Cafe Socrates was one of those student-run places where the coffee was cheap, the scones rivalled Hagrid's, and the salad was a microbiologist's paradise.
Harry got there a minute early, but he found Hermione already there. She was wearing her human glamour, and looked like an older version of the teenager he remembered, her hair proud and bushy as always. She had no makeup on other than an attitude. Her white shirt was loose and billowy, while her black-jeans-clad legs were folded and placed on the table. Half the males in the cade cast occasional glances her way. So did the staff, but whenever they approached her to tell her to get her feet off the table, they remembered something else they had to do.
Harry watched her for a while before going to the cafe counter. After placing an order for a large black coffee, he headed to her seat. She didn't look up from the newspaper she was reading.
"Manchester United won again," she said with a small smile. "And here's the cryptic crossword, nine letters, Insult a dead head', any ideas?"
"Er, what?" asked Harry intelligently. "And since when do you follow footie? More important, why United?"
"I think their manager's cute," she replied. "Ah! Numbskull!"
Harry chose not to comment on the timing of that particular clue. "You think Alex Ferguson is cute?"
"Of course not," she said with an alarming giggle. "That would be wrong." She gave a mock shudder. "I was just checking how Mugglized you still were."
"Pub Nights with Dean, Justin and Seamus," he replied. "And Ron, though I doubt he'll show up any more. We usually go to Muggle hangouts, there are so many more of them."
"Ah, how is my favourite dickhead?" she asked sweetly.
"St Mungo's," replied Harry. "I Hexed his balls off." He looked around suddenly, wondering about their privacy.
"Muffliato," she answered in response to the unspoken question. "Now, details, please."
It might have occurred to them that nearly twenty years ago, three little Gryffindors met on a train and became thicker than thieves - then it was two against one, and now the identities of the two were changing. Fortunately, their minds remained blissfully free of such nostalgia.
"I told you already," he replied with a smile. "I really did Hex Ron's balls off. He's at St Mungo's trying to get them reattached. He tried to explain things to me before the restraining order goes into effect. Something about how I couldn't divorce Ginny because I owed it to the Weasleys."
"Divorce already?" asked Hermione, her eyebrows raised. She ignored Ron's balls, which were probably small and definitely irrelevant. "And the sprogs?"
"I'm getting full custody," he answered. "She'll never see them again."
Hermione frowned at him, but said nothing.
"What?" he said.
She shrugged. "Nothing. Obviously, the Love Potion also affects her love for her children, right? Meaning that she doesn't love them at all. And they don't love her either. And they won't miss her or ever need her. They won't ever look at you and spit on you and scream that they want their mu --"
"Alright!" he cried in exasperation. "I get the bloody point! I'll give her visiting rights!"
Hermione thought of saying some more, but desisted. She needed to see more of the situation herself before she could pass certain judgement. Part of her hated Ginny, part of her didn't care because time had healed many wounds, and part of her said that no matter what sins a mother had committed, keeping her from her children was to be avoided unless she was an unfit mother.
Besides, Harry might be needing a babysitter soon.
"I'm part of the group who kidnapped Amy." She had been holding this in for a while, debating how to say it. Eventually she decided for the direct approach. Now she waited for him to blow up. And, his face was turning an odd colour, but he hadn't slapped her yet. Perhaps it was the location, though he would hardly let that stop him if he wanted to. No, the more likely option would be that he would leave. Which was why she had been ordered by the Felicians never to tell him this. But she was unwilling to keep a secret of this nature away from him.
Harry's face returned to his normal pale brown colour. "Explain," he said stonily.
Apparently Harry had grown up at least a bit, willing to hear an explanation before jumping to conclusions. She focused on trying to explain the story in as few words as possible.
"First off, she was never in any danger. But she had to think she was in danger so that I would be the heroic rescuer who her daddy wanted to thank. And her daddy would come with his Auror partner, hopefully. In which case I would get to explain my side of the story, with proof. It wasn't my plan, but I did go along with it. I didn't have more than a couple of nightmares about Fluffy when I was eleven, so I figured that the mental trauma of seeing a Transfigured Fluffy wouldn't be too much. Can't say I feel good about it, but my mission required you to believe in my innocence."
"You knew about the Love Potions?" asked Harry after an angry silence. Evidently he'd decided not to call her on scaring his daughter. "And who are you working with? Or for?"
"I learnt about them two weeks ago," she replied. "I wouldn't have let you alone for years if I'd known before. All I knew was that I'd been given a Lust Potion by someone. I was flattered enough to think that you wouldn't need one to f--k me, but evidently you did." She went on before he could say anything. "I'm working for the European Felician Council. That's the bunch of old biddies who are like our mini-Wizengamot for Europe. We keep our society even more secret than yours, but you probably know that already."
Harry nodded, saying nothing. He had always been a good listener, Hermione recalled.
"There's a weapon out there that needs to be destroyed. They decided I was to lead it. And that it would be useful to have a powerful Parselmouth on it too. In other words, you - the rest of the team are Felician. They know of our history - who doesn't? - and did some investigation. They found you were a victim of Potions and shit, and told me. Believe me, I would never have approached you otherwise. You hurt me, Potter."
"And you weren't the only one hurt," he countered. "We're both victims here. And how does that give you the right to scare my daughter?"
"It doesn't," she responded. "No right at all. They didn't want me to tell you about their role in that, but I'm telling you anyway."
"Why? To gain my trust?"
"Harry," she said, her frustration preventing her from noticing her use of his first name, "I'm not in favour of having you on this mission." This wasn't wholly true, but she ignored that little detail. "Yes, I'm glad you're away from the Weasels, I'm glad you finally have a chance to find love, a chance you should have had yonks ago. I'm also happy with my life, and my kids, and -"
"What's the mission?" he asked, interrupting her rambling and self-justification.
She shook her head, a tad embarassed at having been caught out. ""A cup. It can - maybe - be used to turn Wizards into Felicians and vice versa. It was made several thousand years ago by a powerful Parselmouth."
"Ah," he replied. "I see. And I'm the only Parselmouth you know?"
"There are a couple others in China and Argentina," she replied, "but the Council thought that they might need a magical source of power as well."
"Wonderful. I always wanted to be a battery when I grew up."
They were silent for a while, sipping their coffees in silence.
"Explain to me some more why I should give a shit about this," said Harry. "I'm resigning as an Auror so I can spend time with my kids - the three I've known about. Why should I go gallivanting off on some mission?"
Hermione nodded in understanding. "Some Felicians think all Wizards and Witches should be killed, or at least that we should be treated equally - though it's usually as superiors. Nobody wants to be treated like Werewolves. Anyway, those Felicians are looking for this cup too. If they find it, they'll have enough power to hunt your lot down, maybe convert witches and wizards to Felicians. The elders don't want that."
Harry considered this. He had to admit, the case was more compelling now. "Screw the elders," he said, noting that Hermione didn't appear to be much of a fan of them either. "What are you in for?"
"Curiosity," she said. "It's possible that this cup was used to create Felicians in the first place. It's from ancient Egypt. I've not yet considered the other implications. But the Golden Paw gets it, your world will be changed."
"The Golden Paw?" he said suddenly. "That name sounds familiar." He took out a small device from his pocket and began using his wand subtly with it. "Yeah, we've got listed under Organizations To Watch." He looked up, hoping to see Hermione looking curiously at the device. She was trying hard not to, but a few subtle glances gave her away. "Yeah, we're not as backward as you'd like to think. It's standard Auror issue now."
"Touche," she replied. "Delighted to see you lot catching up to Muggle technology."
Harry shrugged. "You really hate our guts, don't you?"
Hermione toyed with her cup, and decided to empty it. "Do you know when I found I was pregnant? It was in hospital. I was in hospital. I had tried to commit suicide, but mucked up my silencing charms and my friend Alyx found me and slashed the rope I was using to try and hang myself."
Harry got the message. Yes, he'd been wronged. But she had been wronged even more than he had. He could have tried to find her, to hear her side of the story, in the past eight or so years since he'd received his last dose of Love Potion - but he didn't. "Alright, fine," he said, grimacing. "I owe you. Not that I didn't owe you before, for saving my arse at Hogwarts a zillion times, but I owe you again for believing you would give me a Lust Potion and for rescuing me from my ex. I'll come on your bloody mission!"
Hermione lifted her empty coffee mug in mock salute. "Yippee," she remarked. After a few moments, she sighed. "Thanks, Harry. I do appreciate it." She held out a hand. "New start?"
Highly relieved, he shook her hand with a broad grin. "Harry Potter. Nice to meet you."
"Hermione Granger. Charmed," she drawled.
He looked at her for a while, and then remembered their first meeting - even if those words weren't addressed to him at the time. He chuckled. "Walk?" he asked.
Hermione looked at her empty mug for the fourth time. "Yeah," she replied. She got up and placed her chair back under the table. "I really do appreciate it, you know. We've got a Curse Breaker - Alisha El Masri, an acquaintaince of Bill, I think - and a Potions Master too. Name's Petr Ivanovic. And me, a Transfigurations Mistress. But we're almost certainly going to be followed, and having an Auror around will be helpful. It's not going to be just a Parselmouth thing, though I can guarantee that Alisha's going to pummel you with questions on that. Hey, maybe I can set you up with her!"
Harry gave her a mock glare. She giggled.
"Awww, poor Harry. No worries, I'll protect you from the big bad cat." They crossed the road and began heading towards a park where Hermione knew there were always some ducks waiting to be chased, no, fed. "Siamese. Alisha is a Siamese cat. And Ivanovic is a jaguar."
"There's something I don't understand," said Harry, taking a detour in their conversation. "Why aren't there more... mongrels? I mean, if a tiger Felician marries a lion Felician, do you get a tigon Felician? Everything I've read says you lot always have a - er - pure feline form."
Hermione glanced at him, not failing to notice the reference to research. "Nice question, Harry. Quite simply, we don't know. It's got something to do with magic - our feline selves don't show up till the child is about three or four anyway. If only one parent is Felician, the kids take that parent's form. Otherwise, they usually take one parent's form, but they can take a grandparent's form as well. Or a completely different form. Only about fifty forms have been noted, including some extinct ones, like sabre-toothed tigers. Lots of domesticated cat species aren't available as forms since they are the product of human breeding."
Harry nodded, though he was disappointed in the answer. He expected more from a Transfigurations Mistress.
"Don't worry, Harry," she said, patting him on the head. "We'll find out one day. Now, perhaps we should talk about babysitting, since I have two kids as well."
"Our two kids," he corrected. "I'd like to be part of their lives, no matter how long it takes."
She looked at him, as if to try and discern how serious he was. She was glad he was interested, though she wasn't sure if it was a good thing she was glad, and -
"I'd like to make them the primary Potter Heirs. They are the oldest, after all."
She stopped walking, and shook her head. Then she spied the duck pond in the distance, and began heading in that direction. "I'd like to leave that choice up to them. I have no right to interfere. Why don't you teach them how to - I dunno, fly or something?"
Harry looked as if Christmas had come early. Hermione couldn't help but grin -- and there was the slightest tremor in the cage of ice she had long ago built around her heart
A/N: Figured I had to get the Public Duel chapter out before I took off for a break, and this Cafe chapter had to come first. Enjoy, and drop me a review out of the kindness of yer stone hearts...