CHAPTER THIRTEEN
John spent 2 weeks with us which is the two weeks where the Ministry of Magic saw me clock in the most number of overtime. I haven't come to terms that Hermione and I will never be but I've managed to scrounge up some semblance of sanity in my own strange way -- well just as long as I don't see any of them either apart or together. In those two weeks I hardly saw John, which meant pretty much that I rarely saw Hermione. I was out in Diagon Alley for lunch one time and saw them enter Madam Puddifoot's coffee shop and that was it. It's quite a feat considering that Hermione lives with me and John, as her guest, is staying in the spare guest room at Grimmauld's. Or so I'd like to think. I don't really know for sure because I come home no earlier than 1 a.m. in the morning, bone tired. The only way I can ensure that I don't see them or that I don't have dreams of her. Then I'm up at the crack of dawn and leave our Surrey house to go straight to the Ministry of Magic. I've always liked having breakfast but I don't want to run the risk of passing out again in her presence which I don't doubt will happen because the pain has intensified to a point that I have to bite my lip until it bleeds so that I don't scream out loud every time my mind reminds me that John has taken my place in Hermione's life and more. It would seem too suspicious if that little incident happened again and she'd start investigating. We all know that she won't stop until she gets to the bottom of things and I'm not really prepared to meet her there yet. Secrets and lies that cannot unravel because surely she deserves so much more than to have me.
One night, I was on my way in after a hellish day tracking Dolohov and finally catching up with him in Bulgaria, when I hear voices in Hermione's room as I pass it. I mumble under my breath, Move. I love her but you can't have her. Move. I love her. Like an alternating mantra in time with the beating of my heart. But my feet was staging a mutiny against my brain. I was rooted to the spot and I lean my forehead onto the cool door. Please, let her not be with John. Please. I guess Heaven smiled at me when I overhear her say, "Ginevra Molly Weasley, you naughty girl!"
I let out a shaky breathe that I didn't know I was holding and whisper a silent thank you to whoever was out there that heard my prayer. I remember she wrote a note to me asking if she could ask Ginny to stay the night. I remember scribbling a hurried yes on her note a couple of nights ago and I guess she meant tonight. I don't know why she needed to ask and I don't know whether there was anything that she could possibly ask to which I'd say no. She could ask me to bleed for her and I would scribble yes in my own blood. I push myself off the door and was about to shuffle off when I hear her voice again, "What about Harry?"
For starters, I had no intention of eavesdropping but I was rooted to the spot. Ron knowing what he knows and knowing that he tells Ginny everything, I am a bit concerned about why they would be talking about me. I'm not ready to tell her. I'm not ready to lose her just yet because as soon as she finds out, then the jig is up. I can't lose her if she doesn't know about me. About my stupid heart. About Grawp's diagnosis. About everything.
Ginny's voice barely carries through the wall and my forehead furrows as I strain to catch what she's saying. "What about him Hermione?"
"I think he's not over you." I can imagine Hermione as she says this.
"Believe me, he is. But let me ask you this Hermione, what about Harry?"
"What do you mean?"
"Don't you get it? John and you. You and Harry. I can't believe you've never guessed."
"Guessed what Ginny? I must admit I don't know what you mean."
"You don't?! But surely you must have guessed. Hermione, you must know. Surely you do. How could you not know it when everyone does. How everyone sees that Harry is..."
At this point, I want to throttle Ginny except for the fact that Hermione would not take too kindly that I've been listening to their conversation outside her room. To what depravity have I been reduced to resort to eavesdropping on my ex-girlfriend and my best friend talking about me. I'm not even sure what Ginny was going to say but I think I do and somehow I have to stop her saying it. I look around in search of something. A diversion anything but the halls were bare and then for the 2nd time that night I get saved. I receive a message from Kingsley Shacklebolt about some lead of another Death Eater spotted in Bulgaria. Jumping on that chance, I whip my wand out and say clearly and crisply, "Accio firebolt!"
My broom being stored in the broom closet in the first floor, it crashed loudly through the cupboard door and careened into my open hand. The door to Hermione's room opens with a jerk and I was met with an accusing stare from Ginny.
"Harry, how long have you been standing there?" Ginny's eyes telling me that she knows of sins that I wouldn't dare admit, her arms folded across her chest.
"Not long."
Hermione steps outside of her room and eyes me and the firebolt in my hand. "Are you coming or going?"
"Going as it turns out."
"Wait, did you just arrive?"
"I did but I need to go back to Bulgaria. Got some leads on McNair being spotted outside a local pub. You two have fun." I start going down but Hermione touches my arm.
"Harry, you look tired. Can't it wait? When's the last time you slept?" I notice the worry creep into her voice and I know she's giving me a concerned look even before I turn around to face her -- that look where her eyebrows are scrunched together and she's biting her lower lip.
I hate doing this to her because I know that she'll be up all night until I come back. "I'm fine. Don't wait up for me." Then I apparate out of there like my life depended on it.