Chapter 13

Harry delighted in Hermione's mischievous look when she returned from the Ministry, triumphantly holding a portkey. She refused to tell him where it would take them, and that- ironically- made him even happier. He relished the idea that she felt like she believe like she'd gotten away with something.

Which, to be fair, he supposed she had. Making travel accommodations for somebody from a different universe was probably highly illegal. That was, if somebody had the forethought to even create a law about such a thing.

"I know you've probably been there a million times, but it's one of my favorite places," she told him before they grasped the portkey.

He had no objections, she could take him wherever she pleased.q. He'd only wanted to challenge her, to shake her out of their routine- as much as he had come to love it. But he knew that she was becoming somewhat despondent.

He was shaken out of his reverie when he recognized the skyline as soon as they landed.

"Paris."

"Yeah," she said softly, taking his hand and tugging him along.

They bought some food at an outdoor market, and then from a boulangerie that Hermione was clearly acquainted with, before checking into a small hotel. His witch was in no way ostentatious, but she knew quality.

The next day they visited a book shop in Le Marais, strolled around holding hands, happily undisguised, and then they had supper in a tucked away bistro. Harry had the ridiculous thought that the restaurant was like Hermione- exceptional, but apparently determined to go unrecognized.

It only occurred to him when she was lying in his arms that night, that she felt the same way. She wanted to leave her mark on the world, but she didn't feel any need to get plaudits for it. She just wanted to do good.

She was going to save him from the repercussions of his own foolish actions, and not only would she not claim the credit, he was certain she would continue to hide the whole thing in order to protect him.

They were alike in that way, maybe that was why she had been so generous with him. But she still remained the better person, she would never have left her family behind- especially so thoughtlessly- and she certainly wouldn't be so reluctant to return.

But, well, she'd never met HER in any form before he'd jumped dimensions. Now that he had, how could he just leave her behind? There were two worlds tearing him between them, and he only had himself to blame

They were cuddled up in bed as he contemplated the mess that he had created. He wanted to enjoy the holiday that she had arranged for them. But his brain wouldn't rest and he absentmindedly rubbed at the tattoos on his left arm. Hermione stirred and turned to face him.

"Do they have stories?" She asked sleepily, her eyes barely open, but focused on hit arm.

"Huh?"

"Your tattoos. Do they have a story behind them?"

"A few do. Some of them were a result of rebellion," he grinned ruefully, "But once I started, I didn't really want to stop, so a lot of them I got just because I liked them."

"Oh. Well they're all beautiful. Would you tell me about them?" She asked, tracing his arms reverentially, whoever had done his work had made sure that his skin was artwork.

Hermione hadn't really held any strong opinions about tattoos before she met Harry. And she thought that she would probably continue to feel neutral about them on any other person. But something about Harry's inked body set her aflame.

"This shape is for my mum." He explained, gesturing to his right shoulder blade. "She kept journals and she made all these little sketches. I think it was just out of boredom, but there are enough that I think drawing them made her happy and I wanted to honour that. Obviously her name was Lily, but that just seemed like such a trite choice. I don't know, I don't think she was that self absorbed, and this seemed more personal."

"It was what she chose to put in her journals, her personal space. Lily is a lovely name, but she wasn't the one who chose it." She traced the pattern, contemplated it, "It reminds me of a Spirograph drawing," she eventually decided, still tracing the delicate tattoo.

"A what?" He asked, his gaze on her movements intent even as craned his neck to see her.

"It's a toy that you can use to make designs, change the settings or the inserts to personalize it. I found it very soothing as a kid."

"Oh. A toy?"

Harry seemed let down.

"I don't know if that's actually how she drew them, but if she put them in her journals, then they were obviously important, or meaningful in some way. I'm sure she'd be honoured. It's pretty and it makes you think of her."

"Could I get one?"

"What?"

"A- what did you call it?- a spirograph?"

"Oh, yes! I don't know if they still make them, but if not we could track one down on the internet. I think it would be fun for you, actually, and would help calm your mind-" she paused and smiled at him, "I bet you got that racing brain from your mum. Scarily smart Gryffinfdors. You're so annoying, HarryPotter."

"Like you have any room to talk. Scarily smart. Scarily brave."

She just shrugged.

He rolled his eyes and watched as she continued the tour of his tattoos. Anyway, the stars are for Astrid. Blacks are traditionally given celestial names, and while Sirius didn't want to continue that, she picked this out. She's got some of her rebel father in her. She was so proud."

"Merlin, I wish I could meet that child and see Sirius get his comeuppance."

"He's equally thrilled and horrified."

Hermione laughed.

"The antlers are for my father," Harry continued. "He doesn't know about them, though."

"Why?"

"Because I love him, but I don't trust him. He probably feels the same way about me."

"But you wanted to honour him by giving him a permanent spot on your skin."

"Something like that."

"When you see him again you should show him, Harry."

"Maybe I will."

They laid in silence for awhile.

"And the rest of them?" Hermione finally asked as she stroked his arm.

He laughed. "Like I said, it's really just that I liked them. I started the whole thing to piss off my dad, but it turned out he didn't really care. This," he turned his arm so that she could see a beautiful depiction of a sunflower, "we went to Tuscany. It was to meet a specialty knife maker, but I got an actual holiday too. And it was just so pretty there, I wanted to remember. A lot of them are like that."

"I mean, aren't they meant to be pretty? You shouldn't feel bad about having something nice adorn your skin."

"You're right, but I also feel like I should acknowledge that some of my choices were made out of pettiness."

"Maybe, but they are beautiful. And it is you're body. So, well done on your choices." She kissed the shoulder where a vibrant Phoenix was inked and settled in against him.

"You're usually the first one to criticize me about my choices towards my family."

"It's a difficult line to draw. I know that well."

"I'd get a sunrise for you," he confessed after a long period of silence. "Those are some of my best memories, and they've given me hope."

"Me too."

She woke up to the sound of Harry vomiting. She crept into the bathroom, being careful not to startle him.

"Hey," she said softly once he stopped heaving, "is there anything that I can get you?"

He sat back against the wall and just stared at her.

"Harry?" She prompted, disturbed by his vacant look.

"Some tea, please."

She nodded and went out to the kitchen to prepare a couple of cups. When she returned he had gone back to bed but was sitting up and eyeing her warily.

She handed him his cup and settled in beside him. "You don't have allergies, do you?"

"Not that I'm aware of," he took a sip of his tea, doing a terrible job of trying to look nonchalant even while those green eyes practically bored holes into her over the rim of his cup.

Hermione's heart sank.

"How long have you known what's really going on?" She persisted.

He sighed. "A few weeks."

"Were you ever going to say anything?"

"Of course. We were getting close with the egg. I wasn't just going to disappear on you."

"Like you did to your family."

He winced. "Fuck, Sweeheart, that was harsh."

She crossed her arms over her chest and just glared at him.

He sighed. "Okay, that was fair," he admitted.

She sighed in return and sank down next to him, leaning against the headboard. "No it wasn't, it was cruel, I apologize," she had been afraid of having this conversation, but that kind of accusation had been wrong. "You knew- we both knew- you couldn't just stay here. It's quite literally unnatural. And your family…"

"I know," he reached up and brushed her cheek with the backs of his fingers.

She swallowed her pride, he should be assured of how much he meant to her, they were running out of time. "I would come with you though, if I wasn't fairly certain that it would kill me. There's not a lot for me here, but I'm not suicidal."

"You would?"

"If you'd have me."

"Fuck, Hermione, of course I would."

She took a deep breath. "Have you been feeling poorly this whole time and just hiding it?"

"No, it's just been the past few weeks. At least as far as I'm aware. I suppose I felt wrong when I got here, but I just chalked that up to, you know, inter dimensional travel." He chuckled self- deprecatingly.

"You should have told me."

He looked at her out of the corner of his eyes. "We barely managed to exchange a few sentences without biting each other's heads off. You irritated me, and I know I drove you crazy, but you were still trying to help me. I didn't want to burden you with, 'oh hey I have a little sniffle.' And by the time I knew it was more I just- I don't want to leave you."

Hermione took another deep breath. What could she possibly have done for karma to serve her so many scoops of awful, and in such a relatively short life? She had known she was going to lose him, but now she was fairly certain that if she couldn't let him go, he would be truly lost, truly gone. Dead on her watch, because of her selfishness. She wouldn't have it. He would go back to his world and live a full life.

"Harry. This world is killing you, that's how I'm interpreting everything. There's a reason that there's so few records of travelers, it's not sustainable. Do you agree?"

"Possibly...probably."

She continued to lay out her thoughts. She was frustrated with herself that she had been denying- or maybe it was more like she'd been putting off accepting the truth.

So, she couldn't blame him. She knew that he was smart, but perhaps he had been equally in denial and needed to hear it spoken: "this world is different enough from yours that your body doesn't know how to fight what, for the rest of us, is relatively common. The reports of possible other travelers that we have, they're never here for long, they leave or they- they die. Maybe they were discovered and killed.

Also, you arrived in exceptionally good shape, but you can't deny that you've been deteriorating. And in the end, it's unsafe for you to remain here, and I'm not willing to risk your life betting otherwise. Do you agree with my analysis?"

He sagged against her. "Yes, but how long have you known?"

She shrugged, behaving more nonchalantly that she felt. "Pretty much all along. I just couldn't see you staying here long term without some kind of repercussions, despite what your personal wishes might have been. My first concern was legal, but after a couple of weeks I started to worry that you being here was unnatural and that there would be some kind of backlash. I'm sorry if you feel misled, nothing I've ever said about my own feelings has been a lie."

"I can't blame you, I knew too, deep down," he took her hand and lifted it to his lips. "Our research made you suspect, didn't it? We've been reading the same sources and I didn't note the pattern for months, because I didn't want to."

"Well, yes, it explains everything we've researched, but also just… logic? You were raised by wizards, so perhaps it's less obvious to you, because as much as I love magic, logic is a tool that's seriously lacking in the magical world."

"Logic? How does logic come into this?"

"Well, wizard man," she gave him a small, broken smile at the term, "who didn't do any research on the repercussions of using an inter dimensional travel device, my first thought when you arrived- well, after I stopped freaking out- was 'this is wrong and has to be fixed, or at the very least hidden.' I wasn't keen to be sent to Azkaban because a Harry Potter doppelgänger appeared in my lab. But, like I said, when I'd had some time to process and think through my own feelings about you, I realized that it was bigger than the two of us. I imagine it's like time travel in a way, you shouldn't just be able to pop into places and mess with an alternate timeline, or in this case an alternate universe. There are always consequences."

"And my consequences?"

"This is only a hypothesis. You've entered a slightly altered universe from your own. Your immune system is attacking, working overtime in order to protect you. But it doesn't have the tools to fight a different world, you simply weren't built for this. It might be attacking itself in confusion at this point. I've been extremely selfish keeping you here this long. I probably could have worked harder, but I was just enjoying you," she looked down.

"Hermione," his tone was broken but also warning, and it broke something within her as well.

She reached out and stroked his face. "We both just admitted that we knew that this was coming. You have to go home before it's too late."