Author's Note: I know I've been a little nuts with the chapter updates the last week, but I've just been so anxious to share what I have. Sadly, this is the last full chapter that I have completed and thanks to a slow day, I was able to edit it. The next chapter is mostly done. Instead of trying to keep to a strict update schedule like I was trying there for a little while (because really, who thought that was me? I have no self-control.) I will be trying to get chapters uploaded as quickly as I finish them.
We are getting close to the end. I estimate about 35 chapters, but who knows? When I start writing sometimes I go onto little paths I didn't expect. If only the characters would behave like I think they should! Lol. Thank you for all of you wonderful people who have stuck with this story and continue to offer your thoughts and encouragements. You have NO idea how much they are appreciated. (Yes, I read EVERY single one… even the mean ones.) I hope you enjoy!
Chapter Thirty
One more toast and glass of fire whiskey would likely kill Harry. Or so it felt. It wouldn't be a crazed dark wizard bent on world domination or evil creatures who fed on negative emotions who finally did him in. No, it would be well-wishers and complete strangers looking for an excuse to shake his hand.
His proposal was enthusiastically accepted by Luna in front of everyone. She had done a marvelous job of acting as if it was a complete surprise. The dozens of pictures would look fabulous in the newspaper the next morning. Maybe it was wrong to think so highly of himself, but he felt certain there was no other news story that would knock his surprise public proposal off the front page. He only hoped it would be enough to help Hermione.
If he was really honest, he knew he was a selfish arsehole. Probably always had been. Even though he knew one of the best friends he could have ever asked for was miserable and in the midst of an impossible situation, he couldn't stop smiling. Having Luna at his side in public was far better than he could've imagined. Knowing a day would come soon when they would promise themselves to each other for the rest of their lives excited him more than anything else could.
Luna was perfect. How could he have been so afraid for so long to let anyone know that he cared about her? Anyone with half a brain would feel the same way if they knew her like he did. He didn't understand how he could've let so many years go by without realizing what a remarkable treasure she was. He'd been a fool for far too long. For the rest of his life he would do whatever was necessary to correct his unforgivable mistake.
Everyone in the Leaky Cauldron seemed anxious to congratulate the Dementor Destroyer on his engagement. For once Harry didn't mind all of the attention. Let the pushy photographers click away on their intrusive cameras. He had nothing to be ashamed of. Luna was the most beautiful woman, inside and out, that he'd ever known. Any fears he had about her being unfairly treated in the press didn't seem so important any longer.
Maybe sensing he was thinking about her, Luna tuned out the rest of the noisy tavern to offer Harry a warm smile and a quick kiss. Cheers all around the room only made them laugh. They would make wonderful partners. And maybe someday they could expand their family. He'd always wanted to be part of a real family. While he wouldn't expect his bride to birth an entire Quidditch team on his behalf, he wouldn't fight her if she wanted to. She would be the most remarkable mother. Any child would be grateful to have her.
"Miss Lovegood, have you and Mr. Potter settled on a date for the wedding?"
Luna smiled at the nosy reporter before answering.
"No, we haven't, but I've never understood the need for long engagements."
When she turned her gaze back on Harry, it felt as if he'd been punched in the stomach in the most delightful way possible. She didn't want to wait a long time until they were married? He pulled her back into his arms for another long, lingering kiss that set off the cheers and camera flashes again. Once more it felt wrong for him to be so disgustingly happy when he knew Hermione was trapped at home miserable with an uncertain future.
"Right there. Oh, fuck, Barty. Yes, right there. Don't you dare stop. Don't you dare."
He didn't dare. Emboldened by her praise and the incoherent moans that replaced any attempts to speak proper English, Barty continued his rapid pace, knowing instinctively just where to touch the witch. Hermione gripped the headboard completely lost to the sensations. Unsure how they ended up in the exact position they were in, she had absolutely no complaints. He was behind her with one hand on the headboard next to hers and the other squeezing her hip hard enough she knew there was going to be a perfect handprint-shaped bruise on her flesh when they were done. She would wear the mark with pride.
Time lost all meaning inside her bed. They could've been there for days for all she was aware. Only the fact that neither of their stomachs grumbled for food told her they hadn't been there that long. But then again, who could even think about food in a time like that? She wasn't even sure she could remember her own name if she was asked. It didn't seem important.
"You feel so… I don't want to be anywhere but inside you."
"I'm not… ahh… planning to throw you out… ugh… anytime soon. Not if you… fuck, Barty… keep doing that."
Not one to dismiss the requests of a lover, he did just as he was instructed. How he could increase and intensify his movements when they already felt so amazing was a mystery, one she didn't even care to solve either. She would simply enjoy. Likely even beg for more. Though it was all still very new and exciting, she couldn't deny their physical chemistry. It was unlike any she'd felt before. Maybe it was just because he had so much missed time he felt he needed to make up for or maybe it was something else she didn't fully understand.
Her release built up and exploded inside of her almost as a surprise. She had been so focused on how it felt to feel him moving inside that she hadn't paid close attention to her own pleasure. Of course it helped that it wasn't the first she had since he pulled every single stitch of clothing she had on when they entered the privacy of her bedroom. The man was a maestro directing a sinful symphony inside her body that resulted in multiple encores. If it wouldn't last forever, she would take advantage while she could.
The room echoed with the scream that came involuntarily out of her mouth. Pleased with his performance, Barty pulled her back against his chest with both of his hands squeezing the breasts he had come to worship. His pace became more erratic but harder. Needing something to hold on to, she reached behind her to lace her fingers through his hair. She moaned at the nip on her shoulder from his teeth. Certainly not hard enough to hurt, she wanted more.
His face was buried in her neck when he let out his own shout of completion. Spilling deep inside, he didn't even try to remove himself from the safety of her body until both of them were panting and the trembling of their tired, worked muscles lessened. Unable to hold herself up on her own, Hermione crashed face-first into the mattress with a laugh. Barty followed in what she was certain was a more graceful manner.
"That was… I don't even have words."
Proud of the compliment, Barty pressed his lips against her bare spine sending shivers of pleasure up and down it. If he wasn't careful, he would start something she wasn't sure they would have time to finish before the inevitable knock on the front door came. But, if they had to make the bitch wait, who would it hurt?
"I'm very impressed. Some of those positions… I didn't even know they existed."
She could feel his smile against her spine as he kissed her again. Far more adventurous than any lover she had had before, she was surprised to discover the man wasn't interested in just a few of the old standard positions. Who would've ever guessed that he was athletic or creative?
"I know many more."
"Good. I look forward to trying them all out."
"It could take some time. The Kama Sutra alone has sixty-four positions. Of course that's just if you consider the original text. There have been additions throughout the centuries."
Leave it to her to find another swot to share her bed. She had to laugh. His immediate response was to continue his exploration of her spine with his lips and tongue.
"You've read the Kama Sutra?"
"Of course I have. Many times. A shy, awkward boy with his nose constantly in a book? I read every dirty book I could get my sweaty little hands on. The ones with magic? Those are far more interesting. If I ever am allowed a wand again, I could teach you some that would make your head explode. Maybe even literally if we're not careful."
Both of them tried to ignore the rapid change in the atmosphere of the room once he mentioned the fact that he wasn't able to use magic. It seemed that no matter what they did or what they said, the subject always returned to the uncertainty of his future. At any second there could be a knock at the front door. Instead of Rita Skeeter or another obnoxious reporter, it could be Auror Savage or one of the others in his office to come take him back to Azkaban. It was maddening to be stuck in such a state of uncertainty.
Unable to ignore the uncomfortable truth any longer, Hermione forced herself to sit up. The expression on Barty's face told her that he regretted ruining the magic of the moment. It made her angry that he felt that way. She pressed her lips gently against his, hoping that he would somehow understand how she felt. His heavy sigh threatened to shatter her battered heart into pieces too small to put back together. Why had the universe been so cruel to them both?
"I should take a shower. Rita will be here before we know it."
She could feel his eyes on her the entire time she walked across the bedroom on her shaky legs to hide in the bathroom. Any other time she might have invited him to join her under the hot spray of water, but she needed a few minutes to herself. It was so terribly unfair that a wonderful afternoon could be ruined with just a few words. And to know that they still had the interview with Rita Skeeter to look forward to? How were they going to make it through it all?
Standing under the water, she closed her eyes and tried to push the worst of her thoughts away. Preparation was needed for what was to come. Unfortunately, Blaise was correct when he said she was too much of a Gryffindor. Her true emotions would come tumbling out when she was upset. It seemed an impossible task to keep herself calm and collected when all she wanted to do was scream and curse anyone or anything standing in her way of finding a small, tiny bit of happiness in that fucked up world.
Perhaps only a few minutes passed of solitude when she felt his arms snake around her waist from behind. Gentle and careful like he was worried he might scare her off, Barty didn't do anything past just showing her that he was behind her in more ways than one. Her heavy sigh knocked her back into his chest. Taking that as an invitation, he tightened his grip. His lips pressed against the side of her head.
"You know that none of this is your fault, right?"
Little more than a soft whisper, she never heard a question so clearly.
"I should've strengthened my wards around my house like you told me to. If that photographer hadn't been able to get near your bedroom window, then…"
"No, that's not what I mean. None of this is your fault. You are to blame for absolutely nothing that happens to me."
"But…"
"Hermione, I'm serious."
Somehow he was able to turn her around on the slippery wet tile so she could look into his eyes. There was a solemnity she had never seen in his countenance before. Never had she seen him so grave. Tears burned in her eyes that she tried to blink away. After seeing such a silly and fun side to him as they had gotten to know each other, she didn't like what she was seeing. It was too much. She had to look away.
"Everything that happens to me is my fault. If they come to take me back to Azkaban, it's nothing more than I deserve. I should be there. I should've always been there."
"No, you don't belong there."
"But I do."
He placed two fingers under her chin to gently force her to meet his gaze again.
"I don't want to go back there, but I won't fight it if I have to. It's where I should've always been. I did horrible things. I'm guilty of nearly everything they said I am. I didn't curse the Longbottoms but I was there and didn't try to stop it. That makes me just as guilty. I allowed my own mum to take my place in Azkaban. She died alone in my cell. I could've told them 'no', but I was so selfish I wanted out of there."
It was the first time since she had gotten to know him on a personal level that he mentioned his mother with more than just a passing word. Hermione knew without question that he loved the woman and missed her. Once, and she would never tell him so even if he asked, she heard him cry out for his mum during a nightmare. Hearing him sound like a lost little boy sobbing for his mummy had been too hard to listen to. Despite promising herself she would never do it, she cast a silencing charm on his bedroom so she didn't have to hear. She would go to her grave feeling guilty for doing something so selfish and heartless.
"That alone should've earned me a lifetime in prison. I don't deserve to be off that island. I definitely don't deserve to be standing here with a beautiful naked woman. I don't deserve your tears."
His finger brushed against her cheek to catch one of the tears she hadn't been able to stop. Even with the hot water from the shower spraying them both he could tell the difference in the drops. The gesture only made them slip out of her eyes at a faster rate.
"I nearly killed Alastor Moody. What I did to him might have even been worse than if I had. I killed my own father."
"That doesn't count. He was awful."
The smile on his face was small, but it was enough to lighten up the intense mood just a bit.
"Awful or not, he was still my father. I shouldn't have killed him. It was my fault the Diggory boy was murdered. He shouldn't have even been there. And without me, the Dark Lord wouldn't have been brought back when he was. I'm responsible for the lives that were lost after that. It's all on my shoulders. I should be in Azkaban for every single one of them."
"Maybe that would be true if you hadn't been Kissed, but it's not true any longer. You served more of a punishment than all of the Death Eaters in Azkaban right now put together. What was done to you was cruel."
"What I did was cruel."
It was entirely possible that they would never fully agree on whether or not he deserved Azkaban. Hermione certainly wasn't prepared to just give in. If he wouldn't fight if he was taken back to Azkaban, she would just have to fight for both of them. Recognizing she wasn't going to agree, Barty stopped trying to convince her that he deserved it. He just wrapped his arms around her back and pulled her against his chest. For at least a few minutes, there was no one else in the entire world but them.
"We should finish up. The wretched bitch will be here soon."
Though he looked like he wasn't ready to let her go, Barty didn't struggle when she stepped out of the embrace. The rest of the shower was completed in near silence. When they stepped out and wrapped up in towels, he excused himself to return to his own bedroom for clean clothes.
Hermione used the short break to take a deep breath and try to calm her nerves. Even as she picked out what she was going to wear for the horrible interview that would begin at any moment, she tried not to think about what was coming. The weight she felt on her shoulders grew heavier with every breath. Could she even make it through the interview without crumbling under the pressure? It seemed impossible, but she had to. The last person she ever wanted to see her as weak was the bitch Skeeter.
By the time she left her bedroom dressed and with her hair dry and as neat as possible if her nemesis arrived with a photographer, Hermione felt somewhat in control of herself again. At the very least she didn't think she was in danger of bursting out into tears at the slightest provocation. She moved around the lounge tidying up the scatter cushions and making certain nothing was out of place. Her home was going to be judged regardless but best not give Rita any extra ammunition.
She would have to be strong and remain calm not matter what was said. Rita was a liar. She knew it, Barty knew it, and so did Rita. They could only hope her readers could see it too.
Barty seemed nervous when he came out of his room. Hermione knew it had everything to do with their conversation in the shower and not the upcoming interview. Being uncomfortable around each other wasn't what she wanted, not when they needed to be a united front. Ignoring how she really felt and pretending there wasn't a pit of dread in her stomach, she crossed the room to give him a peck on the lips like nothing was strange. Her behavior clearly confused the man.
"Blue is an excellent color on you."
She smoothed down his collar. At some point they would need to return to and finish the conversation they began in the shower, but she was going to delay it as long as possible. Though she knew he made some excellent points, he wasn't automatically correct. The thought that he might not even fight being sent back to Azkaban didn't sit well with her.
"Hermione…"
He put both of his hands on her shoulders to get her full attention but she wouldn't look at him. She couldn't. She didn't feel strong enough.
"I can't talk to you right now about what you said in the shower."
"But…"
"No, I can't. Skeeter will be here any moment and I'm already afraid I won't be able to keep it together for her as it is. One more word about you believing you deserve to go back to Azkaban and… I just can't, Barty. Please stop."
Whether he fully understood or not and would respect her wish was unclear as a harsh knock on the front door stopped him before he could say another word. Almost grateful for the interruption, Hermione rushed to greet their unwelcome guest. The sooner they could begin the interview, the sooner it would be over. At least in theory.
"Good evening, Rita. How lovely of you to drop by."
"That's enough of your cheek, girl. I don't want to be here any more than you want me to be here."
"Somehow I doubt that."
If there were ever two women in the entire world who would never be able to put their pasts aside and learn to coexist peacefully, it was them. A few weeks trapped in an unbreakable jar was something that a person didn't just get over no matter how much time passed. Remembering all of the horrible lies Rita wrote about her over the years, Hermione wasn't anxious to forgive and forget either. Some histories were impossible to overcome.
"Please come inside and make yourself comfortable."
Half her words weren't even out of Hermione's mouth before the horrible reporter was pushing her way inside. Just as she suspected she would, Rita turned up her nose at the furnishings and even sneered when she saw the armchair Barty invited her to sit in.
"What a dreadful settee. Did you levitate that out of someone's rubbish bin?"
"Considering how hideous your robes continue to be, Rita, I'll take the fact that our taste in furniture is not the same as a compliment."
The gentle touch of Barty's hand on her lower back was the reminder Hermione needed to try to remain calm. Only moments into the visit and she was ready to curse Rita in her horrible glasses. Instead of being offended by her hostess' rude words, the older witch actually seemed amused. Her grin was chilling, a nonverbal warning to her enemies that she was dangerous.
"You forget yourself, girl. One more unkind word out of your mouth and we end this interview right here. I'll take the disgusting photographs I have and make certain that everyone you've ever met gets a good look at them."
She would do it too. Even if she had to resort to making copies and pasting them up all over Diagon Alley and the Minister of Magic Headquarters, she would follow through on her promise. Recognizing she was stuck, Hermione took a seat on the end of the sofa she knew wasn't hideous. Barty sat close enough that their legs brushed against each other. Having him that close helped. She was glad she wasn't facing what was coming alone.
"Now, let's get started. I will be using my Quick-Quotes quill whether you like it or not."
Rita removed the hateful tool that she used to spread her lies from inside her tacky crocodile handbag. It wouldn't really matter one way or the other if she used the quill. She would use the opportunity to tell whatever lies she wished. Determined to not even pay attention to the quill marking itself against the parchment, Hermione took a deep breath.
"This relationship of yours seems awfully cozy. When did it begin? The day he moved into your house? Maybe even before then? When you were a fourth year and he was pretending to be a professor?"
"Absolutely not!"
It was a surprise to see how angry Barty got so quickly with a single question. He nearly stood up from the sofa when he shouted out his response. Concerned that he might be in danger of launching himself at the horrible woman, Hermione reached for his hand to pull him back. As much as they both were aware the questions they would be asked would be awful, neither of them even considered he might be accused of developing an inappropriate relationship with an underage student while he was at the castle. Was it not bad enough that he kidnapped a former auror and spent months pretending to be him as he secretly worked for Voldemort's best interests? Apparently not for Rita.
"That's a disgusting question, Rita, and you know it. No, the relationship is very, very new. When he first moved into my home, we didn't even like each other. A friendship eventually developed. Nothing, nothing inappropriate happened at Hogwarts."
"Yes, well, I suppose it makes sense that when two people are stuck together in the same house for any length of time it's possible that feelings could develop even when they are both so undesirable."
Some of his earlier anger forgotten or at least pushed to the side for the moment, Barty actually chuckled. The corner of his mouth threatened to curl up into a real smile. Evidently, he didn't find Hermione to be as undesirable as Rita claimed. Remembering some of the more ardent moments of the previous twenty-four hours when he proved that repeatedly, Hermione had to bite down on her lips to keep her own smile at bay. No doubt Rita would take their amusement in the worst way possible.
"It's no secret that you have been researching laws that would secure a permanent parole for Mr. Crouch. What would you say to those who would say that was inappropriate considering your relationship?"
"I've chosen to step back from that research for the present. I have been advised that it was best for everyone involved that I not…"
"Hardly a surprise you're willing to give up so easily, but I'm sure you would rather find a new conquest instead. Is there some professional Quidditch player you've been brewing love potions for again? I heard a rumor that Oliver Wood is single again."
An entire hour passed of more frustrating questions. Sometimes she would focus only on Barty for a time and then switch to only focus on Hermione. How either of them managed to keep from smashing their fist into the woman's face was something of a miracle. Only the constant reminder that she would run out of the house with the incriminating pictures kept them from acting out on their baser instincts.
"Would you say that being here, Mr. Crouch has made you..?"
A loud buzzing coming from inside the pocket of Rita's robes stopped her mid-sentence. Sounding suspiciously like a Muggle mobile, Hermione didn't believe the witch would ever lower herself to use such technology. When she removed what looked like a gaudy gold compact mirror from the pocket, it made more sense. Ignoring the two others in the room, she opened it up. A quiet voice too soft to hear from across the room came out of the mirror. Immediately, Rita's eyes grew wide and she jumped up to her feet. She slammed the mirror shut and stuck it back in her robes.
"There's a far more interesting developing story at the Leaky Cauldron. I must leave immediately."
They weren't sorry to hear she was leaving. Hermione was ready to open the door herself. With the Quick-Quotes quill stashed back in her hideous handbag with the roll of parchment it had been scribbling on since their interview began, Rita made a dash for the exit. Barty was fast enough to block her before she could get out.
"If you will please excuse me, Mr. Crouch. I really must leave."
"We had an agreement. You don't leave until you hold up your end."
Maybe she really did forget what she promised. More likely she was hoping that she could get out of there without anyone stopping her. Clearly frustrated, Rita dug inside her handbag with an obnoxious sigh. A stack of photographs tied together with a ribbon were hastily pushed into Barty's hands. Only then would he step aside.
"That was easier than I expected it to be."
Hermione waited until the door shut and he clicked the lock before speaking. It had been an unpleasant experience for sure, but somehow she expected it to be much worse. She worried that it wasn't over. Barty pressed a kiss to her forehead.
"We have the photographs. That's what's important."
"Let's burn them."
When she tried to rip the stack out of his hands, he was quick enough to move them out of her reach. A cheeky grin on his face told her that he wasn't going to give it up without a fight. She might have been amused if she wasn't also exhausted after the horrible interview.
"I don't think we should be so hasty to get rid of them. Some of them are even quite nice."
The ribbon landed on the floor. He shuffled through his new treasure stopping every few seconds to admire a new debauched moving scene.
"Look at this one. See how bloody gorgeous your arse is?"
She might have playfully slapped him in the stomach, but she couldn't hold back her own grin. A compliment was still a compliment after all.
"No, I want to keep these. Such lovely memories."
"What if someone finds them?"
"I'll keep them safe, I promise. Fight anyone who dares to take them. Maybe they'll even take pity on me and let me take them with me to Azkaban. Something to keep me warm on a cold night in my cell."
Anger like she couldn't remember feeling before bubbled up inside of Hermione at his flippant remark. The palm of her right hand slapped against his left cheek with far more force than either of them expected. Biting down a sob, she ran out of the room. Her bedroom door slammed shut in his face.
