A Little Research

Ron was relieved to see the garden back to normal but he wondered where Hermione went. He found the empty bottle of whiskey at the bottom of the stairs. He walked slowly up them, picking up her jumper and shoes as he went. When he got to their bedroom, the door was closed. He knocked softly before entering. He wasn't surprised when she didn't answer. The rest of her clothes were on the floor and the door to the bathroom was ajar with steam drifting into the bedroom. When he stepped into the bathroom, Hermione was neck deep in a tub full of multicolored bubbles. Her eyes were closed but one hand still held a glass full of whiskey. Ron took the glass and poured the contents down the sink. "I think you've had enough, luv."

Hermione opened one eye and looked at him. "My son hates me."

Ron pulled his shirt off. "No, he doesn't." He toed off his shoes and dropped his trousers and underpants. "Shove over."

Hermione moved forward and Ron slipped in behind her. She leaned back against his chest. "This has been an awful day."

Ron kissed her neck and rubbed her shoulders. "We've had better."

"I should talk to him." Hermione started to stand.

Ron slid his arm around her waist to stop her. "Hold on there, he's gone back to Hogwarts. Besides, I don't think Artie could handle a drunken rant from his mother on top of the day he's already had."

Hermione twisted around indignantly. "I do not rant and I am not drunk!"

Ron laughed and settled her back against him. "You do so rant and you're definitely drunk. You know how I know?"

Hermione leaned back and looked up at his chin. "I…how?"

"Whenever you stop using contractions, I know you're drunk. It's like you speak more carefully in an attempt to show you're not slurring."

"I am not slurring."

"Of course, not. You're speaking too slowly and carefully to slur, but that doesn't matter when people can smell the whiskey on you from across the room."

Hermione dropped her head back against his chest. "He hates me."

"He doesn't hate you."

"Where is he?"

"I told you, he's gone back to school. You'll see him tomorrow. Maybe you can talk to him after class."

Hermione groaned and slipped further under the water. "He hates that I work there."

"No, he doesn't."

"He does. He won't even look at me in school."

"Hermione, he's thirteen. His whole life revolves around embarrassment and how to avoid it. Merely having a mother when you're a thirteen-year-old boy is embarrassing. You can't go by that. Deep down, he's probably glad you're there."

"Well, even if that was true before, I'm sure it isn't now. This is all Rita's fault. She better hope I never see her again." The surface of the water stirred with her rage and the several bubbles popped.

Ron tried not to laugh. "I'm reasonably certain she left the country after your last encounter." He wrapped his arms around Hermione and whispered in her ear, "This will pass, we've been through worse. Give the boy some credit. He's far cleverer than I was at that age. He'll come around. Sooner rather than later, I should think."

Hermione pressed back against him. "I hope you're right."

xxx

Art stood in the fireplace with Floo powder in his hand. He was about to say 'Gryffindor Tower,' when he changed his mind. "Potter's Glenn."

Harry was drinking a cup of tea by the fire in his home in Godric's Hollow when the Floo activated. Harry's wand was in his hand and pointed at the fire before he even thought about it.

"Uncle Harry," Artie squeaked, clearly alarmed to have his uncle's wand point in his direction.

"Artie?" Harry tucked his wand back into the pocket of his robe. "Why aren't you at school?"

"I needed to talk to you."

Harry leaned forward to stand. "Is something wrong?"

Artie held out a hand to stop him. "No, I mean, yes. It's just, well, Mum slept with Uncle Viktor."

Harry's mouth dropped open. "What? I can't believe that. She loves your dad, and Viktor and Gabrielle are very happy."

"It's true. It happened before Mum and Dad got married, but–"

"Oh," Harry sighed and sat back in the chair. "Well, yes, but that was ages ago."

"I just found out today," Art said miserably. "There were these horrible magazines at Mrs. Figg's place."

Harry looked at the dejected boy over his glasses and smiled. "Dobby?"

The elf appeared instantly at Harry's side. "Could you get Artie a cup of tea?"

Dobby snapped his fingers and a steaming cup of Darjeeling appeared in his hand.

Harry gestured toward the other chair facing the fire. "Have a seat."

Art sat down and gratefully accepted the tea from Dobby, who disappeared back to wherever he'd been.

Harry sipped his own tea for a moment. "So what can I do for you?"

"I just...I don't understand how they could be together, go through a war together, and then suddenly, she leaves and starts dating Uncle Viktor."

Harry cleared his throat and set down his tea. "Okay, first off, he wasn't your uncle at the time."

Art sighed in frustration. "I know that, but I'm used to calling him Uncle Viktor. I'm just trying to understand what happened."

"Shouldn't you be talking to your parents about this?"

"I talked to Dad. He said it was his fault. He said he was a prig and chased her off. But, even if that's true, why would he do that after everything they'd been through?"

Harry took off his glasses and wiped the lenses on his shirttail. "How much have they told you about the war?"

Artie shrugged. "Not much, just that it was long and hard but that you all got through it, nothing specific. When I ask, they change the subject. Mum especially won't talk about it. I read a book about the war once, but it mostly was just a list of events, not a personal account."

Harry nodded. "Suffice it to say, war changes you. You find yourself doing things you never even imagined you could do, some good, some indescribably bad. But the thing nobody tells you is, that the hardest part happens after it's over, when you're supposed to resume your normal life. The problem we had was, we were so young when the whole thing started, that we didn't really have a life to return to. We sort of had to make one up as we went along, which wasn't easy, because our heads were so messed up from the things we'd seen and done."

"But you and Aunt Ginny got through it."

Harry nodded and pulled at his lower lip. "True, but not unscathed. It was hard for us too, but ours was never the contentious relationship of your parents."

"Come on, Mum and Dad don't quarrel."

Harry laughed. "Maybe not so much now, but there was a time, my boy, when quarreling defined their relationship."

"So you're saying they fought after the war and so she left."

Harry sighed. "Quite the opposite actually. I think after the war, Hermione didn't have any fight left in her."

Art shook his head. "But if they weren't fighting–"

"It changed the dynamic of their relationship. Ron and Hermione thrived on their differences, after the war they just…failed to thrive."

"But she could thrive with Uncle Viktor?"

"Thrive is probably a strong word there." Harry sipped his tea.

"So she didn't love him?" Art asked.

"The problem with 'love' is that it's a small word that describes too many different kinds of feelings. Viktor and Hermione loved each other after a fashion. I think they offered each other a safe harbor, so to speak."

"But they were together for three years. They lived together."

Harry sighed. "When you're older, when you've had a relationship or two of your own, you'll understand that three years isn't really that long, and that not all relationships have the same impact on your life."

Art sipped his tea and seemed to consider what his uncle had said.

Harry cleared his throat and considered his next words carefully. "You know, your mother has suffered a great deal over those three years with Viktor. The publicity was really hard on her and the public reaction was even harder. I'm ashamed to say Ginny and I didn't help much either. She walked out on Ron and we let her leave us too for awhile. I saw her occasionally during that time, but not much, not as much as I should have."

Art didn't say anything.

"I know you must be upset finding out the way you did, but don't be too hard on your mum. She's had quite enough scorn over this; she doesn't deserve yours as well."

Art set down his teacup. "Yeah, well, I reckon I should be getting back to school."

"Straight to Gryffindor Tower then. You're well past curfew."

Harry watched as his nephew disappeared in the green flame of the Floo network. He thought, not for the first time, that he and Ginny were very lucky to have come through the war as well as they did. He sat watching the fire for a long time after Artie had gone. His mind returned to those three years that Hermione had lived with Viktor. He recalled a day he'd been in London on an errand and had gone to see her.

xxx

It was early afternoon and it had been about a year since she and Ron had broken up and Harry hadn't seen a lot of her. He went to the big, old townhouse that she'd inherited from her parents on a tree-lined street in the west end of London. Viktor had answered the door. Clearly, he was just out of the shower. His hair was still wet and he was wearing his practice uniform.

"Harry?" Viktor said with some surprise upon opening the door.

"Hi," Harry said, shaking hands.

"Hermione!" Viktor shouted over his shoulder. He turned back to Harry and smiled. "Come in. Would you like a cup of tea?"

"Sure." Harry followed him past stacks of boxes and into the kitchen, which was a bit of mess.

"Sorry about the state of things." Viktor tapped a teapot with his wand and said a heating charm. "Bit of a rough week." He set a cup of tea in front of Harry and stepped back out into the hallway and bellowed, "Hermione!" He smiled apologetically at Harry, "Sorry, she's only just up. A bit of a–"

"Rough week," Harry finished for him. "So you said."

Viktor cleared his throat. "Yes. Well, I hate to rush off, but I have got practice and we get fined if we are late."

Harry nodded. "I understand."

Viktor pulled out his wand and Disapparated with a soft pop.

Harry sipped his tea and a few moments later Hermione came into the kitchen. He hardly recognized her. She looked as though she'd lost ten pounds, her eyes were puffy, her hair hung straight and limp, and her face was a bit gray. She was wearing a sexy black silk nightgown that showed a lot of cleavage and had a hemline that fell mid-thigh. One hand was pressed tight against her side and the other held her wand. She was talking as she entered the room.

"If you don't stop shouting, I will hex you into next week." When she caught sight of Harry, her eyes widened, and if possible, she got even paler. She stepped back into the hall and Harry heard her say, "Accio, dressing gown."

A moment later, she came back into the kitchen knotting the sash of a black silk robe around her waist. "Harry," she said, smiling tightly. "What an unexpected surprise."

"I'm sorry." He stood to hug her. "I should have sent an owl, but I was in London, and thought I'd stop by." As he hugged her, he was assailed with the smell of whisky, sex, and cigarettes.

He must have made a face, because Hermione's cheeks went pink and she said, "If you could give me a moment to freshen up and get dressed, we can have a spot of breakfast and a nice chat."

"I don't want to trouble you." He glanced around at the state of the kitchen.

Hermione's laugh sounded forced. "Don't be silly. I'll only be a moment." She cast a cleaning spell on the kitchen and pressed her hand even tighter to her side as she went back upstairs.

Harry watched as the dishes cleaned themselves and put themselves away. Food found it's way either back into cabinets or into the dustbin and a rag began wiping down the counters. As the dustbin was taking itself outside, Hermione reappeared. Harry was relieved to see her looking more like herself, in slacks and a jumper. Her hair was clean and curly again and her face had lost its previous pallor.

"How do you feel about a fry up, Muggle style?" Hermione asked as she pulled eggs and bacon from the icebox.

Harry shrugged. "Sounds good, let me help."

Hermione smiled and handed him a frying pan. They worked side by side. She made the eggs and toast while he fried the bacon. "I'm famished," she said when they finally sat down to eat.

"You look thin, too thin," Harry said as he cut into an egg.

Hermione shrugged. "I have lost a bit of weight, I suppose. I've been really busy at work."

"And at play, it seems. You and Viktor make regular appearances on the cover of Witch Weekly and the society column of the Prophet.

Hermione grimaced. "It's constant, I know. Vultures. Especially Rita."

Harry nodded and then remembered the boxes in the foyer. "It looks like you're packing."

Hermione glanced down at her plate and didn't look back up at him. "I'm moving in with Viktor."

Harry set down his fork. "You're what?"

She sighed. "This place is too big for two people. His flat is closer to the Ministry and the Stadium. We spend most of our time there anyway. It seems silly to keep going back and forth."

"But Hermione..."

She looked at him, but he didn't know what else to say. She shook her head. "It's not like I'm selling this place. It's just more convenient to live with Viktor right now."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "More convenient?"

Hermione sighed. "You know what I mean."

Harry frowned. "I don't think I do."

"Viktor is a good person, Harry."

"Are you listening to yourself? He's a good person' is something you say about a coworker, not someone you're planning on moving in with."

Hermione scowled at him. "What do you want from me, Harry?"

"Tell me that you love him, tell me that you're happy. Tell me that this is about more than just getting back at Ron." He'd clearly crossed a line with that last part. Hermione looked absolutely murderous.

"This has nothing to do with Ron," she hissed. "You of all people should know me better than that."

"I thought I did," Harry said. "But when you first came into the kitchen, I barely recognized you. What's going on? What are you doing?"

Hermione shook her head. "Nothing. I'm just living. I take things as they come now. I don't let myself get wound up like I used to. Viktor understands that."

"And you're saying Ron doesn't?" Harry asked.

"I'm saying," Hermione said, letting out a frustrated sigh. "That this has nothing to do with Ron. Viktor and I are in the same place right now. We work. I'm sorry if that isn't the relationship picture you want me to paint, but I think I've outgrown my rainbows and butterflies phase. Right now, I'm just happy to be with someone who appreciates me and doesn't expect me to be something I'm not."

"I see," Harry said, but he hadn't.

As he looked at the embers slowly dying in the grate, Harry marveled that Hermione and Ron had ever found their way back to each other.

xxx

Art arrived in the Gryffindor fireplace to an empty common room. He made his way up to his dorm, cast a cleaning charm on his teeth, changed into his pajamas and got into bed, but he couldn't sleep. He lay there for half an hour before he gave up, pulled on his bathrobe, and went back down to the common room. He'd never snuck out of the tower after curfew before, but he wanted to go to the library. From early childhood, his mother's library was a place to solve problems. He'd been raised to look for answers with research. The library at Hogwarts was one of his favorite places at school, although he was careful to keep that little fact secret from his mates. It never occurred to him to look up his parents in the library before now. He knew there was a short cut down a narrow set of stairs behind the portrait of a little girl holding a frog in the hall outside the common room. The passage would take him just down the hall from the library. With a little luck he could be there and back without being seen. He pushed his way out of the portrait hole and walked down the hall toward the painting of the little girl, carefully keeping to the shadows. He found the passage he wanted and raced down the stairs. When he made it to the library door, he slipped inside, pulled out his wand and said, "Lumos." The glow from the end of his wand gave him enough light to find the reference section and the two huge tomes called Who's Who Among Witches and Wizards. The first and largest volume was labeled Dead, and the second slimmer volume was labeled Living. Art pulled down the Living book and took it over to a corner table not visible from the door.

The book was full of endless lists of tightly packed names. As he flipped it open, he noticed the name of his favorite Quiddich player, Digby Ghent. He tapped Ghent's name with his wand and was delighted when a half a page about the player crowded out the other names on the page. Encouraged, Art opened to the W section and found Weasley, Hermione Jane Granger. He tapped her name with his wand and the entry expanded and pushed all the other names off the page until there was a full two-page spread including a picture. He read. The article was very thorough and he was surprised to find that it went on for several pages. There was a great deal listed about her accomplishments while working with the Ministry of Magic, although it didn't say which department she worked for. Judging from the list it seemed like she worked in several different departments over the years. There were also two pages about her work during the war. He was surprised to find a short list of dark wizards she was known to have killed in battle along with a list of injuries she had suffered. Both lists were annotated with chilling descriptions. He also found out she held the record for holding a wandless shield charm. Apparently, toward the end of the war, while seriously wounded, she'd held a shield charm over herself, his dad and Uncle Harry for over six minutes until Aurors could arrive and rescue them.

Art sat back in his chair. He'd seen her do that trick many times with Uncle Harry at demonstrations for the Dueling Club. She'd never held it more than a minute and it seemed to take a lot out of her to do it. He marveled that she'd ever been able to hold it so long, especially when wounded. "Shit," he hissed. He finished the article on his mother, which wrapped up with her marriage, his birth and her taking the history position at Hogwarts three years ago. He was interested to see that she'd held the same position for a few months before he was born. Apparently, she took over from someone named Binns. He tapped his mother's name again, and it shrank back into the list. He was about to tap his dad's name when the library clock startled him by striking 2am. He felt like he'd pushed his luck enough. He'd read his dad's entry later in the week. Art returned the heavy book to its shelf and made his way back to Gryffindor Tower. He lay in bed for a long time thinking about the article and what he was going say to his mother tomorrow.