Chapter Seventeen
When Harry finally felt brave enough to open his eyes, he wished for a swift and immediate death. It had been a long time since he drank as much as he did on Christmas Day. Usually he was much better at pacing himself to avoid the misery of the morning after. It had been a skill he'd been improving since the end of the war. Something about the events of the previous day made it impossible to be disciplined with his alcohol intake. How long would he be that miserable?
He rolled over onto his other side in an effort to find a more comfortable position. Nearly falling off the sofa entirely, he groaned out loud when he realized he wasn't in his own bed. How could he forget for even a moment that he was at Hermione's house as an unexpected and unwanted guest? He'd been foolishly hoping that episode with Neville had all been a terrible nightmare.
How much worse would it all get before it got better? Would it get better? He couldn't believe he'd made such a mess of everything. One of the first requests Kingsley asked of him before he was told the secret of Crouch awakening from his sleep after the dementors were destroyed was that he would keep it a secret. Certain conditions had to be met before the wizarding world at large could know there had been an unexpected consequence to ridding the planet of dementors. If the news wasn't handled properly, there was a chance that an unnecessary panic could make all of their lives much more difficult.
Never in all of the years that he'd been friends with Neville had he seen the other wizard so angry. Not even during the war or even during the incident at the Department of Mysteries in their fifth year when he was being taunted by Bellatrix Lestrange. It was almost frightening to know that the usually gentle man could be so infuriated. The glint of fury in his eyes reminded Harry that he could be quite dangerous when he was motivated.
As soon as possible, he would need to starting working on cleaning up the numerous messes he made just by drinking too much. But first he needed coffee and something greasy to eat would be delightful. Maybe he would even feel more like himself if his stomach wasn't so empty.
Hermione's house was nearly silent. It was easy to assume that at that early hour both Hermione and Crouch were still asleep. The hour had been late when Neville and the other Gryffindors crashed their Christmas night. He thought that maybe he could sneak into the kitchen, eat something, and then sneak back out before anyone noticed he was up. If he could delay the uncomfortable conversations he knew were coming just a little bit longer, he would be happy. He wasn't ready to talk. Maybe he never would be.
The moment he pushed open the kitchen door, he knew his plan had failed. Standing at the cooker over a pan of what smelled like sausage, Crouch wasn't asleep at all. Harry was tempted to spin around and run as fast as he could. Only his growling stomach stopped him. That and he knew it would be rude. While he doubted he could ever be friends with the likes of someone like Crouch, he couldn't deny that the wizard also fascinated him. Somehow he endured Harry's biggest nightmare and managed to emerge somewhat intact. He knew he shouldn't, but he wanted to know as much as possible about Crouch's experience. Any old, lingering anger for the man because of his very active role in bringing Voldemort back to life could be pushed aside and forgotten for the present. That was someone else's life, another Harry. If he'd learned nothing since the day he became an Unspeakable, he learned how to effectively compartmentalize his life. It was a handy skill he wished he learned years earlier.
"I didn't realize anyone else was awake. It's very early."
Crouch looked at the new arrival over his shoulder for a moment before turning his full attention back to the frying pan.
"I don't sleep much."
That confession didn't surprise Harry. He was honestly amazed to know the man could sleep at all considering what he must have endured following his Kiss.
"Neither do I. Is Hermione awake too?"
The older wizard startled the younger by chuckling. Unsure what was possibly funny by that question, Harry waited to see if there would be some sort of explanation.
"No, I doubt it. She sleeps a lot. Far more than I can at any rate."
Almost as soon as he said the words, Crouch looked sheepish, like he regretted saying anything at all.
"I shouldn't have said that. It's none of my business."
Harry didn't disagree nor did he argue. Everyone, Hermione included, was allowed to have their own vices. If she could find enjoyment in staying asleep longer than most, he didn't see anything wrong with it. Some days he would consider committing actual murder to be able to keep his eyes closed and his mind shut off for more than an hour or two at a time. Knowing he should say something in response to Crouch, he said the first words he could think of.
"Sleep is a wonderful escape if you can keep from dreaming."
"Yes, it is. Potions can help but I don't believe they are a good long-term solution."
"No, you're absolutely right."
Finding the entire exchange bizarre to start, Harry didn't see there would be any harm taking a seat in one of the chairs at the kitchen table once Crouch gestured towards it. Neither of them sure how to continue the conversation, he sat there in silence watching as Crouch filled two plates with the sausage and eggs he'd been cooking. Any reservations Harry might've once had about accepting food from the wizard disappeared when he got a whiff of how marvelous it all smelled. If he waited patiently for Crouch to take a bite of his own breakfast before tucking in, it only meant he wasn't a complete fool.
The two men ate in silence until Harry's guilty conscience could stand it no longer. Whether it was fortunate or not, he hadn't had so much to drink the night before that he forgot what he did. Best to start making amends wherever he could.
"I owe you an apology, Crouch, for letting the fact that you are awake again out. It was an error I regret."
Crouch hardly seemed to have the energy for a full shrug of his shoulders. Only his right one lifted up slightly. He was deceptively calm. Was that all an act or how he genuinely felt? Harry knew he had much to learn about the man.
"Nothing secret stays so for very long. It was going to come out eventually. That we were able to make it over a month was impressive."
He wasn't wrong. Secrets were impossible to keep. No matter who was involved in the knowing of it, there was always someone who was unable to keep their mouth shut. History was full of examples. Of course he understood that they couldn't keep Crouch's existence a secret for long. The scandal would arrive eventually. He only wished he wasn't the catalyst.
"Regardless, it was wrong of me to say anything. I was a fool yesterday and I'm embarrassed by how much I had to drink."
"It was Christmas. I'm sure you weren't the only one."
"No, but I likely just made your life more difficult."
Crouch's next shrug was a little more impressive. The casual way he continued to respond astonished Harry. Did the man not care that at any moment there might be dozens of bloodthirsty witches and wizards waiting outside the front door intent on doing him irreparable harm?
"I'm not worried what might happen to me, but I am concerned about Hermione."
If he thought he could no longer be surprised that morning, Harry discovered he was wrong.
"I am a complication in her life that she didn't ask for. When it's known I've been living in her house for weeks, it won't look good for her. There will be many who get the wrong impression about what is happening in this house."
His observation made Harry uncomfortable. There had been certain aspects about their living arrangement he'd been able to not think too closely about. Everything Crouch said was absolutely correct. Hermione would be unfairly treated by the press and wizarding society at large when it was known she'd been essentially harboring a known Death Eater in her home. It wouldn't matter that she was forced to do so by the Minister for Magic. No one would care. He could practically hear Rita Skeeter and her demented readers screaming 'Death Eater whore' at Hermione every chance they could. It would be bad, very, very bad. Harry appreciated the fact that Crouch seemed to care about how she was affected. He was even oddly protective of her. Or was that all in his mind?
"Is there anything happening between you and Hermione that might embarrass her if it got out?"
Harry shocked himself that he was bold enough to ask such a blunt question. It wasn't his business what happened between the two adults even if he had to admit he was far more curious than he should be about someone else's love life. Crouch dropped his eyes down to his plate at the question. He pushed his eggs around his plate with his fork but didn't immediately answer the question. Was he embarrassed? Harry knew that the question made him ill at ease. Why? Because Crouch wasn't speaking, he couldn't stop himself from continuing.
"It's not unusual for two people who spend a lot of time together in such close quarters to develop some sort of relationship and Hermione is an attractive woman."
The fork slipped out of Crouch's fingers to land on the plate with a loud clang. He looked up abruptly to meet Harry's eyes. There was real anger there. Had he been too blunt with his words? He didn't see any reason to speak in euphemisms and half-truths. Better to get all of the unpleasantness out as quickly as possible.
"There is nothing inappropriate happening in this house. I may not be a good man and I probably deserve to rot in Azkaban for the rest of my life, but I'm not evil enough to ruin her life too."
"I didn't mean to upset you. It's a question that will undoubtedly come up. I won't be the first to ask."
Crouch picked up his fork to stab at his eggs with far more force than necessary.
"You and every other nosy bugger can search for your disgusting stories elsewhere. There will never be anything between Hermione and me as long as I live."
Stepping out of her bedroom and hearing raised voices wasn't exactly a surprise to Hermione. Not when she looked at the sofa very drunk Harry fell asleep on to find it empty. She knew it was likely only a matter of time before the two men had an intense conversation about their shared past. It was easy to see Barty was no longer in his bedroom when she walked past the open door.
Barty was an early riser and late to bed as well. It seemed he spent as little time asleep as it was physically possible to do. Who could really blame him? If she had nightmares like him, she wouldn't find sleep the escape she did.
Leaving them alone for too long was a terrible idea. Already it sounded as if the conversation was less than friendly. She worried about them. It could get very ugly. Any hint of a scandal or whiff of a crime could send Barty straight to Azkaban for life. It wasn't fair for Harry's short temper to ruin a man's life when he potentially had a second chance. Before anything awful could happen, she pushed open the kitchen door, ready to fight, if necessary.
"There will never be anything between Hermione and me for as long as I live."
Both the content of his statement and the vehemence with which he said it startled Hermione. There could be no mistaking his tone. And, if she was forced to admit so, it stung her pride. No, she wasn't pining over her houseguest or fantasizing about him loving her, but to inspire such anger and disgust in another human being certainly didn't help her rather fragile ego in the slightest.
"I suppose then I should sigh a rather loud sigh of relief at that news."
Her tone was snarky and quite rude. She almost regretted using such a voice until her anger and hurt pride reminded her it was no worse than what he had just said about her when he didn't know she could hear. Seeing Barty sigh in more annoyance further convinced her she was right.
Unable to meet anyone's eye, Barty stood up from the table to head for the exit. Usually better at cleaning up after himself following the setting of ground rules and expectations days after he arrived, she knew he would only leave a mess out of desperation to put more space between them. How much more obvious could he make it that he found her gross and undesirable?
"Excuse me. The kittens need to be fed."
That particular excuse wouldn't be viable for much longer as the poor, orphaned creatures grew larger every day. Using it to his advantage, Barty rushed out of the room. The two old friends left in his wake felt uncomfortable, anxious to make their own escapes. Hermione couldn't keep from sighing again. There as a time, not even that far in the past, where she could always feel relaxed in her own home.
The longer she stood in the awkward silence with Harry just staring, the more she wanted to run to the safety of her own bed to hide from more unpleasantness she was sure would be coming. Only the reminder that she did too much hiding in bed kept her rooted to the cold tile floor. She didn't want Harry to see her behave ridiculously. Over the years that they'd been friends he'd been a witness to that too many times already.
With her head help high and her shoulders back, Hermione crossed the kitchen to get a teacup. She would've liked something a little stronger than tea to drink but the last thing she wanted was to appear weak in front of Harry, especially not after what she walked in on. As she prepared her tea just the way she liked it, she didn't say anything nor did Harry attempt to make conversation. It felt almost strange to be making her own tea. Getting used to Barty making it for her every morning had been easy. If she hadn't walked in on such a tense and awkward discussion, she felt confident Barty would've done it for her without being asked. After taking a fortifying sip, she sat down in Barty's empty chair to face Harry.
"Not really what I expected to hear when I walked inside."
She was proud of herself for keeping her voice calm. It had always been a struggle for her to keep that shrill, obnoxious sound out of her tone when she was upset. If a complete stranger was watching and listening in to their talk, she would hope they would think she wasn't bothered by anything she heard.
"He's worried about how the press will treat you once the news of his return is made known."
As tempted as she was to give in to the bitter laughter threatening to spew out of her mouth, she remained calm. If Harry truly believed what he said and wasn't just trying to make her feel better, she had given him far too much credit for becoming more observant as he grew older.
"No, he's worried I will find his presence in my life too intrusive and stop being his only advocate. Without me he's locked up and forgotten in Azkaban and he knows it. That's all."
"I don't think that's all."
Harry could be so smug when he thought he knew something she didn't. Always had been. Thankfully, it didn't happen very often. She knew he wasn't ready to give up on their disagreement. Changing the subject was her best option. She wasn't going to fall for that annoying smirk. Who did he think he was?
"Well, do we think the secret has gotten out yet or will Neville run straight to the Daily Prophet to give them an exclusive?"
Harry's smirk morphed into an irritated scowl.
"You know Neville better than that. He can be trusted."
"I trust Neville with a great deal, including my life, but I'm not sure that will matter when it comes to his anger towards Barty."
Some of his frustration melted away at her statement to be replaced with a heaviness she didn't fully understand. Why did Harry seem so exhausted? There was something more than just a nasty hangover bothering the man. Would he even tell her if she asked? Somehow she doubted he would.
"I'll go to Neville and talk to him. With clearer heads maybe we can have a more productive discussion than whatever it was that happened last night. I'll help him see why we need to keep this secret a little longer."
It was perhaps the best anyone could hope for considering the unusual circumstances. Hermione didn't hold out much hope that Barty's existence would remain a secret much longer. A month was already extraordinary. Someone was going to start talking soon.
"We need a more permanent plan to keep Crouch out of Azkaban, Hermione. That's the only way you both would be protected when the truth comes out."
Harry being genuinely interested in helping was more of a surprise to Hermione than it should've been. Sure, he might have claimed once or twice that he didn't believe Barty should go back to Azkaban, but she wasn't sure she fully believed him until that moment. Something in his eyes maybe or the determined set of his jaw convinced her far more than his words.
"I've been researching all of the laws I can to try to find a precedent or a loophole. Nothing has been helpful yet."
"I would be surprised if there were any laws that could help at all. No one has ever come back from a Kiss before."
"No, but after the Goblin Rebellion of…"
"This is going to be less about what we know than who we know."
Used to being interrupted when she was talking about subjects others didn't care about, Hermione was annoyed but not angry. Perhaps Harry had a point even if it made her nervous to consider just what it was he was trying to suggest.
"If you're talking about the Minister for Magic who has the ability to pardon certain criminals with the advice and consent of the Wizengamot, I'd encourage you to remember Kingsley has been trying to get him thrown back in Azkaban since the day after he ordered Barty to live in my house."
"Yes, and I actually have a few questions about that."
"It's not important."
She wanted to move away from the topic of Kingsley as smoothly as possible. No one needed to know all of the salacious details of their argument. For three years they had done a marvelous job of keeping what they did behind closed doors a secret from their friends and coworkers.
"Was it a lovers' spat?"
Or maybe she was wrong. The bottom half of her jaw nearly fell all the way to the floor. Did Harry suspect? It hardly seemed possible with all of the careful precautions they made. Remembering her facial expressions could sometimes reveal more than her words, she put all her effort into making her face as calm and uninteresting as possible.
"I'm sure I don't know what you mean. Kingsley and I have only ever been friends."
His sharp outburst of laughter startled her even more than his impertinent question.
"You seriously believe you've been able to keep what you and Kingsley do in dark corners a secret?"
"I… we…"
There was no reason to continue to lie. She was caught.
"How long have you known?"
"Two… three years?"
Was there no end to her mortification that morning? If Harry was telling the truth, and she had no reason to suspect he wasn't, that would mean he likely knew shortly after their first stolen moment during that dreadfully boring office party they thought they were stealthily sneaking out of. Who else knew? It couldn't have been terribly widespread or Rita Skeeter would've accused Hermione of using sex to get ahead in a nasty article.
"Kingsley didn't appreciate that I didn't blindly agree to Barty going straight to Azkaban once he woke up. He felt undermined in front of very important people. That's why he made Barty my problem."
"Pride, especially when it's injured, can make us all do stupid things we regret."
"He tried to make up for it the next day. Even apologized and offered to put Barty somewhere else, but that's when I knew I was the only one not allowing my past anger and grudges get in the way of following the laws."
It still continued to frustrate her that so many were willing to ignore the law in Barty's case. She didn't care how egregious his past crimes or how much his actions personally hurt her, she wouldn't allow an injustice. Not when she could do something.
"Anyone, including Kingsley, can be persuaded to change their mind if you try hard enough."
"I'm not great with people, Harry. Never have been. They don't like me. It doesn't matter how hard I try. They won't listen."
"Then we will have to hope they will listen to me."
He was the only one of the two that could really do what was necessary. Sure, she could spend her entire life in the Ministry Archives researching laws but she didn't have the necessary ability to really connect with people. Most found her pushy and obnoxious. She wasn't blind to how they avoided her until they needed something. Never had been. Once, someone she hardly knew tried to score some points in awkward flattery by telling her she could be the Minister one day. It unfortunately fueled her secret desire for Kingsley's job even if she knew it was impossible. She would have to actually be liked for a successful career in politics.
"I'll make up a list of influential people I can talk to about this case. Emotional appeal might be more effective."
"It usually is."
Harry ignored her countless frustrated sigh to stand up from the table. A couple of quick spells from his wand sent the dirty dishes to the sink to clean themselves.
"But keep looking at the laws. There will be others like you that will need legal proof to back up their decisions."
Hermione continued to struggle to believe that Harry really was there to help her keep Barty out of Azkaban. Everything he said sounded sincere. Sometimes it was difficult for a person to really trust a friend they'd had for years really changed.
"I'm going to London to hopefully keep Crouch's secret for a little longer."
He took one step towards the door before stopping and turning in her direction.
"He's in love with you. You realize that, don't you?"
His confident statement caught her off-guard. At first she assumed Harry meant Kingsley. It made the most sense after all even if she knew it wasn't true. Just as she started to argue, it struck Hermione that he hadn't meant Kingsley at all.
"I think you're mistaken, Harry. We hardly know each other. He may be grateful for my assistance keeping him out of prison but that's all."
It was easy to tell Harry wasn't convinced. She didn't care one way or the other. Thinking Barty was in love with her was insane. How could anyone reach that conclusion? After several weeks together, she might have called them friends. Nothing else. She hadn't forgotten who or what he was.
Harry left her with a great deal to think about. Part of her was tempted to go to London herself to see if the secret had gotten out yet, but she decided she'd rather stay home. The events of the night before and her discussion with her old friend left her far too exhausted to want to do anything more than hide beneath the blankets on her bed again. What would be the harm in resting for another hour or two? She didn't have to go to work that day.
The short nap lasted several hours longer than Hermione intended. When she opened her eyes again, she was embarrassed to realize how much time passed. Why did she sleep so much when she had the chance? And why did she never wake up feeling refreshed? A mind Healer would love to get her as a patient she was sure.
With no reason to remain in her bedroom and somewhat concerned she might convince herself to close her eyes again if she stayed, she stepped out into the lounge. Barty sat on the sofa with the kittens. It was evident he was uncomfortable to be around her again. Hermione nearly sighed, but stopped herself from indulging in that annoying habit. The house was far too small for them to be awkward.
"I owe you an apology."
Barty's rush to apologize was a surprise.
"No, you don't."
"Yes, I do."
"No, you don't, Barty. I don't even have to ask what you and Harry were talking about to know he was discussing subjects that are none of his business. He might have learned to be more observant and perceptive than when he was a teenager, but that's hardly impressive. He had a long way to go."
For a minute or two Barty's silence made her nervous. What was he going to say next? She could only imagine.
"I should try to find somewhere else to stay. It's not right that I've been here so long. There must be somewhere else. I have a cousin, my mother's nephew. It's not ideal, but seeing as how he was given all of my property when I was Kissed and declared dead, he does owe me."
There was no hesitation in her response.
"No, you'll stay here. Right now I'm the only one keeping you out of Azkaban. I'm not going to trust you with anyone else."
The smile he offered was tinged with sadness. There was still so much about him she didn't understand. If she could read his mind she had no doubt she would be surprised by what she learned. Every day it became more evident he was nothing like she expected. How different was he after his punishment and how much had he stayed the same? It was impossible to know. Likely he wasn't even aware. There was something so broken about him that she couldn't just turn him away. She was intrigued, invested in what happened to him next. No one ever needed her but him. It was an unusual feeling she becoming used to.
"Staying here has been a lovely dream, but dreams can't last forever. I keep imagining that front door flying off its hinges and the aurors out there ready to take me back to Azkaban."
Hermione sat down on the sofa next to him and picked up the black kitten as he made his way towards her, his favorite person.
"Well, that's not happening today. And tomorrow I'll return to the Ministry and start searching for a more permanent status for you. There has to be a law somewhere that will fully grant you your freedom. I just have to find it."
"No matter what happens, I'll always be grateful for you for trying. I'm not sure anyone else would."
Something she saw in his eyes made her suddenly nervous in a not unpleasant manner. To distract her wandering thoughts, she gestured to the television.
"Let's forget about all of that for now and escape into some terrible movie we can already guess the ending to. Tomorrow we can worry about the future."
