Chapter 12: Written in Stone

Harry quickly found himself as an unwitting Side-Along Apparitioner alongside his eldest boy, as father and son Potter were now squeezed through a tube of darkness. When they at last emerged into the proper dimension, Harry took in the sight of his house and his heart dropped into his stomach.

The Head Auror had to make two strides for James' every one, as the first-born Potter more or less dragged his father into the house, and up the stairs to the master bedroom.

"Care to explain to me what the hell this is?!" James thundered.

Harry's green eyes zeroed in on his wife, still seated on their bed exactly as he had instructed her.

"Ginny…." He muttered. With all of the randy escapades he had gotten into with Luna, he had almost completely forgotten where he had sent his wife to be housed. He should have counted on one of the boys coming round here, and he regretted that he hadn't sent Ginny to Grimmauld Place. The only person who ventured there with any regularity was Kreacher, and the family's house elf was just about too old to make the trip anymore. The least he could praise Ginny for was that she had followed his instructions to the letter.

Except for the fact that….

"Where are the ropes?"

"Oh, you mean the ropes that I found her bound in and I then untied?" James sneered as he lifted Ginny's sweater sleeve, to reveal the faded, tree-ring like lines that indicated rope burn. "So that was something you intended! What I can't figure out is why. Care to explain, Dad?"

Harry decided to turn the tables back on him. "Dunno. Give me your best guess, Jamie."

"Well, I was going to go with spousal abuse, but I figured that had to be too dark for you…"

Harry actually laughed in his boy's face. "That's your best theory? That I'm abusing your mother and holding my wife against her will as some sort of revenge plot? Dear Merlin, no wonder you work in your uncle's joke shop…. You're not smart enough to do anything else!"

James looked as though his father had just slapped him, his entire expression even flickering with hurt for a moment. "So why did you tie her up? I thought she was in jail. Honestly, at this point, between those recent actions, I can't tell which one is worse!"

Harry hardened his jaw, staring his son down evenly. "I was able to make up the difference on the money your sister gathered to post Mum's bail…."

"How?" James interrupted.

Harry hesitated for what he hoped wasn't too long of a beat. "That's private. Anonymous donation." It was stretching the truth, but James didn't have to know that, or more importantly where the money had come from, who the donor was…. and especially how he, Harry, had thanked her.

"So you release her and…."

"I released her and I…. cast Imperio on her…."

"You what?!" James yelped. "You cast an Unforgivable on my mother?!"

"It was a stop-gap on the problem…."

"Oh, so casting Unforgivables is now a 'stop-gap on the problem?'" James chuckled with derisive laughter. "Doing something illegal, something that you wouldn't allow your own men to do…."

"Unforgivables can be applied in certain situations, and only by people who have the proper security clearance, of which I am one!" Harry was starting to raise his voice testily. "I'm Harry Potter, bitch, and I'm also your father, and you do not get to question how I conduct my business, particularly under this roof!"

"Yes, I can, when the business is conducted on my mother and against her will!" James turned Ginny on the bed to face her husband, and Harry was disconcerted to see the vacant stare in his wife's eyes. "Look at her, Dad! She's unresponsive! I came home looking for an old Potions book when I couldn't find an answer to a problem at the shop, only to stumble upon her and at first think that someone had cast a Memory Charm on her!"

Harry took this in expressionlessly. Inside, he was surprised, yet also relieved, that the Imperius Curse had lasted this long. He wasn't sure when it would eventually fade, only that it would, and it might not be long.

"Jamie: I'm going to need you to trust me…."

"How can I trust you?" James yelled. "You arrest my mum, then you free her only to confine her to essentially house arrest by unlawful means…."

"This is not unlawful!" Harry thundered. "If you don't believe me, go ask your Aunt Hermione. Better yet, go to law school, Jamie, and then we'll talk about what is and isn't unlawful!" A beat, and then he muttered as an afterthought, "Not like you'd finish anyway – you barely finished Hogwarts…"

"Now, wait a minute: that's a little uncalled for…"

"Not now," Harry dismissed with a wave of his hand. "I need you to tie her up again."

James gaped at him. "Are you insane?!"

"Well, where am I supposed to put her? I have to make sure she is not a danger to me or to your aunt, and I had to make sure that she doesn't get into any potions stock!" His mind raced. "OK, if I let you watch her and we….. move her to Grimmauld Place…"

"…. To do what? Wait for her trial?" James was starting to soften slightly.

Harry exhaled a long breath. "Jamie, I know you don't believe me, and I know you want to believe the best of your mother. It's only natural: innocent until proven guilty, right? But the evidence Uncle Ron and I have is airtight and more than sufficient; we would never have indicted her if it wasn't!"

James had grown quiet. "She's really guilty?"

Harry nodded, tears springing to his eyes. "Yes. I'm sorry, son. But we can't risk her becoming a danger to our family or to the community, even when out on bail. I need you to make sure that she never has what she would need to brew love potion again. Let's take her to Grimmauld Place, we will….. secure her there…."

"Not with ropes," James haggled.

"Fine. Petrificus Totalus, then, and ropes, because we'll need to make sure she remains secure if the hex wears off and no one is in the house to re-cast it."

James nodded, helping his mother from the bed. "Come on, Mum." He led a tottering Ginny to the stairs.

"James."

The eldest Potter boy – bearing such a resemblance to his late grandfather – turned.

"I never wanted this," Harry expressed, eyes pained.

James nodded. "I know. It's just… it's hard to hold Mum in contempt for what she did. If she hadn't, there are a handful of people, including me, who wouldn't exist! It's hard to imagine a world in which you don't exist."

"George Bailey got to," Harry quipped.

James smirked. "I never did like those Muggle movies you and Aunt Hermione showed us. They gave me the creeps."

"Hey."

James turned back again. Harry nodded. "For what it's worth…. Thank Merlin that you exist."

James nodded. "If that's your way of apologizing for basically calling me a waste of space just now…. apology accepted." He smiled softly, then herded his Mum down towards the fireplace.

Harry glanced around his and Ginny's bedroom for a moment, sighed heavily and then followed.

For once, Ron was alone in his house for the night. Ottery St. Catchpole was quiet. He was seated in his kitchen, nursing a bottle of beer.

The ache of his wife of more than two decades, the love of his life, telling him she no longer loved him and that she wanted a divorce had not abated after a little more than twelve hours. He doubted it would be gone after twelve months – hell, twelve years. And what of Rosie and Hughie? This would break their hearts….

A knock on the door caused the Deputy Head Auror to stiffen. He almost went for his wand, but refrained. It could be Hermione. If it was her, what should he do? Let her in? Have a fit of gallantry and let her have their bed while he slept on the couch in the hope that such a gesture might make her change her mind and take him back?

There came the knock again, more insistent this time, and he finally rose onto unsteady feet. Spots of gray and black danced behind his eyes, across his vision – he was definitely far drunker than he had been that night he reunited with Lavender in the Leaky Cauldron….

Ron barely made it to the door, and opened it. His eyes had to cross just to discern who it was on his front stoop. Blonde hair. Blue eyes.

Hmm. Speaking of Lavender….

"Ron, I…. Merlin, you look like shite!" His old flame wrinkled her nose in bemused distate. "May I come in?"

Ron stood aside and let her pass into the foyer. He had his wits about him just enough to watch her as she studied the foyer, then passed into the living room and the kitchen beyond, taking everything in.

"Hermione really is a wonder with décor – I love what she's done with the place!"

Ron snorted bitterly. "Yeah. It would be blooming shame if she didn't get the house in the end, for all the hard work she's put into it…."

Lavender glanced back at him. "What do you mean, 'get the house'?"

"Haven't you heard? Or is my dear old sister still making my family a disgrace just fine on her own?" Ron sneered. "Ah, well. It'll be front-page news before long: Minister for Magic has the scales fall from her eyes and leaves her less ambitious, unqualified, unworthy husband!" He blinked, frowning. "Daily Prophet will have to squeeze its type to fit that in as a headline…."

A gasp made him clue in. Lavender had both hands to her mouth. "Oh….. Oh, love… I'm so sorry…."

With that, Ron broke down in tears. Without a word, Lavender gathered him in her arms. For a long moment, they held each other, the she-werewolf rocking Ron back and forth.

At last, the pair drew back to peer into each other's eyes. Drunk as he was, Ron decided that if she wanted to return to her roots, trust her old instincts and make a play to have her way with him, he would gladly let her. He almost wanted her to start something. It was her chance, after losing out on him more than a quarter-century earlier. She wouldn't have a better opportunity.

As it was, Lavender quietly stepped out of his arms, glancing down to the floor. When she next spoke, her voice was quite small.

"I…. I actually came by because I was thinking of approaching Hermione about those employment benefits. You know, the ones offered by that Werewolf database…"

"Lycanthrope…." Ron corrected her, and it was a miracle he didn't stumble on, slur the word, in his state.

Lavender giggled. "Yes, that." She lifted her eyes to his. "But if you two are having such a hard time right now, I'd probably just be rubbing salt into old wounds, so…"

"No," Ron cut across her. "Go ahead and see her. Book an appointment. I'm sure she'd love to help you; point you towards some job listings. There are always openings somewhere at the Ministry!"

Lavender slowly nodded. "Thank you." Swaying onto her tiptoes, she kissed his cheek.

As she moved past him to the door, Ron called out to her:

"Will you stay?"

Glancing back to him, Lavender bit her lip in indecision. "I don't think I should…." she mumbled.

Reading deeper meaning into it, Ron let out a shocked, almost offended laugh. "Come off it, Lav – I'm not that despondent! I'm not that pathetic!"

"You've never been pathetic," she admonished him gently, drifting back. "And you're not now." She helped him up the stairs to bed, even going so far as to tuck him in. Hesitating, she stooped and brushed her lips along his brow. "I'll be down on the couch if you need me…." she murmured.

Ron rolled over, already slipping under and into sleep. "I love you, Lavender…."

He probably hadn't realized he said it, or heard himself, but nevertheless Lavender felt her cheeks turn pink. "Don't let Hermione hear you say that…."

Ron muttered something unintelligible in reply. Turning off the bedside lamp, Lavender stepped out into the hallway and closed the door behind her.

In London, in the Ministry of Magic, Hermione was once again burning the candle at both ends. She had kicked Teddy out hours ago, practically at wandpoint, insisting that she was fine.

She wasn't fine. She wasn't even working on anything, too emotionally drained to do so, as she buried her face in her palms and wept.

All the lives ruined, all the families upended. Her marriage was dying, and by her own hand…. Knowing the pain that she had caused her husband, one of her best friends, whom she still loved on some level, she had to, he was…. Ron….. It was almost enough to take back the words she had spoken to him after he had made admirable love to her in their marriage bed.

Almost. But not quite.

Then she would think about the betrayal of her mother-in-law and her sister-in-law and the anger would burn inside her. The anger over being conscripted into a life without her complete and total consent, without it being her choice. A choice she might have made, might have not, but at least she should have been given the opportunity to make it, figure out what she wanted for herself. She had done that in her career, rising through the ranks to become the youngest Minister for Magic in history. Why had she not been allowed to do that in choosing who to take as her husband, with whom to have children?

She felt like a plaything, as though she was somebody else's fragile doll. Worse – somebody else's puppet. Ginny and Molly's puppet.

See the pretty little China doll…. Pale and fragile, she's a China doll….. Delicate as a pomegranate tree…. That is all she was ever born to be... It's destiny…. Well, not for me.

Her sobs reduced to sniffles, Hermione lifted her red-rimmed eyes from out of her hands, out of her lap. Her eyes with their brown orbs that were now brimming with determination.

I woke up this morning to another day, with a face painted on that's not my own. With a future as certain as the buds of May, every step of my way already known - written in stone. Now all of a sudden, in a strange new place, there's a duty that calls, and I must go. And the face in my mirror is a strange new face, and what lies up ahead, I don't know. On the crest of the wind I will ride away, where the dust of the desert is blown! And no more will I sit, and let my life be written in stone. Written in stone…. Oh mother and father, don't wear white for me. Dry your eyes and deliver me a prayer…. May the eyes of my ancestors shine bright for me - I will need every prayer you can spare! On the crest of the wind I will ride away, far beyond where the wild geese have flown! I am scared, I admit, my future won't be written in stone. And if destiny brings me a bitter day, if I sleep on the ground cold as bone, that's the fate I'll embrace, if the future that I face is unknown… Risky, but free…. till it can be... written in stone by me!

A sudden knock at her office door made Hermione hastily wipe at her eyes. Smooth down her business skirt. "Enter."

Her assistant tremulously poked his head in.

"My goodness…. Teddy! I thought you'd already be home at Shell Cottage by now! What are you still doing here?"

"I…. I forgot to convey to you the evening post, ma'am." Teddy bustled up to her desk. There was only one envelope in his outstretched hand. "From the new Bulgarian ambassador, ma'am. It's urgent."

Frowning bemusedly, Hermione slit open the envelope and unfolded the contents. She scanned the missive line by line and by the time she got to the signature at the end, her lips had curled, for the first time all day, into a smile. A smile of hope.

A/N: Song credit goes to Stephen Schwartz and his masterful piece, 'Written in Stone'. Interestingly, he wrote this when he was briefly attached as the composer for Mulan before leaving the project to score The Prince of Egypt. As a deleted Disney song, Written in Stone is not well known, though it is considered to be a first run at what would eventually become 'Reflection', composed by Matthew Wilder and David Zippel. Lea Salonga auditioned for the singing voice of Mulan with this piece, and has only sung it a few times in her career - you can hear her demo on YouTube.