Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who has continued to stick with this 'boring' story. You are very much appreciated. There will be four more chapters after this one.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Long before the sun rose Harry was awake. Usually he had no trouble at all sleeping through the entire morning and into the afternoon even. Often, especially in recent weeks he needed much of the day to sleep off his excesses. He'd been drinking too much. No one needed to tell him what was so obvious. If he was honest, he didn't like how he felt when he had too much to drink either. The previous night had surpassed his grandest fantasies with all of the toasts and celebrations, but he couldn't make it a habit. All drinking did when he felt down was keep him mired in his misery. It was a waste of a life and he knew he had been given an extraordinary one.

Unable to keep his eyes closed a moment longer, he turned on his side to look at Luna sleeping soundly next to him. If he lived to be three hundred and so did she, he would never fully believe how fortunate he'd been. She was without a doubt the greatest thing that ever happened to him in all of his years. He couldn't take her for granted for even a second. To ensure that she had the best life possible, he had to make himself into the best possible version of himself. No more wandering around without a purpose wasting his time. The idea of purchasing Honeydukes wasn't entirely off the table yet. He still wanted to discuss it seriously with Luna first. Before then, however, he needed to do something a little more meaningful.

Careful not to wake her up, he got out of bed and dressed for the day. Not planning on getting out of his house unless unavoidable, he only put on his slippers and tiptoed out of the bedroom without making any noise. He knew his house well enough that he didn't need to switch on a light or use his wand to navigate though the corridors or use the staircase. His destination for the present was the library. Once inside he did choose to turn on a lamp on the desk. From out of a drawer he removed a fresh sheet of parchment and began to write a note.

…must come as a bit of a surprise, but I respectfully request your help. I think between the two of us, we can come up with a solution that will work. Please consider coming over to my home at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place…

After attaching the message onto the leg of his Eagle owl, he hadn't had the heart to even think about ever getting another Snowy owl, he watched as he flew off into the early morning air. Nothing at all may come out of the message, but he held on to some hope that any past disagreements could be put aside for the greater good.

The very moment that those two words popped into his mind, he felt sick to his stomach. Regardless of how he felt about Albus Dumbledore and what he had done for their world, he didn't want to actually turn into him. He would have to be very careful. Every witch and wizard who came before Harry had their own faults and talents. It wouldn't be difficult if he allowed himself to morph into his own version of the former Headmaster making decisions for how everyone else should live their life according to what service they could provide to the so-called 'Greater Good'. He never wanted to go down that path.

While he waited for any potential response, he went down into the kitchen in the basement to brew some strong coffee. Tea wasn't going to be enough for what he had in mind. He wanted to be fully awake and alert. It was time he did some actual work. The holiday he had since he returned from the wilds of Greenland had certainly had its high points, but remaining idle for too long wasn't healthy for anyone.

A knock on the front door startled him enough that he nearly spilled as he poured his coffee. Who would be there that early? Curious but also wary that it would be another reporter who somehow figured out how to break through his extensive wards with pure determination, he rushed to the door to see who would make such an early call. He also didn't want to wake Luna up.

Standing on the top step with his arms full of rolled scrolls and heavy books, Blaise Zabini looked exhausted. Harry had to blink a couple of times to make certain he was seeing what he was seeing.

"Mr. Zabini, what are you doing here so early?"

"I just got your owl. I was awake and clearly you were too. Didn't see the need to wait for a decent hour to respond to your invitation. I haven't slept through an entire night for weeks."

Harry stepped aside to let the other wizard enter. Immediately, his visitor began looking around the grand foyer.

"Where can I set up? I have more in my pockets."

"Let's go down into the kitchen. I just made coffee."

"Perfect. We have a lot to do and I'm concerned we're running out of time."

If it was possible to keep the morning from arriving, Hermione would make it happen. She wasn't anxious for the sun to rise and shine down on the perfect mess of her life. Barty might have hoped it would all look better in the morning, but she couldn't see how that was possible. All night she dreaded morning. Even held in Barty's arms and hearing his steady breathing behind her didn't allow her to relax enough to shut her mind off.

Other sleepless nights in her past she would've swallowed a sleeping potion without giving it much thought. When she considered crawling out of bed to get one, she remembered Barty's words he'd spoken to her weeks earlier. Sleep isn't the escape you think it is. He was right and even though she knew it would be easier to ignore and keep doing what she had been doing for so long, she didn't want to. She wanted to be better, to be stronger. If it frustrated her more than anything for someone to think she was weak and pathetic, why was she so willing to engage in behavior she knew was weak and pathetic? Hiding and ignoring reality was almost never the most effective course of action.

Maybe it sounded silly when she said her thoughts out loud. She wanted to be a better person for Barty. His opinion of her seemed to be so much higher than her own. Truthfully, she still couldn't understand what he saw in her. She might have been joking about the reason she was interested in him was solely for convenience, but she worried he only cared about her because she was nearby. He'd spent years floating around in nothingness. As the first woman he spent any significant time around, it wasn't inconceivable that he would be attracted to her.

He claimed that wasn't the case, but what if he was lying to himself too? Once he claimed when she brought up the exact subject before that she had surrounded herself with blind idiots. While she certainly appreciated the compliment, she worried she was just a novelty. What if he grew bored or annoyed with her? He certainly wouldn't be the first to feel that way.

Afraid she was going to wake him up, she decided to get up even before the sun was fully up. She pulled on a dressing gown and put on her slippers before sneaking off into the lounge. The sun peeked its rays over the horizon. It would be morning soon whether she liked it or not.

One look out the front window next to the door revealed the exciting fact that the group of reporters that had set up there almost the moment it was revealed where Barty was living was gone. Maybe they were old news after Rita's interview. The Daily Prophet got their exclusive story and they weren't that interesting. One could only hope.

Almost as if she summoned the post owl with her thoughts, there was a tap on her window. Hermione opened the window to accept the delivery of the morning newspaper. Feeling too nervous to unroll it immediately, she couldn't decide if she should wait for Barty or not. She quickly decided not to. He said he was losing hope. Maybe it would be better for her to read it first to see how awful it was. She could ease him into the worst of it.

Seeing Harry and Luna take up nearly the entire front page was a pleasant surprise. The picture of them smiling and kissing was wonderful. So was the stunning diamond ring on her finger. Their engagement announcement dominated the headlines. To say she was taken aback by the engagement was an understatement. She didn't even know they had been dating. Harry kept that private even from her.

While there was temporary relief that Rita's nasty article wasn't on the front page, Hermione had the upsetting thought that maybe it was being saved for the more popular and widely read Sunday edition the next day. Just to put her mind at ease, she flipped through the paper scanning the rest of the articles. On the eighth page she found a very short article written by Rita. It wasn't very interesting. Just mentioned the barest details of their interview.

Rarely had Hermione been more confused by an unexpected development. She didn't understand how the article wasn't full of lies. Nothing Rita said was untrue. It wasn't even nasty. She meant it the day before when she said to Barty that it all felt too easy. Were her instincts correct or was she just being overly paranoid and unreasonable? It was impossible to know for sure.

She tossed the newspaper on the table next to the sofa. Feeling helpless and worried constantly was exhausting. As much as she wanted to be proactive, she didn't even know where to start. There was usually a villain to fight. How did one fight the kind of battle they were facing? It was all so frustrating.

The door to the bedroom opened. Barty came out looking terribly concerned. Once his eyes landed on Hermione sitting on the sofa, he relaxed just a little. She tried to offer him a warm smile, but she knew it fell flat. He could tell at once that she was upset. When he saw the discarded newspaper next to her, he sighed. Before he reached for the damned paper, he leaned down to kiss her good morning.

"Well, how bad was it?"

"That's just it. Not bad at all."

His brow furrowed. He waited until he was seated next to her to really take a good look at the front page. Loud laughter was his first reaction.

"Suppose now we know what the more interesting developing story Rita mentioned was. Do you think this is a real engagement or just your friends' attempt to draw the attention away from us?"

Hermione shrugged her shoulders.

"I really don't know. I didn't even know they were dating."

It was a struggle to try to push down the rising bitterness she felt and the additional feeling of rejection she hated so much. Did everyone else know more about her friend's life than she did? It hurt to know she and Harry were no longer in the place where he shared the details of his private life. What kind of friends were they? Some days she worried they weren't friends at all but they just went through the motions for nostalgic reasons or because it was expected of them by everyone around them.

Barty was just as confused as she was when he read the short article almost in the very back of the newspaper. It didn't make any sense to him either.

"It's entirely possible there's a longer, more damning article being prepared for tomorrow's edition."

"That's what I was worried about."

No longer wanting to see the blasted newspaper, Barty wadded it up into a ball that he threw across the room. The kittens immediately ran after what they thought might be a new toy. Both Hermione and Barty had to laugh at their enthusiasm.

"Seems to me we can worry about that later."

Except that wasn't how Hermione was built. She wished she could just forget for even a few hours the uncertainty that still hung over their heads. When she tried not to dwell on something, especially when it was unpleasant or worrisome, her treacherous mind made it so that was all she could think of.

"Mr. Zabini was kind enough yesterday to charm all of the regular post owls to drop their letters in a hole in the back garden so we don't have to worry about being further bombarded with unpleasant correspondence today."

"I had no idea."

"He thought it best to leave the newspaper delivery owls and any that might come officially from the Ministry of Magic alone, but all of the others we can retrieve when and if we desire later."

It really was a thoughtful gesture on Blaise's part. No doubt when she was in the bedroom alone getting dressed he saw the ashes of Barty's massive post fire and offered an easier solution. She had been so consumed with thoughts about Rita and her damned interview that she never even thought about why there were no more deliveries. Maybe Harry sent a letter explaining his proposal plan. She couldn't see him doing something so publicly unless there was a very valid reason.

"That was kind of him."

"Yes, he saw that I was struggling to keep up with burning all of the hateful, impertinent post."

"I'm sorry you had to deal with that while I slept."

Barty shrugged his shoulders like it was no big deal, but it was. Swallowing the sleeping potion to escape from the world had been the wrong decision. She knew that. She knew it when she had the full potion vial still in her hand. From that moment on, she wouldn't run away to leave him to deal with the fallout. How had he been so kind when she was so selfish?

"Such a small price to pay to be in your life really."

"You make it sound like my life is somehow exciting or worthwhile. I'm afraid you spent too much time floating around soulless."

The expression that appeared on his face was equal parts blinding anger and debilitating sadness. At once she regretted opening her mouth to blurt out what she was thinking. Hadn't she learned that lesson the hard way repeatedly in her past? Most thoughts were better left entirely inside one's head. There was no reason to pollute an already polluted world with more nonsense and rubbish.

"I'm very sorry that life didn't turn out how you expected and hoped it would be."

To his immense credit, Barty chose to push away his initial feelings to offer her the empathy she didn't deserve. Feeling ashamed of herself, she turned her face away from his. How could she possibly complain about her life when his had been so horrible?

"No, don't be. It's my own fault. Life is supposed to be what you make of it, right? Isn't that the saying that's intended to be so encouraging to those that are lost?"

"I'm not sure. There weren't very many encouraging words spoken in the Crouch house. Maybe a few from Winky when she was teaching little me to wee in the toilet, but that's been so many years ago, who can remember?"

His cheeky wink almost never failed to bring a smile to her lips. How the man could have such a positive effect on her no matter how she felt was something a mystery she just wanted to enjoy as long as she could. For once she didn't feel like she had to solve it all. When he followed up with a quick kiss to her lips, she felt another knot in her stomach loosen.

"I'd hoped that I would be further along at this point in my life."

"Expectations are almost never met really. What was it that you wanted to do?"

Every time she had been asked that same question or a variation of it in the past, Hermione had a rehearsed answer to provide that surprised absolutely no one who heard it. She claimed that she wanted to achieve a meteoric rise through the Ministry of Magic to become the youngest Minister for Magic in history. Or at least do it before she was fifty years old. It was what everyone expected her to want. Whether or not achieving the top spot in the government by a Muggle-Born witch with too many enemies and an unlikable personality where one was necessary was even possible didn't really matter. She convinced herself that that was what she wanted with her life. Each day where she wasn't taking a step up another rung on the bureaucratic ladder was a day lost.

But she knew that's not what Barty wanted to hear. Unlike everyone else who felt the obligation to ask the same, he actually cared about the answer. If she gave him the same repeated response, he would know that she wasn't being genuine. Too often she lied to herself and those around her in the process. It was easier than facing the uncomfortable truth.

"I've always said that I wanted to be the Minister for Magic."

"And you no longer feel the same?"

"No, I feel the same. I feel like I should want to be the Minister, but…"

Hermione sighed, unsure if she wanted to continue their conversation. Why did everything have to be so serious between them, especially in recent days? Maintaining a surface-level relationship was much less stressful. Could she change the subject of the discussion to something innocuous and boring like the weather or which teams did he think would make the Quidditch League finals?

"Blaise said once that he thought the only reason why I ever wanted to be the Minister for Magic was to prove to everyone that I was worthy of being a witch."

"Do you agree with him?"

"Sometimes. I feel like I've spent most of my life trying to prove myself."

There was only sadness behind Barty's next smile.

"That's something I can understand very well. My childhood and adolescence was spent trying to prove myself worthy to my father. Then I tried to prove myself worthy to the Dark Lord. And if by some miracle I'm not dragged back to Azkaban when this is all over, I know that I will be spending the rest of my life proving that I deserve the second chance I've been given."

"That sounds exhausting."

"Oh, it was. It is. To never feel like your life is fully your own is misery. But it doesn't have to be. There's only one person's opinion in this whole damned world I care about. And as long as she thinks I'm not a monster and that I deserve a second chance, then I can face even the threat of Azkaban without fear."

A simple squeeze of her hand brought her more comfort than she thought possible. As much as she didn't want to think about him being sent back to Azkaban, it was an unfortunate reality. She couldn't hide her head in the sand forever.

"I know I wasn't really a professor…"

"You could've been one, you know. If you'd made different choices. Your lessons were unorthodox, yes, but most of us learned in them."

He smiled a little brighter. Tiptoeing through their shared past had been their unspoken agreement. But she meant what she said. There would be others who would agree if asked.

"But you were one of my best students. Blood purity was never a real concern with the Crouches. We didn't care. I didn't even care. Not even when I was a Death Eater. It didn't seem important. When I was your professor, there was never any question that you were worthy of being a witch or not. You are a witch, Hermione. You always have been and you always will be. Fuck anyone who says that you are less than everyone else because of your blood. That's rubbish. If you want to be Minister, you will have no stronger supporter than me. But, if you want a different career or even want to just have a simpler life, I'll support that too. You have one life. Just one. Don't waste any of it worrying about what you should be doing."

Unsure what to even say in response, she just leaned up to kiss him again. That was good enough for Barty.

"Maybe the nasty article will be in the paper tomorrow. Until then, let's just ignore the rest of the world and forget anything that happens outside of these walls."

Hermione had no reason to disagree. With a wicked grin on her face, she stood up from the sofa. A quick tug on the belt of her dressing gown revealed one of the sinfully thin nighties he'd admired and even fantasized about. Dropping the dressing gown to the floor, she reached for his hand to help him to his feet.

"Wasn't there something you said you wanted to do when I was dressed like this?"

Barty all but dragged her back into the bedroom. There was little time to waste.

On Sunday morning it was Barty who got up at dawn to get the newspaper. Even though he never said so the day before and he did his utmost to make certain they were both fully distracted in a number of delightful, toe-curling ways, Hermione knew he was every bit as nervous and anxious as she was to find out what awful article Rita had planned. He entered the bedroom flipping through the pages with a concerned expression. She knew him well enough at that point to understand he was upset and trying to hide it. Instantly on edge, she sat up in bed.

"How wretched is it?"

Barty just continued to flip through until he reached the edge of the bed to sit down.

"That's just it. There's nothing."

Perhaps it wasn't the best method to show she trusted the man, but she ripped the newspaper out of his hands to see for herself. He wasn't wrong. There was no article. Neither of them were mentioned at all anywhere. The entire front page was taken up with another article about Harry's surprise engagement. It should've been encouraging that there wasn't a nasty article. Somehow it was more disconcerting.

"Maybe we aren't as interesting as we thought we were."

As much as Hermione appreciated Barty's effort in trying to make her feel better, it didn't help. She was far too untrusting of Rita's tactics to relax. Was something truly awful just waiting to pop over the horizon? It was possible that Rita was just waiting for the perfect moment to inflict maximum damage.

"It's a problem for another day."

He was right. There was enough that they could keep their minds focused on without creating more problems that weren't even there yet. When he gave her a proper kiss good morning, she was able to push away most of her worries. Other than the constant worry that they were about to be hurled off a cliff at any moment, their lazy Sunday spent entirely at home, in their pajamas and less, was a pleasant experience.

By the morning of the first workday of the week, however, Hermione knew that she couldn't just sit around at home waiting any longer. She tried not to let the fact that she felt like she was stuck on house arrest drive her mad. Nothing good could come from that. There was simply no way she could just stay there doing nothing when everything outside was so uncertain. Barty had practice in making it look easy and like he wasn't bothered, but she knew he was ready to crawl up the walls. He was able to use some creative methods to keep himself, and by extension her, occupied. She wondered how he stood it in the weeks before she threw herself at him. The kittens and the television didn't seem that interesting.

Hermione refused to stay home Monday morning no matter how much Barty begged. The agreement was that she would remain home from the Ministry of Magic for a 'few days'. She felt a Friday and an entire weekend qualified. There was no reason she couldn't try to return to some semblance of normality. Barty was nervous about how she would be treated at the office. His concern was appreciated and entirely unnecessary. She couldn't stay.

Leaving for the Ministry earlier than usual, she was able to arrive before most of the other officials. There were still some curious and even downright hostile looks from the few she did see. She didn't care. There was work to be done and she needed to do it. Let the others stare.

Opening the door to her shared office and finding Blaise already seated was the biggest surprise of them all. She didn't expect him to arrive for a few more hours at least. His desk was covered with scrolls and dusty books. Hiding any hint of shock to find her there, or perhaps not being surprised at all that she would go against his advice, Blaise smiled.

"Please tell me the dark circles under your eyes are from lack of sleep because you spent the weekend naked, love. I'm sad to say mine aren't."