Day Nine

The next evening Harry was waiting for Dudley outside of a pub where they'd agreed to meet. Dudley had called him earlier that day, while he was at work actually, and Harry's first instinct had been to panic, assuming there was some kind of emergency. Dudley had assured him there was not, but had requested to see him as soon as possible. He had quickly agreed and then immediately gone to Hermione to ask for her opinion.

She had tried to keep him calm, but he could tell that she was worried too, and so he had been uneasy ever since. He was going over the list of reasons that his cousin could possibly have for needing to talk to him in his head again when he heard the man in question call his name, and he turned to see him approaching.

"Thanks for doing this," Dudley said, hand extended.

"No problem. It sounded urgent, if you don't mind me saying so," Harry replied, shaking his hand.

"Yeah, let's go in, get a pint, it's on me."

"Okay, you don't have to do that, but okay," Harry agreed, sensing that it was important to Dudley to be able to pay.

"So what's going on?" Harry asked once they were inside and seated.

"Well, first of all I wanted to thank you for coming out with me and Amelia last week. That meant a lot to her."

"No problem," Harry waved him off, "we had fun. And Hermione really liked Amelia, said she would hang out anytime, and she's not easily impressed."

He pursed his lips. "She's not crazy about me, huh? It's okay, I could just tell, but I understand."

"I know this is going to sound strange, but it's not personal. She's just very protective of me."

Dudley nodded, but Harry decided this really needed further explanation, though he didn't know why he felt such a need to reassure him. Maybe because the last nine days had been rather good to Harry and supposed he could afford to be in a generous mood. "Okay, you know that I'm famous in my world?"

Dudley nodded again.

"Well there was this reporter when I was fourteen. She wrote some very unflattering stories about me, do you know what Hermione did?"

He shook his head.

"She spent months finding out a secret about this woman, and then she used it to blackmail her. She made her agree not to write anything for an entire year and then when she started writing again her first piece was something Hermione fed her. It was written when things were starting to get really bad, you know, with the war, but before things were out in the open, and that article was the thing that started to sway public opinion back to my side."

Dudley stared. "You're kidding me."

"No, Dud, I swear. I'll show you the articles one day if you like. Oh, and by the way, this woman wasn't some two bit reporter, she was one of the lead journalists for the biggest newspaper in my world in Britain."

"Holy fuck."

"I know, Hermione's a total badarse. So what I'm saying is that the way she is with you is just natural caution. If she really disliked you, you would know it, believe me."

Dudley continued to stare for several long minutes until he started to laugh, long and loud. "Oh my god, you just threatened me with your girlfriend!"

"I don't feel the least bit emasculated either," Harry answered with a self-satisfied smile.

"Okay, okay," Dudley said once he finally calmed down and could breathe again. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about actually."

"Hermione?"

"No, Amelia," he said with a roll of his eyes, "as terrifying as your woman is, it's mine I'm worried about."

"I'm not sure I'm the best person to go to for relationship advice, but go ahead."

"Well I don't know how you figure that, you seem to have things figured out. But you're really the only one available to help with this particular problem anyway."

"Ah," said Harry, catching his drift, "shall I provide us with some privacy then?"

"Can you do that?"

"Sure," he reached into his pocket, grasped his wand, and with just a flick, silently cast a 'muffliato.'

Dudley looked around, "did it work?"

"Yeah, you can speak freely, nobody will be able to hear us."

"That's handy."

"It is," Harry agreed, "though less so when you're surrounded by people who can do the same thing, or who know ways to get around it. But anyway…"

"I hate lying to Amelia," Dudley blurted.

"About magic?"

"Yeah. You and Hermione are so good at it, I guess you're used to it. I guess that's also why you're so good at skirting around, you know, everything that happened when we were kids."

"Well, as Hermione put it, I have plenty of issues with your parents, but that's between us. I don't see any reason to poison Amelia against them. Though, to be honest, if I thought she needed a warning I would give her one. And you were a kid then, but you're an adult now, so you better not let them pull any bullshit with her or your kids like they did with me."

Dudley shook his head vigorously.

"And you know you can't tell her about magic. I know it's hard, but it's illegal."

"I know that, and I don't want to mess with your laws, but I guess I need to know what the chances are."

"The chances of what?"

"Of one of our kids being...like you? It could happen, couldn't it? I know how genetics work. Your mum was a witch, so I could have the gene too, even though I don't have magic. Your mum came from two people who didn't have it."

"So did Hermione," he mused to himself, because Dudley was absolutely right, but for some reason he'd never considered this and the question had brought him up short. "Okay, I- damn it," he ran his hands through his hair and removed his glasses to wipe at his face.

"Is it that bad?"

Harry couldn't see him, but his voice was full of dread. "No, you just caught me off guard. Would you believe I'd never thought about it?"

"Really?" He asked incredulously.

"Yeah." Harry shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts but he could only think of one person. "Okay listen, I know this is going to sound pathetic, but do you mind if I call Hermione? She would be better at explaining this, and she knows a lot more about it than I do. I'm sorry to say, it's not a simple or easy explanation and I'd prefer you get it from somebody who knows what they're talking about better than I do."

"That's fine, I don't care. I just want to know what I'm dealing with."

And so Harry stepped outside to call Hermione with a growing pit of dread in his stomach that he was about to destroy Dudley's world, just as his parents always feared- though maybe not as literally as they had once feared. Still, wouldn't that be ironic?

Hermione required only the barest of explanations, really all she had needed to hear was that he needed her help, and she was walking into the pub just over five minutes after they disconnected their call. He spotted her immediately. Though he could have sworn he felt her before he saw her, her hair was unmistakable, and the white rose he'd left under stasis in her Advent calendar for the day was still tucked behind one ear as it had been all day.

It had filled him with a kind of possessive pride when he first saw it, the same feeling he'd had when she'd worn the holly in her hair last week. She'd probably kill him if she knew, but he didn't care, and when this was all over he was going to make giving her flowers a regular occurrence- as soon as he'd made sure that he had the right to give her flowers as often as he wanted.

"That was fast," Dudley noted after he spotted her as well and Harry was waving her over.

"That's magic," said Harry wryly, but the joke fell flat as soon as it left his lips.

"Hello!" Hermione greeted Dudley cheerfully but Harry could easily read the tension in her posture. "Hey," she said to him, softer, sweeter.

"Hey," he returned, pushing the pint he'd ordered for her in her direction.

"Thanks," she took a seat and reached for him, her hand landing solidly on his thigh, just above his knee. "So," she looked around and Harry realized she was listening for the tell-tale buzz that would tell her a 'muffliato' had been cast, when she heard it she nodded and looked at Dudley. "You want to know the chances are of you having a magical child?"

"Yes."

Hermione took a sip of her beer and Harry knew immediately that she was buying herself some time.

"The blunt truth is that I have no idea."

Well he hadn't been expecting that.

Dudley blinked at her. "What?"

"Yes, I know, it's absurd," she shook her head. "The best I can tell you is that, given your family history, you probably have a higher chance than your average muggle. That's just taking you into consideration. But I don't know anything about Amelia's family history, so that's a moot point. Guessing anything about the two of you as a couple would be just that, a guess."

"But how can that be? What about DNA? Don't you know the probabilities or whatever?"

"No, our world doesn't know anything about DNA except what a magical person may have learned from a muggle scientist. But as far as research into genetics predicting or causing magic, if there's been any, it's been kept secret. Which is why I can't tell you if the fact that you have a magical aunt really increases your chance of having a magical child. There's a strong correlation- most magical parents have magical children, for instance- but it may be just that, correlation and not causation. Because we are in no way certain that magic is passed genetically."

"What? Like, so it could just come out of nowhere?"

"It's possible. Most magical people would admit that their magic feels like it has some degree of sentience. So maybe it chooses us, we just don't know. Our world is tragically behind in scientific matters because we can do a lot of the things muggles need science to do, with magic. So, magicals rarely bother to find out the 'how' as long as they can do whatever it is they want to do. Magic evolves very slowly. Spell creation, for instance, is practically a lost art. There is a department in our Ministry called the Department of Mysteries whose purpose is to research unanswered questions, but as the name suggests, most of the things they do are mysteries, the subjects of which are known only to the people who study them."

"That's insane."

Hermione let out a little huff. "Yes. You should know that your parents aren't completely wrong to be frightened of magic, and even to think that our world is backwards, even abnormal depending on how you classify such things. I'll never condone the way they've handled it, but as I said, they're not completely wrong. Magic is as terrible as it is wonderful."

There was a long, awkward pause. "But then again, so is all of humanity, if you think about it," Hermione continued more gently. "But I wouldn't give away either, for anything, my magic is as much a part of me as my humanity."

Harry found himself just staring at Hermione, open mouthed.

"What?" She asked, "not what you expected? I wasn't going to lie to him," she looked at Harry, a challenge in her eyes.

"Of course not, but I don't think I've ever heard you speak like that before."

She shrugged. "Well you know all this Harry, and you know how I feel about it all, maybe you've just never thought of it all put together like that. But Dudley needed it explained concisely, and he really doesn't have time to waste." She turned to Dudley, who was also staring at her. "I'm sorry I didn't consider this before, I would have told Harry to speak with you."

"S'okay," he mumbled. "But what am I supposed to do? How can I keep this from her? And what if we do have a magical kid? How would she ever forgive me for knowing all along?"

Harry's heart felt like it had grown too large for his chest, and not in a good way, while Hermione sat back and contemplated this, drawing little circles on his thigh with her thumb as she did so.

"Okay," she began after a few minutes of silence, "do either of you know when his dad," she jerked her head in Dudley's direction, "found out about magic? Was it before or after Harry came to live with them? Because now that I'm thinking about it, for some reason I was under the impression that it was before, but I can't, for the life of me, remember where I got that impression."

"No clue," answered Dudley, "why? Is that important?"

"It could be," she sighed. "The letter of the law states that only the parents or guardians of a muggle born child and their siblings can know about magic. That's obviously how Petunia found out, when Lily got her Hogwarts letter. But she would have been expected to keep that a secret, even from Vernon. So, if he knew before Harry came to live with him, when he could have legally been informed as the guardian of a magical child, well that means there's actually more wiggle room in the law than I realized. Which isn't all that surprising really, how magical law is enforced is really all about who you know."

She looked at Harry and winced.

"What is it?" Harry asked. "Just go ahead and say it, whatever it is."

"Have you ever seen the letter?"

"Letter?"

"You know, the one Dumbledore left with you, when he left you on your aunt's doorstep?" She cursed under your breath. "The older I get, I swear, Harry, the more I enjoy imagining your mum kicking his wrinkly old arse all over the afterlife for that nonsense. Who just dumps a baby on a doorstep? It's the only justice you'll ever get, but at least I can trust she's doing a thorough job of it."

"My mum?" He asked dumbly, feeling like he had whiplash from the sudden turns this conversation was taking.

"Well sure, I mean I'm sure your dad and Sirius and Remus are getting in some good pranks, but the way I heard it, she was the really dangerous one."

Harry could only chuckle, startled more than anything else. "You really admire her, don't you?"

"Of course I do. I thought you knew that."

"Because she reminds you of yourself? Muggle born witch, Gryffindor, top of her year and all that?"

She stared at him for the longest time. "Sure, all of that makes her more relatable," she smiled at him then, eyes full of the purest love he'd ever seen. "But no, I admire her because of you," she reached out and touched his chest, "because she stood in front of the most feared wizard of our time and she told him to kill her, and she left behind a mark on the world so brilliant that he just shines right through even the most oppressive darkness."

Harry was certain this is what it would feel like to be kicked in the chest by a hippogriff. "Hermione."

She shrugged. "It's just true. I would know."

"Uh, I'm sorry to interrupt, whatever this is," Dudley began.

"It's okay," answered Hermione, but she didn't look away from him, "I'm the one who's sorry. So, the letter?" She asked like it was nothing, like she hadn't just ripped his world right open.

Harry cleared his throat and gripped her hand which was still resting on his thigh. "No, I haven't. I think it was destroyed. But I do think I have an answer to your question about Uncle Vernon. I don't know how he found out, but he knew before I was sent to live with them."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Sirius knew that he knew. I don't know how he found out, but if Sirius knew it had to have happened before that Halloween."

"You're right," she agreed.

"What does that mean?" Dudley asked.

Hermione looked at him and cocked her head to the side and he knew that she was asking permission. And even though he didn't know exactly what she wanted that permission for, he trusted her and he was in this, whatever 'this' was, too deep already to back out now.

"Well," she turned to address Dudley, "it means that you have to make a decision. If you want to tell Amelia about magic, then I think we can get permission for you to do so, the question is do you want us to try?"

He just blinked at her, and then looked away, clearly considering her question. "I don't know," he questioned. "What would you do?"

"In your place or hers?"

"Both, I guess."

"If I were you I would tell her. If it's not something she can handle, I'd rather know now rather than later when it could blow up your family. And I would want to know that she was going into this marriage with her eyes fully open, that she really understood what she was choosing."

"And in her place?"

"I would want to know. But as Harry can attest, I always prefer knowledge. Some people would truly prefer the kindness of a lie, this knowledge is a burden. My parents still haven't come to terms with it, and they've known for more than half my life. I don't know which Amelia is."

"Harry?" He asked.

"I agree with Hermione, on both counts. I've been kept in the dark too often and had my choices manipulated or taken from me completely. I would want somebody to choose me- or reject me- honestly and fully."

Dudley was quiet for a long time, chasing the condensation from his glass and painting patterns on the tabletop.

"Do you need to think about it?" Hermione eventually asked kindly.

"Yeah. maybe sleep on it and get it all straight in my head. Could you check and make sure you can even get that permission while I do?"

"We can," Harry agreed, knowing he was probably going to have to call in at least a few favors.

"And you can call us if you have any more questions," Hermione added.

They separated just a few minutes later outside of the pub with heavy hearts and then Hermione took Harry's hand and pulled him towards a secluded street where she wrapped her arms around him and apparated them away.

They landed in her living room and she immediately started talking. "I'm sorry, Harry, was I too blunt? Did I say too much in front of Dudley?" She pulled away from him and began pacing. "I should have waited to have some of that conversation in private, shouldn't I? I'm sorry, are you mad at me?!" She practically wailed, she'd taken the rose out of her hair and was twisting it between her fingers.

Harry could only stare at her. She thought he was angry with him? "Hermione, no, I'm not mad at all."

She looked at him, eyes filled with tears. "You got all quiet there at the end, that's what you usually do…" she trailed off.

He considered that. She was right, he usually got quiet right before he was about to explode. But he was nothing even resembling mad, especially with her, nor was he in any danger of losing his temper. He'd gotten quiet because he'd trusted Hemione to handle the niceties and get them out of there.

He sighed as he processed his own thoughts. Because while he wasn't angry, he realized that he was very close to being emotionally overwhelmed, and he hadn't wanted that to happen in public, and especially in front of Dudley. She had recognized his defensive mechanism but misinterpreted the meaning, probably because he had been guilty of turning his temper on her a little too often in the past when he was upset, because she was his safe place.

He held out his arms, she walked into them immediately. "I'm not angry with you at all. You were perfect, I called you for help, and you helped."

"Are you sure?" Her arms tightened around his waist.

"Positive. Would I lie to you?" He asked.

"No," she admitted quietly.

"Thank you, I needed you tonight and you were there," he rubbed her back.

She turned her face into his chest and he held her tighter. 'I love you,' he wanted to say, but he wouldn't, not like this. Not as an apology or a thank you for fixing his messes and for dealing with all of his emotional dysfunction. Not until he was sure and clear headed. Which meant that he really needed to get out of here.

"I should go check on Estelle," he said, she wouldn't argue against his need to take care of his kitten.

"Okay," she said, but he heard the hesitancy in her voice.

"Thank you for tonight Hermione. All those things that you're worried about, that you were too blunt or said too much, that's exactly why I needed you. I wouldn't have known what to say, much less been able to say it so clearly. I was just surprised, this whole night surprised me."

"If you're sure."

"Positive." He kissed her forehead and then tilted her face up so that she was looking at him. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, Harry, anytime."

Her sincerity, the way she bit her lip, everything about her made his heart lurch and then swell. He didn't want to leave her. "I'll see you tomorrow. Be sure to check your calendar before work, it's supposed to be a cold one tomorrow." He stepped back and apparated away before he couldn't any longer.

Author's Note: Don't kill me! I'm sorry this is later than usual and that I haven't been able to reply to reviews, but migraine recovery requires sleep whenever I can get it. And on that note thanks to you all who sent me well wishes!

As far as all the stuff about magic and genetics go, I totally made that up. If you have your own theories, awesome, in fact I'd love to hear them, I think that would be very interesting. But I'm not changing mine for this story as they suit my purposes. As for what JKR thinks, well I stopped listening to anything she had to say years ago, so I can't even disclaim or tell you if this is canon compliant or not. Sorry if that bothers you! Thanks y'all!