August 13, 2003 (Hermione)
Hermione hadn't been quite this nervous since before the Battle of London.
She stood outside a small Muggle home, nestled in a tranquil neighborhood, staring up at the front door. She was heavily disguised under a glamour, using one of her preferred looks during the war: that of a frail, older woman. There was no need to do so for her safety now, of course. But she had a very different reason for wanting to remain anonymous today.
The house stood dark and empty before her, despite the broad afternoon daylight of the neighborhood around her. Hermione felt a pang of worry – she hadn't been here in nearly four years, had no way of knowing for certain if the occupants still resided here. The ramifications of the war had been felt everywhere, of course, even here in far-flung Australia, about as far from Britain as one could get.
Before she could start to worry too much, she heard voices coming from her left, and turned. What she saw coming her way made her heart leap: a woman, aging gracefully into her fifties, holding hands with a four-year-old girl. Hermione recognized the child at once: she had her father's messy black hair and thin nose, but her mother's brown eyes and pronounced jawline. She could tell even from a distance that this little girl would grow up to be happy, healthy, and beautiful, and it made her heart soar.
"Can we help you?" said the girl's mother as they approached, seeing Hermione in their driveway. Of course, Hermione knew this wasn't the girl's real mother, but she would play along.
"My apologies!" Hermione laughed. "I just moved in down the street. I was introducing myself to my new neighbors!"
"Oh, how lovely!" said the woman, extending a delicate hand towards her. "Virginia Thomas. Pleasure to meet you."
"Penelope Clearwater," Hermione lied, shaking the woman's hand. It felt odd to introduce yourself to your own mother under a false identity, but it was better than admitting the truth.
"Is that a British accent I detect?" asked Virginia.
"Oh...yes," Hermione admitted. "I emigrated here shortly after the war began."
"As did we," Virginia said darkly. "My husband and I, that is. We came here and opened a dentistry business downtown about five years ago, just before this little munchkin popped out." And she put a hand on the fidgety girl's head, causing her to rebelliously squirm away.
Hermione supposed it was a good thing that the false memories she'd implanted into her parents were still holding, but it was no less heartbreaking to hear them spoken so casually. "How lovely," Hermione nodded. "Glad that all that nasty business back home is over with now."
"Amen to that," Virginia smiled.
"Mummy, I have to go potty!" the girl groaned loudly.
"Oh, all right Eva, go on then," Virginia said irritably. The girl bounded up the driveway to the front door, which, to Hermione's astonishment, sprang open before Eva could even reach for it. She jumped through it like nothing out of the ordinary had happened, and it slammed shut behind her. Virginia sighed tiredly at the sight.
"We think she might be magical," Virginia said in a low whisper. "She can make strange things happen around her like that. We have no idea where she got it from; her father and I haven't a lick of powers ourselves."
"Interesting," Hermione said. "Well, that's not so bad, is it?"
"I don't know," Virginia sighed. "We never had too many problems with magical folk down here, but some of the neighbors lost family members to the purges under that wicked man. We're worried about what will happen if people start to talk."
"I can understand that," said Hermione. She and Virginia looked up to the house, which was now brightly-lit as though Eva had somehow turned on all the lights at once.
"Would you like to come in for some tea?" asked Virginia quite suddenly, breaking the silence.
"Oh," said Hermione, surprised. She hadn't expected to stay long, just long enough to ensure that the 'Thomas' family was alive and well, but she relished at the thought of spending some time with her mother and daughter – even if neither of them realized who she was. "That would be lovely, thanks."
A few moments later, she found herself sitting across the table from her mother, sipping from a teacup. Part of her so badly wanted to explain the truth, to release 'Virginia' from her modified memories and reunite her with her real daughter. But she couldn't, now that Harry would be hunting Eva down relentlessly. They were safer here, all of them, far from his corrupted influence.
"It's impolite to spy, Evangeline," Virginia chastised her daughter. Hermione turned; Eva had been staring at Hermione from behind the doorway. The girl pouted and shuffled into the kitchen at her mother's behest, climbing up onto a chair between them and reaching for her sippy-cup.
"You're very beautiful, did you know that, Evangeline?" Hermione complimented the girl. Eva giggled and smiled shyly, hiding her face behind her cup.
"Today's her birthday, isn't that right, Eva?" Virginia beamed.
"Is that so?" Hermione said in faux surprise. "And how old are you, Miss Eva?"
"Four," Eva said proudly, holding up four fingers to prove it.
"Wow, four whole years!" Hermione smiled. "If only I'd brought a present for the birthday girl...you know what, I think I might just have something…" And she opened her purse, rummaging through it for something to give Eva.
"Oh, ma'am, you don't have to—" Virginia tried to protest.
"Nonsense!" Hermione laughed. "Everyone deserves presents on their birthday!" She located her wand in the bag, quietly twirling it to transfigure a hair tie into a beaded necklace, pulling it out and handing it to Eva. The girl considered it for a moment, unimpressed, before gasping and presenting it to her mother.
"Look, Mummy, it's got my name on!" Eva squealed with delight. Virginia's eyes widened when she saw the looping cursive lettering on the necklace, spelling Evangeline. As the toddler hastily pulled the necklace around her neck, Virginia gave Hermione an incredulous look.
"What a strange coincidence," Hermione shrugged with a wink.
Meanwhile, Evangeline was admiring the necklace perched on her shoulders, her face scrunched up in apparent concentration. Suddenly, the necklace turned from white to bright pink, eliciting a giggle of surprise from the girl.
"Eva, I told you not to do that when strangers are around!" Virginia chastised the non-repentant girl.
"That's very impressive, Evangeline," Hermione complimented the girl. "Are you often able to make things happen that other people can't?"
"Yeah, sometimes," Eva shrugged. "Only when I think real hard about it."
"That's very clever of you," Hermione appraised her. "But your mother's right. You should be careful who you do those things around. It can be dangerous."
"Oh," said Eva. "Okay." Then, without indicating whether she'd actually learned her lesson, the girl slid off her chair and bounded out of the kitchen, clearly in pursuit of some new adventure. Hermione looked back to Virginia, noting the worried look on her mother's face as she watched Eva go.
"Thank you for saying that," Virginia sighed. "You didn't mention you were a...well, you know."
"I won't tell if you won't," Hermione smiled. Virginia just shook her head in amazement.
"Brave new world," she muttered, rubbing her temple. "Do you think she'll be okay? Being what she is, I mean?"
"Yes," Hermione said firmly. "She'll learn how to control it with age. And Australia has an excellent wizarding school she can attend once she turns eleven."
Virginia nodded thoughtfully at this, looking marginally more relieved now. "Would you be willing to watch Evangeline from time to time?" Virginia asked, looking up at Hermione hopefully. "As a babysitter, or a nanny? We can pay you, and it would really help for her to have a mentor who is like her—"
Again, Hermione badly wanted to say yes, to accept partial guardianship of the girl who was actually her own daughter. But she knew it was not to be. She was taking a risk even visiting this one time; if Harry managed to track her movements and pinpoint Eva's location, this would all be for naught. Besides, if she was truly going to become Britain's Minister of Magic, she wouldn't have the time to mentor a child halfway across the globe.
"I'm afraid I can't," Hermione said with a sad smile. "I'll be indisposed much of the time. But I can check in every now and then, perhaps on her birthday, to see how she's progressing."
"Would you?" Virginia beamed. "Thank you, miss. It's good to know that she's not the only one of her kind in the area."
"I should get going," said Hermione, setting down her teacup and getting to her feet. "Thank you for your hospitality, Mrs. Thomas."
Virginia walked her to the front door. Hermione noticed Eva spying from down the hall; she gave the girl a hearty wave goodbye, causing her to giggle and dart out of sight again.
"Until next time, then," Virginia sighed, shaking Hermione's hand once more.
"Best of luck with her," Hermione smiled. "I'm sure you and your husband will raise a fine young witch."
Because you already did once, she wanted to add. But instead, she merely winked and turned on the spot, silently Apparating out of Brisbane.
April 8, 2008
It took years of trial-and-error. Years of toil and sweat, and every ounce of Potions knowledge she and her team possessed. But finally, she had a prototype. Hermione peered at the blood-red liquid in the small glass vial, freshly distilled from the laboratory she'd overseen in secret since the war ended. The product of all her efforts, contained in a tiny container, swirling menacingly before her eyes.
"A successful batch, I take it?" a voice asked from behind her; Hermione turned to see George Rodriguez striding into the lab, studying her.
"Mr. President," Hermione greeted him, standing to shake his hand. "What brings you down here?"
"I like to see where my taxpayers' money is going from time to time," he winked. "The health draught program we used to sell this idea to Congress has not been polling well. I do hope this elixir of yours is worth it."
"If it works, it will be," Hermione said confidently. But secretly, she was terrified, knowing that she was siphoning American government dollars for her selfish project to cure Harry's affliction. If it prevents the rise of another Dark Lord, she reasoned, it will be all worthwhile.
"How will you know?" asked Rodriguez. "Any successful trials so far?"
"We've been testing on Obscurials," Hermione responded. "It keeps their violent tendencies at bay for a few hours, but they always return eventually, when it wears off."
"How fascinating," Rodriguez muttered, gently taking the vial from Hermione and examining it. "And how did you manage to produce such an effect, might I ask?"
"Well," Hermione said hesitantly, "it's, uh, quite a complex process—"
"Humor me."
Hermione almost looked sheepish under his studying gaze. "The key ingredient is blood," she admitted. "But not just any blood...it has to come from a cadaver. Then it's activated through a series of chemical and ritualistic processes to power the elixir—"
"Necromancy, huh?" Rodriguez said with a low whistle. "That's quite Dark magic, Granger. You know what they say about the effects of Dark magic on the mind—"
"I'm well aware, thank you," Hermione snapped irritably. (Why was she so on-edge? Had she always been this way, or was the process of creating the Elixir drawing this side out of her?)
Rodriguez arched an eyebrow at the sudden outburst, but did not address it. "Any successful tests on regular wizards or witches yet?" he asked instead.
"I intend to perform the first this evening, in fact," said Hermione, pocketing the vial. "I know exactly the person to start with."
Rodriguez nodded thoughtfully. Hermione had been cagey in her reasoning for the lab's existence, but she was certain he had his suspicions. His intelligence network was vast enough that he might even know precisely why she was developing this elixir.
"Well, then I wish you the best of luck," he nodded. "I will find a way to convince the public that this program is worthwhile. It might cost my party some seats in the midterms, however."
"I'm sure you have contingencies in place for if that happens," Hermione said with a knowing smile.
"Always," Rodriguez smirked. And he exited to the main lab, where the development of the Muggle health draught was ongoing – the cover story for Hermione's project. She could only imagine the fallout if it came to light exactly what she was doing behind closed doors – why bodies kept going missing from morgues all around the United States. She was quietly grateful for Rodriguez's support and implied trust, knowing his career would be over if the truth came out.
That evening, Hermione took a Portkey to Hogsmeade, staring in awe up at Hogwarts Castle for the first time in nearly ten years. She hadn't realized how much she missed the place – her school days had often been fraught with stress and peril – and relished in the knowledge that future generations of Muggle-born children would know the wonders of the school thanks to her efforts. She strode up the dirt path to the castle, mulling over what she would say.
Harry hadn't spoken to her since her betrayal in the Ministry five years prior. He'd brushed off all questions from the public about his decision to step down from consideration for the Minister job, and settled into a quiet life as Headmaster of his alma mater. Would he throw her out the second she walked through the door? Would he threaten and intimidate her? Or would he hear her out, in the hopes of learning what had happened to Evangeline?
Ginny Weasley was waiting for her at the front door, arms crossed. "You're not welcome here," she said crossly. "Potter doesn't want to see you."
"I'm afraid he doesn't have a choice," Hermione said coolly. "His school falls under Ministry purview, and as Minister, I have a right to speak to him whenever I see fit."
Ginny glared menacingly at her, but eventually grunted and stepped aside. Hermione strode past her up towards the Headmaster's Office, knowing that this was not a good first sign. She'd never had a problem with Ginny – had once considered her a close friend, in fact – so her iciness could only be a reflection of Harry's influence.
As always, the stone gargoyle stood guard over the staircase to Harry's office. Hermione cleared her throat. "Minister of Magic Hermione Granger, here to see Headmaster Harry Potter," she announced in a clear voice. The gargoyle stood silent for a long time, as though sizing her up, then eventually leapt aside to grant her access. Hermione ascended the stairs and briefly knocked before entering the room.
"I saw you coming," a voice greeted her as soon as she crossed the threshold. Harry was seated behind the ornate desk, the Marauder's Map open before him, watching her impassively. Hermione glanced around the office; it looked similar to the way Dumbledore had it set up, but the bookshelves were lined with books she recognized from Krum's old collection, and a glass display had been set up to showcase Tom Riddle's destroyed Horcruxes.
"Good evening, Headmaster," Hermione said without preamble. "I've come today with a proposal—"
"Headmaster, is it?" Harry laughed hollowly, cutting her off. "Can't even call me by my own name, Minister? Is that what we've become?"
Hermione winced; she was off to a bad start. "I didn't want to presume," she said quietly. "Given how we last left things off—"
"You mean how you destroyed my life?" Harry asked coldly. "Took everything from me?"
"I hardly took everything from you," Hermione scoffed. "You're still the most respected man in Britain—"
"Hermione, do you even know me?" Harry demanded. "Do you know how little the opinion of others matters to me? What was the one thing I ever cared about, more than anything else? Tell me."
"Erm…" Hermione stammered. "I don't—"
"Family!" Harry spat. "I had my parents taken away from me as a child. I would have given everything up just to be with them again. And then, twenty years later, you take away my only daughter...force me to wonder where she is, what she's doing...depriving me of the chance to raise her—"
"Harry—" Hermione began desperately.
"Get out," Harry muttered, turning away from her. "I can't even look at you."
"Please," Hermione said, reaching into her robes and withdrawing the vial of red potion. "If you'll just drink this—"
"I said GET OUT!" Harry roared, his eyes flashing red. And the vial in Hermione's hand exploded with accidental magic, showering both of them with shards of glass and the red liquid within.
They both sputtered, wiping the Elixir of Clarity from their faces. Hermione looked up at Harry with horror. He was looking back at her with mingled surprise and confusion. His eyes faded back to their natural green, and his expression softened. "What...what is this?" he asked quietly.
"I developed it myself," Hermione breathed, feeling its magic-suppressing effects working on herself as well. "It's...meant to help you."
Harry's eyes went wide as the effects worked their way through his brain. He searched her face, eyes brimming with sudden tears as the influence of the Dark magic slowly faded away. "H-Hermione?" he stammered. "Help me...I'm scared…"
Hermione rushed to Harry's side as he collapsed into sobs, clutching onto her for dear life. She didn't say anything, just held him as he profusely apologized for everything. For not trusting her. For pushing her away. For destroying himself in pursuit of greatness…
Hermione listened patiently as Harry recounted what had been happening inside his brain since the Ritual of the Serpent. "I call him the Visitor," Harry explained. "Sometimes he just whispers to me. Gives me advice, suggests solutions to problems. Other times, he's more active. If he thinks I'm too...weak, he'll take over. Make me do things. Make me hurt people I don't want to."
"That's why you didn't trust me?" Hermione asked. "He made you push me away?"
"I...I don't know," Harry said truthfully. "I've gotten so used to his presence that sometimes I can't tell what's me and what's his doing. After Luna gave that prophecy...well, things all just clicked into place. He'd been whispering about you for years already, saying you were deceptive, saying you were holding me back. That just kinda confirmed all of that for me."
"I did warn you," Hermione said softly. "That meddling with Dark magic risked it taking hold in your mind—"
"I know you did," Harry sighed. "I thought I had no other choice. Truthfully, I started having second-thoughts about going back to Britain and re-joining the Order. But the Visitor convinced me not to, convinced me to keep going down the Path. I didn't realize at the time that I was only making him stronger."
"I'm sorry," Hermione said, running a gentle hand down Harry's cheek. He closed his eyes at her touch, relishing in the warmth of her presence.
"Sometimes I think he knows what's important to me, and uses it for his own benefit," Harry sighed. "When I learned about our daughter, he used it to make me distrust you even more. He knew how badly I wanted a family, and manipulated me into seeking more power to track her down."
"I always did wonder why you took the Headmaster job," Hermione mused.
"Foolish hope, mostly," Harry chuckled. "That you had kept our daughter in Britain, and I'd be able to recognize her when she came through as a student. But you didn't, did you?"
"No," Hermione confirmed with a sad smile.
"And I don't suppose you're ready to tell me where she is?" Harry asked sadly.
"No," Hermione said again, her smile fading this time.
Harry nodded sullenly. It was surely an expected answer, but a disappointed one. "At least tell me she's happy?" he asked hopefully. "You are keeping an eye on her, aren't you?"
"She's wonderful, Harry," Hermione said, emotion choking at her voice. "She's beautiful, and brilliant. She'll grow to be an amazing witch one day."
A single tear ran down Harry's cheek as he fought back emotions of his own. Hermione was filled with intense guilt and sadness as she held him tight. "I'm sorry," she whispered.
"I know," Harry croaked. "I deserved this."
"No, you didn't," Hermione insisted. "I never meant this to punish you. It's this thing, controlling your mind...that's what I'm afraid of for her. Not you. Never you."
"I know," Harry said again, managing a weak smile. And he kissed her – a blissful, delicate kiss that expressed more than words could convey. They both knew the circumstances that had led them here. The years of resentment and paranoia that had built up between them. Here now was a rare moment where none of that mattered anymore. Just two people who loved one another, driven apart by life and fate, but nonetheless devoted to one another in spirit.
Then, a dark look overcame Harry, and his eyes widened with fright. "He's coming back," he muttered. "I can feel him returning."
Hermione too could feel her magic returning to her. She knew the effects of the Elixir were limited, but hadn't realized just how little time it gave them…
"Will you keep fighting for me?" Harry pleaded. "Will you find a way to get him out of my head?"
"Yes," Hermione promised, giving him one final kiss. "If it's the last thing I do."
Harry gave her a weak smile. Then, as though a switch had been flipped, his face contorted into confusion, then anger. "You're lying," he said. "You manipulative bitch. This is just another one of your games, isn't it?"
"Harry…?" Hermione breathed.
"Get OUT!" Harry roared, eyes flashing red again as he threw her across the room. She landed roughly on the carpet, looking up at him with bewilderment, her pride hurt more than her body.
It's not him, she reminded herself. It's the Visitor.
"I'll find a way to fix this," she promised, then she ducked out of the office, vowing to return with a solution.
August 13, 2015
Thus began a seven-year process that consumed most of Hermione's life. She found excuses to spend as much time in America as possible, working in the lab, perfecting the Elixir of Clarity. Her popularity as Minister dwindled as a result of her constant absence, but she persisted, knowing it was all for naught if she failed to find a solution. She yearned to find a way to remove the Dark magic from his brain without affecting the rest of his magical core, but it was proving more difficult than she imagined.
Every summer, on the thirteenth of August, she made the trip to Brisbane to check in on the Thomas family – on Evangeline. She reminded Hermione so much of herself – so studious, so quiet and inquisitive, her head always buried in a book when she stopped by under her disguise. But there were flashes of her father there too – the occasional outburst, the reckless disregard for her own safety, the sarcastic wit that Hermione had always appreciated about him. She was a handful for the poor Granger elders, but Hermione trusted that they could handle her.
She would always follow up these trips with another to Hogsmeade to see Harry, to test the latest batch of the Elixir. It was always a tenuous affair – Harry would yell and scream at her to get out, she would have to find a way to trick him and splash the potion in his face, and he would come to his senses and apologize. Sometimes she had to endure endless verbal abuse from the Visitor first; other times she had to defend herself from violent spellfire. But she always succeeded in applying the potion.
And it was always worth it. Those talks they had, in the minutes or hours the Elixir provided for them, were among the best moments of her entire year. She would tell Harry all about Evangeline, leaving out select details to protect her identity but giving him the essentials. How she was top of her class in every subject except history (Harry got a kick out of that). How she could read books cover to cover in less than a day and recite them word for word (no doubt her mother's doing, Harry quipped). How she was by all rights a good person and gentle soul, one that any parent would be proud of.
It was the one time Hermione felt a sense of normalcy in her chaotic life. She and Harry could be proud parents, reflecting on the daughter they'd made, watching her grow up from afar. The guilt and shame she carried with her every other day of the year could wait until tomorrow. For now, it was just her and the man she desperately loved, the one she only got to see for an hour or two every year, before he went back to the monster she was fighting to rescue him from.
It was a delicate balance, year after year, but Hermione made it work. Evangeline was growing up safe and sound, the lab was making steady progress, and Harry's Dark little problem was so far manageable.
But it all came crashing down on a single day in mid-August.
Hermione arrived as she always did, in the early afternoon, bags laden with gifts for Eva's sixteenth birthday. But she knew at once that something was not right. The house the Thomas family had lived in was gone, an empty lot in its place. Was this some kind of trick? Was there advanced magic at play, shielding the home from her view? The Sight told her otherwise. What had happened here?
Asking around with the neighbors painted a grim picture: the C.A.W., a brutal home invasion and double-murder. The Thomas family, dead. The daughter presumed to be in the state system, the poor thing, living with strangers until she came of-age. Why did I not hear about this? Hermione wondered. Wouldn't the Minister of Magic know if the C.A.W. was active in Australia?
A trip to the Australian Ministry provided her no answers, as they seemed to have no record of the attacks happening at all. A glance at the Willoughby Academy records indicated that Evangeline Thomas had transferred out of country, but it didn't say where. Only one person could seemingly confirm that an incident took place at all: an Auror by the name of Badgley, who vaguely remembered helping out a young witch the year prior before the case was dropped without reason.
Hermione knew there was only one person who could be responsible. So she made her annual trip to Hogwarts early that year, grabbing a vial of the Elixir on her way, determined to get answers.
She had assumed the castle would be empty over the summer, but there were students in the Great Hall when she arrived. Muggle-born housing program? she wondered as she strode up to the Head Table. She vaguely remembered signing the bill years prior, but hadn't realized how many students needed such amenities – a sign that she was truly growing out of touch with her own constituency.
"Good evening, Headmaster," she said with a thin veneer of pleasantry as she reached Harry's seat. "A word?"
"Certainly, Minister," Harry said coolly, standing to walk with her. Hermione ignored Ginny Weasley's glares, and briefly caught Luna Lovegood and Hannah Abbott's eyes as she walked past – they watched her carefully, worriedly. How much did they know? Maybe they could help me, she thought to herself, resolving to contact them once her meeting with Harry was complete.
Hermione took one last glance at the students in the Hall before exiting through a side chamber. Her eyes swept over the familiar House tables, landing on the children wearing the familiar Gryffindor red-and-gold. And there she was. Evangeline. Watching her avidly, eyes alight with curiosity and admiration. She was surrounded by students, all chatting excitedly around her – friends. She was fitting in. It gave Hermione a feeling of warmth as she exited the Great Hall, following Harry up to his office.
But that feeling of warmth went away with each step, with each passing moment of silence from Harry. They both knew what he had done. They both knew Hermione was furious. And as soon as they were alone in the office, the door shut behind them, she unloaded.
"How dare you?" she demanded. "You fake her parents' death and bring her here against my wishes?"
"Is that really any worse than what you did to her?" Harry demanded. "Sending her halfway across the world to live with her grandparents, not realizing who they really were?"
"It was for her protection!" Hermione shouted. "I always planned to tell her the truth, to apologize...how do you plan on explaining your own actions?"
"What actions?" Harry demanded with a laugh. "I never had a choice in the matter! You kept her from me, prevented me from forming a relationship with her. Now I'm righting that wrong! Bringing her under my wing!"
"Under false pretenses!" Hermione shot back. "She thinks she's an orphan now because of you—"
"And soon she'll learn an even greater truth!" said Harry. "That her parents are the greatest witch and wizard in Britain! She can have any future she wants—"
"She was happy right where she was!" said Hermione. "Did you think I was depriving her of opportunities at Willoughby? She had a bright future before you stuck your nose in her business—"
"I'm her father!" Harry shouted. "I have every right to stick my nose in her business! To decide what future she has in store! You had no right taking that away from me!"
Hermione felt like she had lost control for the first time in years. Her carefully-constructed life, the delicate balance she'd struck to hold everything together, was crumbling before her eyes. She felt nothing but hatred for the man standing across from her. The architect of her own demise. The person responsible for every failing in her life…
In a fit of rage, she threw the first thing she could think of at Harry's head. That happened to be the vial of Elixir in her robes pocket; it smashed against his cheek, spraying him with the red potion. Harry sputtered in anger for a moment, then, as he always did, softened and looked at her with contrition.
"Mione…" he said softly, stepping towards her gently.
"Don't 'Mione' me," Hermione said crossly. She couldn't bring herself to care this time, couldn't bother to hear him out. She turned towards the door to leave, bitterly angry at the damage he'd done.
But he caught her wrist and spun her around. And he kissed her, capturing her lips in his, a tender gesture that filled her with revulsion. How dare he?! Hermione thought furiously, fighting to break free of his grasp. But as the Elixir on his lips transferred over to hers, as she felt the effects start to seep into her brain, her irritation gradually faded away. Why had she been so angry with him? Had her prolonged exposure to the necromantic magic of the Elixir really affected her that much? She hadn't even noticed the change until it was too late.
"I'm sorry," she breathed softly. And she returned his kiss, more passionate this time, melting into his embrace. She'd forgotten how much she missed him. How much she'd let her frustrations and grievances build up and cloud her feelings towards him. She loved him, was crazy about him. And he felt the same about her. They grabbed at one another desperately, clawing at clothes, yearning for the togetherness they'd been depriving themselves of in isolation for so long…
An hour later, they lay entwined together on the carpet, underneath a heavy blanket Harry had conjured for them. This time, it was Harry's turn to tell Hermione about Eva's progress, about her already illustrious time at Hogwarts. "She's the most brilliant student I've ever taught," Harry said with a note of pride in his voice. "Even more than you. She understands magic on a level that even I fail to grasp at times."
"You must have rubbed off on her," Hermione remarked.
"I've tried," Harry admitted with a chuckle. "She distrusts authority – something she gets from me, no doubt – but I doubt I could even teach her anything she couldn't already learn intuitively. She already brewed the Draught of Omniscience, you know – got the recipe from your book."
"She did what?" Hermione gasped, horrified. "I told the Department to let Muggle-borns check out Essence of Thought, but I never thought a student...I only intended for advanced potion-makers to use it…"
"She brewed it perfectly, of course," Harry said with a chuckle. "And she's using it to get far ahead of her peers. I've been training students in Legilimency combat for a decade, hoping to find someone who can do what you did to cancel Voldemort's magic atop the Tower. And she's learning to manipulate the fabric of magic itself."
"I could only ever do it in short spurts," Hermione admitted. "Another five seconds, and my hold on Voldemort would have fallen."
"Eva uses it constantly," said Harry. "I feel the magic following her everywhere. She even used it during a Quidditch match once, when she was blinded by a Bludger—"
"She was WHAT?!"
"Irrelevant," Harry winked. "Technically it's against the rules, you know, but I said nothing because I was so impressed. You should see her on a broom, 'Mione, she rivals even myself as a Seeker."
Hermione didn't love the idea of her daughter playing Quidditch, being blinded by Bludgers no less, but she held her tongue, knowing Harry was probably relishing in his daughter's achievements. "Is she fitting in?" she asked. "Does she have friends?"
"It's hard to tell sometimes," Harry sighed. "She's hot and cold with Victoire Weasley, and her brilliance isolates her at times. But she's been dating a girl a year above her. A Muggle-born. I didn't like it at first, but they've been good for each other, I think."
"Hmm," Hermione said thoughtfully. "Is she a good kid? The other girl, I mean?"
Harry laughed at this question. "She's Lee Beckett's daughter," he said, to Hermione's horror. "Estranged, of course – she can't stand the fellow. Has disciplinary issues, and her grades aren't ideal, but I trust Eva's judgment of character."
Hermione nodded at this. She didn't need to ask why Harry trusted Eva's judgment – she, too, felt like she instinctively did too, despite not really knowing her. If Eva gave this other girl the time of day, she must have something worth offering.
"You'll look out for her, won't you?" she asked Harry. "I know how tough Muggle-borns have it after graduation. Make sure this girl isn't left out in the cold?"
"I'll see what I can do," Harry sighed. He stretched dramatically and sat up, checking the time on the wall. "How long d'you reckon we have left with the Elixir?"
"Another hour, perhaps," said Hermione. "I can't get it to last longer than two hours, no matter what I try."
"And the effects?" Harry asked hopefully. "Any luck differentiating between different types of magic, to not impact the use of normal spells?"
Hermione shook her head sullenly. "We've hit a wall," she admitted glumly. "We haven't made any significant progress in years. And with Rodriguez leaving office next year, our funding is sure to end soon."
"So you aren't hopeful you can find a solution to my little 'problem'?" Harry asked with a smile, but the worry in his eyes told her that he was crestfallen with the news.
"Harry, I promised you I would find a solution," Hermione said firmly, locking eyes with his to convey how serious she was. "Even if it takes the rest of my life, and I have to continue my research in secret, I'll find a way."
"I know you will," Harry said with a smile, planting a gentle kiss on her lips. They lay back down together, enjoying their last few minutes of blissful togetherness before the Elixir wore off and the harsh realities of life drove them apart again. They lay silently like that for some time, each contemplating what the future might hold – how their story might end.
"Would you ever give it up?" Hermione asked suddenly. "If it meant we could run away together?"
"Give what up?"
"Everything. The fame, power, reputation. Just you and me."
"In a heartbeat," said Harry. "The year we spent on the run – before all the rituals, that is – was one of the best years of my life. You and me against the world. No one else mattered. If we could do that for the rest of our lives, I would."
"Even if it meant losing your magic?" Hermione asked, biting her lip worriedly.
Harry frowned at her. "Don't tell me you're considering chucking me in Nurmengard," he asked with a nervous chuckle.
"No," Hermione sighed. "I'm determined to find another solution to your problem. But if all else failed – if you could rid yourself of the presence for good – would you give up your power?"
Harry considered this honestly. "I don't know," he sighed. "I talk to Tom regularly, you know – he prefers death to the existence he's living now. Would I willingly sign up for that? It's hard to say for certain."
"Tom never knew love," Hermione pointed out. "All he had was his power, and when that was gone, he was left with nothing else – completely alone. You would never be alone, Harry. Not as long as I live."
"You would give up yours, then?" Harry asked, raising his eyebrows. "If it meant you and I could be together?"
"In a heartbeat," Hermione said. "I love you, Harry James Potter. I abandoned you once, but say the word and I'll never leave your side again."
She could see the complex emotions running through Harry's mind as his eyes searched hers eagerly. She knew how hard his upbringing was, how attached Harry was to any morsel of affection he received. Hermione was his lifeline, his rock, and she saw the desperate longing in his expression at the thought of living the rest of his life with her.
But there was something else behind that look: fear. Fear that she would leave him again. That he would get his hopes up, only to have them cruelly dashed once more. And that prevented him from saying what she knew he badly wanted to say.
"Why do you love me?" Harry asked miserably, looking rather like a lost child. "I push you away every chance I get. I've been horrible to you. I don't deserve your love."
"You're just sick, Harry," Hermione insisted. "This is the real you, not the you that comes out when the potion wears off. I know your soul is pure underneath all the Dark magic obscuring it from view. And if it takes the rest of my life, I will find a way to free it. I'll never give up on you."
Harry nodded, a look of something like relief washing over him. "Thank you, Hermione," he muttered, pulling her in for another gentle kiss. "If you manage to free me, I'll be yours until the end of time."
"As will I be yours," Hermione promised.
"And Evangeline?" Harry asked hopefully. "Will we ever be able to become a happy family again?"
"I hope so," Hermione nodded. "But I suppose that will be up to her, not us."
Harry nodded thoughtfully at this. They both wanted what was best for their daughter...but what if that meant a life apart from theirs? Eva had never known either to be a parental figure, and at this rate, she never would. Even if she learned the truth, would she accept their love and reciprocate it? They had both used her, both manipulated her life for their own selfish purposes, and she might very well choose not to associate with them when everything came to light.
Harry and Hermione yearned desperately for a happy ending. One where Evangeline forgave them both of their sins, and chose to build a relationship with the true parents she'd never known. It was too wonderful, too painful of a prospect for either Harry or Hermione to verbalize. Neither of them dared to believe such a future would ever be possible.
But they both longed for it all the same.
A/N: I just realized that I'm posting this chapter on the same day it takes place (August 13th). And what a fitting date to do it...happy birthday, Evangeline! One more chapter to go now...see you soon with the finale!