Chapter Eleven
Part of him was well aware how creepy it was to just lay in bed staring at Luna while she slept peacefully, but Harry didn't really care all that much what was correct or proper. Months out in the wild far away from civilization gave him a new perspective. He would do whatever he damn well pleased. And he wanted to stare at Luna, to remind himself while he could that there was still good in the world even when it didn't always feel like it or it got harder to remember.
Every time he was fortunate to have the opportunity to be alone with Luna he was amazed by everything she said or did. More than a few times during the worst and loneliest moments of his dangerous mission abroad memories of her and how she smiled or how she said the most seemingly random but astute words he needed to hear in the moment was all that kept him going. He would make the world a safer place for her.
Though he tried not to dwell too much on it because he'd learned over and over again that regretting the past was futile and nothing but frustrating, he wished he understood how amazing she was when they were in school. He hadn't appreciated her wit and insight when they were young. Life had to serve him some very painful blows before he could truly see how wonderful she was. If he'd known earlier, it could've saved him from serious heartbreak.
Harry didn't regret dating Ginny for the most part, but there was a small part of him that wished he hadn't fallen for her during those scary, confusing days in his youth. It would've been easier for both of them if they'd only remained good friends. She was unfairly accused of only going after him for his money and fame. That simply wasn't true. They had been friends for years before they ever dated. Weren't the best relationships supposed to begin as friendships anyway? Besides, she was a talented Quidditch player who was an even more savvy investor. She didn't need his money. There was a Gringotts vault with her name on it positively bursting with galleons she earned herself without any help from him and as for the fame chasing, one more appearance in the Quidditch League Finals for Ginny and she would be far more famous than even her ex-boyfriend the "Dementor Destroyer".
If he was honest with himself, something he tried rarely to be just because it was easier, he mostly resented those ignorant, misinformed fools who accused him, both privately and publicly, of dating Ginny because she reminded him of his mother. It was disgusting and far from accurate. All Ginny and his mother had in common was they both had red hair and it wasn't even the same shade. Not that he had any memories of his mother beyond the ones the dementors used to pull out of him every time they were near. If nothing else, he was glad to get rid of the dementors so he never had to listen to the sound of his parents screaming in his head ever again. The assumption he had some sort of Oedipal complex was unfair and hurtful to Ginny. She wasn't anything like his mother in personality according to those who knew them both. Again, only their hair was similar. Was someone who had a blonde mother allowed only to date those who weren't also blonde? It was ridiculous.
He regretted how Ginny was treated because of him. She deserved better than that. He hadn't meant to hurt her. Last he heard there was a rumor she was quietly dating Viktor Krum. Maybe he shouldn't have kept Viktor from asking her to dance at Bill and Fleur's wedding all those years ago. They could've been happy together. He only seemed to bring misery to all of his partners.
Except for Luna. She was special. Always had been. Harry knew that he was at least a little bit madly in love with her and probably had been for years. He was afraid to admit it, afraid to bring their relationship out of the shadows because of how Ginny was treated. The thought of making Luna cry or a day coming when she hated him broke his heart. He would rather die alone. Likely he would anyway.
The gentle shifting of the mattress tore him out of his increasingly upsetting thoughts. Luna rolled over to catch him staring. Her bright smile even in the dark bedroom threatened to steal the very breath from his lungs. She was too pure for their hateful world.
"What is it, Harry?"
Unsure how he could even begin to answer what appeared on the surface to be a simple question, he chose the easy way out. A kiss grew heated. He was a selfish man and even though he knew she deserved far better, he couldn't give her up yet.
Still a little bit in shock at the unexpected events, Hermione stood under the heavy rain just staring at Barty gently cuddling the two tiny kittens against his chest. If a loud crack of thunder hadn't sounded off in the distance reminding her that they were both still potentially in a little bit of danger, who could say how long she would've stood there trying to make some sort of sense of the bizarre scene?
Spurred into action once more, she lifted the wrapped body of the poor cat up from the ground with all of the gentle care she could. Once its remains were tucked safely inside the decorative box and the lid placed on top, she pushed open the kitchen door to allow Barty to carry his precious burden inside,
Despite it being the middle of the night, neither of them were anxious to return to bed. How could they possibly get back to sleep with all that happened outside? Hermione watched Barty carry the kittens over to the kitchen table. As soon as she carefully placed the box on top of the seat of one of the empty chairs, she handed him a clean dish towel to wrap the tiny creatures in to dry them. Neither of them had made a single sound since they were rescued, a worrying fact that she wasn't anxious to say out loud.
Perhaps as a way to keep from blurting out the discouraging thoughts swirling around in her head, she moved around her home gathering any supplies she thought might be useful. Having never been a part of a kitten rescue before, she was at a loss what to do next. Keeping her hands occupied and her mouth shut seemed to be the best option until she knew more. A basket in her lounge was easily dumped out and a soft blanket found in a cupboard. It had been many years since she last had a cat in her home, her heart hadn't fully recovered from losing Crookshanks, but she remembered how much he appreciated a warm, soft blanket to sleep on.
Before she returned to the kitchen and the confusing scene inside, she stopped to linger in the doorway to watch. She was surprised to see Barty handle the tiny kittens so gently. It hardly seemed in his nature to treat anything, let alone such small, weak creatures, with any sort of care. She would've been less surprised to see him bash their skulls against the hard walls than to listen to him whisper soothing words and promises that all was going to be well. But she had to admit she didn't know much about the man beyond rumors and her own dismally low expectations.
Barty surprised her greatly. His actions with the orphaned kittens could be described as nothing less than sweet. Thinking about him in that sort of context threatened to do her head in. If homicidal Death Eaters could stop acting like normal humans with a wide range of human emotions, she would appreciate it. Life was confusing enough when monsters didn't behave like monsters were supposed to. Of course life had never been that simple nor did she think she could hope to expect it to change.
Was the wizard always kind to animals in his complicated past or was it all part of his second chance? She didn't know anything about who he was before he was Kissed nor did she think she ever would, but even she couldn't deny that a lot of bizarre events she never would've expected to happen had occurred since the day the last dementor was killed. Who was to say whether or not the forced proximity to the awful man might stir up her prodigious curiosity at some point?
"They're too small. Should we take them to an animal healer?"
The wizard was very worried. He didn't even try to hide it in his voice. Maybe he couldn't if he wanted to. From the beginning of the woodpile shifting it had been an emotional ordeal for both of them. He seemed to be having a more difficult time keeping his under control. No doubt some of his coping mechanisms the rest of them took for granted had been irrevocably damaged by the hell he'd experienced.
"It's the middle of the night. I doubt there are any who will be available until Monday."
"They might not last until then."
It was a sad truth they both needed to consider. Without their mother, they were in danger. Hermione could see the panic in his eyes he was failing to keep hidden. It was imperative to him that they were okay, that they emerged from the awful experience whole. Almost as if his own survival hinged on theirs.
Hermione sighed. Not out of frustration, though there was certainly some of that swirling amongst the maelstrom of her own emotions, but out of a concern it was futile. Of course she wanted them to be okay, especially for Barty's sake. Dropping the basket on the table, she turned around to exit the kitchen. There was an option they could consider if they were sufficiently desperate.
Inside the lounge she crossed to her desk to open one of the drawers. Even after so many years in the wizarding world and assimilating as much as it was possible for a Muggle-born to do, she hadn't completely cut all of the ties to the world she was born into. She removed her laptop computer and a mobile from where they had been gathering dust for weeks. When was the last time she needed to use either one? Too long ago to remember. The further removed she was from her parents, the last remaining link she had to Muggles, the less she needed any of their conveniences.
A quick search found a phone number for a twenty-four hour emergency veterinarian clinic in London. Just as she reached for her mobile to dial the number, she saw Barty poke his head in with a confused, worried look on his face. His eyes widened when he saw the laptop. With all of his television watching, she assumed he had at least a vague idea what it was. If time was of the essence, they didn't have enough of it for her to give him a thorough explanation. Maybe later when the crisis had passed.
The Muggle who answered at the clinic was polite, friendly, and anxious to see the kittens at once. Hermione saw no further reason to delay. Once it was decided, she thanked the woman and disconnected the call. Barty still stared at her with his wide, unnerving gaze.
"We're taking the kittens to London. A Muggle animal healer wants to see them."
Encouraged by the fact that they were doing something, he didn't have to be told to return to his bedroom to change out of his pajamas. By the time Hermione emerged from her own bedroom more suitably dressed for a trip into London, he was by the front door holding the basket the kittens were sleeping inside.
Neither of them spoke as they left the warmth of her house to return to the cold outside. Barty cradled the basket tightly to his chest when Hermione grabbed his arm. Seconds later they were on a dark, empty London street. Only the unhappy cries from the frightened kittens who didn't understand what just happened could be heard. Their protector was quick to whisper more soothing words to try to calm them back down. The fact that they made any noise at all was an encouraging sign.
Finding the clinic was simple. At that time of night nearly all of the buildings were dark, their inhabitants either asleep or gone for hours already. While the weather in London was marginally better than it was where she lived, she didn't see the sense in standing outside for long. Expecting Barty would follow, she headed straight for the clinic's door. It was best if they got the whole ordeal over with as swiftly as possible.
Inside the clinic they were greeted with near silence. An indignant bark from a creature in the back room who clearly had no desire to be there was the only indication where they were. No one sat in the uncomfortable chairs inside the waiting area. She worried at first that they were alone until a door swinging open and an attractive, if somewhat exhausted looking, woman burst out.
"Are these the kittens?"
Hermione nodded. When Barty didn't immediately hand over the basket, she rolled her eyes and grabbed his arm to pull him forward. There was no question Barty was uncomfortable being there. Had he ever even spoken to a Muggle before? She wouldn't be surprised to learn the veterinarian was the first.
"You were serious when you said you were close by. I wasn't expecting you to be here so quickly."
Sometimes she forgot how convenient Apparition really was. Able to travel anywhere she liked in the country in only a few short moments, Hermione couldn't even remember the last time she was in a car or even a train. If she ever had to return to moving around like a Muggle, she knew she would hate every wasted second.
"Uh, this time of night there wasn't any traffic."
The Muggle smiled as if that was a perfectly normal response. Hermione hoped it was. Muggle-born she might be, but even she felt a little rusty interacting at times in the world of her parents.
"I'm going to take these little ones to the back to examine. Please take a seat and I'll be back to speak with you shortly."
If Barty wished to protest the woman taking the kittens out of his sight, he wasn't able to muster up enough defiance to say so. For all of his bluster and vulgarity the day he woke up in the hospital, he was almost shy in the presence of a Muggle stranger. The wizard was clearly complicated. How could he confidently follow a crazed Voldemort into dangerous, violent service that ended in the torture and murder of countless innocent people, but he couldn't speak up and demand the Muggle let him come with her? The more she saw the glimpses of what his actual personality was, the more confusing he was.
She crossed the empty room to sit in a chair she knew she wouldn't like. Why were the chairs one was expected to spend a long time waiting in always so bloody uncomfortable? The woman might have claimed she would be out to speak with them shortly, but Hermione wasn't convinced. Healers and doctors, no matter what species they treated, always made those in need of their services wait. Maybe it was by design, to make them seem far more important to the poor souls resigned to sit in their plastic chairs or in their wretched paper gowns. She had to sigh as she collapsed into her seat. Lack of sleep was making her ever more irritable than usual. If she kept up with that line of thinking, she'd drive herself mad in no time.
Barty sank slowly into the chair next to hers. Why he had to choose that one when all of the others were free, she didn't know. Was he subconsciously looking for some sort of comfort from her? Because he would probably be disappointed.
"Do Muggles even know how to care for animals?"
It was an arrogant sounding question for a proud Pureblood to ask, yes, but somehow Hermione didn't think that was his intention. He seemed genuinely worried that the kittens weren't receiving the proper care they required to survive their awful night and he wanted to be sure that Muggle veterinarians were just as capable as the animal healers he was more familiar with. Though it came from a place of concern, it was still exasperating. Hermione turned in her chair to give him a nasty look, but stopped when she saw how upset he really was. Nothing could stop her heavy, annoyed sigh however.
"Yes, they know a great deal. Magic doesn't cure everything, you know."
"I know that. Magic didn't save my mum and I know my father took her to the very best Healers available."
Hearing him mention his mother was surprising. Already he'd brought up the difficult subject of his father but he stayed far away from anything to do with his mother. Hermione assumed it was painful to remember. It was his mother's sacrifice that allowed him to escape Azkaban and be locked up instead in the prison of his father's making. Mrs. Crouch died alone in Azkaban to give her only child a shot at freedom. How would she have felt about how her husband treated their son for all of those years he kept him trapped under invisibility cloaks and Imperius curses? How would she feel if she knew her son killed his own father in cold blood and continued to be the loyal follower of Lord Voldemort's that had humiliated their family so? Families could be complicated. That was a lesson she knew better than most.
"My mum loved cats. We had a house full of them when I was a child. They would follow her home. She had a kind spirit they recognized."
A small smile formed in the corner of his mouth as he recalled happier memories about his poor mother. It had a positive effect on them both. He seemed a little calmer and less nervous which in turn made her less annoyed. Perhaps she was being unreasonable finding much about the situation they were in and the man next to her frustrating, but she couldn't help it. Her moods lately changed at a moment's notice and she would've much rather been snuggled inside her bed than in an emergency veterinarian's office in the middle of the night.
"Father hated them, of course. He hated anything that made other people happy, especially when a stray hair dared to land on his perfectly pressed robes. He would've left those kittens to die on their own in the cold without giving them a second thought."
His anger and bitterness was palpable, moving off of him in waves. She highly doubted a day would ever come when Barty could feel the true peace of forgiving someone who didn't deserve it. Holding on to anger so tightly never did anyone good. She knew that all too well. Some wounds never healed properly. Anyone who claimed time healed them all was a fool.
"Is that why it's so important to you that the kittens survive? Because you don't want to be like your father?"
As soon as the words came out of her mouth, Hermione wished she hadn't said anything. What was she thinking bringing up such a hot topic? Based on the rage in Barty's eyes, she knew she touched a nerve. Her earlier plan to keep her mouth shut became more and more attractive. It really wasn't any of her business anyway. What was she trying to do? Connect with him on more than a superficial level? Befriend him? No, none of those options were good ideas. Best to just remain as impersonal as possible until the day came he left her house to go on to whatever future awaited him.
"I am not my father."
"No, you're not."
"If I were my father, I wouldn't have followed you out to the cliffs to make sure you didn't so something foolish. I would've not cared one bit if you flung yourself onto the rocks. I would've just thought you weak and better off not thought about."
Hermione couldn't believe what she was hearing. Sure, he'd made a joke, or what she assumed at the time was a joke, about jumping being a painful way to go. Did he really think she was on the verge of killing herself? How could he possibly think something like that? She would've been insulted if she wasn't so shocked.
"I wasn't going to jump. You followed me out there for nothing."
He didn't seem convinced and she wasn't in the mood to try to make him. Let him believe she was teetering on the edge of her sanity, ready to end it all. His opinion of her really wasn't any of her business. Why should she care? He didn't mean anything to her more than an inconvenience in her life she certainly didn't ask for.
The sound of a door opening and the return of the kind veterinarian was a welcome sight. Hermione didn't like where their conversation had gone while they waited. How could Barty even consider for a moment she would hurt herself? Clearly neither one of them knew the other person at all. It was ridiculous. She simply enjoyed standing on the edge of the cliffs when she needed to think. That wasn't unusual or sinister.
All thoughts about their tense, emotional conversation moments earlier were evidently pushed out of the wizard's head when he saw the pretty Muggle again. He rose quickly to his feet, anxious to hear what she had to tell them about the poor kittens. Hermione thought it was a good sign that the woman didn't appear upset but she refused to get her hopes up unnecessarily. There was always the possibility that the woman was simply skilled at keeping her emotions under control while at work. No doubt there were plenty of opportunities for her to practice in a profession that often saw such sad tragedies. It was a job Hermione certainly had no desire to pursue. She wasn't sure she could handle all of the volatile ups and downs a single day at the office might bring.
"Where are they? Are they okay?"
The Muggle smiled at Barty's evident concern. Perhaps if he hadn't been so on edge he could've also recognized that as an encouraging sign. Hermione felt some of the tensions on her shoulders lighten ever so slightly. It didn't seem they were in immediate danger of having to bury the whole feline family in an old shoebox.
"There's still in the back getting warm, but they're okay. A little small, but healthy."
Barty released a sigh of relief that further improved the tense atmosphere of the room. Even Hermione had to admit she was glad to hear the news. It had already been so sad that they couldn't save their poor mother. Losing the kittens too would've just been too cruel. Even her hardened heart didn't want to imagine that outcome.
"Are they going to make it without their mum?"
Still concerned despite repeated assurances that all was well, Barty asked a number of questions one right after the other. It was nearly impossible to keep up with all of them but the woman tried. Instead of finding him obnoxious and overbearing, she kept smiling at his worry.
"No. I don't believe there are any injuries from the collapse. They are simply young. You will need to bottle-feed them in the beginning but they should be fine."
"I helped my mum care for kittens when I was young."
"Splendid. Then you already have experience. You and your wife should be able to take care of them."
It took a second or two for Hermione's ears to register what the veterinarian said. Once she understood she couldn't stop the disgusted grimace that appeared on her face. Before she could correct the horrible mistake, Barty cleared his throat.
"She's not my wife. I'm not married."
"Oh."
Hermione couldn't believe what she was witnessing. Had she gone completely mad? It was the middle of the night after all. Could everything that happened have been just some sort of exceptionally vivid nightmare? One more look at the veterinarian and she couldn't keep from deepening her annoyed grimace. Was the woman actually attracted to Barty? It was complete madness. She was half-tempted to tell the woman just what a horrible monster he was just to make her stop smiling at him that way.
"Are we free to go now?"
The exhaustion she felt down to her very bones was evident in the frustrated tone she used to ask her question. Remembering that they weren't the only two people in the entire world, both the veterinarian and Barty exchanged another shy smile with the other before turning their attention back to the third wheel. Hermione was even more annoyed. All she wanted to do was get back home. She was certain there would be no trouble falling asleep if she just had the opportunity to slip between her sheets again.
"Yes, you can. I'll send you home with some milk replacement for them to get you through the next couple of days."
Settling the bill for the clinic's services that night took some time, only further adding to Hermione's stresses. When she saw how expensive the visit was on the paper invoice she was handed, she thought she might be sick. How was it possible to incur so many charges with what seemed like a simple visit? There was no use in complaining about the veterinarian taking advantage of upset and desperate pet owners forced to use her services simply because she was one of the few clinics open in the middle of the night. Who would even care if she did? Instead of wasting another moment, Hermione simply handed over a piece of Muggle plastic that would pay for the whole experience.
The tiniest part of her that wasn't still focused on her own bitterness and anger felt a small bit of joy seeing Barty happily accept the basket with the two kittens inside again. She wasn't a complete heartless monster. Even if she was far from being the biggest fan of the wizard, she could appreciate that he felt more relaxed and calmer being able to hold the tiny kittens.
Her desire to return home only increased as they made their way to the front door of the clinic. Just when she thought she was free, they were stopped by the veterinarian again to be reminded exactly how the kittens should be cared for in the coming days. Barty listened intently to every single syllable she uttered. Hermione thought she would finally lose her temper when she witnessed the woman hand over her business card to Barty with an enthusiastic encouragement that he ring her if he needed anything.
Rarely had she been more thankful to step across the threshold of her own home. It had been a very long night, one she would be glad to push to the back of her mind and hope to forget about. Once they were inside the warmth of her home, she trusted that Barty had the kittens under control. The animal lover in her could see how adorable the little creatures were, but she was not in the mood to fawn over them as she might have been in happier moments.
"Good night, Barty."
There was little sincerity in her words. Likely he hadn't even heard them. So focused was he on setting the basket down on the sofa and checking on the kittens, she could've said anything. She resisted the childish urge to roll her eyes again. It seemed to be something she did far too much of those days.
Worried that she would crawl back in bed only to lay awake thinking over every word that was spoken between the two of them as they waited for the kittens to be examined, Hermione removed a vial of dreamless sleep potion from her bathroom cupboard. Drinking it that late would likely make her positively useless for the next day, but she wasn't bothered. Sometimes an escape was best.
The clock on her bedside table showed it was nearly noon when she opened her eyes again. Light filled her room making it difficult for her to force herself back asleep. There was something comforting about existing in a deep black tunnel for hours on end with few thoughts and no worries. Only the rumbling in her stomach finally forced her to get up.
Outside of her bedroom the house was very quiet. She wasn't sure what she expected. Moments after stepping into the lounge she saw Barty asleep on the sofa. The basket holding the kittens who were also sound asleep was held close to his chest where he lay. Likely he stayed up for several hours after she went to bed. Considering he struggled to fall asleep on normal days, she was certain he had to be very exhausted. She thought it strange to see a monster like him be so gentle with the tiny, helpless creatures. Never would she have believed it if she hadn't seen it with her own eyes.
As she waited for her tea to finish brewing in the kitchen, she noticed the box that held the remains of the departed mother cat was missing from where she had placed it in the empty chair the night before. Curious to know what had happened to it, she pulled open the door to the back garden. From the doorway she could see where a small mound of dirt had been disturbed underneath one of the trees on the edge of her property. Even at that distance she could see a flower had been gently placed on top of the grave.
Hermione shook her head silently, even more confused than she had been. The wizard was such a contradiction. Loyal follower of Voldemort and a literal murderer but he cared enough to bury a cat and care for its surviving kittens. No matter how long he was forced to abide under her roof, she knew she would never understand Barty.
