I wake up late, some pallid rays of sun make way through the window, I squint against the light of the morning, and I look about me. Harry is not there but my dirty clothes left on the chair are now clean and neatly folded.
Tonight, after he thanked me, he slumped back on the pillow exhausted and fell asleep not long after that.
My flush was so intense the room seemed illuminated and that together with the fact that my heartbeat was so fast it was audible, I decided to get a shower to calm myself.
In my rush to leave Rumania I didn't get anything with me, so I wore one of his sweatpants and a t-shirt and I got to bed to his side, I rested my hand on his chest and accompanied by the gentle movement of it, I managed to slumber peacefully, and it has been so deep I didn't hear him leaving the room.
I rise on my elbow rubbing my eyes, some hushed voices come from the kitchen. I amble over there sleepily, wondering what time it is and how long I slept.
Getting close, Ted's hushed voice catch my ear 'I think it's the only way' he is stating.
'I don't know' Harry replies leerily 'What about the boys?'
'They could…' but he tails off seeing me. Harry, following his gaze, perceives me too and smiles affectionately.
'Good morning' he greets me 'I just made coffee. Do you wanna a cup?'
The smell of it invades my nostrils and my heart swell with sheer joy seeing him seemingly so serene, smiling and overall alive. I succeed in a nod at which he jumps up from the chair preparing a cup for me.
Ted is leaning against the kitchen counter with his healer uniform still on, surely, he popped here at the end of his shift to check on him. He has got a pensive steadfast expression and follow Harry's movements around the room.
I sit around the table while Harry leaves a cup of fuming coffee and some toasts in front of me. As he does, I spot his forearm. There are three identical long vertical lines instead of the single one that used to be there. I frown, usually the healing charm prevents the forming of scars. He glimpses me staring at it and smiling uneasy he tugs down his sleeve.
'I gotta go now. Think about what I told you, we will discuss it another time' Ted says to Harry leaving the counter with a fleeting glance at me.
'Ok, Ted. Thanks for everything'
I stare from one to the other enquiringly, but none explain.
'Do you need another potion before I go?' he asks looking at him studiously.
'Nope. I feel quite all right' he answers sitting down.
'Can I count on your promise?' Ted asks again searchingly.
'Yes, you can. I'll be on my best behaviour from now on' he half smiles drinking his coffee 'say hello to Victoire' but then, in the silence that follows, his smile vanishes and he sombre up. He runs a hand in his hair uneasy and staring in his cup, he mutters 'Would you mind keeping what happened quiet? I don't want the boys to find out'
We both murmur an agreement at which he adds 'Thank you, I'm really grateful for what you have done. I won't give you any more troubles'
As soon as Ted is gone, I ask him what they were talking about, but he shrugs smiling 'About the future…' he answers evasively. I try to get more details about what this future may be, but he doesn't seem inclined to give any 'He gave me some advice on what to do' he mumbles vague and then add 'I need to ask you a favour Hermione. I know you have already done much for me, but I need to ask you this last thing'
'Harry, don't be silly. You can ask me anything' I say nibbling my toast.
'I need you to go the Ministry for me. I won't take back my position' he stands up and take a sealed letter from a drawer handing it to me 'You should give this to the Minister. There are some instructions about what is left undone and where to find each file in my office'
He chuckles 'It's funny, I still cannot recollect how old would-be Lily by now, but I recollect exactly where every file is'.
I don't find it funny at all. Quite sad actually. Heart broking is the word I'm groping for.
A shadow passes in his eyes 'Nine, I think' he murmurs, but soon after he shakes his head lightly as to ward it off and takes back a serene demeanour 'Anyway, there are instruction on how to deal with my mails. God only knows how much junk has accumulated. Everything must be burned. I don't wanna see any of it. If there is something really important can be forwarded to Ted. He agreed on it.'
He halts speaking a moment and then he sighs 'I would have liked to go myself to say farewell to the guys in the department, but I don't think I can affront it. You would do it for me, would you?' he asks me eager 'Will you tell them that I really loved to work on their side and that I'll miss it?'
I nod unable to speak. Despite all I always thought about his job, how unsuitable it was for his mind and, despite I whole heartedly back up his decision, I cannot help feeling a knot in my throat. He loved his job, and he is forced to leave it after all the efforts invested in securing it. The strain on his mind would be too much, his memory is too liable and overall people would make his life a living hell with their nosiness. It's clear he cannot return there but what is he going to do now?
Ted is right. He cannot even get out without being harassed.
He will have to stay here, shut in the house, alone with his dark thoughts.
Although he promised faithfully not to act stupidly again how can we be sure of it? Now he is fine but what about in a week, or a month of this solitude and inactivity, won't everything be back to what it has been?
On mulling this over, I am off for the Ministry.
Browning welcomes me quite cordially and I can detect the hope, in this affected cordiality, the hear about Harry's return.
I always quite liked Browning, or better, I like his policy about the magical community development and behaviour toward magical creatures, but I've always despised the way in which he used Harry's name mercilessly to achieve anything. He has always been extra friendly only to get profit of the love the magical community nurture for him.
He is not concerned about Harry wellbeing; he just wants to see him back as soon as it may be.
I give him the letter sipping the tea he offered me, and I see his disappointed expression as his eyes move back and forth while reading.
When done, the letter drops on his fancy polished desk accompanied by a sigh 'He is not coming back' he mutters looking now at me as hoping I could give him a different answer.
I shake my head.
'This is a great loss for the Ministry, a great loss' he repeats standing up and going toward the window which overlooks the Manhattan's skyline and I'm hatefully sure he doesn't mean that because of his skills as a Auror or his personality.
'And I gather it would be fruitless to ask you to make him change his mind…' he continuous hopefully 'He doesn't give much explanation in his letter about the reasons behind this decision'.
I arch an eyebrow incredulous 'With all respect, Minister but a deranged Death Eater killed his wife. Do we need a better explanation?'
He stares at me in surprise and then blink stupidly. It's just unbelievable how people are prone to forget Harry has got feelings as any other human being! What's wrong with them? What did he think that after a catastrophic event of this magnitude he would be back happy and cheerful like nothing ever happened?!
'And anyway, I wouldn't dream of trying to change his mind' I add with a bit of a grudge.
'Probably you are right' he pipes out after some consideration lowering his gaze 'But perhaps in a different position. Maybe Head of the Sport department? Thompson will retire very soon, I believe'.
'I don't think it would be wise for him to be back working here right now. It wouldn't help his peace of mind. What happened it's still too much talked of. It would only irritate him'
'How is he?'
This should have been the first question actually, but I decide to overlook the fact and I answer something vague. I don't trust him. He could use any information to the Ministry's advantage, and I don't want to.
He listens carefully and when I'm done, he sits down on his leathery armchair getting some folders from a drawer and pushing them toward me.
I take them and while I'm perusing the content, understanding at first glance what they are about, Browning explains it bleakly.
'You were right by the way. I fired three employees of the cleaning staff. They were smuggling hairs procured in his office. They made thousands of galleons selling them in Nocturnal alley. We are keeping the information secret as we deem dangerous its spreading, but this is how 854 managed to get hold of it. The shop has been closed likewise and they are all under arrest. If Harry wants to, he can press charges for a pecuniary compensation.'
I doubt he will. I'm not even sure I'll tell him. The only idea of having money as a compensation for Ginny's death would disrupt him to such an extent it's not worth the mention.
Azkaban will be a strong enough punishment for those idiots and if they are any clever, they will much prefer to stay in there considering what may happen if the misdemeanour should come to light.
Instead, I bring forward the more practical topics I want to discuss with him, and, despite Harry didn't ask me to do anything of the kind, I leave his office with a paper signed which entitles him of a very generous pension in exchange of his services for the magical community. This pension will revert on his kids after his death.
I'm satisfied. The only condition that Browning imposed is to keep secret Harry's refusal to take back the position. He wants to let the matter suspended for as long as he can. I think it can be done, Harry won't mind, I'm sure. Maybe is even for the best, a gossip less on the Daily Prophet.
In his department the reception has been totally different. As soon as his colleagues and Elisabeth saw me, they all lunged forward assaulting me with questions, all with a look of an honest concern difficult to fake. They are sincerely fond of him.
I push my way inside and I close the door behind me. Only when this is done I feel like I can answer to their questions.
Carola, a straightforward girl I've always really liked, takes my hand and stares hard at me 'Well?' she just asks, eyes full of expectancy.
'He won't be back. But it must remain a secret as long as possible. Browning order.'
They exchange a low mumble looking at each other crestfallen.
'How is he?' she then asks eager.
I decide to be a bit less vague here, they deserve to know at least part of the truth.
'Not very good. The situation is delicate, and he is not coping well but we are doing our best to help him'
Elisabeth's eyes fill with tears 'Poor dear…' whines under his breath 'Poor, poor dear…'
I give them Harry's message and they stood still, in a grim silence. The women's eyes are all tearing up and some of the men too, their sniffs the only audible sound. They want me to bring him back a card and I accept. In a bustle they lean over one of the desks, papers flying and eager mumbles rise from it. While they are busy with it, I enter his office. Everything has been left untouched. The papers on which he was working on are still on the table together with his quill. The ink bottle has been left open in the haste of leaving and the liquid inside had dried.
I start to gather his few possessions. The sight of his backpack in a corner ready for the holiday that was expecting him, fills me with an acute sadness. My gaze lingers on the family pictures on the desk. One with the children still young and a freckly Lily waving, and another, taken only a few months before, where two teenage boys had taken place of the two children and a curly Sunrise is grimacing joyously on James's lap. They are all smiling. A family destroyed. The gloom take possession of me, and everything seems bleak. This office, despite messy, has always had a cheerful atmosphere but not any longer. And after a moment I realize why. Instead of the usual sun, it's pouring down. The weather is dismal, grey, and dark. Nobody is in sight on the millennium bridge nor in front of the Tate, and the Thames is scurrying fast and brown for all the mud moved by the incessant pouring. I rest my palm on the glass looking outside just as a lightening brighten the room. A loud thunder succeeds. It looks as if it has been raining for a very long time judging by the Thames.
I look about me at the empty room and I find myself thinking that it feels like as the sun will never shine again in here.