IN MUNGO'S
Hermione stared at the printout.
"You booked online? With a credit card?" she flapped the paper at Mr Weasley, "Do you have any idea how easy this will be to track?"
"Yes, but I don't know why anyone would want to track Ethel Grimble and her family."
"Who?"
Mr Weasley beamed at her.
"Ethel Grimble. She's booked for her seventieth birthday, and is expecting a large party of friends and family. That's why there's several apartments booked."
"Identity theft is a crime."
"Oh dear me, no. Ethel doesn't exist. Or… I suppose I'm Ethel really. It's my credit card."
Hermione stared again at him. Arthur Weasley. Mild mannered, shabby, and her mind kept throwing up the phrase 'bumbling idiot', but the instinctive part of her kept kicking in with a deep feeling of respect. It made no sense.
"You have a muggle credit card?"
Mr Weasley beamed again.
"I'm not telling the department about it, but it's a very simple thing to set up. It's all just numbers in a computer. Very straightforward."
He adjusted his glasses and blinked at her.
Hermione felt the whole muggle economy crumble under Arthur's sheer enthusiasm for technology. Misguided genius.
That's why I admire him…
The realisation struck her hard. The quest for knowledge… that was what drove her. That was what she admired and sought.
How do I explain why imaginary credit cards are not a good idea?
She sighed, and felt a very Ron-like response bubble to the surface.
Don't bother. Let him work it out. In the grand scheme of things, this is a drop in the ocean.
"Mr Weasley, have you ever been to a muggle public library? Before we leave, I'd like to take you. There's some books on economics I think you should read."
Mr Weasley's face lit up.
"Would you? I do love all the gadgets and the anonymity of the internet is liberating! You know, I have a good friend in Nigeria now? He thinks I'm a young accountant from Yorkshire… and come to think of it, I only know what he's said about himself…. Which is the beauty and the danger of it… oh dear. I suppose that's how Ginny got sucked in to that diary." He paused, looking troubled. Then his round face brightened again. "But a library. That's something real."
3AM GINNY'S BEDROOM
George felt extremely smug.
"Gin,"
She shifted in her sleep, but didn't wake.
"Ginny."
Nothing.
"It's three a.m."
Still nothing.
"It's not freezing, but I could fix that."
Ginny groaned.
"You dare."
"You know why I'm here then."
"What? Go away…" she rolled over, speech trailing off, settling in to sleep.
George jerked backwards as she sprang upright.
"Quest? What's happening? Damn you George, what's going on?"
George chuckled, and tried to pull the front of his pyjama shirt out of her hands. She growled.
"Hermione needs a favour," he said lightly.
"Really."
"Do you remember how she lost her memory?"
"Don't be daft. I wasn't there. The only person who saw…"
Her grip on his shirt loosened.
"Merlin's… you think he lied? Why would he lie?"
"Why wouldn't he lie? He's a horrible little creep. I think we made a big mistake letting him get away."
"So what are you suggesting?"
George cleared his throat.
"How do you feel about a tracking and kidnapping sort of a quest?"
There was a big pause.
"George,"
"Yes, Ginny,"
"You could have waited 'til morning to tell me this, right?"
"Yup,"
Silence.
"Told Harry yet?"
George grinned in the dark.
"Oh, I thought it would be more fun just you and me," he said, "You know, deliver Malfoy, trussed up like a turkey…"
Ginny snorted.
"You realise he's smarter than he looks,"
"Who, Harry? Well, yeah, I guess he'd have to be, he did exterminate Volde-"
"Malfoy, dimwit. He's not stupid."
"Then it's a good thing we'll have the element of surprise."
Ginny rolled her eyes.
"Right. Because being used as a war pawn by his own parents for the side that ended up losing has got to be a peaceful state of mind. He's probably half mad with paranoia."
"Eurgh. Stop talking me out of it," said George, "I'm going to tell mum and dad that I need your help in the shop,"
"George, you do need my help in the shop,"
"And that's why they'll believe it," declared George triumphantly, "Then, while they're all off protecting Hermione 2.0, we'll be ferret hunting."
Silence again.
"George?"
"Yes Gin?"
"Go to bed."
"Yes Gin."
ON THE BALCONY OF A MUGGLE APARTMENT IN PARIS
Harry leant on the rail and absorbed the soft yellow light. She'd stayed behind with George, so that was the two people who made him feel most uncomfortable gone, at least for a while. Hermione still didn't like him, Ginny didn't either, and half the people he knew were still dead, but this was the first time he'd ever been to Paris, and the warm, golden light, so different to the grey-white light of Britain, was working its magic.
For the first time, Harry could see a glimpse of a future.
The future smelt of freshly baked croissant.
The click and slide of the glass door behind him pulled him back to earth.
"Look, I just wanted to say sorry," Hermione said, matter-of-fact. She looked freshly washed and pressed, and her hair was ballooning out around her face in a comfortable looking cloud. "Everyone keeps telling me we're friends. So there must be more to you than… Anyway, I just wanted to say sorry. I guess when you wake up in a room full of strangers you have to make snap judgements and… well. I'd like to start over. Breakfast?"
Harry felt his dream of being alone in the peaceful hum of a French café shatter.
This is an olive branch. There will be other mornings in Paris. And you can still have a croissant.
"I was just thinking about croissants. Should I wake Ron?"
Hermione grinned. It was a relaxed, carefree expression, not at all like her usual tight smiles. Harry felt a knot of anxiety start to unwind. This Hermione was not quite the same as the one he knew. Perhaps it wasn't so bad after all, and her intense dislike of him was some kind of mistake. Different person, different feelings.
"I'd rather not have breakfast with Ron. Totally aside from having to watch him inhale a mountain of food while half asleep, have you heard his French? I applaud the effort, but…" she shuddered, "My ears are still ringing from yesterday."
Harry gave a reluctant chuckle.
"I don't know any French. You know, other than bonjour,"
"Excellent." She wandered over to him and peered over the railing, "I don't think we need to use the stairs, do you?"
Harry was about to say something about the lift, when the crack of air rushing into the space Hermione had vacated silenced him. She'd been standing close enough that he'd even felt the air shift. He looked down and found himself grinning. The aerial view of her hair was ridiculous. She waved.
Harry apparated down beside her.
"In the middle of a muggle street? Obliviation has changed you."
For a second he wished he'd kept his mouth shut. But she shrugged and grinned again.
"People blink. That's all it takes. I hardly think anyone is going to believe they saw someone appear out of thin air. Besides, I keep hearing how law-abiding I was and it's kind of annoying,"
Harry chuckled.
"You weren't really. I mean, you went on about breaking the rules a lot, but you were always the one busting into the potions cupboard, or stealing books from the restricted section."
"You think maybe I like rules because I like breaking them?"
Harry raised his eyebrows.
"Hey, I'm not saying that, but…. Yeah, ok, maybe. Very ethical though. When we were on the run, you insisted on paying for everything we stole,"
Hermione choked on a gurgle of laughter.
"That explains why I feel so conflicted about Arthur Weasley,"
"What?"
"Well, I don't have an issue with him setting up a fake bank account, but I really think he should be using real money. Change some gold into pounds. Economic collapse is really rough on the poor,"
"I don't think a few hundred imaginary pounds is going to cause the system to collapse," Harry objected
"No, I know, but it's the principal of the thing. I made him borrow a book on inflation,"
Harry snorted.
"That sounds like you,"
And all at once she looked sad.
"Crap, sorry, I didn't think,"
She shook her head.
"No, it's fine. I suppose a person is a combination of who they are, and who they've become as a result of their experiences. But I don't remember half of mine, so it's bound to make me a bit different. It's just… confusing."
They were walking down the street, past the early morning dog walkers, and the yawning people who had spent the night curled in doorways. There was something paradoxical about it, that the city should be so glowing, and promising, and light, when the smell of fresh baguettes was mixed with car exhaust and dog poo.
"You hated me on sight," said Harry, and immediately wished he hadn't.
She was quiet for a moment.
"Let's get coffee and breakfast, and I'll talk you through it,"
I really don't see what there is to talk about, Harry thought, If you feel about me the way I feel about Draco Malfoy, there's really nothing more to say.
Before he could get too caught up in gloomy reflections, she'd led him in to the little café on the corner, and the smells of baking and French brie swamped his senses.
AT GEORGE'S
Ginny took a swig of her luke-warm cappuccino and pointed the end of her quill at George.
"This is your fault," she said accusingly, "I told you he was smarter than he looks,"
George frowned and had another bite of slightly soggy strudel.
"Yeah, but he can't have just vanished. You think we should interrogate his mum?"
Ginny just looked at him.
"Don't give me that look, she married a Death Eater, and gave birth to baby Draco. She has to be fairly evil."
"Or really, really unlucky."
George blinked, and licked syrup off his fingers.
"I keep forgetting arranged marriages are still a thing. Ok, so can we ask his mum?"
"I have no qualms about interrogating those two big blockheads that used to trail around after him. They'll probably intimidate easier than mummy Malfoy, and if the slimy toad is hiding, they have less incentive to keep the secret."
"Fair point." George paused, "So what are you thinking? Owl them and follow the owl?"
Ginny shrugged.
"It's been done before. We'll have to wait until tonight though; it's not really a broad daylight kind of gig. Plus, you have a shop to run,"
George sighed.
"Yeah, I know. Gin, it's just not the same any more."
She gave him a steely eyed look.
"It shouldn't be the same. Nothing will ever be the same. But you still have a shop to run."
George felt panic and misery ballooning up in his chest.
"No, that's not what I meant- I mean, if I block out- if I just avoid thinking about- Look, he was the inventor, the creative one. I'm just… I make the products viable but I'm not creative, and we haven't had a new product since before..."
Ginny's expression softened.
"Making stuff work is creative you dingbat. But if you're stuck for ideas to fix, I can throw you some. Come on. Verity will be pissed if you're late again."
George rolled his eyes.
"Makes you wonder who's really in charge," he said
Ginny grinned.
"Oh, I think we know she's in charge," she winked at him, "That's why you hired her, right?"
George sputtered.
THE CAFÉ IN PARIS
It wasn't so bad after all, Harry decided. The brie was pungent, but the coffee was good and hot, and Hermione had ordered him an apricot viennoiserie without asking him. She'd done it automatically, and then been horrified, and then stunned, when he'd said, grinning that that was exactly what he wanted anyway.
"You do remember me," he'd said, feeling strangely relieved.
"I- I don't though. I just… that was automatic… have I ordered you pastry before?"
"No," said Harry, still grinning as they found a table by the window, "But you know I like those apricot ones,"
"You said you wanted a croissant!" Her voice had gone a bit high and squeaky.
"Yeah, but that's because I hadn't remembered the apricot things,"
Hermione pressed her fingers to her eyes.
"But… argh, this memory thing is so annoying!"
Harry chuckled.
"You're telling me. We've been best friends since we were eleven, and now you loathe me. It's not great."
Hermione sighed and played with the foam on her latte.
"I woke up surrounded by strangers. You were there, looking all serious and ready to take charge, and that's quite alarming in a person you've never met. Then you've got the fact that you were willing to hand over your wand-"
"So was Ron,"
"Yeah, but that was different. I could see when he gave me his it was kind of personal. With you it seemed like…" she wrinkled her nose, "Like you were being noble and… and pious. You had this look like you were making a heroic sacrifice… you seemed sort of possessive… I don't know, I was just getting a really weird vibe off you. Like you think you're… special."
This was close enough to Ginny's rant to make Harry's little bubble of apricot pastry feeling deflate and transform into a gloomy puddle of slime. He stared down at his coffee. What was there to say, really?
"Anyway, George says it's not your fault you're like that, so-"
"Oh right, George says," Harry heard his own voice sounding bitter and defensive, "How does Ron feel about all these chats with George?"
Hermione's eyes went round with bewilderment.
"What? Now you're making out like you're defending Ron's territory, like he owns me or something. I don't belong to anyone, Harry, and I don't understand why you think you're the hero of the piece. From all accounts, you had a tough role in the Voldemort debacle, but you weren't the only one. It sounds like an epic team effort on several fronts, and lots of people died."
Harry felt anger burning up through his chest.
"Oh right. What I went through was the same as what everyone else went through. I'm seventeen, and I had to die for the greater good, but somehow, that's the same as everyone else. You think everyone's suffered, you think everyone lost someone? Sure. But I have no-one, Hermione, no-one. My parents are dead. Sirius is dead. Lupin is dead. Damn it, even Snape and Dumbledore are dead. Not that I liked Snape, but he knew my mum. Dumbledore treated me like a lamb for the slaughter. I had to die, knowing no-one cared."
Hermione frowned.
"What are you talking about, you have loads of people-"
"You have a family, so you don't understand-"
"Well, I mean, sort of- it's not like they were around much, and they don't remember me so-"
"I'm not special to anyone, I'm just," Harry shrugged helplessly, "I'm just special. I'm not saying no-one would have been sad, but…" he attacked the pastry with the side of his fork, "You have other friends."
Hermione was frowning at him.
He ate a piece of apricot pastry with pent up rage. And felt a bit ridiculous. The rage made the pastry stick in his throat and he had to fight the urge to cough. What the hell did she know about anything.
"It's not about us though, is it." She said thoughtfully. "It's a parent thing with you. Ron told me about your aunt and uncle,"
Harry flinched.
"You wanted someone to grieve for you the way the Weasleys grieve for Fred."
Harry tried to shake his head but it didn't work. He settled for dumping a packet of sugar into his coffee.
"I'm an inconvenience now," he said stiffly, "You and Ron could just get on with things if I wasn't around. Stupid third wheel. Ginny doesn't want me. The Weasleys are kind, but they don't need another person to worry about, and I can pay my way, but it's awkward. I'm still taking up their time. And now that Voldemort is gone…"
She was giving him an amused, measured look. Very Hermione.
"What? It's not even like it would make a difference to Teddy. Andromeda's got him."
"Oh come on, your dog would totally miss you,"
Harry gave a bark of laughter.
"Teddy's not a dog, Hermione, he's my godson. Not that that means anything. Not like I could raise a child anyway, even if he didn't have a perfectly capable grandmother."
Hermione looked startled for a second, and then shook her head.
"Look, you idiot-"
"Nice, insults are great with breakfast,"
"Oh shut up, Harry, and listen. You're acting like a total jerk and I think I see why. Your whole life has been about defeating Voldemort, and you think that's why people care about you and want you around, and now he's gone so you think they won't want you any more. So you're both looking for any excuse to be the hero again, and being difficult and obnoxious to prove how unloved you are. When are you going to realise that it's not working?"
Harry stared sullenly at her.
"No-one wants me around."
She quirked an eyebrow at him.
"Right, because you're being a jerk. But notice how there was never any question of whether or not you'd come on this trip? Notice how no-one is taking your break up with Ginny seriously? Notice how she never broke up with you? Notice how patient Ron is being? What about Arthur and Molly treating you like one of their own kids, and making sure they spend time with you, just you, because they care. Now personally, I don't see why they give a shit, because so far all you've done is be sullen, and sulky, and self-aggrandising, but I don't know you. They do, and they clearly don't care that you don't have a special heroic calling, and they aren't taking your shitty behaviour personally because the can see you're not in a great headspace right now. I'm only having coffee with you because everyone begged me to, and on top of finding you generally irritating, on some gut instinct level, I'm really worried about you. So I don't like you right now, and I don't know you, but I still care."
Harry ate some more pastry.
"Ok."
Hermione let out a sigh of relief.
"So, who are you really?" she asked, taking a bite of her pain au chocolat.
Harry took a sip of his coffee.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, when you're not defeating Voldemort, what do you like doing? What did we talk about, back in the day?"
Harry shrugged, and knew it looked sulky. He couldn't help it.
"We talked about how to defeat Voldemort. And homework. And sometimes quidditch."
"You like quidditch?"
Harry found himself giving a reluctant half-laugh.
"I play quidditch."
Hermione beamed at him.
"Well, there you go! There's something!"
"I was the youngest seeker in a century. I'm told I could play for England."
Hermione made an indignant, exasperated noise.
"Oh for- people are so stupid! How on earth can you be expected to feel normal if everyone is rushing about telling you how special you are?"
Bizarrely, the sticky misery lifted a little bit, and Harry found his shoulders were relaxing slightly.
"I guess it is… a lot of pressure." Saying that made him feel a little lighter again.
"I'm putting apricot viennoiserie on the list," She said firmly, very 'old Hermione taking charge'.
"What list?"
"The list of completely normal, ordinary things about you, Harry Potter, the completely ordinary boy who is not special at all but who is well loved by his foster family,"
"I don't have a…"
Hermione rolled her eyes.
"What else to you like?"
Harry took another bite of pastry. It didn't choke him this time.
"Exploding snap?" He said tentatively.
"Now we're getting somewhere," said Hermione, "Unless you're the world champion or something?"
"No," said Harry, starting to feel like a regular person in a café in Paris, "And I don't even have a full deck; I've lost a couple of cards… that's very ordinary, right?"
"Extremely," agreed Hermione, "Totally unremarkable. Want me to write that down?"
Harry found he was grinning.
"Yes please."
"This is a bit ridiculous," Hermione pulled out a pen and started writing on the back of the café receipt.
"Whatever," said Harry happily, "Can you put down odd socks? Also, the smell of the owlery at Hogwarts. I know it's a bit gross and bird poo-ish, but I like owls,"
Hermione rolled her eyes, and started writing.