Chapter Fourteen
How long had he been back home since his extremely dangerous mission was completed? Two weeks? Maybe three? It had been difficult to keep an accurate track when he had nothing worthwhile to do. Most of his days had been spent sitting in his home watching the hands on the clock move. If Kreacher wasn't still there moving slowly though the empty rooms, he would've sold the dark and gloomy house years earlier. Maybe the added benefit of being both 'The Boy Who Lived' and the "Dementor Destroyer' could help him earn more on the house than it was worth. There had to be some advantage to having his life turned upside down.
His meeting weeks earlier with Kingsley hadn't gone as he expected. Not that he was really all that certain how it would go in the first place. Once he learned Barty Crouch Jr was essentially back from the dead there was nothing else he wanted to discuss. He had to know all of the details even if there were very few to give. No one could explain how the wizard regained his soul or what any of the potential side effects might be. It had all been quite fascinating. Part of him was even a little proud to know he played a part in restoring a person's soul that had been unjustly stolen. Crouch might have been a murderer and one of the most dangerous Death Eaters, but nothing would ever convince Harry that the Kiss was a suitable punishment for anyone. Except maybe for the worm Cornelius Fudge who happily ordered it for Sirius when he was an innocent man. Harry thought he might be able to turn a blind eye in that instance.
His meeting with Kingsley and then the short one he had later that same day with Hermione gave him a great deal to think about as he all but hid inside his hated home. Venturing outside had been a bit overwhelming. It was easier to avoid the public. While he initially considered sticking mostly to Muggle areas until all the hype surrounding him died down, he reconsidered. The older he got, the less comfortable he felt around Muggles. It was harder and harder to feel a part of that world any longer. He supposed it was the choice all Muggle-Borns and halfbloods had to make at some point: embrace the magic completely or live a half-life in both worlds.
Frequently his mind wandered back to Hermione. His visit to her house the day he met with Kingsley was the only one he'd made since he returned. It had been a small step in the right direction to repair their friendship, but an important one. He continued to worry that they would never be able to get back to what they once were. Maybe that was always going to be impossible.
Even after giving it all a great deal of thought during his self-imposed house arrest, he still couldn't fully understand why Kingsley made Hermione personally responsible for Crouch. Evidently, there was more to the story than he realized. Kingsley was usually a fair and reasonable man. But, he supposed even the Minister for Magic was allowed to behave seemingly out of character once in awhile. And it was entirely possible Kingsley changed more over the years than Harry realized.
He was unsure how he felt about Crouch. It wasn't a lie when he told Hermione that Voldemort and his Death Eaters felt like another lifetime. Quite simply he no longer possessed the anger towards the man that he thought he might have even just a year or two earlier. Was that growing up or because he'd looked under the hood of countless dementors to defeat them and discovered there were far worse monsters to worry about? One couldn't have gone through the experiences he had without feeling irrevocably changed.
Before Harry could overthink his decision and talk himself out of his rash plan, he quickly left the safety of his house. Within a matter of moments he stood in front of Hermione's front door. His knock sounded far more confident than he really felt. How could he face down dementors with little fear but feel nervous about speaking to someone made of flesh and bone? Especially one who didn't even have the ability to use magic against him again?
The door swung open only mere seconds after his knock. Seeing Harry standing outside seemed to confuse Crouch.
"Hermione isn't here right now."
"I didn't expect she would be. It's you I wanted to speak with, Crouch."
The older wizard stepped aside to let him inside despite looking very uncomfortable with the whole unexpected visit. He probably thought Harry was there to hurt him or somehow make his existence more miserable. Younger Harry would've.
Two playful kittens rolling around on the sofa caught his eye when he first entered the warmth of the house. Much bigger than they were the last time he saw them, they looked healthy. He turned towards Crouch and gestured his head in their direction.
"They look good."
The man was still nervous, but at the mention of the kittens he beamed.
"Yes, they do. The Muggle animal… the veterinarian was impressed by how much they've grown in such a short time. She believes they will be fine."
"Good."
Talking about the kittens was an easy, neutral subject, but that wasn't why Harry was there. He had some serious and likely uncomfortable questions to ask the other wizard. Once he took a seat in a chair by the fireplace, Crouch sat down in the middle of the sofa, pulling the kittens onto his lap for moral support or at the very least something to keep his hands occupied. Harry took a deep breath before speaking.
"I have some questions to ask you and I'm afraid you're not going to enjoy them."
The damned quill slipped out of Hermione's tired fingers to land on the desk in front of her again. Spots of ink fell over the parchment she'd been reviewing in a frustrating shower. What else should she expect? She'd allowed herself to work far past the point of exhaustion. It was a wonder she could even keep her eyes open.
She had enough of work for the night. It was easy to assume that as the year drew closer to its end there would be less work for the legal analysts to complete. Unfortunately, it didn't slow down. Feeling more exhausted than she had in a long time, Hermione stretched her shoulders and sighed. Blaise left nearly two hours earlier. Rarely did he ever stay longer than the absolute minimum hours required. It was just one of the many reasons she often found herself frustrated by her coworker.
There was no reason for her to continue to torture herself that night she decided. It would all be waiting for her the next day and the day after and the day after that. She grabbed her cloak and made her exit before she destroyed another contract she would need to fix the next morning.
No one else remained on her level that time of night. They were all too smart to torture themselves needlessly as she did. Each time she walked across the empty level she wondered why she even bothered. No one cared that she worked that hard for so many hours. When was the last time she was even recognized for her effort? Far too long ago in the past to even remember. Was she just wasting the life she'd been given? She felt she was more so that evening than she had in a long time.
There seemed to be no other soul in the entire building until the doors to the lift opened to reveal Kingsley inside all alone. Part of what made their secret relationship convenient was the fact that he worked far too much as well. Seeing him again was a surprise. He'd done a good job of avoiding her since the night he showed up drunk at her house. Their eyes met. Instantly she could tell he would like to run far away. She sighed, frustrated once again that so much in her life had changed so rapidly.
"I'll take the next one."
Kingsley's hand shot out to block the door from closing.
"No, don't be ridiculous. We can ride on a lift together, can't we?"
Both nervous and reluctant to be confined in such a small space with the wizard, Hermione had to all but force herself to step inside. It was undoubtedly the most awkward, uncomfortable lift ride she'd ever taken. Neither of them spoke the whole journey to the Atrium level. Where would she even begin if she did want to speak? She didn't have the first clue. Nor did Kingsley for that matter.
The very moment the lift stopped and the door opened again, she took a step out only to be stopped by a gentle touch on her arm. It never ceased to surprise her how a smile touch from the wizard could still bring up goosebumps on her flesh even after he'd touch every single centimeter she possessed. Would he always have that effect on her?
"I owe you a rather massive apology."
"Kingsley, don't."
"No, I do. My behavior that night was inexcusable. I should've apologized a long time ago but I was too ashamed."
While Hermione was certainly glad he was being mature enough to apologize, she really didn't want to hear it. Not right then and possibly not in the future either. She had enough complications in her left as it was. Thanks to Kingsley an actual murderer and Death Eater had been living in her house for over three weeks. Though it became a little easier every day, she was still angry. She wasn't sure her friendship with the Minister would ever be mended. Nor was she sure she wanted it to be.
"I accept your apology."
Hoping to be finished with the uncomfortable conversation, she started to wiggle out of his grasp, but he tightened his hold. It didn't hurt. Just annoyed her more. She could feel herself start to lose her temper.
"I was unfair to you about Crouch. I know that."
"When you forced him into my house or when you accused me of having sex with him?"
Kingsley dropped her arm with a heavy, embarrassed sigh.
"Both. I should've handled the whole situation with Crouch differently from the start."
"I won't argue with you about that."
"I can still have him moved somewhere else."
"And have him thrown in Azkaban against the law? No, thank you. I'd feel more comfortable with him where I can see for myself he's not being mistreated."
He sighed loudly again. When it suited his purposes, he could be terribly dramatic at times. It was another one of those less than ideal Gryffindor traits she had to fight against in herself too.
"I can't really fight against you and Harry, now can I? With you two teaming up to keep Crouch out of Azkaban…"
Hermione was confused.
"Harry and I haven't teamed up. What are you babbling on about?"
It was Kingsley's turn to be the one confused.
"Harry came to my office yesterday. Told me he had a long conversation with Crouch earlier this week and now firmly agrees that you're right about him already fulfilling the terms of his original sentence and that it would be cruel and wrong to force him back to Azkaban."
What was he talking about? Hermione didn't have the first clue. As far as she had been aware, Harry had only seen Barty that one time when she was home. Had they been meeting in private when she wasn't around? Why? She couldn't even begin to imagine what those conversations would be like. Part of her had been amazed that Harry hadn't lost his temper and tortured Barty to death in her lounge out of revenge for what he did their tumultuous fourth year. Yes, Harry had changed, but he was still Harry.
She looked up to see Kingsley staring intensely at her, waiting for her to say something in response to the bombshell he'd just dropped. Being alone with him no longer felt the least bit comfortable since her mind had moved on to the latest mystery. Nothing else seemed nearly as important as returning home to confront her houseguest. She wanted to know everything. Were there any other secrets he was keeping?
Quickly, Hermione stepped out of the lift before Kingsley could stop her again. Ignoring him call after her repeatedly, she wouldn't allow anything to keep her in the Ministry a moment longer than necessary to reach the exit. There was nothing else she wanted to say to the man. Not yet. Maybe once she learned everything that was happening behind her back she could devote some of her energy to facing her former lover. If she was honest with herself, probably not even then. Kingsley had always had an odd effect on her she couldn't deny. He might very well use any chance to try to figure out a way back into her bed or at least attempt to.
Saying 'no' to the Minister was difficult, especially as she wouldn't mind a little bit of tension relief between the sheets. It was too bad Kingsley was the only option she had without seeking out a complete stranger. All of her former bridges had been burned down long ago. Ron and Dean were both happily married. Not to each other though she used to wonder if Dean would end up with Seamus eventually. It could still happen, she supposed. Viktor was with Ginny even if they were both unsuccessful in keeping it much of a secret. Oliver Wood was likely still angry about the last time they were together. Not that she could blame him. She'd been awful to him and he didn't deserve it. Nor did he deserve her upsetting his life again. She wouldn't be cruel to him for just a few hours of pleasure. No, there weren't any other good options and she wasn't quite to the point of looking for a single night with someone she would never see again yet. Those experiences were rarely satisfactory.
The moment she was outside of the building she Apparated home. Best to get what could very well be an uncomfortable discussion over with as swiftly as possible. She pushed open the front door to find Barty sitting in an armchair by the fireplace feeding the kittens. Each of them were much bigger than that awful night they were discovered and much stronger. Hermione no longer worried they were in danger of dying without their mother's care. Barty had fulfilled the promise he made when their poor mother died and she doubted anything could make him stop. At the sound of the door creaking open, he looked up.
"Did you find a law that will throw me back in Azkaban?"
"Not today. Maybe tomorrow."
Hermione didn't know why he asked her the same question every time she returned home nor did she understand why he chuckled at her answer. The more she got to know him, the more bizarre and odd he seemed. After nearly a month of living in the same house she understood him less and less. He was frequently surprising her by something he either said or did. It could be an exhausting feeling.
There as a definite temptation once she stood inside her home to retreat to her private bathroom to take a hot bath and go straight to bed regardless of the time. Despite getting what should have been an adequate amount of sleep each night, she could never shake off the perpetual exhaustion that kept plaguing her. Only the need to have her curiosity satisfied kept her inside the room with the strange man. She sat down on the end of the sofa closest to his chair.
"I was in a lift with the Minister for Magic just now."
Barty paused his feeding of the kitten in his lap to meet her eyes. Was there a genuine concern in his expression? She thought there was and it only served to confuse her even more than she already was.
"Are you all right?"
His simple question further caught her off-guard. Why would he care how she felt? It took her a moment to compose herself enough to answer.
"Uhh, yes. I'm fine, thank you. He just said something interesting I didn't expect. He said that Harry had a long conversation with your earlier this week. I wasn't aware of that."
No longer wishing to keep eye contact with her after her admission, Barty dropped his gaze back down to the kittens. Her suspicious mind became immediately rattled. She was worried that their clandestine conversation were far worse than she initially realized. What exactly did they talk about? She didn't appreciate Harry going behind her back and planned on letting him know so. If they had any hope of being friends again, they couldn't keep secrets. Nothing good came out of those sorts of actions.
"Mr. Potter popped by the other morning not long after you left for the Ministry. He wanted to talk to me alone. It was a surprise. Considering our history, I wouldn't have been surprised if he came here to kill me."
"He wouldn't be the only one who would want you dead."
"I'm well aware of that fact, thank you."
His return to the living was yet to be widely known. Only a small group of people knew anything about what really happened when the last dementor was finally destroyed. How such a massive secret could be kept for so long was a mystery. Eventually it would get out. When it did, there would be a terrible scandal and Barty's life really would be in jeopardy. Hermione really wasn't looking forward to that. Did she not already have enough frustrating complications in her her life?
"What did Harry want to talk to you about? I highly doubt it was just a friendly chat."
"No, it was very serious. He wanted to know what it was like to be Kissed."
Of course Hermione wasn't surprised. If she'd stopped to actually take the time to really think about why Harry might seek out Barty, it made perfect sense. It was natural to be curious about what that horrific process was like, especially considering how close Harry was to suffering that fate himself in third year.
"What did you tell him?"
"The truth. All of it. He had a right to know, especially because he was the one to destroy them. My… existence before I woke up again was… unpleasant. There's nobody, alive or dead, that I would wish that fate upon. Not even my own father."
There was no question in her mind that that was significant. As much as Barty clearly hated his father, she wouldn't have been surprised to learn he would wish there was a way to inflict a Dementor's Kiss on his late father. If he'd lived long enough to see it happen, would the father deem it a suitable fate for the son that brought him so much shame?
"Kingsley said Harry was on my side about you having completed your sentence and not deserving to be thrown back in Azkaban. He said he wasn't able to fight against Harry and me both."
"That's a relief then, isn't it?"
"I wouldn't say it's permanent and besides that, it's not only up to Kingsley even if he is the Minister. There are likely to be others who believe you should be in Azkaban."
Even just thinking about the potential arguments and protests to his freedom that were sure to come when the world at large knew Barty was awake filled her with an exhaustive dread that wearied her straight down to her bones. All of the fighting, and it hadn't even really begun in earnest, was taking its toll. How much worse would it be when someone inevitably let the secret out?
"I should take it as an encouraging sign no matter what and start making plans for the future, assuming of course that I'll be free to move about as I wish."
"The future?"
"Yes. As lovely as your home is, I don't imagine you want to continue this living arrangement indefinitely."
When Hermione stopped to actually consider what he said, she was surprised to discover she was reluctant even to think about what it would be like to return to living in her house all by herself. As much as Barty could get on her nerves at times, and he still really could, after a month she'd gotten used to him. While she would never claim to look forward to seeing him every evening when she got home, it was nice to not have to enter an empty house. Not to mention Winky made good on her promises to visit and there was often a hot meal waiting for her when she got there.
"There's no rush."
"No, but I can't stay here forever. I know my presence is hard to explain. Is that why you haven't had any family visit since I got here? Because I could find somewhere else to stay for a few days if you want to invite them."
Hermione clenched her jaw so tightly it hurt. It wasn't his fault. He couldn't have known that would be such a painful subject. For most people, she supposed, it wasn't.
"That won't be necessary."
"Not even with Christmas next week?"
That was a conversation she wasn't anxious to think about. As she did far too often, Hermione chose to ignore it. She got up and without even bothering to excuse herself rushed into the kitchen to hide. Alone in the kitchen for only a few minutes, she wished she'd gone to her bedroom instead when Barty pushed open the door. Still holding the kittens in his hands, he looked upset.
"I didn't mean to…"
He sighed, unsure what to say. Tempted to run again, instead Hermione took pity on the poor man. It wasn't his fault her family situation was so complicated. Not really. No matter what his actions years earlier set in motion, she was the one ultimately responsible for her actions and decisions.
"My family has always been very small and since the war ended, my parents have yet to fully forgive me for what I did to keep them safe."
She didn't like talking about her family or really her lack thereof. It seemed that it would continue to be painful no matter how many years passed. To Barty's immense credit, he didn't push her for answers or explanations. She supposed if anyone could understand about complex parental relationships, he could. With a heavy sigh that sounded far too loud in her own ears, Hermione busied her hands with brewing a pot of tea the Muggle way. Perhaps because of who she was talking about, she felt it more appropriate to not use magic in that moment.
"My parents had no clue what a Death Eater was and they never heard the name Lord Voldemort. I kept them shielded from all of the danger and horror present in the magical world. They were entirely naive, unaware how many times I and my best friends were nearly killed while we were supposed to be safely tucked away at school."
All of the details of the drastic actions she took to keep her parents safe from the violent chaos of a world they weren't a part of came rushing out of her mouth. She told him how she'd stripped away her parents' memories of their true identities and the fact they had a child at all to replace with a complete fabrication. Barty listened without interrupting. Once she got started she couldn't seem to stop. Perhaps she'd kept it all tucked away as a private heavy burden for too long. It wasn't a happy story. She told him all about searching for them after the war ended to restore their memories, how her mother slapped her hard across the face when she fully understood what had been done to them, how her father's heart was broken and he hadn't been able to look her in the eye ever since. Even details she never could tell her closest friends were revealed. Something about Barty made her feel comfortable enough to share it all.
"So my parents, my mother especially, have always been frightened of magic. What I did only made their fears worse. They are living in our old home again, but they both prefer it when I don't bother to visit."
With her story finished and no more humiliating details left to admit, Hermione dared to look up from the teacup she had cradled in her hands. She'd been avoiding seeing Barty's expression, worried it might be too harsh or horrified. All she saw was sadness on his face. Why that surprised her, she wasn't sure. He stepped closer to her, careful not to make too swift a motions and startle her.
"I'm very sorry you had to go through that. I can't imagine how difficult that must have been."
Knowing that a man who experienced a Dementor's Kiss felt some sympathy for her experiences didn't comfort her as she assumed it might have. She only felt more uncomfortable, more anxious to leave the room and hide. Only one step towards the door, she stopped when the black kitten began to meow loudly. He struggled to get out of Barty's arms. Could he sense she was upset too? She felt a smile stretch across her lips. As soon as she picked the kitten up, he settled down again.
"You'll have to be careful that that one. He may not be as loyal to you as before. Two really seemed to like Potter. He may be the new favorite."
She might have rolled her eyes but she chuckled too.
"I told you that we can't keep calling them One and Two. Why haven't you given them proper names yet?"
Barty shrugged his shoulders.
"Didn't want to get attached. I may not get to keep them."
Even without knowing the future that lay ahead of him, Hermione knew it was already too late for him. He was attached.
"Give them proper names. It's only right."
