Chapter 11 : Breathe

Harry was pissed off. Really, really pissed off. Despite the charms on his coat and boots, he was still soaked to his bones. The cold, infiltrating rain of March was getting to his nerves more than ever before. It was just the rotten cherry on the crap cake.

It had been more than two months since the blood of Rookwood had stained the Quidditch bat in his murder room. He had spent weeks scouting the countryside of England, searching for the safe houses listed by his now-dead source.

Finding them was not the hardest part. It took time obviously, because, of course, Rookwood didn't know the exact addresses of those ones, only the names of the villages or town, the streets at the very best, but never more. So he searched, scouted, and in the end, found them without much troubles. It was always the most secluded houses, the ones furthers away from the rest, of course as hidden from the muggle world as possible.

Getting inside was not the hard part. The doors always remained closed, looking by the windows gave nothing but the view of dusty, empty and abandoned rooms. Harry had to found the proper way to use the arm and its mark. He actually ended up finding carved figures of snakes, big as a thumb, on stones near the front doors. The mark recognized, the spells would be lifted, and the locks would open.

Keeping the dead arm from rotting wasn't the hardest part either! A cooling charm did the trick for a bit, but the smell arrived quickly, and with it the greenish color of death. It took him a full day of research back at Oxford, but he finally found the spell to freeze it, and the one to make it permanent. It would just leave cold, almost unbearable touch, even through the fabric of the leather bag he'd carried with him. Sometimes, not having Hermione with him was tougher than he would like to admit.

The hardest part, the one who made him pull his hair from his head, was to eventually find those houses empty. Once the protective spells lifted with the mark, the furniture would appear, a fire would start burning in the chimney, the cold air would turn slightly warmer, and dim light would start to shine. But it would all be free of any human presence, or Portkeys, as far as his detection spells would tell. He would spend hours searching through every desk, every shelves, in every corners, hoping for the smallest shred of clue. But he would find nothing. The whereabouts of Dolohov, or any other Death Eater outside of Azkaban would continue to elude him.

Back in London, Harry almost kicked the door of his apartment of Square Grimmauld. If Kreacher were to stood behind it, it would have been cast through the hallway. He let his drenched coat fall to the floor, knowing the elf would pick it up and dry it soon. It was the sixth safe house that his had visited in that many weeks, and it was always, always the same godforsaken result. There were only two more on the list of Rookwood, further up north in Scotland, and Harry believed that they would show no different outcome. He would have to try anyway, of course, but his mind was rather pessimistic.

"Kreacher?" he yelled.

"Yes master?" answered the servant after the usual "pop" sound of his appearance.

"My clothes need drying. So does my coat other there. See to it, and then prepare me a glass of Firewhisky."

" Of course, Sir!".

It took Harry only half a second to regret his words. He would have never dared speak to Dobby like that. Hermione would have slapped him for speaking like that. But his bad mood and his anger had taken over for a brief moment. Some days, specially the bad ones like this one, he really missed the long-eared bastard. More than he would have believed.

"Master" declared Kreacher, pulling him out of his thoughts. "You have unexpected guests. They are waiting for you in living room. Kreacher believed that their presence would please Master, so Kreacher let them him. Kreacher hopes he did right."

To the brief interrogation followed a flash of hope and happiness, then a quick panic. He kneeled down to his elf, and whispered.

"Take this leather bag to my room on the last floor. Close the door on your way out, make sure no ones but me can come in. Do it now, before everything else. Hurry!"

With a respectful nod, Kreacher told the cold leather sash, and disappeared. Relief, at least partially, Harry headed for the living room, wondering who would be there, not daring to hope to much. His head expected Angelina and George, after the drinking night they had four weeks before. His heart was hoping for some Australian exiles. Some other parts of him, for Ginny, who he missed dearly, despite the recent Hogsmeade meeting.

"SUPRISE!" he heard.

He jumped, startled, hands on his wand.

"Hoy mate! How twitchy! What kind of hospitality is that, to draw your wand on your old friends?"

Harry did not answered, he just jumped on Ron, crushing him in his arms. Although, quite quickly, it felt like he was the one being crushed. Ron seemed... larger. Stronger.

"Argh, let me breathe, Weasley! What kind of guest are you, to choke your host like that?"

Ron laughed loudly, warmly. Next to him, Hermione chuckled.

"It's nice to see you, Harry. We missed you."

He left Ron's arm only to get Hermione's in his own. She smelled like rain, and he gave in so much into her hug that he almost wanted cry. The cold, the anger and the disappointment of the past months seemed to almost vanish in a second, lifting a big burden of his shoulder, and the newly-found breath brought him tears.

"Hey mate! Don't get all emotional on us!" teased Ron, with a slap on his back.

"Shut up, you moron! I missed her too!"

"What are you doing here?" he added when he finally let her go. "Why didn't you send an owl? When did you arrive anyway?"

Ron sat back on the couch, grabbed his half-drunk glass of Firewhisky. Quietly, more than she usual was, Hermione sat next to him.

"We arrived yesterday evening. Went straight to my parents to get a bit of sleep. We wanted to surprise you of course! But we were not expecting to have to wait your for two hours!"

"That will teach you to come unannounced! You're lucky that Kreacher even let you in ! You even raided my stash, you ungrateful twat! "

But his smile never left his lips, as he insulted his best friend. He went to serve himself a drink, and fell heavily in his chair. That felt really good. The heat from the fire was a caress on his skin. He looked at Hermione straight in the eyes for a second. Her smile was radiant. She seemed like a whole new person, with her skin tanned. Her hair were longer than ever, proof that she did not cut them, even in the heat of Australia. The slight freckles of her cheeks had taken a new color under the sun and for some reason, she seemed taller. Prettier.

"What were you doing out by this shitty weather anyway?" asked Ron.

"Who the hell cares about what I was doing?" dismissed Harry. " You are the ones who need to tell me everything! How was Australia? How are your parents, 'Mione?"

She smiled again, but sighed at the same time. A hint of sadness flashed through her eyes, but didn't stay long.

"They're fine. We finally got a their memories restored! It took three more weeks, after Christmas, but they are finally back to normal!"

"That's great to hear! I'm so relieved for you, Hermione!" He took the bait, though. "But then why are you back only now then? Something wrong?"

"No, not really. They just... didn't want to come back. They loved their life over there too much."

Ron put his hand on her shoulder, with a friendly smile.

" 'Mione didn't to leave right away, since well... you know. Hard year that we just went through. So we stayed a bit, so she could spend some time with them. T'was hard to convince her to come back."

"It's not like we were missing this stupid rain!" she muttered.

"Speak for yourself! I got so many sunburns in six months that I shed skin more times that fucking Nagini!"

Harry hid his wincing with a forced laugh. He leaned forwarded, stuck in gaze into his friend's eyes, and asked again.

"How are they, Hermione?"

"They're fine! Just.. shaken up by all the revelations... It was a lot to take in, when they finally recovered their memories and we had to explain everything that happened. The war. The year on the run. The death of Fred and the others..."

"She didn't want to lie to them" added Ron. " Which I support! Don't look at me like that ! I agreed with you! But yeah, safe to say they were not too happy about it... They blamed 'Mione pretty hard for sending them away..."

"It took a while to get them to understand, and more to forgive me... But I guess it could have been much much worse in the end. They're fine, happy in Australia, and should visit us here sometime soon. Hopefully."

Ron shifted his hand from her shoulder to her thigh, and grabbed her hand between his fingers. Harry noticed the move, thought that his friend might had finally picked up a couple of things about being a good boyfriend. Maybe he could give out some advices...

"They'll come around" he said. "Your father can't stay mad at you for long, you know it."

She approved with yet another smile.

"What about you, Harry?" she asked, hopeful to change subject. " How are you doing? Arthur told us that you haven't been applying for jobs yet, nor have you met the new Head of the DMLE as he offered."

Harry brushed off the word with a wave of his hand.

"Baaah. Nothing hurries. We've had enough excitement for a lifetime, and to be honest, I also have the money for it. So what's the rush? I've been doing exactly what I said I'd do. I traveled. Visited places, mostly on the coasts, see the seas. Basically, wherever my broom takes me. I'm just waiting for Ginny to start visiting other countries. Cross the ocean, maybe. Go to France. To bloody Spain, i don't know. I just don't want to commit to anything for now. Or anyone."

He then lowered his voice, and added :

"We already did that, way to often..."

"Are you sure? I mean, Harry... Are you sure you are doing alright? People are worried about you... "

Harry gave her a dark look, but she did not stop. "Molly also said that you seemed to be drinking often, if not a lot." She pointed at the almost empty glass of whisky. "You know, you don't have to be drunk every day to be, erm... alcoholic."

"Come on' Hermione!" scowled Ron. "Give him a break."

But it was too late. A cold anger had risen his Harry's throat, and when he fixed his eyes into hers once again, she didn't see any traces of the brotherly love that he had shown before. They were nothing but two green pits of rage.

"I am not in mood for a lecture, Hermione! You have no right to say a bloody word about this". He did not raise his voice at all, tried hard not to sound to harsh on his bitty comeback. "I was, and still am, really, really happy to have you back here, so I don't want to argue and fight. But let me tell you this. You left me! For six months! Don't get me wrong, I understand why, but you were gone, Ginny was at Hogwarts, Luna and Neville busy with studies and jobs and everything. So you don't get to lecture me."

"But we're worried..."

"Hermione, that's enough." cut Ron. Both her and Harry were surprised. His voice was calm, but powerful. He added :

"Harry's right. We've just come back. We've literally been on the other side of the world for half a year, let's not pretend that we know how things are, back there. Harry's our friend, and he knows that he can talk to us if he needs to. In the meantime, let's give hive some space, and just enjoy the evening!".

A smile shyly came back onto Harry's lips. Since when was Ron the most adult of the three? Hermione also proved her maturity.

"Alright. I'm sorry, Harry. that was over the line."

"Nevermind. It's already forgotten. Tell me about Australia instead! What does it look like? Is it really that hot?"

The discussion and the laughs carried on until well into the night, until after the dinner hastily prepared by Kreacher, until after Harry showed them the room he had prepared for them, until after the bottle of Firewhisky was gone, fairly split between all the three of them.

"Alright boys" finally spoke Hermione, tipsy if not slightly drunk. "I will go to bed now. I am tired."

Harry quickly turned his eyes away to give them a bit of privacy as they longly kissed. It had been a long time since he had last seem them as a couple, and despite his happiness for both of them, still felt slightly awkward in front of their displays of affection.

"I shall join you in a minute."

Hermione left for the stairs, with a last smiling look at Harry.

As soon as she was gone, Ron turned back to his friend, his eyes now serious despite the alcohol altering his thoughts.

"Listen mate. I know that I said we should give you space. But, hear me out" he added when Harry tensed on his seat. "I talked to George yesterday. Yes, he was at the Burrows. 'Mione was not there, so she did not hear. But he told me all about that night at Hogsmeade. Your fight with Marcus Flint, or more accurately, how you bashed is head in."

"Bastard deserved it."

"I'm sure he did, and I won't cry on his behalf, rest assured. Look, Hermione don't like to hear about it, but there's no denying that I was in a dark place, during the first months in Australia. The death of Fred, having to leave George alone... I was in a foul mood, all the time. Even got into a fight or two with some Muggles who were too stupid for their own good. I was so angry, every minute of every day. I wanted to spill blood, to a point where I saw even Hermione as an enemy. Things were not good between us. But we talked this through. And she really helped me. She saved me, Harry. Saved me from myself. I won't say that I don't have any bad days anymore, but it's never as bad. My point is, if you need to talk, I'm here. 'Mione is here. I'm sure Ginny is as well. You don't have to go through this alone."

"I know mate" he answered with a smile. But he knew that he would never make the mistake of sharing anything about his current thoughts and plans with anyone. If George reacted this badly, it could only be worse with Ron, or Hermione. But the red head was not finished yet.

"My other point is, that you should be careful about not making an enemy out of Ginny. I know my sister, she's not as forgiving as Hermione. And you would have to answer to all of her brothers as well, me included."

Harry laughed.

"You're threatening me now? Did Australia's sun fried your brain?"

"I'm serious mate! What I heard scared me. That did not sound like you, at all. That scared me enough to not mention it to 'Mione... I know how anger and rage can suddenly take over... And I know you do too, considering how you dealt with the Slytherin scumbag. But you cannot allow it to happen with my sister. I mean it!"

Harry sighed, his laugh now gone.

"I know, Ron. Trust me, I know...Thanks for caring."

"Always, Harry. And I want you to know... I'm sorry for leaving you. Again, that's twice in twelve month, and even if it was for good reasons this time... I'm sorry nonetheless."

Harry chose not to answer, there was not much to say. He understood. It barely helped with his resentment, but he understood. He got up and stretched, then left the room with just a friendly tap on his friend's shoulder.

The last thing Harry thought of before falling asleep, was that the room above him was now unusable. He would have to find another place to work, and bring prisoners.

During the following days, Harry felt happier, lighter than he had felt for weeks, if not months. He almost felt guilty to feel this way without Ginny. She was supposed to be his light in the dark, his bowl of fresh air, but this role was now occupied by Ron and Hermione. Not that she would have complained anyway, of course, she was way too perfect for this petty behavior, or so Harry was sure of.

They ate at the Burrows quite often now, Ron torn up between his desire to spend time with his family, and the fact that Harry's homecooking became pretty good.

"Damn" he one day said. "To think that you were the worst potion brewer ever! How did you become so good of a cook?"

"Let's not forget that he passed his Potion OWL with an E."

"Thank you, Hermione." smirked Harry. "That is just one more proof, if we ever needed one, that the problem was Snape."

"Who ever thought that I'd miss the bastard..." sighed Ron.

A heavy silence settled in the kitchen room, as only the sound the chopping knife resonated in their ears.

One evening at the Burrows, Harry's heart almost jumped out of his chest when Ron finally brought up the so-feared topic of Augustus Rookwood.

"So, still no news about Rookwood's killer?" he asked. "Or the ones who took him from you?"

"Nothing no. The Minister is tempted to stop the investigations, as it's leading to nothing."

"Nothing, really?" asked Harry, hopeful. "No clues, no leads?"

"Not really. We think it's a single man who attacked us, most likely the same who killed him, driven by revenge. Probably a poor folk who lost someone to the war."

"But you were attacked!" protested Hermione.

"I don't think that was the intention" sighed Arthur. The device we found at the scene was a Sleep Bomb, a defective one. The explosion was not part of the plan, I believe. And our men are fully recovered by now."

Hermione grunted, which was unlike her.

"Yes, if Sleep Bombs are out on the market, especially explosive ones, that would be very concerning. But no other case have been reported so far, and none of our investigations have given us its maker, even less its buyer."

"I say that lad made us a solid" spoke Ron while putting another full spoon in his mouth. "I like these bastard better in the ground than in Azkaban."

"Ron!" hurled his mother. "You will not speak like that! We should never rejoice of the death of a man. It will never bring any of our loved ones back, it will only tarnish their memory!"

"Sorry Mom. You're right."

Harry chose to say nothing. Safer that way.

It did not take long however for Harry to be alone again. Ron quickly decided to go and help his older brother at the shop on a daily basis. Hermione, true to her oneself, had already started writing and sending dozens of letters to find a potential carreer path, or an internship, not to mention the piles of books she was ingurgitating.

"I'm in touch with Headmistress McGonagall" she explained. "I am trying to figure out whether the best thing is to find an internship at the Ministry, or go back to school for a seventh year."

Ron almost choked on his morning coffee.

"What? What? Seriously? Where is this coming from?"

Harry smiled. He knew that not completing her education was hard on Hermione. Even if she never said a thing during those dark weeks they spent alone together on the run, he sometimes noticed it in her face. Hidden behind the pain, the fear, the stress, was regret. It would have probably sound selfish, out of place, and so she had kept it inside, but now that the war was over, of course she would try to get a new chance at a normal life.

"I want to pass my NEWTs" she muttered. "They took that away from me... I want it back."

Ron stayed silent for a while, then offered his own smile in return.

"Sure, love. I understand." Then, more seriously. " Although if you do, I think you will have to go without me."

He could not explain why, as the words were stuck in his throat, but they all knew his reasons. And Hermione was not expecting him too. His love for books and studies was always very... limited.

Three days later, she was about to leave for Scotland for a couple of days, to meet and discuss with Hogwart's Headmistress face to face. Ron would be spending this time with George for the Easter's inventory.

Finally, Harry had some time to resume his hunt. He took a deep breath, as the early spring sun was barely risen behind the horizon. He has two places left to check, and if Lady Luck would be so kind, this time they would be fruitful.