with having to support his weight. But she was able to do so and they were able to walk on out there more or less steadily. That is to say, she was more steady while he was less steady. He curled an arm over her back and sighed happily as she helped him walk home.

"Angel is with me," he whispered softly, "so all's right with the world."

That almost broke Hermione's heart. She was with him—but all wasn't right with the world. And one of the major problems from her viewpoint was the fact that she was with him and not Harry. Tears filled her eyes at that thought. Malfoy deserved better than her. He deserved someone who cared for him like she cared for Harry . . . and she hoped one day soon he would realize that. So maybe then he would stop needing her so much and move on to someone who could give him everything that he wanted.

Author's note: I hope everyone liked this week's installment. I'd really like to hear from you and so reviews would be muchly appreciated. And thank you to
Shawn Pickett, danielerin, lynnjoe14, LeslieGlady, Ramy, Erik MacRorie (no, they're way too young), lee74, juliet's rose, Writer Josie (I'm glad to see someone else feels bad for Draco, as he is getting shorted here. But then he tends to get such treatment in most of my fics.), Amber, Orlando's Gurl, ExcalibursZone, acissiej, jennymay, Bulma Queen of Saiya-jin, Wytil, malu (but isn't it fun to watch her flounder in the mess she's created?), Allison, RogueBHS, Jabba1 (and that's why it's a rather makeshift solution), Cynthia21, ravenclaw's heir, spacey-me90, EuphoniumGurl0 (who knows? I'm not making any predictions.), BakaAngel (in one sitting? Ouch.), Falling, PoTtErSPaYnE, Leah6, Megan (lol -- am surprised that chapter 20 was unexpected for you, since it seems like a lot of people guessed that something would happen with the charm), duchesscarml, TheWraith1 (when you get to be McGonagall's age, you don't have time to not to be frank ), Laura Johnson, v-weasley, hpfanmelissa, Ash, casey windsor, Sheilalein, I-Love-Logolas, paochicute, Magicalfoci (thank you -- though I must say I was shocked that you like this Ron so much), and Zekintha for reviewing the last chapter.