Chapter 5 - Thank God for Hermione

'I swear I hate that kindergarten!' Ginny welcomed him that evening.
Harry tilted his head on one side wondering if he was indeed doomed to receive the same welcome until Sunrise eleventh birthday.
'Another unappropriated tale?' he asked wearily struggling to free himself from his jacket as Sunrise, as soon the door had opened, had flung herself in his arms and had pelted him with already three daddies in a row.
She was now trying to catch his attention gibbering away excitingly, stumbling on difficult words and fidgeting so much he was having difficulties in keeping her up.
'Not quite' she answered pecking him, her frown still on.
'Daddy, I made a flower!' Sunrise chirped in his ear.
'Did you?'
'Yes, daddy. It's blutiful!'
'Beautiful, sweetie.' He corrected her 'Do you wanna show it to me?' he said putting her down at which she darted purposedly toward the living room to retrieve the precious artwork.
Harry smiled softened as always seeing his child running, her round legs scampering and her curls dancing up and down around her head.
'They think I'm a single mother.' Ginny brought him back to their conversation 'Today they offered me to keep Sunrise for an extra hour since I'm alone' she added scowling.
'How come did they think that?'
'Search me' she said shrugging 'Perhaps because they have never seen you, it's always me dropping and picking her up'
'Oh well, you can always tell them, can't you?' he said as Sunrise was running back, with a paper in her hand and a glee on her face, ready to climb on him again.
He took her up walking toward the kitchen trying to make out the flower from the mass of colourful lines on the paper 'It's beautiful, sweetie!' he exclaimed putting her in her highchair 'Actually I think I've seen something similar made from a very famous muggle artist. You must be a genius' as he kissed her hair.
'I told them!' Ginny frowned opening the boxes with the food he had taken home 'But I've seen from their faces that they didn't believe me'
Harry took knives and forks from a drawer and started to set up the table 'Who cares what they think'
'I care what they think' she said thunderously 'I don't want them to think something strange'
Harry burst out laughing 'Something strange? Like you bore an illegitimate child outside wedlock?'
Ginny didn't answer knotting a bib around Sunrise neck, but her lips pinched into a bead.
'We are in the two thousands, not in the fifties' he continued setting glasses 'Nobody cares about those things anymore, especially in London. Charlie is not married and has a son. You never had a problem with that'
The silence was even more marked, notwithstanding Sunrise's unstoppable chatting, and Harry seeing her frown relented.
He sat close to her and took her chin to spin her face toward him 'I'll go and pick her up tomorrow, alright?' he offered kissing her forehead.
She brightened straight away 'Could you do that? You should be there by five at latest' she asked picking up her fork and starting to eat her take away quite cheerfully.
'By five' Sunrise repeated attacking clumsily the food on her plate.
'I'll make it work' he said absent minded. He was thinking besides, that was about time for him to pay a visit to the families of his perished colleagues. It wasn't required of him, only something human he felt doing. It was not going to be fun, quite the opposite, but he couldn't forget the sorrow on those faces at the funeral and he hoped a visit from him would have been appreciated. He didn't want them to feel forgotten by the Ministry.
He would have taken the chance the next day just before going to pick Sunrise up. He didn't share it with Ginny. He had told her the jest of what happened the same day, but he hadn't dwelled in particulars, and he hadn't spoke about it again not to trouble her.
His priority was to see her happy and serene.
He had written to Hermione instead. There was this oppression of spirit in him that needed to be lifted somehow. Since she was in Rumania it happened very often. He didn't have his listener anymore and writing wasn't just the same. Ted had divined straight away there was something not quite right, but he wasn't the kind of person who forced a confidence and Harry wasn't inclined to make him his confident. He was only twenty-three after all. He needed somebody his own age. He needed Hermione.
After dinner, a few days after the event, he took parchment and quill. Sunrise was sleeping and Ginny was chatting with Molly through the fire.
He went to the living room not to be disturbed and sat down pondering on what to write. Putting his uneasiness on paper would have been difficult. They weren't writing to each other very often, it seemed too stiff and formal, and Harry wasn't that good with words. He had never needed to voice what was troubling him in the past because, for some mysterious reasons, she had always known it, she had always done the talking for him and he had always felt better afterwards.
They had seen each other quite often when she had been in England and every single time, he had hoped her sentiment toward him had quenched. He just couldn't help himself being affectionate with her, he loved to hug and kiss her, he loved to keep her hand. He longed for that friendly contact possible only with her. But since her declaration there wasn't any more the same happy go lucky feeling. It was always drenched by awareness.
He couldn't read hearts nor gestures, he couldn't say if that sentiment was still there, therefore, at the end of every holiday, he asked Ted, more observant by nature 'Do you think Hermione…?' he was never able to conclude the sentence, but Ted who had never needed him to talk to understand his meaning 'Yes, she still does' would answer every time, filling him with disappointment. How long it took for a person to stop to love when no hope is offered?
If Ginny would leave me, would I ever stop loving her?
And with a sinking sensation in his abdomen, he thought:
No, I would never stop to love her.
He hoped with all his heart it wasn't the same for Hermione; she was stronger than him, more intelligent, with a whole soul and a free of torments mind, perhaps she could do what he would have never been able to do.
He fiddled with the quill pondering for a good quarter of an hour with Ginny's blithe chats in background, and, in the end, he dipped it in the ink, and started to write. When finished, he realised everything had been written but what was bothering him. It was full of daily trifles but not about his colleagues.
He sighed; it was impossible for him to do more than that. He decided to send it anyway at least he had the comfort of an answer to wait for.
He received it a day later:

Dear Harry,
Who do you think you are fooling? I read the newspaper. Be at one o'clock in front of the fire tonight.
Love,
Hermione

He had laughed a relived laugh.
That night they talked until three o'clock in the morning and the next day, though knackered by lack of sleep, he felt better, more positive and less guilty.
Thank god for Hermione.

'I want you to tell them we are married' Ginny said bringing him back to their conversation.
'How in the hell should I do that?!' Harry blorted out.
'Hell!' Sunrise repeated with enthusiasm at which Ginny looked darkly at him.
'I cannot go there and announce that me and you are legally married! It would be ridiculous!' he continued bewildered.
Ginny rolled her eyes 'Slip it casually in the conversation, Harry!'
'Alright, alright' he muttered darkly returning his attention to his plate.
Sunrise at that moment slammed her small fist clenching her spoon on her highchair, for some reason with an indignant air 'Daddy! By five!' she bellowed pointing the spoon toward him and then she pointed to Ginny and bellowed with the same patronizing air 'Mummy! Ridiculous!'
Ginny pulled a face as Harry roared in a vigorous laugh.
'It's confirmed!' he stammered between fits of laughter 'Our daughter is a genius!'