Hermione turned to Harry, eyes pleading.
Harry swallowed and forced himself to look at Ron. "I fucked up. There was a situation with a computer," he said hastily, "and I probably overthought it, but I didn't want him to think I wasn't a close relation and then he wouldn't take me to the wand..."
"You could've just said you were her brother-in-law."
"Yeah, I know. I...I wasn't thinking."
"It's not Harry's fault," said Hermione. "The doctor was the only one who knew where my wand was. Harry was more focused on that than making sure his story was accurate."
"I guess," Ron said, looking disgruntled. "What're we going to do for the dinner, then? Obliviate the Muggles when they come in?"
"Why—why would we do that?" said Hermione, alarmed.
"Well, to set things straight," he said, exasperated. "We'll obliviate them so they'll know I'm your husband."
Hermione's brows drew together. "We can't obliviate three Muggles just because we messed up a dinner invitation. Not to mention the doctor has already been obliviated once. Multiple Oblivations in a short time can lead to other problems and we don't know exactly how it affects Muggles."
"What would you have us do then?" he returned. "Are you and Harry going to pretend to be married or something?"
The question seemed to stun Hermione into silence and Harry stared at her. Her response, in that moment, seemed very important to him.
Eventually, she said, "I suppose that might be our best option."
Face uncommonly warm, Harry turned to look at Ron and was shocked to find a slow grin spreading over his best friend's face.
"You know," the redhead said slowly, "that'd be hilarious, if you think you can pull it off."
"Of course we could pull it off," she mumbled. "It's one night."
"But hold on," said Ron, "if Harry's your husband, what's my excuse for being there?"
"You could be a family friend. It's a birthday dinner," Hermione reasoned, her voice returning to something like normal. "We'd presumably have other friends over as well."
"And Ginny?" said Harry, remembering with a strange twist in his stomach, that she would also be there.
"Also a family friend," Ron mused, "though obviously still my sister."
Hermione looked seriously at Harry. "Do you think Ginny will be okay with that?"
"Sure," Harry lied. "If I explain it to her, I'm sure she'll be fine with it."
"I take it all back," Ron said, disarmingly handsome when he laughed. "This'll be great. Can I have a completely different personality or something?"
"What 'completely different personality' do you want, Ronald?" said Hermione skeptically.
"I dunno. I've never thought about it before..."
Harry found himself chuckling, despite himself. Hermione sighed.
"Okay. With the four of us and the doctor's family, that's seven. With Hugo and Lily, that's nine." Hermione conjured a notepad and quill. "We'll have to brief the kids on what they can't say to the Srinivasans, of course."
"They've had dinners with Muggles at the house before," Harry said. "They should be fine."
"Great! Then it's settled," she said happily.
"Wait," Ron said. "There's going to be six wizards at this dinner and three Muggles. Are we confident we can pull this off without revealing anything?"
Hermione snorted. "Are you serious? Have you suddenly forgotten Harry and I grew up as Muggles?"
"Yeah, like thirty years ago."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Just that you're probably less like a Muggle now than you think, is all."
"Are you saying I can't convince them I'm a Muggle?"
Ron held up his hands. "I'm saying with six of us, the chances are good we'll slip up. I only bring it up because you're the one so concerned about not obliviating them again."
Hermione's shoulders fell. She hated conceding a point. "We've had Muggles over before…"
"Yeah, like your parents," said Ron. "Like all the exchange fellows you keep bringing to the house. All those Muggles knew about magic, Hermione. When was the last time you had to spend a whole evening with a Muggle who knew absolutely nothing about magic?"
Hermione opened her mouth, then closed it again.
Harry had to agree. The last dinner he himself had with Muggles was with Dudley's family. Even then, Dudley and his wife knew what Harry was, so there was no real danger of violating the Statute.
"I'm only saying I think we could all benefit from a Muggle translator," Ron finished smugly.
"A translator?" Harry repeated.
"Yeah. Just someone who can translate whatever mad shit we'll eventually say into Muggle."
Harry frowned. "What does that even mean?"
"No, Ron's right," said Hermione. "That's actually a good idea."
Ron rolled his eyes. "It's been known to happen."
Hermione suddenly gasped. "I know who it should be! Do you remember Daniel? He would be perfect."
"Daniel?" Harry repeated. "The exchange fellow?"
"Yes," she said excitedly. "He's dreadfully clever and quick on the uptake—and oh!—he'd just be so much fun at dinner."
Daniel Marin was an alum of the wizard-Muggle exchange fellowship Hermione helped establish at the Ministry five years ago. Selected wizards and Muggles in the same general profession were paired and experienced life on the other side for a period of up to one year. St. Mungo's had an offshoot two-year programme. A Muggle architect, Daniel was gay and in his mid-thirties and applied to the program to study magical building construction. While Daniel was a Muggle, his mother was a Squib, so he had always known about the magical world. When he and Hermione met two years ago, they hit it off instantly.
Ron and Harry agreed and Hermione promptly called Daniel, who accepted both the invitation and his duties as Muggle translator.
Over the next two weeks, Hermione set about "Muggle-proofing" the entire house. This meant hiding all magical objects and deactivating a number of spells. A special problem arose regarding magical photographs. Wizards were typically advised to stun their photographs when Muggles come to visit, but since Harry and Hermione were supposed to be faux-married, Hermione had to hide the photographic evidence that Ron was her husband. This led to a number of amusing conversations in which Hermione pleaded with photographic versions of Ron to hide themselves behind their picture frames. When the disgruntled Rons complied, Hermione would stun the picture. The real Ron was not happy about this, but he took it in stride.
Ron, for his part, removed the magical plants from the conservatory and deconstructed the Quidditch hoops in the backyard. Harry even caught him skimming a book George gave him for his wedding: Muggle-Proofing Your Home: What to Do When the In-Laws Come to Visit.
As Harry left their house after one of the group's Wednesday dinners, he glanced at a recently-stunned picture. It was a photograph of Hermione sitting in the grass at Kensington Gardens with Rose and Hugo. Hermione wore a bright yellow sundress, her bare arm lazily draped around Rose. Her full lips were pulled into an easy smile.
Harry felt a now familiar bead of heat run down his spine.
Preparations for dinner aside, Harry barely saw Hermione over those intervening two weeks. She had re-submerged herself in her work, dispelling rumors that the Prophet's coverage had impacted her zeal for the Callahan case.
True to his word, Harry kept the details of Hermione's attack to a small group of Aurors. Unfortunately, a thorough examination of the brick and Hermione's clothes provided no leads as to who her assailant might be. Harry visited the site of the attack near Ludgate Square several times. All he'd found was a darkened spot on the pavement where Hermione's blood had been vigorously scrubbed away. Without additional clues, Harry focused on preventative measures, namely Hermione's security detail.
Since their conversation, Hermione had not once complained about the two young Aurors who now shadowed her every move. Yvain and Cassy also routinely confirmed to Harry that Hermione kept them well-informed about her movements. She was following the rules to a tee, as she'd promised him.
By September 19th, Harry felt almost cheerful. The Prophet had moved on from the Callahan story. The trial was months away. Life was returning to something like normal.
"Good morning, Gwen," Harry said sunnily to his assistant.
She stared. "Good morning."
"Any developments last night?" He retrieved two files and a copy of the Daily Prophet from her desk.
"No, sir."
"Great. I'm taking a half-day today, so if anything needs my attention, let's take care of it before noon."
She nodded, still looking at him strangely.
Stepping into his office, he glanced at the front page of the Prophet. There was a small moving picture of several Muggle doctors in the bottom left corner. Beneath the photo, a short caption read:
Three doctors (the equivalent of Healers in the Muggle world) were inducted into St. Mungo's Muggle Consultative Exchange Programme on Monday. The three doctors, all from the Greater London area, will participate in an intensive, two-year fellowship with St. Mungo's Healers while they continue to practice their Muggle professions. The three doctors specialize in the Muggle medical areas of orthopedics, cardiology, and neurology. For more on what these specialties are, turn to A-4.
Harry could barely make out the doctors' faces, the photo was so small. But their names were printed in the caption: Drs. Roger Olmseed, Ainsley Bromberg, and Alexander Peck.
Glancing at the paragraph again, Harry's eyes landed on the word "neurology." Harry was rubbish at Muggle science—even when he thought he was a Muggle—but this word seemed familiar. He'd heard it in school, right? Or perhaps in the medical dramas Aunt Petunia liked so much…
Neurology. It had something to do with brains, he was sure.
A sudden thought struck Harry.
At noon, Harry locked his office and went to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Upon entering, several of Hermione's colleagues called out in greeting. He waved to them but continued onto her office at the back of the large anteroom. He smiled, seeing her door was open.
"Hey, birthday girl," he said, leaning against the doorframe.
She looked up, surprised, then smiled. "Hey, you."
"I'm not disturbing you, am I?"
"Never." She waved him inside.
Hermione was a senior counselor within DMLE, which meant she had quite a large office. You'd never know it, though, from all the scrolls strewn across the floor. Large accordion files occupied most of the chairs. Hermione's desk was a small fortress of parchment. The office itself was a windowless, wood-paneled room and, just like Harry's office, several pictures hung on the walls. Over her desk, there was a large and stunning magical painting of a wide, silver river running through a green forest. Hermione once told him that the painting changed with the circumstances of the owner, but Harry had never seen the image change in the four years Hermione owned it. It still showed the same solitary young woman dangling her feet in the river's slow current.
The remaining pictures were more personal: Ron and Hermione's wedding portrait, an exhausted Hermione holding baby Rose, Hermione and Ginny at Christmas. There was another picture of Harry and Hermione at Hogwarts during Hermione's seventh year. Harry had briefly visited his former school on an assignment for the AD.
"How's the research coming?" he asked, stepping over a final accordion file.
"Oh, you know," she said offhandedly, still half-reading a roll of parchment.
He sat across from her, having trouble not watching the way she bit her lip as she read. She wore a blue satin blouse tucked into a sensible black skirt.
"Well, put the work down. I have a proposition for you."
"Yeah, what's that?" Hermione said, still not looking up. She leaned over to scribble something in the margin of the parchment.
"Well, today's your birthday."
Her quill stopped and she smiled. "Yes, well spotted."
"You're still taking off early, right?"
She leaned back in her chair. "Mmhmm," she responded, pressing her fingers against the corners of her eyes. "I'll leave around two or so. I've got to start the food."
"Right." It had already been decided that Hermione, Ron, and Harry would cook the dinner together.
"Why d'you ask?" she said.
"Well," Harry began, hoping his plan sounded as good as it had in his head. "I was thinking, since we'll have the kids with us tonight, d'you think it would be nice to invite the Muggle boy at St. Mungo's to come as well?"
"The Muggle boy? Do you mean Duncan?" said Hermione, referring to the eleven-year-old whose family Callahan attacked.
"Yeah."
"I didn't know you knew him," she said, surprised.
"I met him while you were...in Mungo's. I liked him a lot."
Hermione smiled widely. "He's lovely, isn't he? He's so bright and polite." But then her face dropped. "I can only imagine he's having the worst time of it—his mother not remembering him, being the only Muggle child at St. Mungo's..."
"That's what I thought," said Harry. "It'd be good for him to get out of hospital, at least for a day. He can play with Hugo and Lily while we cook. They know how to interact with Muggles better than most magical children, I'd say."
Hermione nodded.
"So, you think we should invite him?"
"Yes! It's a wonderful idea," she beamed. "I'm so glad you thought of it!"
"Good," said Harry, his neck growing warm. "I'll go to St. Mungo's and see what I have to do to get him out…"
Hermione smirked. "Please. If you're the one asking, they'll let him out."
He rolled his eyes and got to his feet. "Well, that's settled then. Good luck with the research."
"Oh, you're leaving? I'd..."
He looked at her expectantly and she laughed a bit nervously.
"I only wanted...er...do you feel prepared for tonight?" she asked lightly. "We're going to be married, after all."
How could he tell her it was the only thing his mind turned to in the quiet moments between tasks, in the haze between sleep and wakefulness?
"I'm ready. I'm looking forward to it, actually."
She smiled, looking down. "Well, if I had to pretend to be married to anyone, I'm glad it's you."
"Thanks?" he chuckled. "Ron will never let this die, you know."
"I know."
A moment's silence passed between them. Harry ran a hand through his unruly hair, not meeting her eyes. "Well, I'll see you?"
"Yeah. See you at the house."
Minutes later, Harry apparated into the lobby of St. Mungo's. A group of four or five Healers swarmed him when they realized who he was and escorted him to the Thickey Ward on the fourth floor.
"Does anyone know where I can find Healer Waltham?" Harry asked the group as they moved towards the gleaming silver doors.
"He should be inside the ward, Chief Potter!" a young blonde Healer answered excitedly.
"Yes, he's with the Muggles," another Healer called out.
The Healers broke into low laughter and Harry's brow furrowed slightly.
The group left him at the doors and Harry stepped inside. Little had changed. The same two patients occupied the main part of the ward. They looked up curiously when Harry entered but did not seem to recognize him. He walked down a row of beds towards the white curtain that separated the Camerons from the rest of the ward.
Hesitantly, Harry separated the barrier.
Here too, things were essentially the same. Mrs. Cameron was sitting in an easy chair by her daughter's bed, where the young girl still lay motionless. There was no longer a fuzzy, blue cloud of spellwork above her head. Mr. Cameron was sitting in a hospital chair in front of the telly. The picture quality was very bad and the sound was almost completely muffled by static.
Duncan was not there. Neither was Healer Waltham.
"Oh, hello there!" Walter Cameron called out cheerily, getting to his feet and striding towards Harry, hand extended. "You're the bloke who came to visit a few weeks back, but blimey! I can't remember your name!"
Harry smiled kindly. "It's Harry, sir. Harry Potter."
"Harry Potter," Walter said as though hearing the name for the first time. "Well, very nice to see you!"
Theresa Cameron drifted towards them. Her face, however, did not shine with recognition upon seeing Harry.
"Er, hello again, Mrs. Cameron," Harry said to her a bit awkwardly. "It's nice to see you."
"Who are you?" the woman demanded.
"I'm…"
"Terry, his name is Harry Potter," Walter said consolingly to his wife. "He visited us a couple weeks ago. Don't you remember?"
The woman clearly did not and continued to eye Harry distrustfully.
"What d'you want? Have you come to poke and prod us too?" She stood protectively by her husband, looping her arm tightly through his.
"I was actually looking for your son, Duncan. I had—"
But, apparently this was the wrong thing to say.
At the mention of the boy's name, Mrs. Cameron began shaking her head wildly. She threw Mr. Cameron from her and backed away from Harry as quickly as she could, as though terrified by the sight of him.
"Who are you?" the woman shrieked again, digging her hands into her hair. "What d'you want from us? Get away! Just leave us be!"
"Darling!" Mr. Cameron cried, recovering his balance. "He's just looking for Duncan. There's no need—"
His words were drowned out. Mrs. Cameron was screaming at the top of her lungs. The shrill sound echoed high off the ceiling.
A moment later, two men in bottle green robes charged through the curtains. Harry recognized one of them as Healer Waltham. Together with his assistant, the Healer grabbed a hold of Mrs. Cameron and dragged her to the bed.
Harry watched in horror as Healer Waltham unfurled his wand. The woman screamed even louder.
"Wait—" said Harry.
"Stupefy!" the Healer shouted.
Theresa fell to the bed with a dull thud. Her eyes closed and she was still.
The other Healer lifted Mrs. Cameron's legs and laid her out properly. Healer Waltham, however, rounded on Mr. Cameron.
"For Merlin's sake!" he yelled at the bewildered Muggle. "What happened this time?"
Mr. Cameron tore his eyes away from his wife. He glanced at Harry. "It was about Duncan," the man said worriedly.
Healer Waltham pinched the bridge of his nose. "How many times have I told you not to mention the boy's name when your wife gets in this state?"
"It wasn't me, doctor," Walter protested. "It was that man there!"
Healer Waltham turned and spotted Harry for the first time.
"Ch-Chief Potter?" he said, blinking in surprise. His tone immediately became more polite. "Why, what are you doing here, sir?"
Harry stepped forward, shaken.
"I was—I just wanted to speak with the boy. Duncan. I mentioned him to Mrs. Cameron and she…well, you saw."
"Duncan?" the Healer said blankly. "What do you need him for?"
"Well," he began awkwardly, "it's a friend's birthday today and we're hosting a small gathering. My daughter and Hermione's son will be there. I was wondering if Duncan would care to join us, just so he can get some fresh air and play with children near his own age. So I came to ask whether he could leave the hospital for the rest of the day."
"I'm sorry," the Healer said, still not understanding. "You want Duncan to come to a party you're hosting?"
"Yes," said Harry plainly, "if he's in any condition to side-along apparate with me, that is."
"Side-along apparate? To your party?" the Healer repeated.
"Yes," Harry said again, growing annoyed.
"Well, that sounds like a lovely idea," Mr. Cameron spoke up. "I'm sure Duncan would enjoy being outdoors again. He's been cooped up in the ward for nearly three weeks now."
Healer Waltham still looked exceedingly confused.
"It would just be for the rest of the day," Harry said to the Healer.
"Well," Healer Waltham finally said, scratching his head absently, "that sounds fine. Duncan's only taking one Memory Potion these days and he had it this morning. We sent him to the children's ward when we determined his mother was having an…off day."
"So, it's all right if I take him?"
"Er, yes, I suppose."
Harry turned to Duncan's father. "And do I have your permission, sir?"
The Muggle looked surprised Harry had even asked.
"Oh, well," Mr. Cameron stammered, "that's very generous of you, sir. Can I ask where you'll be taking Duncan?"
"To Counselor Granger's home. I know my daughter, Lily, and her son, Hugo, would love to meet Duncan."
"Oh, that sounds very nice indeed! Hermione's mentioned Hugo before. I believe he's about the same age as Duncan?"
"About two years younger, actually, as is my daughter."
"Splendid!" Walter cried, genuine happiness in his eyes. "Well, by all means, please do take Duncan for the day. It's much better than roaming the halls of a hospital, to be sure."
"Great," Harry said, turning to Waltham, whose expression had soured as Harry and Mr. Cameron spoke. "Well, I'll just collect Duncan now, if that's all right with you?"
"Oh, yes, of course," the Healer replied. "Follow me."
Harry nodded to Mr. Cameron before passing through the curtains. Mrs. Cameron lay on the bed, chest rising and falling.
Harry followed Healer Waltham out of the ward and down several more corridors until coming to another set of double doors. Harry could hear the high peal of children's laughter.
"The children's ward," the Healer said somewhat curtly. "Duncan will be inside if he hasn't run off somewhere. If that's the case, just ask any of the orderlies to help you track him down. I'm afraid I have to attend to another patient. Good day."
"Yeah, thanks."
The large room behind the doors was filled with sunlight. About twenty magical children of all ages were playing inside with all manner of interesting-looking toys. Harry noticed some of the children were performing underage magic, but since they were under the watchful supervision of two forbidding-looking Healers, it did not present a problem.
Harry cast his eyes about the room and immediately spotted Duncan sitting in a far corner by a window. Unlike the other children, Duncan was not playing at all. In fact, it appeared he was trying to make himself as small as possible. His legs were tucked up against himself and a large book was balanced on his knees, his face only inches from the parchment.
"Hello, Duncan," Harry said.
The boy's head snapped up. He immediately recognized Harry.
"Oh," he said, shocked. "Mr.—Mr. Potter?"
"Yes," said Harry, squatting down to his height. "How are you doing?"
The boy closed his book (by the looks of it, another pilfered tome from the medical library) and grinned wildly at Harry.
"Oh, I'm fine!" he said, craning his neck to look behind Harry. "What're you doing here, sir? Did Miss Hermione come too?"
Harry grinned. "No, she's not here. But, if you like, you can come see her right now."
"Really!"
"Yep. Today's Hermione's birthday and she wants to invite you to her party."
"A party?" the boy repeated as though he could hardly believe such things existed.
"Yes, it's at her house and her son and my daughter will be there. They're both about your age."
His smile instantly vanished. "Are your…are your children magic too?"
That odd mixture of shame and embarrassment filled Harry's chest. He watched closely as Duncan furtively glanced at the children performing magic over Harry's shoulder.
"Yes, they're magical," he said softly. "But you don't need to worry about that, Duncan. That...that doesn't really matter to them."
Duncan looked at his feet. "I don't know."
Harry worried his lip and tried a different tack.
"We're going to cook a big dinner and I know Hermione would love to see you. She also has a huge garden at her house, where you can run around, get some fresh air…"
Duncan still didn't look up.
"And maybe if you're real lucky," Harry grinned, "Hermione will show you her magical book collection."
That did the trick. Duncan looked up, eyes impossibly wide. "Oh, all right…that sounds fine."
Harry smiled.
"I'll have to ask my dad though," the boy said anxiously.
"Don't worry," Harry said, standing. "I've already asked and you have his permission."
Duncan smiled and stood as well.
"Are you ready to go now?"
"Yes," the boy said empathically, looking as though he couldn't stand another second in the ward. "How will we get there?"
Harry held out his hand.
Harry and Duncan landed on the doorstep of Ron and Hermione's home.
Duncan's grip on Harry's arm, which had been so tight before they disapparated, slackened and the boy tilted to the side. Harry caught him about the shoulders and righted him.
"Yeah, it's kind of uncomfortable," Harry apologized.
Duncan looked around, shaken.
"No. That was amazing," he said, breathless. "How did we do that?"
"It's called Apparition. Basically it's like what you all call teleportation? You picture a location in your head and apparate there. When you grabbed my arm, I took you along for the ride."
"Can all of you do that?"
Harry chuckled. "Yes, when you're of age. Though some wizards never take to it."
They boy nodded vaguely and Harry knocked loudly on the door.
No answer came so he twisted the doorknob. Unfortunately, it gave way and Harry frowned, thinking he would have to suppress the urge to chastise Hermione about this.
Harry ushered Duncan inside and they both looked around. The foyer had obviously just been cleaned. A lovely flower arrangement sat on the center table and the cloakroom on the right had been reorganized. Music wafted from the kitchen at the back of the house and Harry and Duncan followed the sound.
They found Ron in the kitchen leaning over a recipe book, a deep furrow between his brows. He looked up at the sound of Harry and Duncan's footsteps.
"Harry!" he said with relief. "Come help me with this...oh, who's this?"
"Duncan Cameron," Harry said. "He's the son of the...Muggles Hermione's been helping. Thought it'd be nice to get him out of the hospital for a day, you know."
Ron's eyebrows had drawn together when Harry whispered "Muggles," but he seemed to understand.
"Nice to meet you, Duncan," Ron said, holding out a hand.
The boy took it and mumbled, "Nice to meet you."
"This is Hermione's husband," said Harry.
Duncan gave Ron a rather appraising look, which seemed to amuse the older man.
"Well, not today, actually!"
"I hadn't...explained that part yet," Harry said hastily.
Ron shrugged. "Might as well explain now," he said and, without warning, Ron lifted Duncan under the arms and sat him on top of the kitchen table.
The boy looked startled, but not afraid.
"You know it's Hermione's birthday today?" Ron said.
The boy nodded quickly.
"Good. We're going to be playing a little game just for her today. See, today I am not going to be Hermione's husband. Harry is."
Duncan looked entirely bewildered at this—a most appropriate reaction.
"Is this something wizards do too?"
"It's a complicated story," Ron chuckled. "But basically, Harry screwed up so he and Hermione have to pretend to be married tonight. It's his punishment. But—and I'm being serious now—we're having guests over who have to believe Harry and Hermione are married, understand?"
"No."
Ron smiled. "Well, you don't have to," he said, patting the boy's light brown hair. "But d'you think you can remember that Harry and Hermione are pretending today? You won't give the game away, will you?"
The boy shook his head.
"Okay," Ron said, satisfied. He turned back to the kitchen.
"Where is Hermione?" Harry asked, feeling like his face was glowing again.
"Upstairs cleaning," Ron said, looking into the contents of a steaming pot. "I told her no one's going up there, but you know how she gets—"
"How do I get?" asked Hermione from behind them.
Harry turned and felt his face grow warmer. She'd changed from her work clothes into a familiar pair of jeans with a thin white tee. She immediately spotted Duncan on the table.
"Duncan!" she cried, sweeping him into her arms.
The boy immediately went crimson.
"M-miss Hermione," he said weakly. "Er, hi."
"I'm so glad you could come for my birthday, Duncan," she said, releasing him. "My son and Harry's daughter will be here in a little while and they would just love to meet you."
The boy smiled nervously.
"Oh, and how could I forget? We're having one more boy over. He's your age and just like you," she said, placing extra emphasis on the last word.
Duncan seemed to understand and, imperceptibly, his shoulders relaxed.
"Who's picking up the kids?" Harry asked.
"Mrs. Krouse. She should be here in a half hour or so."
There was a loud clattering noise and Harry, Hermione, and Duncan turned. Several pots had just fallen from a high cupboard, one nearly missing Ron's head. The redhead looked at them somewhat sheepishly.
Hermione sighed. "Harry, would you help him? We were supposed to be further along but we haven't even started the roast."
"Sure."
Harry glanced at Duncan, who was furtively watching Hermione.
"Maybe you could show him the library?" he whispered by her ear.
She gave him a small smile before turning to Duncan. "How about a tour of the house?"
The boy nodded enthusiastically and slid off the table, following Hermione out of the room.
Harry and Ron were left alone.
"So that's the boy Callahan attacked, huh?" Ron said softly, closing the cupboard again.
Harry nodded. "He's a good kid. St. Mungo's is tough for him, though. His sister is still out cold and his mum doesn't always remember who he is…"
"Shit."
"I don't think the other kids are very friendly with him."
"Yeah," said Ron slowly, considering this. "I can see that. I was terrified of Muggles when I was his age. You hear a lot of stories about them."
Harry nodded and washed his hands. He'd just reached for a hand towel when Ron spoke.
"So, are you and Hermione ready to play house?"
He laughed awkwardly, a fresh wash of heat touching his skin. "I guess?"
Ron chuckled but said nothing else.
"I—er—wanted to say thanks for handling this so well," Harry said, staring at his hands. "I know I fucked up here."
Ron shook his head. "It's fine. If I'd been in your position, I might've said some crazy shit too. Though...I don't think I would've said I was married to Ginny…"
Harry laughed.
"But Harry," Ron said, more serious, "you saved Hermione's life, all right? You brought her to Mungo's and saved her life. Don't beat yourself up over something like this. I don't care what lies you had to tell as long as she's okay."
For some reason, Harry's stomach twisted strangely and he had trouble meeting Ron's eyes.
"It was the doctor who saved her life," he mumbled.
"Maybe," Ron replied, turning back to the sink. "I meant what I said, though. And hey," he grinned, "now you'll get to see what I put up with. It's not easy being Hermione Granger's husband."
Harry chuckled. "I'm sure."
Harry handled the lamb roast, unwrapping the large slab of mutton from its paper. He waved his wand and directed a mortar to press the fresh herbs Hermione had picked from the conservatory into a fine paste. Ron prepared the vegetables. There would be asparagus, mash, and artichoke hearts. First, though, Ron did the salad, rinsing the lettuce with his wand and slicing cucumbers and tomatoes.
As he and Harry eased into a rhythm, Ron turned up the volume on the Wireless by the kitchen window. It played a song that sounded familiar to Harry.
"Hey, I know this one," Harry said, peeling several cloves of garlic with his wand.
"Yeah, it was big right when I started at the shop. You were still in training, I think."
It had a jazzy, soulful feel to it. Ron, who'd been walking towards the pantry, began shaking his hips to the beat.
"Jesus. Please don't," said Harry.
Ron continued, however, using a dishtowel as a sort of shimmy, and Harry had to laugh. Gradually, he began moving his hips to the beat too, mincing the garlic as he swayed. The song reached the chorus and Ron slid around the kitchen island, picking up a ladle as makeshift microphone.
"Your love left me choked up, when we broke up. When you left me for that other, that other bloke. Oh, why? Oh, why?" Ron sang in time with the lyrics.
Harry laughed, wincing. Harry was spinning in a small circle when they heard a strange sound behind them. Harry and Ron froze. Hermione and Duncan were standing in the doorway. The strange sound was Duncan's laughter, which Harry had never heard before.
Hermione smiled, arms crossed.
"Well, well," she said. "I leave you two alone for ten minutes..."
"Yeah, yeah," Ron said dismissively. "The mutton's nearly in the oven. The salad's done and we'll start the vegetables in a bit."
Harry, his face very warm, looked past Hermione. Duncan was carrying five books in his skinny arms.
"Did you like the library, Duncan?" he asked.
The boy's answer was cut off, however, by the sound of the front door slamming.
"Mum!" came Hugo's voice. "Mum, we're home!"
Hermione walked quickly to the hall. Ron was minding the vegetables, so Harry followed Hermione, motioning Duncan to his side.
Hugo and Lily stood in the foyer with Norma Krouse, an elderly witch with springy tufts of grey hair. She was one of the teachers at Agrippa, the wizarding preparatory school Lily and Hugo attended.
"Hello, Hermione," the woman rasped, releasing her hold on the children's hands. "How are you, my dear?"
"Oh, fine thank you," Hermione said, giving Hugo and Lily quick hugs. "Thanks so much for bringing them. We've had our hands full here."
Norma nodded, her beady eyes taking in the studiously clean house. Then, she caught sight of Harry.
"Oh, Chief Potter!" she exclaimed, her cheeks coloring. "You're here too? So lovely to see you, my dear boy."
Harry nodded to her. Mrs. Krouse was one of the teachers Harry avoided at Lily's school. Most of the instructors at least attempted to put on an air of nonchalance in his presence. Mrs. Krouse did not.
She came forward and took hold of Harry's hand in her own gnarled one. "I've been hearing the most wonderful rumors about you these days."
"Rumors?" Harry said, shooting at Hermione, who grinned. "I can assure you they're all lies."
"Oh, Merlin no!" Mrs. Krouse protested. "I hear you're up for a big promotion!"
"That'd be something, seeing as there's nowhere else for me to go at the Auror Department—"
"Oh, dear!" the woman interjected. "I didn't mean the Auror Department! I heard you might be considering the top job, if you know what I mean?"
Harry kept from rolling his eyes. Every couple years, rumors started up that Harry was going to run for Minister of Magic.
"No, no, Mrs. Krouse," he said evenly. "If I was, you'd be the first to know."
She smiled at that.
Hermione, who had been watching this exchange with growing amusement, came to Harry's aid.
"Well, thank you so much, Mrs. Krouse. Don't know what I'd do without you," she said, gently directing the woman to the door.
Mrs. Krouse disapparated a moment later and Hermione shook her head. She caught sight of Duncan lingering near the stairs.
"Kids," Hermione called to Lily and Hugo, who were kicking off their shoes in the cloakroom, "I want to introduce you to someone."
Harry guided Duncan forward once more.
"Hugo, Lily, this is Duncan," said Hermione as the children came to her side. "He's helping me with one of my big cases and he's staying for the party. You two want to introduce yourselves?"
His daughter stepped forward first.
"I'm Lily," she said, confidently extending her hand.
The boy's face crimsoned in the same way it had when Hermione hugged him and Harry's stomach turned strangely.
"Hi," Duncan said shyly.
Not wanting to be left out, Hugo held out his own hand. "I'm Hugo! Are you a Muggle? Mum said we're having Muggles over today."
Duncan's smile faltered...
"Yes, he is, Hugo," Harry said swiftly. "He's a very special friend of the family, so we're going to make him feel welcome, right?"
"Oh yeah!" the boy said cheerfully, unaware he'd said anything untoward. "I love Muggles. I think they're pretty funny. My cousin Albus loves Muggles too, or at least the books they read. And I figure if Albus likes them, I like them too. He's very clever."
Hermione laughed, moved by Hugo's earnestness. "Why don't you three go to Hugo's room? We'll call you when dinner's ready."
Hugo took a hold of Duncan's arm with two hands. "You'll like my room. It has a view of the garden!"
And with that, the three children charged up the stairs.
Hermione sighed. "Well, that was easy?"
"Yeah," he chuckled. "I like Hugo's way of looking at things."
"Well, you should keep an eye on Lily. Duncan is very cute and he seems a bit smitten already."
Harry grimaced. "You saw that? He's fancies you too, you know."
She rolled her eyes and they moved back to the kitchen where Ron was directing several large potatoes into a kettle of boiling water. Harry started rinsing the asparagus spears.
"You know, I was thinking upstairs…" Hermione said slowly.
"What else is new?" said Ron.
"I was thinking that the Srinivasans are of Indian descent, right?"
"Think so," said Harry.
"Do you think they're vegetarians?"
"What now?" Ron said, confused.
"Isn't being vegetarian somewhat common in that community?" said Hermione.
"Yeah, I think so," Harry replied. "I don't know if the Srinivasans are though."
"Wait, what?" Ron repeated. "What's a veggie-tarian? Is it like a horoscope?"
"It means they don't eat meat, Ronald."
"What?" Ron exclaimed, as though he'd never heard such a thing. "Why would they do that?"
"It doesn't matter why," Hermione snapped, "but I think we should make some sort of vegetarian option for them, just in case."
"Why?" said Ron. "We already have side dishes."
"Yeah, but a main course," Hermione pressed. "We could make pasta or we have some aubergine, right?"
"C'mon Hermione," Ron grumbled. "This dinner is already huge. Now we've got to make one more thing?"
"I just want them to be as comfortable as possible," she said, defensive. "They shouldn't have to eat less just because we didn't have a vegetarian option. If it bothers you so much, I'll make it."
He stared at her for a moment, then shrugged. "Do what you want. I'm sticking to what we're already making."
"Fine then," Hermione said softly, moving to the sink to wash her hands.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione cooked in silence, listening to the Wireless. The roast had begun to fill the kitchen with a warm, rich aroma.
"When's Ginny coming?" Hermione asked, carefully slicing the aubergine into rounds.
"She said she'd be at the Prophet until at least six," Harry responded, studying the wine rack by the windows. "When is Daniel coming?"
"Around the same time, I think." Hermione laughed. "He seems very excited about this. He says one of his favorite things is watching wizards act like Muggles."
Harry and Ron laughed.
"Well, we won't make it too easy for him, will we?" said Ron, removing the skins of the potatoes with his wand.
"What d'you mean?" said Hermione.
"Let's just say I've been thinking about my alternate personality."
Hermione turned. "Ron, please don't. Just be normal, all right?"
He shrugged, giving nothing away. "I think we should make this dinner worth Daniel's time, is all."
She gave him a level look. "If you ruin this dinner, Ron Weasley, I will not forgive you."
"Don't be so uptight," he said over his shoulder, heading to the washroom. "I'm not going irreparably harm the precious Srinivasans."
Hermione glared after him but, just then, the sound of three sets of running feet could be heard on the stairs. Hugo, Lily, and Duncan spilled into the kitchen, laughing wildly.
"Mum! Mummy!" Hugo shouted, crashing into Hermione. "Can Duncan, Lily, and me go flying? Duncan wants to ride one of the brooms. He's never been 'cause, you know, he's a Muggle!"
The children laughed uproariously, including Duncan.
Hermione looked at Harry. He immediately registered her concern. Could Muggles fly broomsticks?
"Oh, Hugo," Harry said quickly, "I don't know if that's such a good idea. It's getting late and you need to change clothes before the party."
Hugo looked deflated, but then Lily came up to her father.
"Please, daddy!" she cried, looking up at him with her characteristic wide-eyed stare. "What if we promise to be super, awesomely safe? It'll only be for a little while."
Harry and Hermione exchanged another glance. She eventually said, "If you watch them, Harry, I'm all right with it."
"All right," Harry said, still unsure. "Go put on your padding and I'll get your brooms."
Hugo led the way to the garden, the children's laughter trailing down the hallway.
"Harry," Hermione said, worried.
"I know," he replied.
Harry stood on the large lawn in Ron and Hermione's back garden. It was not as big as the grounds of Harry and Ginny's home, but still very spacious. Harry took three brooms from the shed, choosing a particularly steady one for Duncan, and handed it to him. The Muggle looked at it doubtfully.
"These things really fly?"
"Yes," Lily said brightly, "and it's the most wonderful feeling in the world!"
Harry smiled faintly.
"Lily, why don't you show Duncan how to mount the broom? It's really very simple," he said to the boy.
Duncan nodded eagerly, but Harry felt doubt rising in his chest. Seeing moving pictures in a book was one thing, but Muggles flying brooms? Had it ever been attempted?
Lily moved to the side of her broom and raised her hand. "Up!" she commanded.
The broom shot into her hand like a magnet and she gracefully seated herself.
"Wow," Duncan breathed, exhilarated.
"Hugo," Harry said, "you show him now."
Hugo did the same and soon both children were hovering a few feet off the ground watching Duncan.
Duncan smiled and extended a hand over his broom. "Up!" he shouted.
The broom did not move.
The boy's face fell. He looked up at Harry.
"You—er—have to say it very forcefully," Harry said, trying not to let his misgivings show. "You have to really believe it's going to work."
Duncan nodded. He took a quick breath.
"UP!" he cried again, staring intently at the broomstick.
Nothing happened.
"Why isn't it working?" Hugo asked, confused.
Harry moved to Duncan's side and raised his own hand over the broom.
"Up!" Harry commanded.
The broom immediately shot into his hand, vibrating beneath his touch. Harry deactivated the broom and laid it back on the ground.
"Try one more time," he said to Duncan.
Duncan positioned himself once more, his face tight.
"Up!" he cried, his weakest attempt yet.
Still, the broom did not move.
Duncan blushed, looking anywhere but at the three wizards.
Harry cast about for a way to correct the situation. It was a bad idea to agree to this…
Thinking quickly, he placed his hand over the broom again. "Up!" he shouted.
The broom rocketed into his hand and Harry steadied it three feet off the ground.
"Come here, Duncan," Harry said. "I'll lower you on top."
Duncan came towards him and Harry lifted him easily, placing him on the seat of the broom.
Already, Harry could tell it would not work. The moment Duncan touched the broom, it began to descend, falling to the ground with a light plop.
Duncan looked down, shamefaced. Harry glanced at the house and saw Hermione watching them from the porch.
"What's wrong with the broom, Daddy?" Lily asked pointedly. She had the good sense not to blame it on Duncan.
Harry, however, stared at his daughter, coming to a decision.
"Lily," he said, "fly lower. Maybe you can share your broom with Duncan…"
Lily descended several feet, coming eye-level with her father. Duncan looked more anxious than at any point Harry had known him.
"I don't know," he said, backing away. "I-I don't think it'll work for me."
Harry took Duncan by the shoulders reassuringly.
"It'll work," he said, infusing his voice with a confidence he didn't necessarily feel.
Finally, he relented and Lily scooted forward on her seat, holding the broom handle tightly in hand. Again, Harry lifted Duncan and positioned him behind Lily.
This time, the broom did not fall; the two children stayed hovering where they were. Harry smiled.
"Well, there you go!" he said, relieved. "Duncan, you need to hold tight to Lily. Brooms can be tricky things…"
Duncan didn't need to be asked twice. He wrapped his arms around Lily's waist, resting his chin on her shoulder.
Harry frowned. He should've thought of that.
The children rocketed into the sky and, with a sigh, Harry climbed the porch steps.
"I could barely watch," she said quietly. "Thank god you suggested he ride with Lily."
Harry nodded, watching as Lily did a flip in the air, Duncan laughing uproariously.
Harry and Hermione heard footsteps behind them.
"Well, what d'you know?" Ron said, crossing his arms over his chest. "The Muggle is flying."
The trio watched the children for several minutes before Ron spoke again.
"What're we going to do about the kids?"
"What d'you mean?" said Harry.
"Well, you and Hermione are going to be married, right? Are you going to say Hugo and Lily are your kids? That could probably work for Hugo, but not Lily."
Harry's eyes widened at this realization. Why hadn't he thought of it before? What were they going to do about the children?
"Oh, god," said Hermione, similarly alarmed. "How could we be that dense? I reckon…we can tell the Srinivasans that Hugo is our son, right Harry? Ron, are you going to pretend to be Lily's father?"
"Er, I can," said Ron. "But wouldn't it make more sense for Ginny to just keep being Lily's mother?"
"Oh right, of course," Hermione said, rubbing her temple. "I think they'll buy that. Does that sound okay, Harry?"
He nodded. "We'll need to explain that to the kids…"
"Right," Hermione said. "Though, hopefully the children will be so caught up with each other they won't care what we're saying about them."
Just then, another explosion of laughter echoed from the field.
Harry smiled. "I think we can count on that."
Hermione took Ron's arm. "We almost ruined the entire plan before we started. Thanks, Ron."
Harry watched the way she smiled at him and felt another strange tug in his stomach.
"It's nearly six," she said. "I'll go get dressed. If Daniel arrives, entertain him, okay? We should send the children in so they can get dressed too. Do you two mind explaining the situation?"
Harry and Ron agreed and Hermione returned the house.
"Got to hand it to Duncan," Ron said after a moment. "He's managing pretty well up there with Lily."
"Yeah."
"It's a shame," he said quietly after a moment.
"What is?"
"Well, he's not going to be allowed to remember any of this, is he?" said Ron. "They'll obliviate him before he leaves Mungo's."
Harry watched Duncan throw the Quaffle to Hugo, who caught it with a delighted shriek.
The thought had occurred to Harry. Duncan would have to return to the Muggle world one day. And when he did, he would know nothing about Harry, Hermione, Ron or their children. No broomsticks and no magical books.
They were quiet until Harry said, "Done with the food? Need my help?"
"Nah, mate," he said. "You can get dressed if you want."
"No, I think I'll call the kids in."
"Okay. Are you going to explain the kid-swapping thing? You need me for that?"
"No, I should be all right."
Ron nodded and returned to the house. After a few more minutes, Harry called them inside. The sun was beginning to set, smearing streaks of pink and orange across the sky. After putting away the equipment, the three children came unwillingly to the porch.
"Before you go get dressed," Harry said, sitting down on the highest porch step in front of them, "I want to talk to you about something important. You know we're having some...Muggles over for dinner, right?"
Lily, Hugo, and Duncan nodded.
"Our guests are special, though. They don't know anything about wizards or magic. And you know it's against the law to tell Muggles about the wizarding world, right?"
Lily and Hugo nodded quickly. Phrases like "against the law" always carried more weight with children, and the Statute of Secrecy was the most inviolable law there was. Duncan, however, looked confused.
"There will be absolutely no talk of magic tonight or the grown-ups are going to be very upset, understood?"
The children nodded again.
Harry swallowed. "Tonight is also important because we're going to be playing some different parts at dinner. Our guests think that your Aunt Hermione and I are married, so both of us will be putting on an act. None of you should worry about it, okay? Just leave it to the adults."
Lily and Hugo nodded, unsurprised. They'd been told two weeks ago that Harry and Hermione would be putting on a show for the Muggle guests.
"But, that means you two, Lily and Hugo, have to play a role as well. Hugo, you are going to be my and Hermione's son, tonight."
The boy's eyes widened. "Really, Uncle Harry?"
Harry laughed. "You don't need to act any differently. Just don't call me Uncle Harry."
The boy nodded earnestly.
Lily, however, was tremendously distraught. "If you're Hugo's dad, am I—am I an orphan?"
"No, no, sweetie," Harry said worriedly. "Mum is still going to be here…"
"Oh, right," she said, immediately placated.
Harry looked at the two of them. They seemed fine with it all, but Harry felt it was far too easy for something to go wrong.
Sighing, he said, "Do you understand? Any questions?"
Hugo and Lily shook their heads.
"Okay," Harry said, bringing his hands together. "We're going to have a little quiz. Call out some words that are off limits tonight."
"Magic!" Lily cried first.
Harry nodded.
"Wizard!" said Hugo.
Witch! Broomsticks! Quidditch! Quaffle! The Snitch! Spells! Wands! Potions! Hogwarts! Auror! Ministry of Magic! House elf! Hungarian Horntails! Flobberworms!
Hugo and Lily giggled.
"Yes, yes," Harry grinned. "Any others?"
Hugo and Lily were quiet. Duncan looked on anxiously.
"How about 'Muggle?'" Harry suggested.
"Muggle!" cried Hugo.
Harry laughed. "Okay, good job. Go inside and get dressed."
Lily and Hugo ran up the steps but Duncan lingered behind, pressing a tuft of grass into the ground with his trainer.
"Everything okay?" Harry asked.
The boy nodded, still looking down. After a moment, he spoke.
"The people coming tonight are like me, right? They're...Muggles?"
"Yes," Harry said gently. "I know you don't like that word, and it is somewhat…well, it's used a lot here—"
"I get it," Duncan said. "Can I ask a question, though?"
Harry nodded.
"Why can't we tell the people coming tonight about magic, about this world?"
"Well, it's against the law."
"Why?"
"For a lot of reasons, I guess," said Harry slowly. "There's something here called the Statute of Secrecy. It's an old law that all magical communities have been following for hundreds of years. You see, back then, wizards thought it was best to conceal our existence—"
"Why?"
"Well, because wizards and witches were being persecuted. Some of my kind were caught and killed by Muggles. They burned witches and hunted down magical children. At the same time, they wanted us to perform magic for them, to solve all their problems with our powers." He paused. "But, maybe the worst of it was that Muggles started killing other Muggles they thought were witches. I think all that convinced wizards at the time that our two worlds couldn't mix peacefully, that we had to separate."
"So, it was the Muggles' fault, then?"
"It was no one's fault," he said quickly. "Back then...people were superstitious of anything that was different. That goes both ways. Muggles were afraid of wizards because of their powers. Wizards were afraid of Muggles because of their numbers. You see, we've always been a small population. Even in Britain, Muggles outnumber us a thousand to one."
"Could it be different now? Could Muggles be ready to know about wizards?"
Harry paused again. Duncan didn't realize it, but he was talking about the unification of the magical and Muggle worlds. In the far, far left of wizarding politics, this idea was called the Reunification Movement. It was popular in Scandinavia, Switzerland, and New Zealand, but had never been implemented since revealing the existence of wizards in one country would consequently reveal their existence in all countries. Harry knew Hermione sympathized with parts of the movement, but it was such a small and radical cause. Not at all viable in mainstream politics.
"I don't think so," Harry replied honestly. "A lot of wizards think Muggles are still very superstitious, and maybe that's unfair. Others say that if we revealed ourselves now, it'd be even worse than it was three hundred years ago. The way Muggles use technology, how fast it changes, how they use it to wage war...it doesn't inspire a great deal of trust."
"But some Muggles know about wizards, right? Lily told me Hermione's friend does."
"Daniel? Yes, he knows. His mum was born into the magical world but she didn't have any powers, so she lived as a Muggle, married a Muggle, and raised Daniel as one."
"And he doesn't tell anyone about this?" Duncan said skeptically.
"He might," said Harry frankly. "But, really, who would believe him? His close family members know and that's enough for him."
Duncan seemed to understand this. "I won't tell anyone either. I don't have anyone to tell."
Harry watched him, this boy who knew nothing of wizarding law...who didn't know that, in a few weeks perhaps, this would be a mangled memory in his mind.
"Do you like it here?" Harry asked curiously. "Do you like knowing all this exists?"
Duncan seemed to deeply consider Harry's words.
"I-I dunno. I think it's amazing real magic exists. But, I don't know...it doesn't feel right either. If that man hadn't attacked us, I still wouldn't know." He returned his gaze to the ground. "I'd forget all this if...if it meant my family could get better. If we could go home..."
Harry released a soft breath and, seized by some impulse, reached out and brought the boy to his chest. Duncan stiffened, but did not pull away.
"It'll be all right," Harry whispered, praying it was true. "You'll be all right, okay?"
He nodded against his chest.
Harry released him. "Why don't you go upstairs and wash up? We'll call you down in a few minutes."
Duncan ran up the steps, leaving Harry alone. Looking over the darkening garden, Harry thought of how Duncan's words could've come out of his own mouth years ago...
And he remembered a mirror...
He remembered hours staring into its depths to the point he forgot to bathe, forgot to eat...
Because in the mirror, he was home...