Chapter Twenty-One
It was becoming something of a habit for Harry to enter the Ministry of Magic and head straight for the lavish office occupied by the Minister for Magic. Ignoring several officials and visitors alike calling out his name across the Atrium and congratulating him on a job well done had become second nature as well. Usually he simply pretended he hadn't heard anyone speak. It was easier that way. Each subsequent visit made him anxious for the day when they were all bored about his mission again. He still wondered if he shouldn't have run off after the last dementor was destroyed. Life in seclusion didn't sound too terrible.
Unlike some of the previous visits to the office, Kingsley was expecting his arrival. A terse note sent first thing that morning asked the busy wizard for just a few minutes of his time which the Minister was happy to provide. At the door to his office he greeted Harry like an old friend. To the casual observer it might have appeared there was nothing but friendship and affection between the two men, but Harry could feel the tension as he shook Kingsley's hand and endured the hearty slap on his back. There was a wariness in the older wizard's demeanor. Likely he knew exactly why his visitor was there and what he wished to discuss.
"Would you like some tea, Harry? I can ask Gemma to…"
"No, thank you, that won't be necessary."
Kingsley led him over to the armchairs across from the large fireplace he often used to make his quick exit from the Ministry when he was exhausted dealing with all of the stress that came with his position. It put Harry somewhat at ease to sit there. If they were all business and not as good of friends as they were, likely they would be seated across from each other at the massive, intimidating desk covered in parchment the Minister usually met his visitors behind. At the very least it seemed that their friendship hadn't been entirely ruined with the disagreements they had regarding the Crouch situation.
"I was in Montrose last week. Nasty weather but the Magpies swiftly beat the Falcons."
"That's hardly surprising. Falmouth has been at the bottom of the league for how many years? Seven?"
Kingsley's amused laughter managed to put them both a little more at ease. Something about two men discussing Quidditch could make even the most uncomfortable visit a little more palatable. If they weren't careful, Harry knew that they could waste too much time discussing the Quidditch League standings and which team was likely to win the Cup. It was important that they get straight to the point.
"I would like to discuss you officially giving Barty Crouch parole."
If there was a topic of discussion that could make the smile fall off of Kingsley's face faster than Crouch, Harry didn't know what it was. Every bit of the tension that existed when he first arrived returned at full force, perhaps even more so.
"That, as you know, Harry, is a very complicated issue."
"I don't see why it has to be."
"Because he's a Death Eater! Surely, you, of every person in this entire world, should understand why he's a danger."
"If he's so dangerous, why did you force him to move into Hermione's house?"
Some of Kingsley's anger and frustration deflated at the reminder of what he'd done in haste that first day weeks earlier. There was shame on his countenance. He couldn't hide it, not from an old friend like Harry who knew him well. They'd fought together on the same side of a long, violent, bloody war.
"I suspect that you only did that because you were angry Hermione didn't blindly follow you and do exactly what you wanted."
The heavy sigh out of the Minister was all the confirmation he needed to know he'd guessed correctly. Gryffindors were guilty of having too much pride and arrogance at times. Harry was no different. He was one of the worst when it suited him. Even a mature, respected man like Kingsley wasn't immune to the unattractive traits that sometimes plagued members of their House.
"You and I both know that Hermione isn't in the habit of just going along with whatever someone else thinks. She has her own opinions. But, I suspect it's easy to go too far when the relationship is… complicated. You two weren't only just friends or colleagues."
Never did Harry want to actually bring up that he knew about their not-so-secret relationship. It was a topic he thought better left undisturbed. Until, that is, there was no way around it. They couldn't hope to go forward if the proverbial elephant in the room wasn't discussed.
"I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Harry."
It was tempting to give in to a harsh laugh, but he wasn't amused. Both Hermione and Kingsley thought too highly of their ability to keep a secret. Perhaps in time it would become a funny joke. He wasn't ready to laugh just yet.
"Your relationship with Hermione wasn't exactly a secret, Kings. No matter how hard you two might have tried to keep it private, secrets have a way of getting out."
Knowing he was caught and there was no way to talk himself out of it, Kingsley seemed embarrassed.
"Yes, I was angry. There's no excuse. I punished her for not taking my side."
"There's still time to make it right. Support us in getting Crouch paroled. It's what is right."
Even if it was perfectly clear to Harry that there was no other suitable choice of action to take, Kingsley was nervous to just jump right in and agree. He had to consider all sides of the issue. There would be a number of people, Neville included he feared, that would not be pleased with anything remotely resembling mercy.
"I promise that I will give it some real thought, Harry. That's all I can offer you right now."
"Thank you."
It would have to be enough for the time being. When Harry left the office a few minutes later, he felt slightly more optimistic than he did when he entered. There were other influential people in their society he still needed to speak with. Perhaps if he got enough of them to agree, the solution would be simple.
An odd sort of truce popped up in Hermione's house for two weeks following their kiss. Neither one of them brought up what happened that day on the edge of the cliffs. It was much easier that way. A conversation would be complicated, perhaps even ruining their tentative peace.
Of course just because they weren't talking about it didn't mean she wasn't thinking about it. Some days it felt like all she did was replay over and over the moments the wizard boldly grabbed her around the waist and kissed her. Clearly she had been alone for far too long. Kingsley hadn't been a real relationship. He was a handsome convenience, nothing more. If she had ever been truly interested in him as more than just a friend, she wasn't sure. It all happened so fast when she was dealing the wrong way with a broken heart. It had been a pleasant distraction when she knew she wasn't ready for more than that. She hated that she potentially ruined a treasured friendship because of loneliness. But, she had to admit that it wasn't all ruined because of the complicated situation with Barty either. No, it was likely ruined even before that day in St. Mungo's.
Truthfully, she couldn't blame Kingsley for his anger towards Barty. She might be able to understand it even if she could not condone how he expressed it. For years she had heard countless stories from Kingsley about Mad-Eye Moody. He wasn't just Kingsley's mentor. The wizard had been a very close friend. Knowing Barty kept him locked for months in his own trunk was hard for everyone. Moody nearly died. Losing him just a few years later had been painful for those who loved the old auror. Kingsley had every right to hate Barty. Not once did she ever think he was wrong or even an arsehole for thinking so. She simply wished he kept his anger under control a little better. Wasn't that a personal failing of nearly every person ever Sorted into Gryffindor? She knew she wasn't immune. Still she maintained a hope that all would be well between them again. He was a good man, always had been.
Living with Barty since the kiss had been awkward and uncomfortable no matter how hard she tried to be normal. Though she expected it, he didn't tease her as she feared she might except for that one comment about his bedroom door always being unlocked. She hadn't known how to process that remark. Was it any wonder she continued to obsess about it? Barty acted as if nothing was out of the ordinary or had changed between them. She wasn't sure if he was that cold that it didn't mean anything to him or if he was simply better able to compartmentalize his life. If he had been anyone else, she might have been insulted that she was so easily forgotten.
As she had done for most of her life, Hermione used work as an excuse to avoid her problems. Barty had become the most confusing issue she had. Staying at the office working long hours made co-existing with him in the same house just a little bit easier. By the time she made it home each night, she was usually too tired to do anything more than say a few polite words in passing on her way to her bedroom.
Adulthood turned her into a coward. Would the Sorting Hat even put her in Gryffindor if she had to be Sorted again? She didn't think so. Of course many times in her past she wished she hadn't been put in Gryffindor to start with. Maybe her life would've been simpler and happier. Or she would be dead. Impossible to tell really. She thought being dead would be easier.
The very moment that thought crossed her mind she grew upset with herself. Why would she allow her mind to go to such a dark place? It reminded her too much about Barty's fears she would leap off the cliff to her death. Death was something she couldn't keep from thinking about even if she didn't want to bring it about on purpose. As much as she didn't want to die, she couldn't deny death would've saved her from a lot of pain in her life.
"I can't bear to look at one more contract."
Blaise made something of a production getting up from his desk. His yawn was too loud and his stretching a bit too dramatic. Considering the late hour, Hermione was surprised he was still even there at his desk. There had been a significant change in their office. Since he returned from his holiday weeks earlier, he had been working longer hours. It was most unlike him, but she had yet to mention it out of fear he would return to being the lazy analyst he'd been for three years. Unable to contain her curiosity another moment, she gave in.
"It's late for you to still be here."
He didn't respond to her obvious statement beyond a shrug of his shoulders.
"Usually you can't wait to get out the door. Having trouble finding new slags to invite in your bed who haven't already heard about your nasty reputation?"
Even she knew the bait was too easy. He wouldn't take it. Blaise simply smiled and wished her a good evening before walking out the door. His behavior had been odd for a while. Best not to dwell on it too long. She had enough to concern herself already.
Only a few minutes passed before she heard the office door open again. There was just one person it could be. Assuming it was Blaise, she didn't look up from the dusty book she was referencing.
"Finally think up a witty remark to put me in my place?"
"You've already proven time and time again that you don't actually know what your place is."
Startled to hear the voice she would recognize anywhere, Hermione spun her chair around to see Rita Skeeter standing in the doorway looking at her office surroundings with a sneer she didn't try to hide. How anyone could be perpetually dressed in hideous robes but think they had a right to an opinion on anything else was beyond Hermione. Why was the horrible woman there? They had been avoiding each other successfully for years. Why change something that was obviously working so well?
"What do you want?"
Rita stepped inside the office unbothered by Hermione's unfriendly tone. The woman never seemed to care whether she was wanted or not. Clearly that aspect of her personality hadn't changed over time.
"Just a friendly chat."
"I doubt that."
She wished the woman would leave her office. There was absolutely nothing in the entire world that would make her willingly spend any amount of time with the reporter who didn't care how the frequent lies she wrote about affected her unfortunate victims. Too many times over the years Hermione witnessed a life be ruined by Skeeter's lies. If she allowed the woman, she would take great pleasure in destroying Hermione's life too. Likely a part of her had been plotting and scheming how she would do so since she was kept captive in the unbreakable jar years earlier.
"It has been years since we last spoke."
"Yes, and I was enjoying that. Please leave, Rita. I have nothing to say to you."
"I'm not sure that's true."
Without waiting for an invitation that they both knew would never be offered, Rita sat down in Blaise's empty desk chair. Any hope that she would quietly disappear down the corridor to bother someone else disappeared. Clearly she had a purpose whether Hermione liked it or not. Not in the mood to deal with what was coming, Hermione thought it might be easier to get rid of her if she made her angry or frustrated.
"I'm surprised I haven't seen you standing outside my home waiting for something interesting to happen."
"My dear, if I had to wait outside your home for something interesting to happen, I'd die long before it happened."
"What a pity."
"No, I believe the real pity is you. The years haven't been kind to you. I remember when you were considered a desirable witch for reasons I certainly have never been able to fathom. You had two famous wizards desperate for your company. Now it seems all you can hope for is a captive Death Eater forced to live in your home."
The woman was foul. How had she been able to become such a success? Hermione would never understand the simpleminded witches and wizards anxious to devour every hateful word she wrote. Did they have no shame? No way of discerning fact from fiction?
"If you are here to request an interview, Rita, I'm afraid I am going to disappoint you. I have no comment for you or your pathetic readers."
"How did the notorious Bartemius Crouch Junior end up living in your spare bedroom? Was that a request you made of the Minister for Magic? Are you receiving any sort of payment from the Ministry?"
Hermione returned her full focus to the parchment she'd abandoned when her visitor first arrived. Maybe if she just ignored Rita the woman would eventually slither away to whatever hole she emerged from. None of the questions she was going to ask were going to be easily answered.
"It must be strange living alone with a man. You've never been married before, have you?"
It was a common enough insult that Hermione had learned not to take personally. No, she hadn't been married and it didn't bother her. Not really. She wasn't even sure she was cut out for marriage. It wasn't for everyone. None of the relationships she had been a part of since she was old enough to even consider the long-term were ever an option. Except perhaps for Oliver. There had been some discussions about the future that she hadn't been entirely sure at the time were serious. It had been fun to dream and fantasize. When it came time to make the next step, she hadn't been ready. There were too many reasons in her mind to stay right where they were. Looking back years later it all seemed so silly. She had a number of regrets.
"But I suppose what is happening between you and Crouch is nothing like a marriage."
"If you are wanting to know if there is anything inappropriate happening, then you will be severely disappointed yet again, Rita. As has already been reported by your newspaper and confirmed by the Ministry of Magic, Crouch is staying in my home until a more permanent solution is decided."
The soft chuckle coming out of Rita's mouth set Hermione on edge. What could she possibly find humorous about what she just said? It was the truth and as close to the official statement as possible without repeating it verbatim. Thanks to Blaise's loose lips, the Ministry had to release some sort of explanation about Barty and his current whereabouts. Every day there had been some sort of short article filled with speculations and rumors printed in the Daily Prophet. When there weren't facts to report, the newspaper didn't care.
"You are in danger of making even more enemies than you already have, girl. Who is going to trust you when they know you have been living with a dangerous Death Eater? I'm sure you know there have been some theories about why you were willing to let him into your home."
Rita didn't scare Hermione. Nothing she could say worried her much. She had had more frightening enemies in the past than Rita.
"One of my sources claimed that the Minister for Magic himself made Mr. Crouch your personal concern. Why is that?"
The sound of Hermione's quill scratching across the parchment was the only response Rita was going to get. Each second that she remained unwelcome in the office, Hermione could feel her blood pressure rising. It was taking all of her self-control to keep from cursing the horrible woman right in her face.
"Was it some sort of lovers' spat, perhaps? A quarrel?"
As soon as the words came out of Rita's mouth, Hermione felt a sinking in her gut. She wasn't ashamed of her relationship with Kingsley, though perhaps she should have been, but she knew it could get awkward if it was widely known. Did Rita suspect there was a secret there? Before she could either confirm or deny the horrible woman's suspicion, Rita's loud laughter rang through the small office.
"I'm sorry. That was terribly cruel of me. What a ridiculous question. Minister Shacklebolt is a very attractive wizard who could have any witch or wizard he desired. Why would he waste his time on someone like you?"
It was another tired insult Hermione had heard a thousand times before. While she would never claim to be the most beautiful woman in the world, she wasn't as awkward as she had been when she was younger. Some might even call her attractive. It didn't matter. There had been plenty of hateful people asking why men like Viktor Krum or Oliver Wood or any of the other men she had dated in the past would be interested in her. She'd learned to ignore the taunts, not to take them personally. There was nothing wrong with her and she refused to let words upset her any further.
"You are not welcome here, Skeeter."
The deep masculine voice coming from the doorway startled both women. Expecting at first to find Kingsley himself standing there ready to defend his personal choices, Hermione was even more confused to see it was Blaise. Why had he returned?
"Hello again, Mr. Zabini. I never did get the chance to thank you for the information you provided to my coworker. What a delightful scoop you offered!"
Rita wasn't intimidated by the clear anger that was wafting off Blaise in waves. Though it might be hard to tell by someone who didn't know him well, he was on the verge of losing his temper. Rarely had Hermione seen him so angry. Usually he was better able to keep a tight control on his emotions. Something about finding the reporter in his office must have set him off.
"Leave, Skeeter. Leave before I make you leave."
Decades as a reporter taught Rita Skeeter when it was best to get out of a potentially dangerous situation. With another smirk in Hermione's direction that seemed to promise their conversation was far from over, she squeezed past Blaise towards the exit. He didn't waste any time closing the door.
"You need to be very careful around her, Hermione. If you say the wrong thing, she will twist it and get the wrong idea."
"I didn't think you cared."
For only a moment, hurt flashed across Blaise's face before he was able to hide it because behind his usual expression of indifference. He didn't say anything else. Simply turned around and opened the door to make his own exit. She waited a few minutes to see if he would return, but he didn't. Nor did Rita to her relief.
Remaining in the office and actually being productive was no longer an option. She knew if she stayed, she would be unable to think about anything but the bizarre conversation she had with Rita and Blaise's reaction to it. Annoyed, Hermione gathered up her belongings to call it a night herself.
There was only one photographer waiting outside her home where she could see him when she arrived. He shouted out a question she ignored. The obnoxious sound of the flash of his camera bulb followed her through the front door. At least she could be pleased to know he didn't capture anything of any interest. Unlocking a door was hardly exciting.
Barty sat on the sofa in front of the television as he usually did. Their eyes met when she closed the door. Though he offered her a friendly smile, she wished he wouldn't. It was easier when they were able to ignore each other. She tried to hide her exhausted sigh of frustration.
"Did you find a law that will put me back in Azkaban today?"
It was the same every time she returned home from the Ministry. How he continued to find any amusement in asking was beyond her understanding. Hermione hung up her cloak and turned around to answer.
"Not today. Maybe tomorrow."
His chuckles were sincere, but she found no joy in hearing the sound. It was all so exhausting, the uncertainty. She hated the waiting around and wondering what was going to happen next. Weeks had gone by with no definitive answer about his future. How could anyone live like that and not go completely mad?
"What's wrong?"
Living together for so long gave him the chance to learn her moods. He could tell that something was upsetting. All hint that he had just been laughing disappeared from his face only to be replaced with what seemed to be genuine concern. She didn't want to have a difficult conversation. Unfortunately, there didn't appear to be any other option other than just ignoring him completely and hiding in her bedroom.
"Rita Skeeter came to my office just now. She had a number of questions for me about… well, it doesn't matter."
"About me?"
She sighed. What was the point in trying to hide she was frustrated any longer? One look at his face proved he was annoyed too. Any mention of that awful woman tended to have that effect on those she targeted.
"Yes."
"I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault, Barty. We knew there would be curiosity."
"I had to close all of the curtains in the house earlier today because I caught a photographer peeking in a window. I would've liked to confront him and shove his camera right up his arse but I knew I would be arrested. Closing the curtains seemed easier."
Imagining that scenario made Hermione laugh. Some of the tension melted away. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth too.
"You needn't have worried. All of the windows are charmed. As long as the window is closed, no one can see inside."
"Well, that's a relief. I would hate to see a picture of me sleeping with my mouth open and drool running down my chin on the front page of the Daily Prophet."
She smiled again.
"Winky left more food earlier for us."
Barty's announcement was perhaps the best news she'd heard all day. With her stomach rumbling at the thought of the delicious food awaiting her, Hermione was grateful to be able to walk into her kitchen without worrying about cooking.
