Chapter Twenty-Eight

He didn't really believe he could trust his own ears to hear correctly. Did Harry really just hear what Luna said? Maybe it had all been inside his head and he just imagined he asked her to marry him. Or he might have asked a different question that she agreed with. It hadn't been his intention to ask. Any other time in the past he might have imagined proposing to a woman he cared about, he thought he would be a little more debonair than just blurting it out in his kitchen. There should've been wine and a romantic setting and music. She deserved all of that and more.

"You… you'll marry me?"

With an amused laugh he could feel all the way down to his bare toes, Luna crossed the kitchen to kiss him. He still wasn't sure that was an answer. Was she trying to soften the blow that it had all been a figment of his overactive imagination? His face must have shown his confusion. She smiled brightly enough he could hardly breathe. How could one person be so radiant and still be real?

"Yes, I'll marry you."

Overjoyed to have the confirmation he hadn't been aware his heart needed to keep pumping blood through his body, Harry wrapped his arms around the delightful woman to kiss her again. The details of the engagement and the subsequent wedding and marriage could be figured out later. In that second, he wanted nothing more than to feel her mouth against his to remind him that he wasn't stuck in a pitiful dreamworld that could never be his reality.

The temptation to toss her gently down on the kitchen table to further celebrate their engagement was strong. He likely would've done it if the door hadn't opened before he could try. Kreacher walked in carrying the newspaper. If he realized what he had just interrupted, he pretended not to notice. Just continued to shuffle towards the cooker where Luna left a pan of eggs still on the flames.

With the addition of a new being inside the kitchen, Luna seemed a little shy about what she wasn't wearing. Maybe she wouldn't have cared if it had been any of their friends, but she had grown to respect and even like the old house-elf. She excused herself to leave the room to get dressed while Kreacher finished what she started.

Even knowing that he potentially had the rest of his life to celebrate Luna's answer, Harry felt disappointed. Later when they were locked inside his bedroom with no chance of interruption, he would be glad to give her a little taste of what she could expect as the next Mrs. Potter. Or the first Mrs. Lovegood-Potter. Or if she chose not to change her name at all. He didn't rightly care. As long as she was in the bed next to him every night possible until one of them was dead, she could call herself whatever she wanted. There were far more important issues and aspects of marriage to look forward to.

He took a seat at the kitchen table then reached for the morning newspaper. Ordinarily not one to care much for the so-called news the Daily Prophet provided, he could use a distraction while he waited for Luna to return. As soon as he saw the front page, his stomach sank with worry and anxiety.

"Oh, no."

Despite having her cloak on, Hermione was freezing by the time they walked back to the house. There were no longer any reporters in the back garden to her relief. She half-expected to be ambushed with a thousand impertinent questions and dozens of flashing camera bulbs. Part of her was almost afraid to ask why they weren't there any longer. Barty guessed what she was thinking when he caught her looking around.

"Zabini banished them all from the garden while I ran after you. Can you feel the magic in the air? No one's going to want to come around to bother you back here for awhile."

Once he mentioned it she could feel the crackling still present all around them. She supposed she should feel grateful for Blaise's help in the whole scenario, but mostly she felt embarrassed. When she ran out the kitchen door, she wasn't exactly herself. Maybe part of her would never be the same again. Never before had she felt so weak and broken. Had she really been considering stepping off the edge of the cliffs?

No consciously, of course, but yes, she considered how much easier it would be to just break every bone in her body on the rocks than to face the frightening uncertainty of life ahead. She wouldn't have done it. At least she didn't think so if she had been in her right mind. That didn't matter. It was bad enough that she even thought it at all. Healthy, happy people didn't fantasize about their gruesome deaths. Barty said that Kingsley taking his memories helped make it quiet inside his head. Would the waves crashing over her head and the water dragging her down to the bottom quiet the deafening noise in her own head?

Once she read that at least half the population and likely even more didn't have the internal monologue playing inside their own minds that never seemed to shut up in hers. It astounded her to learn that there was a large percentage of the world who could just sit still and not think about anything. To her it seemed like a strange superhuman power to be able to turn off all of the incessant background noise inside her brain. If the study was correct, however, it would seem that her inner voice was the actual superhuman power. She didn't want it. Not at all. She wished she could sit in a chair, tune out the rest of the world, and just be quiet. It seemed far too much to ask.

"How did Blaise find you if you ran off?"

That was the only simple question she could think of in that moment. Later no doubt there would be plenty of more difficult discussions, but until then, she couldn't handle anything more. Before Barty could answer, Blaise did it for him.

"Tracking spell. Easy enough to cast on his back when he wasn't looking. 'Constant vigilance', my arse."

The reminder of Barty's past masquerading as their Defense Against the Dark Arts professor usually brought with it some uncomfortable tension. In that moment though, it helped to ease some of the tension that was already there. Both Barty and Hermione chuckled quietly while Blaise had his usual smirk plastered across his handsome face. They needed a moment of levity. For at least a few heartbeats everything didn't feel so damn hard. Sadly, the feeling didn't last long.

"I'm going home. I'll keep you both updated on what happens at the Ministry the next few days."

Blaise was out the back door before she could argue with him about her staying home again. Even as she thought about it she discovered she didn't possess the energy required to try. As much as she didn't want to admit so, he had a point about it being best for her take at least a few days off from work.

Alone with Barty again inside her home, she felt nervous. She hated that it felt like there was a barrier up between them again. Everything that happened at the cliff was such an embarrassment to her she could hardly stand to look at the concerned man. It was awful that what had been a very good night was ruined and would only get worse as time progressed. There would be howlers delivered to her in a few hours. She knew that without question.

One look at Barty proved he was feeling nervous too. By the time they were too tired to keep their eyes open, they had grown very comfortable with each other. Could they hope to get back to that? Should they even try? There was a reason why so many people were going to be upset by the article that ran in the morning's newspaper. Most wouldn't understand. Even she didn't really understand. When he first moved into her house, she hated him and everything he represented. Being around him every day gave her a chance to see him as a human being. Extremely flawed just like everyone else, she knew his experiences changed him. He couldn't be the same person he was before he had his soul sucked out of his body by an evil creature.

No one could. Would others be able to understand that truth or would he always be damned for the choices he made as an immature teenager and then as a damaged and broken shell of a man when he broke out of his cruel father's imprisonment? So many people in the world failed at having the capacity for true forgiveness. It was disheartening. No one would ever be able to convince Hermione that he was the same person he used to be, but she feared she would never be able to convince them either. It was all well and good to claim you didn't care what other people thought except it wasn't realistic. Humans by their very nature cared what others thought about them. It was also in their nature to judge. Perhaps if they lived in a perfect world everyone would be able to get along in harmony. Unfortunately, they lived in that world.

"You must be freezing. Would you like me to run you a bath? Or… or…"

As kind of an offer as it was for him to make, Hermione felt self-conscious when he swiftly moved on from the offer of a bath to nervously search for another option. Her scoff was ruder than she intended it to be.

"If you're worried I'm going to try to drown myself in the bathtub, don't."

She made her escape from the kitchen quickly before he could say anything. Headed straight for her bathroom, she turned on the taps in her shower to warm up the water. For a few minutes as she stood under the hot water, she was glad to be inside again. Barty wasn't wrong about her being freezing from her little trip to the cliffs in the middle of the night when all sane people were snuggled safely in their beds. The water felt amazing on her tired muscles. For a moment she couldn't remember why she felt so sore, but then all of the images of the much more pleasurable way they spent the night flashed through her mind. It was hard to believe that all of that happened on the same night.

Heavy guilt fell over her the longer she thought about how she had behaved. She didn't mean to take all of her anger and fear out on Barty, but she did it anyway. He deserved much more than that. Taking a deep breath sort of helped her feel a little better. The same exhaustion hadn't left her. She felt certain it wasn't the kind that could be cured with sleep even if she slept for a week straight.

Not normally a fan of long showers, she took her time. Close to a quarter of an hour, possibly longer, passed before she stepped out from underneath the water. After she turned the water off, she reached for a towel to wrap her body in. Just a few steps away from the shower she opened the drawer at her sink where she kept her sleeping potions. Even though she was exhausted and had no doubt she could sleep even without taking, she uncorked a vial to down it in one swallow. Not waking up for awhile sounded like the best option. As she didn't have to go into the office in a few hours, what would it even matter? She brushed her teeth and stepped out into her bedroom still wearing only the towel.

Barty sat at the foot of her bed clearly waiting for her to come out. Dressed in pajamas and with his hair dripping, he must've hurried through his own shower while she took her time in hers. Hermione didn't say anything. Though she hadn't technically invited him into her bedroom, she also didn't want to kick him out. She just crossed the room to her chest of drawers to pull out a nightgown. His eyes never left her as she dropped the wet towel to the floor and pulled the garment over her head. She didn't have to turn around to confirm she felt his eyes. Ignoring his stares, she went to the side of the bed to pull back the blankets.

"How much potion did you swallow?"

She didn't even bother to hide the exasperated roll of her eyes. Letting him get inside her knickers clearly made him bold enough to stick his nose in where it didn't belong. She was a grown woman who didn't need anyone checking up on her. Until she climbed into the bed and laid her head down on her pillow, she didn't bother to answer.

"Enough that I don't have to worry about any upsetting dreams for a few hours but not so much that I won't wake up again."

"Would you stop it with that?"

His tone was much harsher than it usually was. Evidently he was still upset and not handling it well.

"Stop what?"

"The flippant comments about ending your life. It's not funny."

"I didn't intend them to be funny. You've never thought about doing it yourself?"

Once the words were out of her mouth, Barty jumped up to his feet. He ran his hands through his wet hair, frustrated by the whole conversation.

"Of course I have. I spent most of my life thinking it would be easier to just give up and kill myself. When I was in school, I used to fantasize about jumping into the Black Lake and letting the giant squid crush me or the grindylows pull me under. When I was in Azkaban, I thought about smashing my head against the stones until there was nothing left. Back in my father's house, I used to fight against the Imperius Curse he kept me under hard enough that I was sometimes able to grab a knife from the kitchen. Winky was always there to stop me. She was terrified to leave me alone. I don't think she had a full night's sleep for years."

He sighed, his shoulders drooped with the exhale.

"Until I woke up with my soul again, the only time I didn't want to end myself was when I was masquerading as Moody. I had purpose. I had enough hatred to keep me going, to make me seek out my old master again. Pure hatred kept me going."

After another heavy sigh, Barty seemed as exhausted as Hermione felt. She struggled to keep her eyes open because she wasn't ready to end their conversation yet.

"And what's different now?"

"I feel like I finally have something worthwhile to live for. A chance to have a future, have a purpose. I could change it all. Become someone I could be proud of. And then there's… you."

A shy smile she didn't even try to stop crept up on her lips when she heard his confession. Afraid that he might have said far too much, he looked nervous. In a move similar to his only a few hours earlier, Hermione lifted the blankets to invite him to join her in bed. He didn't need much encouragement to crawl underneath the covers and pull her back into his arms. She felt comfort there for only a few seconds before a disturbing thought took over.

"But what if you get taken back to Azkaban? Would you want to smash your head against the stones?"

He kissed the top of her head.

"Absolutely not. Because unlike last time I was in there, I have no doubt there would be a stubborn, tenacious witch on the outside trying to get my sentence appealed."

Moments later she fell asleep with a smile. He was correct. That was exactly what she would do.

Bright streams of late winter sunlight through Hermione's bedroom window greeted her when she opened her eyes again. She didn't have the first clue how long she had been asleep or what time it was. All she could focus on in the moment was the fact that she actually felt somewhat rested and relaxed. When was the last time she felt that way?

It wasn't meant to last. Everything from the night before came rushing back to her. The truth about her relationship with Barty was out by then. Much of the country would've read about it over their breakfast or during their morning commute. She was nervous to know what the response to the article was, but she already knew it was bad. How could it be anything else?

Theirs wasn't a forgiving society. She could only imagine how unsympathetic and hateful others would be to her if they knew about her emotional freak out the night before. Or that morning. She didn't know when it happened exactly. There would be plenty of judgmental souls out there who wouldn't understand at all. They would sit from their pampered pedestals to call her hateful names like weak or pathetic. Why couldn't she just choose to get over it and move on? She wasn't who they assumed she was. She was letting her emotions take over. It was embarrassing and she should be ashamed of herself for being so unlikable and annoying.

Likely there would've even been a time in her own past when she would've agreed with such limited, short-sighted observations. Before she was unfortunate enough to feel the hopeless energy herself, she assumed people like her were just weak and feeling sorry for themselves. Perhaps some were, but she knew not all. Mental health was as tricky a subject to breach in the magical world as it was in the Muggle.

She survived a war when many of her friends did not. Her adolescence had been marred with violence and hatred. There were still, hateful, ignorant people who believed the Muggle-Born Registration Commission had the right idea and she should be imprisoned or even executed for stealing magic. Despite all that and more unpleasantness in her past she tried not to dwell too much on, she was expected to just bounce back. Act as if nothing bothered her. It was in the past and that's where it should stay. That was unreasonable and yet she knew there were people who believed she was just better off ignoring it all. Even the witches and wizards thought a stiff upper lip was the only way to live. If only it were that easy. Ignoring a problem and hoping it would just go away was rarely the best possible strategy.

Frustrated with how her mind was racing with unpleasant thoughts, she rolled over to the other side to find the rest of the bed empty. It was a little disappointing. She reached out to touch the spot where Barty slept. Cold, he must've been up for hours. She felt guilty just sleeping through what had to have been a stressful time. Even though she wished she could just close her eyes again and ignore reality for a few more hours, she forced herself to get up. She just put on warm slippers and a dressing gown. What was the point in getting dressed if she was just going to be stuck at home for the foreseeable future?

After a few minutes in the bathroom, she left her bedroom to find out what she missed while she slept. The first thing she noticed was the roaring fire. Flames flickered loudly leaving the lounge positively stifling. Curious why Barty would build such a big fire, she approached it to notice it had been fueled by a number of envelopes, some even a very distinctive shade of red. Barty must've been burning the worst of the post. It was sweet that he seemed to want to protect her from the worst of the nutters, but unnecessary. Despite her actions when she ran out the kitchen door, she really wasn't that fragile.

Barty stood at the front door with his back towards her seeming to not even notice she was in the room at all. The door was cracked open and she could hear voices. Once more curious about what was happening in her own home, she was grateful for the soft slippers on her feet as she quietly made her way towards him hoping to be able to hear his conversation. Just based on the tension she could see in his shoulders, she knew it wasn't pleasant.

"You do not want me as an enemy, Crouch. Your father understood that well."

Hermione's stomach sank when she heard Rita Skeeter's voice. Of course she was there. Why would she not be? If there was an opportunity for a salacious story or a chance to make Hermione miserable, the bitch would be there without hesitation.

"No, I don't want you as an enemy nor do I want you as a friend or acquaintance, Rita. I want you to turn around, walk away, and leave us both alone for the rest of eternity."

He spoke through clenched teeth, evidently very angry. Rita wasn't intimidated in the slightest. She only laughed.

"The choice is simple. At least it should be if you are half as intelligent as I was led to believe you were."

"How can I trust you're telling me the truth? That you won't release it all even if I do what you want?"

Her laughter sent a shudder up Hermione's spine. She didn't like what she was hearing. What sort of agreement was Barty entering into?

"You really shouldn't insult me. Not when I have all the power."

Barty's heavy sigh threatened to break Hermione's heart. He was exhausted and at his wit's end. It was all her fault. If she had just kept her hands to herself, they wouldn't have been in that situation to begin with.

"Then I suppose I have no choice."

Rita laughed again, loving every moment of their exchange.

"No, you don't. Not if you want to protect that chit of a girl from the harm to her reputation I could bring upon her. Not that her reputation is all that great to begin with. But, if you want her to lose her Ministry job and any hope of being able to hold her head up high again, just slam the door in my face as you swore you would do when I first knocked."

He sighed again.

"Fine. You win this time, Skeeter."

"Excellent decision. I will return this evening. Do be sure that you are both more welcoming."

Barty closed the door with yet another heavy sigh. His day really was turning out to be dreadful.

"What was that about?"

Still not realizing she was in the room, he jumped at the sound her voice behind him. When he turned around, he looked ashamed, like he was ready to run out the front door himself instead of answer.

"I've agreed to an exclusive interview with that horrible woman for both of us, I'm afraid."

"Why?"

There was no one else in the world she would rather give an interview to less than that awful woman. With a noticeable flush to his cheeks, Barty handed over a small photograph. Hermione nearly threw up when she saw what it was.

"Of course the photographer didn't stop taking pictures after he took the one of us kissing. The cretin sold the lot of his photos to Skeeter. That one was apparently one of the milder ones in her possession."

Hermione couldn't see how that was possible. The photograph she held in her hand left absolutely nothing to the imagination. They were naked on Barty's bed and nothing was hidden. She'd never hated moving photographs more. It was obscene and if anyone else saw it, she wasn't sure she would survive the humiliation.

"Skeeter promised me that she will turn over every copy of every photograph she has in exchange for an interview."

Nothing in the entire world would ever entice Hermione to trust that woman's word. Seeing the fear on her face, Barty wrapped his arms around her to pull her close. It sort of helped to calm her down. All she knew was it wasn't over. Not even close. Everything was going to get much worse before they could even hope it would get better.