Chapter Thirty-One
Harry felt very nervous. Maybe not as nervous as when he had to face Lord Voldemort in the Forbidden Forest or when he knew he was going to have to fight a desperate dementor to the death, but he wouldn't deny that he almost would've rather. At least then he felt relatively confident how that encounter would go. The one he was approaching? No idea how it would turn out.
Luna grabbed his hand to pull him forward. It wasn't difficult for someone as perceptive as she was to recognize how nervous and worried he was. Not even the darkness could hide the anxious sweat on his brow. Hopefully, she found him enduring and wasn't second-guessing her decision to accept his proposal. That would be devastation on a scale he didn't even want to try to imagine. His broken heart likely would never recover.
In the darkness the rook-shaped house looming up ahead at the end of their path seemed even more imposing. Had it always looked that frightening even in the light of day? When the war ended and he was released from Azkaban, Xenophilius made certain to rebuild his home just as it had been before the unfortunate explosion. Apparently it wasn't the first time the home had to be reconstructed from rubble.
The closer they got to the front door, the more nervous he got. Needing a moment to collect himself and remind himself he wasn't in any danger, he stopped to take a deep breath. Luna tried not to smile. It was evident she thought his discomfort was funny. He wished he felt the same way.
"It's too late, Luna. I don't feel right about just showing up with no warning."
"Don't worry. He keeps late hours, especially when he's working on the next edition."
She tugged him forward and he kept walking against his better instinct. If anyone knew her father's habits, it would be Luna. They were incredibly close. It was something he always felt a little envious of. He wished he had had the chance to know even just one of his parents so well.
It was so unfair. When he became a father, he was going to be so mundane and boring and unadventurous that his children would never have to worry about losing him. No more Dark Lords or fighting evil creatures. He'd had enough. He was going to have a normal, sensible job where no one ever got hurt or died. Not an auror or Unspeakable either. No. He might run a shop. That seemed harmless enough. There was a rumor that the owners of Honeydukes in Hogsmeade were looking to retire. Maybe he should buy it. No one ever heard of a sweets shop being attacked by evil wizards. He could grow old and fat. Maybe he would be a perfectly boring dad but at least he would be alive and there for his children. And he would insist that Luna never attempted another experimental spell like her mother. He couldn't bear the thought of losing her.
"We should wait and come back tomorrow at a decent hour."
"And let him find out about our engagement in the newspaper? He would never forgive either of us. He deserves to know."
Harry couldn't really argue when she was clearly right. If he could destroy all of the dementors, he could face his future father-in-law and be brave.
"All right. I suppose it wouldn't be too bad."
The front door opened before they could even climb the front stairs. Xenophilius must've known they were there as soon as they arrived. Usually ready with a welcoming smile, the wizard didn't look pleased with their impromptu visit. He crossed his arms across his chest.
"I suppose you're both here to tell me you're getting married before it's all over the Daily Prophet in a few hours?"
Harry's stomach sank. How did Xenophilius already know? He didn't look happy with the news. Would he try to convince Luna she was making a mistake? There was nothing Harry hoped for less. After imagining a life with Luna, there was no one else he wanted. She was it for him. If it was her wish, he would walk away, of course, but not without great sorrow and regret.
Luna wasn't bothered by her father's act. Once she rushed up the stairs she leaned up to kiss his cheek. There was a flicker at her father's lips where it looked like he wanted to smile.
"How'd you guess that?"
Xenophilius looked at his daughter with a raised eyebrow that made her giggle.
"While you two were off celebrating, I received no less than four different owls from reporters asking me for a statement."
Under his breath Harry groaned softly. He hadn't even considered that possibility. Of course the infernal reporters would want to know what he thought about his only daughter's engagement. Likely they were hoping for some familial drama they could exploit for more paper sales. It was wrong of them not to tell Xenophilius before then. He should've insisted they go to him before the very public proposal. If Harry learned about his own daughter's engagement through an impersonal owl from a stranger, he knew he would be furious.
"I'm very sorry, Mr. Lovegood. We should've told you first. You have every right to be angry."
When he dared to look up to the top of the small flight of stairs, he was surprised to see both Lovegoods smiling down at him.
"And I would be angry if Luna didn't tell me this morning."
Xenophilius descended the stairs with his hand out for a handshake. Still feeling a little dazed, Harry shook it. Before they broke apart, the older wizard pulled him in for a hug.
"Congratulations! Welcome to the family, son."
He lowered his voice to a whisper only Harry could hear.
"Dementor Destroyer or not, you ever hurt my Luna and no one will ever find your body."
Harry could respect that.
It was difficult to relax and enjoy the bed all to herself after sharing it for even a short time. Hermione didn't like how big it felt, how cold. She knew it was all in her head. Even just two nights earlier she slept soundly and happily alone in her bed. Spending one night with Barty ruined her. She was almost angry.
He hadn't followed her into her room after she slapped him and slammed her own door. Part of her expected he would barge in to continue the argument. There was absolutely no humor at all to be found in his remark about taking the pictures with him into his Azkaban cell. How could he joke about something so horrible? She would never find it funny. Did he not understand there was a very real possibility he was going to be sent back? Although she would do everything she could to prevent it, she was only one person and sadly, unable to perform miracles.
No matter how much she tried to ignore it or push it away as an irrational concern, she knew that a resolution was coming soon. They had been living in a strange limbo for far too long. Recent events and the disgusting reporting in the Daily Prophet would only serve to encourage those with the power to change Barty's life to finally do something. For his benefit or his detriment, his fate would soon be decided. She knew that without question. The wheels were in motion and the end was approaching. If she reached her hand out, she might even be close enough to touch it.
Only in childish fantasies did everything work out perfectly. It was a nice thought to imagine that the pieces would click together in such a way to give them the best and most desirable outcome. Unfortunately, it wasn't rational to expect the ending to always be happy. Those came only in novels and at the end of movies. Reality wasn't like that.
A day would come when there would be a knock at her door and she would answer it to find the authorities who would take Barty back to Azkaban waiting outside. As tempting as it was to ignore the truth and deny it, she couldn't. Life didn't work that way. She learned that over and over in the hardest manner possible. Expectations of joy and tranquility and success were often crushed. Usually crushed, if she was honest. How many people did she know who were living the lives they expected and dreamed of when they were young and still idealistic enough to believe anything was possible if they only believed it so? Probably no one. Her life certainly hadn't turned out like she thought it would when she was fighting in the last war or finishing up her schooling at Hogwarts.
They had to prepare themselves for the likelihood that he would rot in prison and she would die alone. As depressing as she knew it was, it was also real.
Perhaps unwilling to prepare himself for his fate, Barty refused to be serious. It was a relief when he stayed away. What he did outside of her bedroom for those hours she hid herself away, she had no clue. A silencing spell cast on her door kept them both ignorant of what the other was up to. It was better that way, practice for when they were separated.
Just after midnight and over an hour and a half of tossing and turning, she heard the door to her bedroom open. Being apart for hours had been good for both of them. They needed it. She was glad he was bold enough to enter her room without her express invitation. As upset as she still was, she didn't want to waste time being apart for any longer than necessary. Only a limited time together was left. If Rita's article turned out as horrible as she assumed it would be, there could be a demand for action in his case immediately.
Barty tried to be quiet as he crossed the bedroom. With her back facing the door, he couldn't tell that Hermione wasn't asleep. When he reached the side of the bed he slept on earlier, he carefully lifted up the blankets. Slowly, he slid in behind her. She tried not to smile. It was easy to appreciate that he wasn't hiding in a corner scared to death of what she would do or say next. Others in her life might've been. His arm brushed against her bare arm and she nearly shivered.
"You're freezing."
"Oh, sorry."
Startled that she was awake, Barty moved as if he was going to get up. Not wanting him to go anywhere, Hermione reached behind her for his arm.
"No, don't go."
A little tug on his arm brought him closer. He settled back down on the pillow. His arms wrapped around her body. It was a comfortable position, one she was trying not to get too terribly fond of.
"Did you go for a walk?"
"Yes, I did."
"And you forgot your cloak."
His soft chuckle made her smile. Of course he did. If she wasn't there to force it on him, he forgot it more times than he remembered.
"It's a terrible habit, I know."
"I don't want to take care of you if you get sick. I get the feeling you're the unbearable type when you don't feel well."
He chuckled again.
"Just get a message to Winky. She always knew exactly what to do when I was sick."
"Has the poor creature not suffered enough?"
It was easy for them both to settle into a silence that wasn't entirely comfortable. There was so much between them it was overwhelming. Hermione knew she should take the first step.
"I'm sorry I slapped you. That was childish and unkind."
Barty sighed, but pulled her tighter against him and kissed the back of her head.
"I was the one who was childish and unkind. You have nothing to apologize for. It was no more than I deserved."
Violence was wrong to be used in any argument. She'd been taught that her entire life. Even in the worst fights she had with ex-boyfriends and old lovers, it had never gotten to that point before. Sure, she'd used awful language and certainly hurt feelings with what she said, but she had never hit anyone. And Draco Malfoy didn't count. He wasn't anything close to being even a friend. She'd probably hit him again if he dared to insult Hagrid where she could hear it.
"It still shouldn't have happened. I've been at such a loss for words. I was just so…"
"Angry."
"Well, yes. Furious really."
"I understand. I'm so angry right now I'm almost afraid my heart is going to burst inside my chest."
Confused by his confession, Hermione turned over so she could see his face. He seemed so calm. How was he able to hide his rage so well? She thought she should've been able to tell. Was she that blind or just too caught up in her own thoughts and concerns to notice?
"You're angry?"
When he smiled she could see the pain behind his expression. Maybe it had always been there and she hadn't bothered to really see it.
"Of course I am. I can hardly see straight at times."
"You're very good at hiding it."
"A Crouch family trait, I'm afraid. Everyone in my family was angry all of the time but we knew how to keep a smile on our faces and pretend to be perfectly normal."
Every family had its secrets. Too often it was easy to look at another's family and make assumptions that they were better off than they really were. The Grangers had been far from perfect. Maybe life would've been better for all of them if they had figured out a better way to express what they truly felt. Just like the Crouch family, it seemed, they had their own ways of hiding their pain from everyone else with a bright smile.
"Are you angry with me?"
Barty pressed his lips against hers before he answered. The question just sort of slipped out of her mouth. Afraid to know the true answer, she didn't really mean to ask it at all. To be fair, she wouldn't blame him for directing all of his anger at her for what she did.
"Absolutely not. I was a little annoyed when you slapped me. It stung quite a bit, but no, I'm not angry with you."
"You should be. You should hate me."
"Well, I don't and I can't see that changing any time soon. As I see it, you have been the only person in this entire world who gave a damn about me. Everyone else was content to just chuck me back in Azkaban and go on forgetting about me. Not you."
Some of the anger he had been so adept in disguising poked through his tone. She could only imagine the emotions he felt since he woke up in the basement of St. Mungo's. The entire world had gone and changed without him and no one missed him. No one other than an aging free house-elf with a drinking problem at any rate.
To feel so abandoned and unwanted couldn't have been easy, especially not for someone who was so clearly starved for affection. He likely always had been. Maybe his mother was the type to hug and kiss her son, but she knew his father wasn't. It broke her heart to imagine how neglected and forgotten he was. She reached over to brush a stray lock of hair away from his eyes. He needed a haircut. At the simple touch of her hand, he closed his eyes to savor the moment. How could such a small gesture mean so much?
"You can't make jokes about being sent back to Azkaban. They're not funny and every time I think about you being taken back, I can't breathe."
He opened his eyes to meet hers as he nodded.
"All right. No more jokes about Azkaban, but you also can't make unfunny jokes about killing yourself."
It was a fair request. She didn't actually enjoy making those comments nor did she think they were funny. It was a defense mechanism she'd developed after he thought she wanted to kill herself weeks earlier. Likely there was some deep psychological reason why she started feeling the need to be defensive, but she wasn't ready to dive too deeply into why. Maybe later when the whole world calmed down an entire team of Mind Healers could study her actions and motivations. For the present, she was far too exhausted for that much introspection.
"Why are you angry?"
The question she asked was highly personal, one she shouldn't just blurt out without thinking. No matter what they chose to do in their private moments together, she didn't have a right to know everything that happened inside his head. Just as she had her own secrets that she didn't want to share with anyone, so he should be allowed as well. Anger could be such a personal emotion. It wasn't always rational. Sometimes expressing why one was angry in actual words made it seem ridiculous, but it wasn't. Complicated yet valid, anger was different from person to person. What would make one person laugh could devastate another.
Barty seemed reluctant to answer. For several seconds after she asked, he just stared at her like he was waiting for her to either move on to ask another question or because he wasn't sure what to say. Just when she was ready to tell him to forget it, he leaned over to lightly brush his lips against hers. Lasting only a heartbeat, he pulled his head back to look deep into her eyes again.
"I'm angry because for the very first time in my entire life I have hope and…"
He sighed, unsure how to continue. What could she say in response? She didn't have the first clue what she could say to make him feel better or if even if it was possible.
"…and every day I feel it slipping away."
"This is all my fault. You had a second chance and I ruined it."
There was such sadness on his face she couldn't bear it. Tears she had been trying to suppress freely rolled down her cheeks. She hated how weak and pathetic she felt. They were talking about him and his future and somehow she managed to make it all about her again. It was a terrible habit she had. Seeing how upset she was, he just gently used the back of his finger to wipe the tears he could reach.
"You didn't ruin anything. Not a damn thing. You've been kinder to me than anyone I've ever known and I don't deserve it. Not any of it. You should hate me for ruining your life. Before I came along…"
"My life wasn't all that great, you know. You haven't ruined anything."
With the smallest of chuckles that actually drew a little smile out of her, Barty used his arms to pull her down against his chest. She laid her head just under his chin as he wrapped his arms tighter. If touching her in some way could offer him the tiniest bit of comfort, she was willing. Besides, it felt nice to hear the thumping of his steady heartbeat in her ear. She could've easily fallen asleep just like that.
"From what I read about you, you've led a fairly interesting life in the years I was sleeping soulless in St. Mungo's."
"If you're referencing the war, everyone had an interesting life back then but it wasn't great."
"No, I meant after that. How many professional Quidditch players did you date exactly? Three? Four?"
Shocked by his question, she lifted her head to see the cheeky grin on his face. She just rolled her eyes with a amused but slightly frustrated scoff and put her head back where it had been. His chest shook a little with suppressed laughter.
"I don't have the foggiest idea what you're talking about."
"Oh really? So you didn't date Viktor Krum during your fourth year and then again when you left Hogwarts?"
"We hardly dated. We lived in two different countries. There was one lovely dinner in Diagon Alley and then a wretched reporter followed us back to The Leaky Cauldron where they made some very bold and erroneous assumptions about how we spent the rest of the evening."
He laughed a little harder.
"And then what about the Beater for the Tutshill Tornados?"
"It was one long weekend. Hardly a relationship."
"Oliver Wood was a relationship. How many years did it last? There were rumors you were going to marry him."
Eventually, if they were going to be a real couple who faced real issues and problems, they would have to bring up past relationships. As much as she didn't want to mention Oliver right then, it was a fair question. Just because she didn't want to talk about him didn't mean Barty didn't deserve to know a little about her past.
"Yes, marriage was discussed. There might have even been a chapel that was reserved. We were together for a few years. And I thoroughly and completely broke his heart. He deserved much better than me. I hope it's not true what Rita said about him being single again. He deserves to be happy."
That was all she was prepared to tell him for the moment. Later, if there was a later, she could give him the details about how she worked too much and forgot Oliver's birthday party. It had been one of the worst rows she'd ever been in. Entirely her fault, she'd embarrassed him and made him feel like stacks of parchment were more important than he was. Then there was the time she'd argued with his mum about something as mundane as Christmas biscuits that made the poor woman cry. Mrs. Wood was a delightful woman who deserved much better than Hermione for a daughter-in-law. Dozens of ridiculous arguments and moments of just sheer selfishness flashed through her mind. Oliver had been far from perfect, but there was no question who was mostly responsible for the relationship ending. It was just one more failure in a long line of them throughout her life.
"Well, then tell me about the MacKenzie chap on the Banchory Bangers. Keeper, was he? Or another Beater? It's hard to keep your past lovers straight."
Thankful for the gentle teasing that helped to break some of the uncomfortable tension in her gut that always came up when Oliver was mentioned, she snorted out a soft laugh. Barty seemed to understand that they needed a moment of levity.
"Actually, he was a Chaser."
"Ahh, a Chaser. So just rounding out all of the positions. Was there a Quidditch coach somewhere in there? Or a referee?"
She poked his chest with her finger only making him laugh a little harder.
"I'm starting to feel self-conscious. All of these Quidditch players in your past. I've never beat a bludger and I've dropped more quaffles than I've caught. What could you possibly see in me?"
"Convenience, mostly. You were right next door."
His loud laughter was contagious. She wanted to hear it every night right there exactly where they were. Imagining him back in his damp cell was too much. She had to keep her mind distracted.
"How do you know about the wizards I dated? Who have you been talking to?"
"Did you know there is a Muggle-Born wizard who created a website where you can read every issue of the Daily Prophet for the past thirty years? I just typed 'Hermione Granger' into the search box and there was your entire public dating history. I read every single article with your name in it."
"Ugh. I knew I shouldn't have taught you how to turn on the television."
"As curious as I am, I would've figured out the laptop even without help from the television. There was also a kind lady in the village library who taught me the basics."
Even if she was slightly annoyed that the highlights of her past love life was available on the Internet for everyone to find, she couldn't deny that she was impressed that Barty was able to teach himself so much about Muggle technology. Curious to know what he had been learning, she would check what he had been up to the next morning. Of course, as intelligent as he was, he likely already figured out the importance of clearing out his browser history.
"If you've read every article with my name in it, then you know how nasty Rita's is going to be."
The mood shifted immediately. Neither of them wanted to think about how it would be, but they knew they couldn't hide from the truth forever. It was coming whether they wanted it to or not. As much as she might have wished they were just a normal couple, they weren't. Nor would they likely ever be. There was too much in their collective history, too much to ignore or sugarcoat. Best for both of them to be as blunt and open as possible.
"Yes, I know. It's not going to look good for either of us. You and I were both very careful with how we answered each of her questions, but she's the sort who will twist whatever we said into the opposite or even worse. But, Hermione, most readers can smell out a ridiculous lie."
"I don't care what most readers think. I care about the loudest, the most insistent, the ones who will bombard the Wizengamot with howlers demanding that they throw you back in Azkaban immediately. They are the ones that…"
Her voice cracked in the midst of her sentence. Barty's arms tightened their hold. A brush of his lips against the top of the head was supposed to help calm her down. She supposed it sort of did. It was difficult to tell with the violent extremes of emotion she felt choking in her chest. Necessary it might be to have the conversation, but it wasn't easy.
"As long as I'm free to be and you wish me to, I'm right here with you, Hermione. You don't have to face this alone."
The tiniest bit of pressure in her chest lessened. Some days it felt like she had spent her entire life facing battles by herself. Perhaps that was melodramatic considering the friendships she had had with both Harry and Ron, but it didn't make the feeling any less valid. Rare was she the first one chosen. Usually she was the after-thought or the tag-along. As long as her best interests matched or didn't interfere with the best interests of the more important ones, she was accepted and supported.
"I'm worried."
It was a simple sentence that didn't even need to be uttered, but somehow just voicing her true feelings out loud made even more of the pressure subside. Rarely was the healthiest solution to suppress thoughts and concerns.
"So am I."
Barty carefully turned just enough that she was on her back and their eyes could meet. There was so much more that he wanted to say. He stopped himself with a heavy sigh. She leaned up to press her lips against his. The kiss was over almost as soon as it began, but it had a powerful effect on them both.
"Let's just try to get some sleep. Maybe it won't look so hopeless in the morning."
When Hermione tried to show her agreement with his suggestion with another kiss, he gently pushed her away.
"And don't try to kiss me again. Not until I've had a few hours of sleep at least. Every time you kiss me I want to teach you a new position and my muscles are far too sore for that right now. I need some time to recover."
