Chapter Twenty Seven

August 1998

Harry should have been elated. He had arrived at the Burrow on a warm Sunday afternoon to celebrate Ron and Hermione's much anticipated return. After three long weeks apart, his two best friends were back from Australia, successful in finding Jean and John Granger, and, much to everyone's relief, resorting their memories in full. His mates were coming home and life was finally resembling some form of normalcy. Harry really should have been elated, but instead he felt sick.

As he nervously waited in the kitchen with the rest of the Weasley clan, he did his best to hide his anxious fidgeting, triggered by the thought of seeing Hermione. She'd barely recovered from her secret stint in the hospital before taking off with Ron, insisting she was completely fine, despite Harry's suggestion that she take more time to rest. They hadn't directly talked about the reason for her hospital stay since, and it was abundantly clear from the way she'd avoided him that she didn't want to discuss her surprise pregnancy or subsequent miscarriage at all. Things were supposed to be stable after the war, but with Hermione dodging him, they'd seemed far from it.

Harry had spent the last few weeks feeling sorry for himself and doing his best to keep busy with all the rebuilding that the Wizarding World needed. Yet, despite his distractions, he couldn't help but bitterly wonder what Ron and Hermione were up to without him.

After a year together on the run followed by several months of shared grief, Harry felt as though a piece of himself had gone missing. It hadn't felt right, the two of them away without him, especially Hermione. He hadn't realized how dependent on her he'd become until she'd left. She was the one who had stuck with him through it all, through thick and thin; she'd never broken her promise to stay with him until the end, not like Ron had.

"I never thought I'd be so excited to see my brother." The voice broke Harry from his trance.

Ginny was next to him, holding his hand tightly as she leaned into him and smiling cheerfully.

She and Harry had rekindled their romance shortly after the war, and their relationship was the only thing keeping him grounded. It had been easy falling back into old habits of late night talks and tender moments alone. She was the only girl he'd ever really been in love with, and being with her again had given him a glimmer of happiness during the post war mourning period.

Harry and Ginny both jumped when they heard a loud crack followed by another. Mrs. Weasley squealed with delight and clasped her hands together, craning her neck to look out the window into the garden.

Two familiar figures appeared in the yard and it wasn't long until his best mates walked through the kitchen door. A jubilant commotion broke out as all the Weasleys cheerfully welcomed Ron and Hermione home. Molly was the first to enveloped the pair into a long, drawn out hug. She then peppered Ron's cheek with kisses, causing his ears to flush with embarrassment.

"Mum, enough," he whined. "I've only been gone a few weeks."

"Yes, but I'd only recently gotten you back when you went off and left the country again," Mrs. Weasley replied, pulling her youngest son in for another embrace.

Once she had stopped fussing over the pair, Harry moved to greet them. He hugged Hermione first, ensuring he kept their contact brief, and then Ron.

"I've missed you, Mate," Ron said, clasping his shoulder with a grin. "Glad to be home."

"Glad to have you home," Harry said, and then looked at Hermione meaningfully. "Both of you."

Hermione smiled warmly at him, and suddenly all of Harry's worries melted away.

"It felt strange not having you with us," she said. "I missed you." She leaned in and kissed him softly on the cheek.

"Alright quit hogging them, Potter!" George teased as he pushed his way towards Ron and Hermione. He enveloped them both into a bear hug, causing the three of them to stumble and crash into several hanging pots and pans.

Harry laughed and took it as his cue to allow the others to welcome his friends home. He grabbed a butterbeer from counter and sunk into a chair next to Ginny.

He was relieved. Hermione hadn't seemed the least bit standoffish with him. In fact, she'd seemed genuinely happy to see him. All the worrying he done had been for nothing, per usual.

It was then, in that carefree moment sipped his beer, that he noticed it. Something between his two best friends had changed. Harry watch as Ron's hand slowly caressed down Hermione's back, stopping just above her waist line. He whispered something in her ear that elicited a shy laugh. A sickening feeling washed over Harry and he knew the days of the golden trio were over, and the era of Ron and Hermione had officially began.

Harry was quiet for the next hour, and had moved to the living room where he hoped he could better hide his embarrassing self pity. Hermione had approached him several times to inquire about what he'd been up to over the last few weeks, and each time he met her with a shrug or a one word answer. It was childish, he knew that, and he himself was surprised by the surge of angst he felt towards the pair's romance.

He wanted his friends to be happy. After everything they've been through they deserved to be happy. He couldn't understand his irrational feelings.

"Harry," Ron appeared before him with a grin, plopping himself down on the sofa beside him. "Australia was amazing, but you know what really struck me, how advanced muggles are without magic! Did you know Hermione's parents have a little box you can heat food in? It's not as fast as magic, but it's still pretty quick."

"Wicked," Harry said dryly, failing at feigning the slightest amusement at Ron's depiction of a microwave. "You and Hermione seem to be getting on well."

Harry hoped it sounded as casual as it did in his head.

"You don't even know the half of it," Ron smirked, leaning forward toward him. "I can't believe I wasted so much time. She's amazing, Harry, really. You wouldn't believe the things she can do with her tongue - "

"Blimey!" Harry yelped, drawing some attention from the others in the kitchen. He lowered his voice. "I don't need to know that! She's like my sister. How would you feel if I told you about me and Ginny snogging?"

"We're doing a lot more than snogging..." Ron said, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

Harry's mouth went dry. He couldn't stop himself from asking.

"You're shagging?"

"Thought you didn't want to know," Ron smiled with a wink.

An inexplicable surge of jealous shot through Harry's veins. In that moment, he hated Ron, and he knew why. Even though Hermione wasn't his, he certainly didn't want her to be Ron's.

"I'm going to get a refill," Harry said, showing his empty beer mug to Ron as he rose from the couch.

"Get me one too, will you?"

Harry nodded and quickly darted into the kitchen, but instead of refilling his glass, he beelined for the back door, gently pushing passed the Weasley crowd in the kitchen.

He heard Ginny call after him, mild concern in her voice. He didn't stop until he was in the garden. He hide behind the broom shed and allowed his body to rest against the paint chipped wood.

"Accio Fire Whiskey," he murmured, hoping that everyone would be too busy to notice anything shooting out of the cupboard.

It was only a few seconds until the dusty bottle filled with an amber liquor was in his hands. He took a swig and closed his eyes, trying his best to stop his mind from running.

"Everything alright, Harry?"

He cracked open his lids at the sound of Hermione's voice. She leaned next to him and took the bottle from his hands before taking a swig herself. Harry could tell she was attempting to mask her disgust as she swallowed.

"Everything's fine," he answered, suddenly feeling rather stupid for running off and thinking he wouldn't draw any attention.

"Did I do something wrong?" Hermione's head was tilted and her expression one of concern.

"No."

"You're acting like you're mad at me," she said pointedly.

"I'm not," he mumbled back.

"Alright," she said, taking another swig of the fire whiskey, this time more confidently. "I guess we'll both just stand out here stupidly until you tell me what's bothering you."

Her authoritative tone set something off in Harry, and, very abruptly, he snapped.

"Are we ever going to tell them?"

"What?" Hermione asked with genuine confusion.

"Ron and Ginny," Harry clarified with annoyance, turning towards her to meet her eyes. "Are we ever going to tell them that we shagged?"

Hermione's eyes widen with panic. Clearly she hadn't expected Harry to say that, especially not so bluntly. She quickly looked around to see if anyone had come outside and overheard.

"Well?" Harry said expectantly.

Looking thoroughly distraught, Hermione grabbed Harry's left arm and dragged him towards the broom shed entrance, the bottle of Fire Whiskey still in her hand. She forcefully pushed him inside and slammed the door.

"Muffliato," she whispered before turning to Harry, raising her hand and point her index finger at him. "You promised," she said, a shakiness in both her hand and voice. "That morning. You promised we'd never speak of it again."

"Yeah, well, that was before," he shot indignantly.

"Before what?" Hermione cried with exasperation. She couldn't believe they were having this conversation.

"Before! Before you nearly bled out! Before we knew I'd gotten you pregnant! Before you started shagging Ron!"

"What?!" Pure horror took over Hermione's face. "Ron told you that?"

"I think we need to tell them," Harry said quickly, ignoring Hermione question. "You're obviously in a serious relationship with him, and I'm in one with Ginny. It's a huge secret we're keeping from them."

"No, no, no," Hermione said her entire body shaking. "It will only hurt them."

"It's going to hurt them more the longer we keep it from them."

"Then we can't let them find out. We were both single and alone, right? There's no reason to drag all this up," she rationalized. "It was just comfort. A way for us to carry on."

There it was again. More confirmation that that night hadn't meant anything to Hermione, and unfortunately, Harry was just starting to realize exactly how much it meant to him.

"Okay," Harry exhaled, now feeling much calmer, and slightly deflated. "If that's what you want."

"It is," Hermione said quietly. "I really do think it's better that we forget all about that night and everything that happened because if it."

"Consider it forgotten," Harry said, trying not to sound too solemn. He was starting to feel silly about his erratic behavior. "Well... we should head back."

He moved passed her towards the door.

"Wait," she said, grabbing him by the sleeve of his shirt and stopping him from leaving. He turned to her, his green eyes locking with her brown.

"I don't know what Ron's told you... but we haven't slept together," Hermione said, a blush creeping onto her cheeks. "We've gotten close, but we've never... " She made a strange gesture with her hands. "After what happened... you know, when you and I... well... I suppose I'm just a bit scared."

Harry felt shame. He was the reason she was struggling with so much anxiety and pain.

"Can't say I blame you," he said softly. "I'm sorry."

"I told you to stop apologizing," Hermione said sternly. "You are not responsible for what happened."

"You seem to be doing a lot better," Harry said, ignoring her last comment. "I was really worried about you, you know?"

"Yeah, you made that abundantly clear. You only checked on me twenty times a day."

"it wasn't that much."

"I'm joking," Hermione said, and when Harry didn't response, she asked, "are we okay?"

"Yeah, definitely," he replied, offering her a weak smile. "We should head back."

Harry didn't give Hermione a chance to protest before he was out the door and headed back to the house. She didn't immediately follow, but instead lingered for a few moments, thinking about what had transpired. As she took another swig of fire whiskey, she hoped they were doing the right thing, keeping it from everyone. She was almost certain they were, after all, things like this were usually best left unsaid. After one more sip of the amber liquid, she stood to leave, deciding to dismiss the gnawing feeling growing inside her, telling her she was making a mistake.

...

Rose knew she'd be in trouble if her parents found out she was on the Knight's Bus, headed towards Malfoy Manor. She felt a twinge of guilt as the bus jolted, flinging her forward from her seat. As she steadied herself, she did her best to push aside thoughts of what her mum and dad would say if they knew she was about to meet Lucius Malfoy, former Death Eater.

A few days ago, Scorpius had once again mentioned that Lucius was eager to get to know her, and had even expressed he felt his grandfather had changed. Scorpius had said Lucius no longer seemed concerned with blood status or power, and had simply request he get aquatinted with one of his grandson's closest friends. Lucius had suggested afternoon tea, and added that Narcissa would prepare some pastries for all of them. When Scorpius had asked his grandfather if they could keep their visit a secret, he'd been very understanding and agreed it was best that Rose's parents not know.

When Scorpius shared all of this with Rose, her mind was immediately made up: she wanted to meet Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy; they were Scorpius's grandparents after all, and she liked to think that people could change. Draco Malfoy certainly had.

Scorpius had suggested she not tell anyone, not even Al, though Rose suspected he was suspicious of them. Despite trusting Scorpius, she knew Al wouldn't approve of her going to the former head quarters of Tom Riddle. She knew exactly what he would say. You, daughter of famous war heroes, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley, are going to exchange pleasantries with two Death Eaters over tea? Have you absolutely lost your mind?

Had she lost her mind? Maybe this wasn't such a good idea, she thought as the bus began to slow down. She had only recently somewhat repaired her fractured relationship with her mum. Was it really worth blowing everything up again if she got caught?

The bus came to a halt, and looking out the window, Rose saw she had arrived at the Malfoy Manor in Wiltshire. After thanking the driver, she stepped out onto the cracked sidewalk and stared up at the large decrepit home she'd toured with Scorpius a week prior. Its enormity still left her in awe, and she imagined it must have been very elegant and grand in its day. Now the manor was run down and ragged. Weeds over took the dry grass and a shallow brown pool of water half filled the chipped marble fountains.

Knowing there was no turning back, Rose took a deep breath and began making her way up the long walk way. When she reached the large oak door, she hesitated momentarily before knocking. She waited several moments with no answer. She tried again, and the door creeked open slightly. Cautiously, she pushed it open.

"Scorp?" Rose called as she stepped inside the foyer. "Mr. Malfoy?"

It was dark, and she wondered what was going on. She was sure Scorpius had told her two o'clock.

Stepping further into the home, she looked for a lamp, and as she did, the door loudly slammed shut, causing Rose to quickly spin around. Something was wrong. This didn't feel right. Suddenly someone was behind her, and the last thing she heard before she hit the ground was a deep voice call out.

"Stupefy!"