Chapter Nine
If there was one place left in the magical world that Harry still liked and felt comfortable in it had to be the Hog's Head. Still as disreputable and dirty as ever, Aberforth Dumbledore's pub in Hogsmeade had been one of his favorite establishments since he left Hogwarts. No one ever bothered him there. Despite its well-earned terrible reputation and its dire need of a good scrub, he understood the appeal, why so many patrons preferred it over the others.
Harry knew that if he went anywhere more respectable, he would be bothered. All he wanted was a drink and he didn't want to be stuck inside his horrible house. His fellow dementor hunters might have been happy getting toasted with free drinks all over the nicer drinking establishments, but he just wanted to be left alone. Since he reentered the wizarding world as an eleven-year-old, he'd rarely been left alone. At least in the Hog's Head he could enjoy a glass of fire whiskey, or several, without a dozen different strangers coming up demanding he tell them stories about his past he would rather forget.
The pub was quiet even for a Friday night. He got a few curious stares from the other patrons when he entered, but no one said a word. Seeing his usual stool at the bar empty, he took a seat. Aberforth didn't even need to ask what he wanted to drink. He was already pouring from a bottle of Ogden's Finest before he was comfortably seated.
Harry was finishing his third glass before he uttered his first word. That's what he liked most about being there and he also respected Aberforth. They'd struck up a sort of odd friendship when the last war ended. It wasn't unheard of for Harry to drop by for a drink and a bit of advice. Aberforth had to remind the younger wizard on more than one occasion that he wasn't his older brother. And he certainly wasn't but that didn't mean his advice wasn't solid.
"What does a dementor destroyer do when there are no more dementors to destroy?"
Aberforth took a minute to roll Harry's question around in his head. Finally he shrugged his shoulders.
"There are monsters everywhere. Pick one of those if you really need something to destroy."
He nearly laughed at the odd man's response. It sounded so simple just to switch his focus to another monster. Nothing in his life had ever been simple. Why would he expect that to change?
"Maybe I should find something else to do. Fighting is exhausting."
"Yes, it is. You're too young to have a mid-life crisis, boy."
That time Harry did laugh. He held up his glass for another refill he didn't need. It was late before he stood up from his stool to pay his tab. The cool night air felt good on his face, but he wasn't ready to go home. He was no closer to answering any of the questions about his future that were frustrating him so.
There was someone he knew who could always help him order his thoughts. He hoped she wouldn't mind him just showing up so late after so long. She never used to.
Frustrated and annoyed, Hermione pulled back the curtains on her bedroom window to see who was tapping. She struggled to keep from rolling her eyes when she saw her visitor. It was exactly who she thought it would be. She didn't even have to wonder if he had been drinking. Of course he had. Why else was he there?
She held up her hand to silently ask him to remain where he was. A cheeky grin was his response. Once she closed the curtains she did roll her eyes. What did he want? Beyond the obvious, of course.
With a thick dressing gown covering her pajamas, she tiptoed out of her bedroom. The door to Barty's room was closed to her relief. She was glad he wasn't there to provide even more complications to a situation that was already fraught with them. She snuck into the kitchen to open the back door. A silent wave of her hand beckoned her visitor inside.
"It's so bloody cold out there I thought you were going to make me freeze to death waiting."
"You know how to cast warming charms. If you…"
The rest of her sentence was cut off by the press of his lips against hers. Even if she couldn't taste it on his tongue it was obvious Kingsley had been drinking. Usually he sent an owl if he meant to drop by but sometimes he liked to surprise her. She used to find the unexpected visits exciting. Now it was just annoying. Did he not have any respect for her time? Hermione pushed him away with a hand on his chest.
"What are you doing here, Kingsley?"
He seemed surprised by her tone. His brow furrowed.
"You've never complained when I surprised you before."
She sighed. Maybe she should've complained in the past and he wouldn't have grown so confident that he could just show up any time he wanted to find her willing and able to fulfill all of his most base desires. It was a shame she hadn't had more self-respect than that already. She just wanted him to leave her alone for the time being. Between her conversation with Blaise and how he'd acted since Barty woke up, she didn't have the energy to deal with him. Something shifted between them. They couldn't just go back to how everything was.
"I'm very tired. It's been a long week. I just want to go back to bed."
"I love your bed. Let me join you."
Kingsley leaned down to kiss her again. His lips brushed against hers before she pushed his away with another hand on his chest. He was annoyed.
"What's wrong, Hermione?"
"I think you should go."
He was surprised. Never once in three years had she turned him away before. Usually she was every bit as eager and excited as he was. How many times had they been unable to make it past the kitchen before he had her naked? There were a number of memorable encounters on top of her kitchen table.
"Did you not get my flowers?"
"Yes, I got your flowers. They were unnecessary."
It was a struggle for her to keep from blurting out that they were unwanted too. Did he really think that all it was going to take was an impersonal bouquet of flowers she was certain his assistant ordered to smooth over their problems? As soon as she thought it, she knew he did because she allowed him to do it in the past. There had been other arguments and disagreements that she chose to move on from without a proper, satisfactory resolution because it was much more enjoyable to move past the unpleasantness and get to the hot make-up sex. The thought of doing that again didn't sit well with her in that particular instance. Their issue was far too important to just push away like it wasn't a big deal. It was.
"I thought you would've calmed down by now. Guess I was wrong."
Hermione rubbed her eyes. She had a terrible headache that was getting worse by the second. Why wouldn't he just go away? He was an intelligent, usually perceptive man. Why could he not see he wasn't welcome there?
Because you've never pushed him away even when you should've.
"No, Kingsley, I've not calmed down. If anything, this is only making me angrier. You've been nasty to me this week and I don't appreciate it."
His scoff and the laughter that followed was chilling. Usually she loved his deep booming laugh. Often all it took was for him to laugh to make her laugh too. Not that night. It sounded harsh and mean, two adjectives she never would've used to describe him before.
"All you had to do was agree with me and everything would've been fine."
"But you were wrong, Kingsley, and I refuse to just blindly go along with anyone."
The tension in the room was the highest it had ever been. As much as she might have trusted Kingsley with her life, she didn't trust him with her heart. She feared any second he was going to prove her worries valid. He was a good man, a fact that even his frustrating behavior over the previous week couldn't erase. Even good men had bad tempers and bad reactions to events that upset them. It was understandable and could usually be excused. Showing up drunk at her bedroom window in the middle of the night was something else entirely.
"You took the side of a Death Eater over me. Does our history mean nothing at all to you?"
The urge to start running away from their conversation and never stop was overwhelming. No matter what she said in reply, Hermione knew their discussion wasn't going to end well. Maybe if they were both well-rested and sober they could interact like normal adults. With Kingsley drunk and already defensive, she knew it could get ugly. Both of them possessed most of the less than desirable traits of a true Gryffindor. As tempting as it was to just temporarily give in and let the frustrating wizard think he was right until conditions were more favorable to an argument, she knew she hadn't done enough sticking up for herself in recent years.
"Our history together fighting for what was right still means a great deal to me. It always will. The other? Well, I think all tawdry affairs have an expiration date and we've gone past ours."
Blaise's advice had been invaluable. Of course she would never dream of telling him she thought so. He had enough of an ego that she didn't need to help him think even more highly of himself.
Though he tried his best to put on his best diplomatic face and pretend like he wasn't, Hermione could tell Kingsley was furious. Perhaps her words were harsh and could've been kinder, but she didn't regret them. It was all true. She knew she was right and she wouldn't back down even if it would simplify her complicated, chaotic life even a little bit.
"I think you should go."
His jaw was clenched and he seemed on the verge of an explosion. It would've frightened her in the past to see him so upset but she was past caring. It was all just too exhausting. Where was she expected to get the necessary energy to care?
"If I walk through that door right now, Hermione, we're through. Done."
She sighed.
"Good night, Kingsley."
Expecting him to make a snide remark as he walked out the back door, Hermione was shocked when the dignified Minister for Magic picked up one of the wooden chairs at her kitchen table to hurl it across the room. The poor chair broke into a dozen different pieces when it slammed against the wall. Hermione nearly screamed. Never had she been made to feel unsafe in his presence before.
"I mean it, Hermione!"
Did he really expect her to beg for his forgiveness and drop to her knees in front of him to plea for him to stay after that display? He was lucky she hadn't cursed him yet. If he didn't do as she demanded, she would. The consequences for attacking him might be dire, but she refused to be made to feel frightened in her own home. It was supposed to be her sanctuary from the harsh cruelty of the real world.
"Leave."
There was more confidence in her tone than she expected there to be. With clear fury still in his bloodshot eyes, Kingsley stalked across the room to stare her down only steps away. She could feel much of her self-assurance slipping. Never had she worried he would hurt her, but people who were normally docile and kind could grow violent when they were drunk and felt insulted. Could he forget how he normally behaved and how much he usually cared about her in that moment? How much had he really had to drink?
The kitchen door opened to her surprising relief. Barty stood in the doorway staring at them both. No doubt the scene looked horrible. It was horrible. Glad briefly for the reminder that she wasn't entirely alone, Hermione quickly became mortified. What must the man have been thinking?
"Are you all right, Hermione?"
"Yes, I'm fine. You can go back to bed."
Kingsley's deep laugh was shocking, chilling. She didn't like the sound of it at all. He didn't even sound like himself.
"I get it now. And here I thought you were angry I ordered him to live here. Looks like you should be thanking me."
"You're drunk and delusional. You need to go sleep this off."
"Fine. I'm leaving."
Before he made a single step in the direction of the door, Kingsley turned to Barty with a sneer on his face.
"Crouch, she's all yours. I always suspected she craved the forbidden and dangerous and disgusting."
On his way out the back door, Kingsley kicked another of her wooden chairs as hard as he could. It slammed into her cupboard and broke. The urge to break down into tears was strong, but she made certain she held all of them inside. She would break down when she was alone and a not a moment before. Imagining Barty seeing her cry over something so humiliating was unbearable. Hadn't she been embarrassed enough? Silently she repaired the broken chairs with her wand to keep herself occupied. Barty hadn't moved from the doorway. She could feel his eyes on her. Neither of them broke the silence. It was only when she heard the crack of Kingsley's Disapparition that she felt the tension in her shoulders lift. She was glad he was gone.
"Are you sure you're all right?"
Hermione nodded, unsure she could trust herself to speak just yet. All she wanted was to crawl under her covers and spend the rest of her life there in peace alone.
"Any man who only shows up at a woman's house drunk and in the middle of the night isn't worth getting upset about."
How could she argue with that sort of sense? She was worth more than that even if she didn't always treat herself well. It was for the best that her secret affair was no more. Blaise and Barty were correct. What a bizarre week she was having if those two made actual sense.
"Shacklebolt is a bloody fool. I don't care if he is the Minister for Magic. You deserve better than an idiot like him."
Deciding she was all right, or as likely as she was going to be, Barty excused himself to return to his room. She felt slightly less embarrassed. Who would have ever suspected that a convicted Death Eater would be the one soothing her hurt feelings over the likes of the respected Minister? The world was a funny place. Once all traces of Kingsley's presence was gone, she turned the light off. Hopefully, there wouldn't be any other interruptions to her sleep.
Waking up once more in recent memory to the smell of breakfast cooking, Hermione thought she could easily get used to it. Perhaps having an unwanted houseguest had its perks. Or, perhaps more likely, Barty was feeling sorry for her after the mess that happened in the middle of the night. Knowing that the wizard felt any amount of pity for her circumstances was humbling and annoying. In the light of the morning, how would she be able to face him again? She knew that the dynamic between the two of them shifted whether they wanted it to or not.
There was no reason to rush getting out of her comfortable bed. She chose to take her time. For an odd reason despite being so mortified about Kingsley's late night visit, she'd been able to fall asleep quite easily soon after returning to her bed. Maybe it was because deep down she really did feel some relief that it was over between them. Fun it might have been in the beginning, but it wasn't the same.
She wanted the kind of relationship that Blaise told her she deserved. In a crowded room she never felt like Kingsley couldn't keep his eyes off of her. He could and did. Especially when they were in a large crowd where he had Ministry officials and reporters constantly scrutinizing everything he did. She didn't know why she struggled to believe that she actually deserved better than she was offered by the man who clearly only saw her as a friend who sometimes scratched an itch he had. If she was examining her from the outside as a neutral observer, she would absolutely say that she deserved real love. Why was it so hard then for her to admit it to herself? Why was she so quick to make excuses for the terrible ways she'd allowed men to treat her in the past or so willing to settle for far less than she actually wanted? Did others feel the same way too? That they somehow weren't worthy of having someone wonderful be in love with them?
When she could no longer bear to be alone with her thoughts and her stomach grumbled about its lack of food, Hermione finally got up. She dressed in comfortable clothes, unsure what her plans for the day were. All she knew was she absolutely didn't want to work or even think about work. If anyone in the entire Ministry earned their weekend off, she certainly did that week.
Before she left her bedroom, she worried about what it would be like to see Barty again. Much of the embarrassment from hours earlier began to creep up on her again. Did he really believe what he told her? Or did he think she was a fool like Kingsley? Certainly she'd been acting like one for years when it came to the handsome Minister. Why did it matter to her what Barty thought of her? His opinion of her was none of her business.
Hermione was surprised to find another visitor in the kitchen. When she pushed open the door, she found the house-elf Winky filling up a plate for her old master. Based on the number of pots and pans on the stove and in the sink, she had been preparing quite a feast. Barty sat at the kitchen table with a pleased smile on his face.
"Good morning."
Barty looked up at her greeting and chuckled.
"Winky found out I was awake. She showed up this morning."
Having a house-elf cooking in her home didn't make Hermione feel very comfortable, especially not one that had been cruelly treated by her master years earlier. Winky had been loyal to the Crouch family, but they had not been loyal to her. At least the elder Bartemius Crouch hadn't been.
Her first success in the Ministry after she left Hogwarts had been getting legislation passed that freed all of the house-elves from their bondage. While she had been proud of her work, it was extremely unpopular amongst both the elf population and the wizard population. She hadn't made any friends with that crusade, but she still believed she had done what was right, what was necessary to exist in the modern world. Seeing Winky move around her kitchen catering to her former master seemed to fly in the face of all that Hermione had done.
"You sit there, Missy Hermione and Winky will bring you a plate."
There was no reason to argue with the house-elf and she suspected that if she even tried, she wouldn't be successful. Winky was in her element. Used to seeing her in tears or falling down drunk, it was odd seeing her so happy and animated. How much of that was because she had been able to forge a new life for herself in the years since she was cruelly given clothes she didn't want and how much of it was seeing Barty again? It didn't seem to matter one way or the other. A large plate was levitated onto the table in front of Hermione. As Winky walked out of the room muttering something about laundry, she turned to face Barty.
"She's not moving in, is she? Because I won't allow that."
His laughter seemed to knock years off of his face.
"No, she's not. She just wanted to make sure I was all right. Then she said I was too skinny. I can't promise she won't drop by from time to time, but no, she has her own home."
Relieved to hear that, Hermione took her first bite of her pancakes and almost immediately changed her mind that perhaps it wouldn't be too terrible if Winky decided to move in. As soon as she had that thought, she felt guilty. She would be a terrible hypocrite if she worked so hard to free the house-elves only to then take advantage of one. But, she would make certain to let Winky know before she left that she was always welcome to drop by.
As they continued to eat their breakfast in the same silence that they'd already shared a few other meals since he arrived, her thoughts went back to the disturbing confrontation. Even without saying a word out loud, she felt her cheeks burn. How long would it take her to get over it all?
"I'm sorry about last night. That was embarrassing."
Barty's smile was encouraging, but he took another bite without speaking. Maybe he didn't know what to say. Feeling uncomfortable again, she couldn't seem to stop talking.
"Kingsley really isn't a bad man."
"You don't have to explain anything to me. It's none of my business."
He filled his fork up with another bite of pancakes. Winky really knew what she was doing in the kitchen. Why Hermione didn't just shove food in her own mouth too, she didn't understand. For some reason it felt imperative that she explain more about what happened.
"He can't forgive you for what you did to Alastor Moody. Mad-Eye was his mentor and one of his dearest friends. Especially after his death Kingsley took it hard."
Barty held up his hand to stop her and she was thankful. She worried she was about to start rambling. It was a terrible habit she had when she was nervous.
"I don't blame Shacklebolt for hating me. He has every right to for numerous reasons. I wouldn't even blame him for tossing me back in Azkaban to rot, law against it or not. It's less than what I deserve. No, I was upset with how he treated you. No one deserves that."
She could feel her cheeks burn with more mortification. Would it ever be possible to learn how to keep her emotion off of her face? Whatever it took, she would be willing to try.
"Kingsley and I were never serious."
"That doesn't make it any better. If anything, that's worse. But… that's none of my business. That's your personal life."
Their conversation was interrupted by the reappearance of Winky to her relief. As much as she felt the urge to explain whatever it was between her and the Minister, she was humiliated by it too. Having another soul in the room kept her from blurting out more than she should. Feeling like an intruder as Winky began scolding her former charge for not clearing his plate yet, Hermione ate a few more bites quickly before standing up from the table.
"Thank you for breakfast, Winky. It was lovely. You are welcome to return any time you would like, even if you don't want to cook."
Hermione smiled at the house-elf as she walked out of the kitchen to give them some privacy. No doubt they would both like a little bit of time without an outsider presence. She returned to her bedroom. With no other plans for the day, she knew she had a novel that had been gathering dust on her bedside table. Maybe that would be the day she actually got to finish it.
