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Author: legobean Story: Harry Potter and the Toll of Destiny Rating: Teens Status: WIP Reviews: 13 Words: 169,577
Disclaimer: As some of you may have noticed, characters from the Harry Potter series of books are featured in this story. I didn't write Harry Potter or any of those books and I don't own the rights to Harry Potter. I know, I know it seems like I should, but that's just the way these things work. So, keep enjoying the story for free, and remember, Harry Potter and the associated characters are the property of J.K. Rowling, and not me. When Harry woke up, his head felt like it had been hit by a Bludger. He tried to focus his eyes, but it seemed pointless; the room was spinning around him. Harry groped for the nightstand, found his glasses and put them on before he tried again. Now a slightly less blurry ceiling was spinning above him. His eyes closed again and he lay there for a few minutes more while his stomach roiled and beads of sweat started to form on his forehead. He was desperately thirsty, and needed to visit the loo. His foot emerged as he slithered to the edge of the bed and put it on the cold floor, which seemed to help slow the spinning sensation. Harry tried opening his eyes again and found the room was no longer spinning, but it wasn't sitting still either. His world seemed to be wobbling just a bit, and Harry wondered for a moment if maybe they were having an Earthquake. After determining that the wobbling seemed to be limited just to him, he got up and staggered drunkenly to the toilet. After washing his face in the sink, and getting a small glass of water to fix his parched throat, he found that his aching body and mind started to feel little better. Wandering out into the sitting room still in his pajamas, he found Hermione sitting on the couch reading something that strongly resembled a textbook. "Morning, Harry. How's the head?" She beamed up at him. Harry staggered over to a chair and flopped down, shielding his eyes from the bright light in the room. "Hurts," he stated eloquently. "Well, let's get you some food and something for the headache, and when you're feeling better we can get started." Hermione helped him up from his chair and dragged him into the kitchen. "What would you like?" Hermione asked sweetly. "Orange juice would be brilliant," Harry muttered. She brought him a large glass of orange juice and two small tablets. "Here, take these." Harry recognised the tablets as a Muggle remedy and looked at Hermione questioningly. "Well, you're always so suspicious of my potions, I thought you might prefer this," she said with a huff and wandered back into the kitchen. "You want some eggs, or would you prefer lunch?" "Lunch? What time is it?" "Oh, it's about half past eleven, I would guess. You missed Ron. He stopped by for breakfast earlier and then went back to spend the day with the boys. He said he would stop by this evening," Hermione answered cheerfully. "How long was I asleep, and why are you in such a good mood? And I guess breakfast." "About sixteen hours, I think. It was just really good to see Ron; it made for a nice morning." She blushed slightly, and Harry got the hint, and resigned himself not to look Hermione in the eye for a while. She brought over his eggs, some toast and a little bacon from earlier that morning. "Eat your breakfast, and when your head feels better we will get started." She headed back to the sitting room. "Where's Dobby gone off to this morning?" Harry asked. "Saturday's his day off; I think he's probably in town with Winky," she called from the sitting room. "How is Winky? Did she find a new family to take her in?" Harry called back. "She works for Bill and Fleur now, but she is still free, if that's what you're asking. Eat your breakfast," she answered as she poked her head into the kitchen with a nagging glance. Harry worked on eating his breakfast, and found he was actually quite hungry. After he finished his eggs, bacon and toast, he raided the cold pantry and found some left over soup, which he heated up on the magical stove. After breakfast he took a shower and felt remarkably better. When he returned to the sitting room, he found Hermione with the Pensieve and a box of empty jars. He sat down across from her, and she nodded at him. "Ready?" "Will it always leave me feeling so…hung over?" Harry asked "It probably won't be quite as bad tomorrow, but it's different for everyone, so I can't say exactly," she answered. Harry nodded his consent, and she waved her wand at him. After they had filled several jars, Hermione complimented him on what a good job he was doing, but she seemed to be growing increasingly agitated. She waved her wand at him again. Harry saw flashes of spell fire and a graveyard before he was able to get the memory collected and Hermione pulled it from his head. "That was it, wasn't it?" Harry looked at her intently. "Yes, quite possibly. We're very close to the dates of the battle," Hermione answered quickly. "Ready to go again? You really are doing terrifically." "Yes, let's keep going." When she waved her wand Harry's mind was overloaded with images of bodies laying on the ground, bright red eyes, the smell of burnt flesh, sulfur, and pain; horrible pain. Harry fell to the floor, his body and mind overwhelmed by the memories of the battle. He heard Hermione's voice calling to him from somewhere far away. "Keep the memories together, Harry, let me pull them out." Hermione put her wand to Harry's temple and pulled back with a gentle steady pace as a massive swarm of memories started to emerge. She kept pulling and slowly, but surely, the huge mass released from Harry's head. She released it into the Pensieve where it splashed and rippled for a moment before settling down and beginning to swirl. "Is that all of them, Harry?" Harry lay panting on the floor of the sitting room. He nodded weakly and then just lay there. His head was throbbing, and his body aching in pain from the memory. The experience reminded him vaguely of the feeling one has immediately after the Cruciatus Curse has been lifted. "Why did that hurt so much?" Harry asked, a deep rasp strangling his voice. "There were too many memories, Harry. That was just one day, the day you defeated Voldemort. Apparently you remember it quite vividly, and it was a hard memory for you to control. Taking a large memory like that all at once is often painful. Let's take a break and let you recover for a bit." She handed Harry a hunk of chocolate, and after a few minutes he started nibbling on it. Some colour returned to his cheeks, and he sat up a few moments later. Hermione helped him struggle onto the couch and then she started transferring the angrily swirling memories into jars. It took three large jars to hold them all, which she labeled and put into the box. "Aren't you curious about what is in there?" She hadn't even peeked at the contents of the Pensieve before she started putting them in the jars. "No." "How can you not be curious? I'm dying to know what's in there. I want to know what caused me to go mental." Harry chuckled. He was starting to relax as the pain receded, and he was starting to feel like himself again. "Harry, don't call yourself mental. I know what's in that memory; pain. We're going to deal with it but later. I'm a little afraid of it, actually." Hermione smiled weakly at him. "Why are you afraid of it? It's in the past, my past. It can't hurt you anymore. It's just a memory. The damage the event did to me is done," he said quietly. Hermione put her clinical persona back on. "Harry, memories of painful events can cause just as much pain as witnessing the actual event. If I didn't really believe that you needed to deal with these events, and incorporate them into your life to move on, I would just vanish these jars right now. Nobody should have to live through what you lived through, and nobody should have to remember what you remember, but we must conquer the horrors that you've seen to move on. You can do this, Harry. You can learn to accept what happened and feel joy, love, and peace again. I don't know exactly what happened during that battle, but I saw the aftermath. It scared me, too, but I healed, just like you're going to heal. I promise." "You promise?" "Harry, I will spend every day, the rest of my life, working to heal you if I have to, but mark my words, you will be whole again." Hermione had a very serious look on her face, and Harry knew that she meant it. Here she sat, a wife and mother, and long-time friend vowing to give up so much to help him. Harry's heart swelled with gratitude, and he smiled at Hermione. "You were always there for me." Hermione giggled just a little. "Oh, that'd be right. Now that we've erased two years worth of memories you remember! Prat," she said teasingly. "Okay, sometimes I am a bit thick." "Only sometimes?" She winked at him. "Oi, I'm your patient, and you're supposed to be my caring Healer!" Harry laughed. "Yes, well, some things are beyond even my ability to heal." She laughed and ruffled Harry's hair playfully. "Let's get our afternoon tea!" *** After tea, they continued working away at Harry's memories; it was going much more quickly. The memories seemed to be much less detailed, and Harry was able to contain them with relative ease. They stopped briefly for dinner and then continued on. Sometime, well after day had given way to night, the door opened and a cheerful looking Ron popped through. "Hey, he lives!" Ron walked over to Hermione and gave her a quick kiss and then sat down on the couch. "How goes the treatment?" "She's a slave driver!" "You're the one who keeps saying, 'I'm ready let's go,'" Hermione retorted. "I warned you, didn't I?" Ron smirked at Harry and leaned over a squeezed Hermione's hand. "How about you two call it an evening, and Harry and I play a game of chess?" "That's a good idea, actually. Why don't we break for the night, Harry?" Hermione stood up and wrapped her arms around Ron. "I miss this." "Why don't you two go home for the evening, see your kids, and spend an evening alone together?" Harry offered. "In a few more days, Harry. We have one or two more long days in front of us, and then things will settle down, and I will go home sometimes in the evenings," Hermione responded. Ron hugged Hermione, and he and Harry settled down for a game of chess. They played for a bit and talked about what Harry could remember of the treatment process. Harry found his brain wasn't working very well, and the chess game was a lost cause even earlier than usual. His pieces were muttering among themselves about the horrible state they were in. Harry decided to turn in before a fully-fledged revolt occurred on his watch. "You coming by tomorrow?" Harry asked Ron before heading into his bedroom. "I will if I can. I need to get things in order for next week, I have a full week ahead of me at the office, but I will be sure to stop by and see you both whenever I can," Ron answered. Before wandering into his room, Harry patted Ron on the shoulder. "Thanks, mate." *** Harry and Hermione worked hard over the next few days to get through the rest of his memories. On Tuesday morning, she tapped the label on one of the jars, magically writing dates of the memories inside on the label, and put it in the box. Harry stretched a bit and then waved his hand, indicating he was ready for the next set of memories to come flooding in. Hermione took a deep breath and declared, "We're done. That was the last memory block. Whew! I have never done so many before!" She stretched and smiled. "Finally!" Harry said. "Am I cured, Doc?" Hermione looked at Harry with the face of a parent about to disappoint their child. "No, not for a while yet, but the rest of the process shouldn't be so hard on your body. The rest of the treatment will, however, be a good deal harder on your feelings. Don't worry, I'll be with you every step of they way." She gave him an encouraging smile. Harry smiled back at her and relaxed into his chair. Hermione looked at him and asked, "Well, what should we do with the rest of our day?" "Can we go outside? Just to walk around? I promise I won't run off." Hermione pondered it for a few moments, her eyes roving over Harry with a calculating look. "All right, why don't we gather a few things and eat lunch down by the lake? It's not far." "That sounds brilliant!" Harry's spirits perked up immediately. He had been feeling so cooped up and drained. It was late autumn, but he couldn't wait to get outside. He needed fresh air. Dobby packed them a lunch, and they walked out the front door of the small cabin-style house for the first time in weeks. Harry was wearing one of Ron's old cloaks and what appeared to be one of his maroon Christmas jumpers. A few steps outside the door, Harry felt a tugging as they walked through a ward. He made a mental note as they headed down a narrow path. They kept on for about three minutes, reaching a very small lane, and Harry was surprised to feel them pass through another ward. Harry looked around and made a second mental note. Hermione gave him a questioning look but didn't say anything. They walked in companionable silence down the lane, Harry enjoying the cool fresh air and the smell of the trees. Finally after traveling down the lane for a few minutes, Hermione indicated a small path and they started ambling down a gentle hill into a heavier wood. The terrain started to get a little rougher and steeper, then suddenly they were stepping out onto a rocky clearing, and a large high-country loch appeared before them. They scrambled down to the shore line; Harry having an awkward time with the picnic basket. Finally they reached the shore and Hermione sat down, cross legged, on a large rock. "It's beautiful. Whose houses are those across the shore?" Harry asked. "Other Wizarding families. There aren't any Muggles around here, but I'm not sure whose they are. It's unlikely that there's anybody here; these are summer cabins, and it's pretty quiet up here this late in the year." She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "It feels good to be out of the house for a bit, doesn't it?" "Yeah, the cabin fever was getting pretty bad," Harry admitted, skipping rocks over the water. After a while, Harry came and sat down next to Hermione and she fished some sandwiches out of their picnic basket. They ate in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Finally, after Harry had finished his sandwich, Hermione asked him, "Knut for your thoughts?" Harry didn't answer her immediately but he did look at her. "You're thinking about Ginny, aren't you?" she prodded. "No, actually, I was just wondering what kind of life I'm going to have. I'm never going to be able to be just Harry, am I? I'll always be The Boy-Who-Lived?" Harry asked, the pain palpable in his voice. "They don't generally call you 'The Boy-Who-Lived' anymore. But, you're right, you will never be just Harry." Hermione smiled broadly at him. "But, Harry, you should be happy. You can do whatever you want to do. Nobody would deny you your right to spend your time doing whatever you want." "Yes, they would," Harry replied looking even more depressed. "What is it, Harry? What makes you say that?" "What I really want more than anything is just to be a regular guy. To walk down the street and not have people stare at me. To not go into a shop and either have the owner frowning because I've killed his mates, or overjoyed because I saved his family somehow. I want to be treated just like everybody else," Harry sighed. "I wonder how it was for Dumbledore," Hermione asked philosophically. "He was the most famous wizard in Britain, until you came along, but you know I never recall seeing him in public. Somehow he was always just with the people he cared about or the place he needed to be. He was never swamped or overrun by fans, yet he was a very famous wizard." "That is a good point; I wonder how he managed it. I wish – " Harry paused. "– I wish, I could ask him," he finished dejectedly. "Well, Minerva would probably let us ask his portrait; it should know, I would think," Hermione offered. "Minerva?" Harry asked with a sly grin. "Professor McGonagall has become a very good friend. She's helped me a lot." Hermione smiled back at him. "Most people's impression of her are very misguided, especially yours. She cares about you more than you can imagine." Harry had enough of this line of questioning and decided to turn the tables. "So what have you been brooding about all morning?" "Oh, nothing as extraordinary as what to do with the rest of my life, I just miss my boys," she answered, and her smile faltered a bit as she spoke. "You can go and see them, you know. I already promised I wouldn't run away. Why don't you go spend some time with your family?" Harry opened his arms wide as if to prove he wouldn't run away. "It would really be nice to see Harry and James," Hermione said, smiling. Harry froze. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. He attempted to blink his way back to the moment. "Harry? What's wrong?" "You named your second son after me as well?" Harry shook his head. "It's just that it's a really big honour; I feel like I should know them." "We wanted them to remind us of you, and they do. Harry has your fearless nature and your knack for getting into trouble. James is loyal and brave and brilliant. They remind me so much of you, partly because they are incredible flyers for being so young. They both constantly scare me to death, just like you always did." She smiled brilliantly at him. "I don't know what to say. I'm just….wow. I can't believe you did that." Hermione walked over to where Harry was sitting and gave him a tight hug and held him. "We love you, Harry, and we always will. You will always be an important part of our lives, whether you're right here with us or far away." Harry sat speechless as Hermione held him. Finally she broke away. "I'm cold. Let's head back to the house." Hermione shrunk the picnic basket, and they trudged back up towards the house. As they got to the point in the lane where they turned and walked up to the narrow path to the cabin, Hermione watched Harry closely. He flinched as he stepped from the lane to the path. "You can feel them, can't you?" "What?" "The wards. You can feel it when you walk through them?" "Oh, yeah." Harry shrugged. Hermione stepped back and forth across the invisible ward several times but felt nothing. "I don't feel anything. What is it supposed to feel like?" she asked, fascinated. "It's not supposed to feel like anything." He shrugged. "You aren't supposed to know it's there, but, I guess to me it feels like static electricity, if that makes sense. It makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up, and powerful wards like these make my ears pop a little when I walk across them." Harry held up his hands apologetically to indicate that was the best description he could give. Looking around again he asked, "Why are there two? That one we just crossed is more than strong enough to keep people out." "How long have you been able to feel them?" Hermione had ahold of a fascinating bit of knowledge, and she was a bulldog when she wanted information. "It depends. The first time I ever felt them was on the carriage ride back from the castle to Hogsmeade at the end of our third year. I thought Malfoy was attacking the carriage for a minute, then realised nobody else had felt it. I've never felt them at the Burrow, but I can hear them when I stand too close." They had almost reached the house now, but Hermione had that look on her face that said she wasn't going to let this go. "You can hear wards, too? That's amazing. I've never heard of anything like that! Can you tell what the ward is for, just by feeling it?" "Well, not just by walking through it, but I can stand next to it, and if I can get close enough, I can read it." Hermione was fit to burst. "Look, Hermione, I can't really explain it or tell you how it works, I just know. I feel it, like I feel all magic at some level. Wards are easy to detect, because they are so big, and generally pretty easy to read." Harry held up his hand a few feet away from the house. "This is an Anti-Apparition ward, a strong one. An Anti-Intruder ward for visitors with harmful intent. That's not a very good ward, because it's hard to read the person's intent when they are not doing anything harmful. However, if they cast a spell on the other side of this ward at the house, it will block it. It is silenced." Harry walked on the other side of the ward and spoke at Hermione to prove his point, but she couldn't hear what he said. "It's one way only, so I could have heard you, and there is a bit of a Confundus on it as well. If you didn't know why you were coming to the house, you would probably just wander away." "That's so cool, Harry, you're only the second person I know that can do that. Bill can do the same thing, of course, but not just by feel. It takes him time to test it, and he has special glasses he wears to detect them." She beamed at him. "Is this Bill's then?" he said, nodding nonspecifically toward the house. "It's his ward; it's not his house," Hermione answered sheepishly. She hadn't really intended to be giving Harry that much information about the wards. They were here as much to keep him in, as to keep others out. "Well, it's a nice ward, really pretty solid, but it's not perfect." Harry grinned. "You never know who might stop by unexpectedly." With this Harry turned on the spot and Disapparated with a noisy pop and a very loud ripping noise. Hermione stood still for several seconds, and then realised she could faintly smell sulfur. The odd smell snapped her out of her reverie and she hurried inside to find Harry sitting comfortably on the couch. "How do you do that? It should be impossible!" "Er, trade secret?" Harry responded cheekily. "You don't have a job!" Hermione giggled. "Oh, er, well, I could try and teach you, but you might end up splinching yourself, and it's extremely uncomfortable," Harry said somewhat cockily. "Do you think I could do it?" "You are, without a doubt, the smartest witch I know, Hermione, and I doubt it." Hermione glared imperiously at Harry for a few moments and then laughed. "Well, at least you're honest, but I want to try and learn sometime anyway, okay?" "Sure, just don't blame me if you find yourself on two sides of a ward someday. But we could start with something easier. This one is pretty tough." Harry stood up and gave Hermione a brief pat. "Go home, Hermione, visit your kids. Dobby and I'll be fine." *** Hermione walked into the front door of her home for the first time in weeks and instantly felt better. She was home! "Hello? Anybody home?" It was late enough in the day that the boys should have been home from school, but the house was quiet. She took her suitcase and traveling clothes up to the master bedroom and started sorting her laundry. Dobby had been doing her laundry and kept most of her things cleaned, but she just liked the way everything felt better when she washed it herself. She flicked her wand at the bed to get the sheets and comforter arranged and then swirled it around until the throw pillows were in the right place. She shook her head. Why couldn't Ron figure out making the bed? It takes two seconds! She waved her wand again, banishing all the dirty clothes on the floor to the hamper, and the hamper to the laundry. She puttered around the house a while longer, wondering where everyone was. She had dinner whipped together and cooking in the oven when a breathless and pink-cheeked Ginny burst through the front door giggling with Harry. James, who was carrying a red Quaffle about half his size, followed quickly behind. Hermione came bursting out of the kitchen. "Boys! Oh, it's so good to see you." "Mum!" The two boys charged their mother and she reached down and embraced both of them, holding onto them for a long as they would let her. The ache she had been feeling in her heart started to dissipate as she bathed in the sensation of being with her children. No picture could ever capture the feeling of being with her kids. Harry pulled away after half a minute, but James continued to cling to her the best he could, still holding the very large Quaffle in one arm. "Where've you been, Mum?" James asked. "We missed you." Harry retreated further from his mum and stood back a few paces while Hermione picked up James. "Here, why don't we let Aunty Ginny hold this?" she said, gently tossing the Quaffle to Ginny who deftly caught it and tucked it under her arm. "Hi, Ginny," Hermione said brightly, closing the distance between her and Harry and ruffling his hair. "Mum!" Harry put his hands on his head to protect it from his mother's playful ruffling, and took another step away from her. "Hello," Ginny said warmly but her face belied the tone in her voice. She tried to smile but it quickly faltered. "Where were you, Mum? Dad said you were out working on a patient that lives far away. Why did you have to be gone so long?" James asked again. "I was working with a very important patient." She beamed at him. "He has been very sick for a long time, but he's getting better now, so I shouldn't need to be away so much anymore." "You're going away again?" Harry asked, his face stony as he studied the floor. "Yes, but I will back more, I promise." Hermione tried to reach out and pat Harry, but he stepped away from her. "I'm going up to my room." "What's wrong?" Hermione asked him. "Nothing," he said dejectedly and started wandering towards the stairs. Hermione watched him go and then turned and carried James into the kitchen and set him on the counter. Ginny, Hermione and James chatted about school and what fun things they had been doing with Aunt Ginny while she had been gone. After a while, she asked, "James, can you help Aunt Ginny set the table? I need to run upstairs." "Sure, Mum." Ginny had been eyeing her ever since they got back, and Hermione knew what was coming but rested a hand on her forearm and leaned into her, whispering, "After the boys go to bed, I will tell you everything you want to know, but please just wait a bit longer." Ginny nodded, but her expression didn't waiver at all. Hermione walked upstairs. She found Harry sitting on his bed while a children's Snitch zoomed around him. They were not as quick as competition Snitches and were spelled to stay in whatever room they had been released in. She snatched for it, but it evaded her easily and zoomed off towards the other side of the boys' room. Harry chuckled at her failed effort, but his face turned sour again as she sat down on the bed next to him. She sighed. "Harry, I'm sorry that I have to go away again, but sometimes these things are necessary. I don't want to be away from you." "It's okay," he mumbled. "It doesn't sound okay. You know you and your brother are the most important people in the world to me, don't you?" Hermione offered. "Not as important as some other person we don't even know," Harry answered dejectedly. "Yes, you are. It's just that right now my patient really needs me. It's tough sometimes for parents to make these choices, but he needs my help. If I don't help him, then I would have a hard time living with having made that choice. Is that what this is about, you don't feel you're important to me?" She reached out and hugged him tightly. Then she heard him speak, but she couldn't make it out. "What was that?" "You missed my play, Mum," Harry whispered. "Oh, sweetheart, I'm so sorry. I know how hard you worked on it, I'm sure you were fantastic. Was everybody good, did you all remember your lines?" Hermione's heart ached. He had worked so hard practicing for this play, and she hadn't been there. "Arty Finch forgot his lines and just stood out on stage like a git." Harry smirked. "Harry, language! Why would you say such a thing about a friend?" Hermione asked, shocked at his humour at his classmate's expense. "Well, he was, and he always is, so he deserved it," Harry said imperiously. "Oh, Harry, that's not nice. You shouldn't talk about people that way," Hermione admonished. "You would hurt his feelings." "But he always says stuff about Dad and makes fun of our family." "What kind of stuff?" "That Dad's a liar. That all the stories you and Dad tell us about Harry Potter are lies, that you weren't really there. He says that Harry Potter would never have hung around you," he finished quietly. "Why would he say such a thing?" Hermione's brow furrowed. This seemed awfully fishy. "I don't know," Harry said, and then pulled himself out of his mother's arms and flounced back on the bed out of her reach. "Really? It sounds like you know. It's okay; you can tell me. I'm not upset, but he's wrong. The stories your dad and I tell are true. Harry Potter is our best friend, and we always stuck together, we fought along side him right up until he disappeared." "You will get mad if I say it," he mumbled. "I promise you can tell me anything. I won't get mad at you, and it's not you who said it after all," she reasoned. "He says that there is no way that Harry Potter would hang around a…" He looked pleadingly at his mother. "A what?" "A Mudblood," he finished, tears streaming down his face. He turned over and buried his face in his pillow. Hermione took a moment to regain her composure. Her face was purple with rage at the thought that her son was being attacked because of his bloodline at a primary school. The schools had been setup in the years after the war, so wizarding children of different parentages would be able to intermix, before reaching Hogwarts. It has been an ambitious plan, spearheaded by Hannah Abbot, and Hermione and all of the Weasleys had wholeheartedly supported it. Unfortunately, many of the remaining pure-blood families whom had survived the war still refused to participate even thought the overall level of education was excellent. "Well," she said finally, trying to keep the anger from her voice. "People like that are ignorant. It doesn't matter what he thinks, because you could never change his mind anyway. Just ignore him. But I have something for you." She wandered into her bedroom and fetched a picture off her dressing table. She brought it back and took it out of its frame. "I want you to have this picture; it's one of my favorites. It was a perfect afternoon down by the lake at Hogwarts." Harry turned over, and she handed him the picture. It showed Ron, Harry, Hermione and Ginny sitting by the beech tree out by the lake. Hermione and Harry were talking, and then he reached out and hugged her, punched Ron playfully in the shoulder and got up. He said something, and then gave the two of them a cheeky grin, then grabbed Ginny's hand, pulling her up, and the two of them started walking back up toward the castle. The very last movement in the photo before it reset was of Harry bending down and sneaking a kiss from Ginny who appeared to be in ecstasy. She handed it to Harry, and said, "This was the very last time I ever saw Harry truly happy. I look at this photo all the time, and it gives me hope." "I can't take this," Harry said in awe. Hermione cast a charm on it to keep it from getting dirty or wrinkled and said, "I want you to have it; as you can clearly see, Harry was our friend. We will be friends forever. It was a promise we made after our fight at the Ministry of Magic. I never doubt that promise. This photo gives me hope that Harry doesn't doubt it either. If one of your friends doubts that Harry was our friend, just show it to them." Harry was ecstatic. He was starting at the photo, watching as it repeated over and over again. Occasionally the people in the photo would stop to wave at Harry and Hermione who were watching them. "Thanks, Mum. This is cool. My very own picture of Harry Potter! But, what if I lose it, won't you be sad?" "I know who took it, I can get another copy, and I am pretty sure Ginny has one." She stood up and ruffled his hair. "Wow, thanks, Mum!" Harry scrambled up and hugged her. "All better now?" Hermione asked. "Yeah!" Suddenly a thought occurred to young Harry. "Why is he kissing Aunt Ginny?" Hermione hesitated, thinking about what she should say and finally decided on the truth. "She was his girlfriend." "Aunt Ginny went out with Harry Potter?" Harry shrieked. "That is so brilliant!" "Yes, it is brilliant." Hermione nodded, and then looked at him very seriously. "She cared about him very much, and she doesn't really like to talk about it much, so don't bother her about it okay?" "Oh, okay," Harry said looking very confused. "I think I hear your father downstairs. Go wash your hands and come downstairs for dinner, all right?" "Okay," Harry beamed. He put the picture carefully on his bedside table, and they walked into the hallway. Hermione headed downstairs to welcome Ron home. *** Dinner was a peaceful and happy affair. Hermione was glad to be home to be able to hug her boys to her and chat with her ruggedly handsome husband. The only problem was Ginny. She hadn't said anything. She also hadn't participated in the conversation at the table at all. Hermione certainly couldn't try and get her to talk, and Ron was either oblivious to her mood or unwilling to risk having her explode at the dinner table. After dinner, Hermione played with the boys and their wizard blocks that animated whatever the witch or wizard built with them. The blocks weren't very intelligent about what had been built so sometimes buildings acted like animals, and sometimes animals acted like machines, but it was all good fun to the boys. Finally she put both boys to bed after reading James a story and turned out the light in their room. James had been very jealous of his brother's new picture, but Hermione had promised him one of his own soon, and he had settled down. She wandered down the stairs well aware of the tiger waiting to pounce on her, but she knew her best friend well and was sure she could make her see her reason. She found Ron at the kitchen table reading reports on Quidditch teams and possible transfers that might be going on in the next few weeks. She kissed him on the cheek and then leaned against him, an arm hung over his shoulder. "Don't wait up for me, I think Ginny wants to have it out, and we may be a while." "You don't want me to stay up and check on you, in case she gets a little, er, over-excited?" Ron asked, clearly surprised she didn't want backup. "No, she's my closest girlfriend, and I know why she feels the way she does. She has a right to be angry about things. None of what's happened between her and Harry has been fair to her, and now I'm going to impose upon her even more. If she hexes me," Hermione paused for a moment and shrugged, "then I deserve it. Ultimately I know her well enough to know she will want what's best for Harry, even if what's best for Harry makes her really really angry." "You really are a Gryffindor to accept all that and still go in there." Ron smirked. "Yes, well, speaking of that, I better get in there before she comes out here." Hermione gave Ron a significant kiss on the lips and then murmured, "Goodnight, love." "Good luck, dear wife." Hermione walked into the den to find Ginny reading the latest issue of Witch Weekly, the cover of which boasted of articles on "Eight Ways to Make Your Lips More Kissable!" and "An Interview with Hunky American Rock Singer, Steven Terry." Hermione smiled at her friend and asked, "Reading up on American hunks, are you?" Ginny shot her a loathe look and put down the magazine. Hermione waved her wand and cast a quick Locking spell on the door, and a Silencing charm on the room, and turned back to Ginny. "Okay, how would you like to do this? Would you like to yell at me first, and have me try to explain, or do you just want to turn me into a salamander?" "Why don't you have a crack at explaining yourself, and we'll keep our options open on the others," Ginny said coolly. Clearly her anger was simmering just below the surface, but she was keeping her temper in check for now. Hermione smiled at her gratefully. "Okay, before I start I have to explain a couple of things. First, you're one of the best friends I've ever had in my whole life. I cherish our friendship as well as the fact that you're my sister now. I don't want to see you hurt, and I especially don't want to be the cause of you being hurt." She took a deep breath, still clutching her wand in her right hand. "Secondly, Harry is now technically my patient. He is also my best friend and having him for a patient is ill advised, but I have to do what I can to help him. But, since he is my patient, I can't reveal the exact details of his treatment, I can't tell you very much about his condition. I have to do certain things as a professional Healer that my heart doesn't want to do. I am trying to heal him, Ginny. I want him to get better permanently. I know you do too, so please, respect the treatment I'm giving him." Hermione looked at Ginny with watery eyes. "Harry has a condition that a lot of people who have suffered traumatic experiences suffer from. I had guessed that might be the case from the moment he disappeared. I have confirmed it from my limited interaction with him over the years and from the treatment I have imposed upon him. Yes, I have imposed this treatment on him. He did not seek out treatment, and he did not give his permission. Technically, without having him committed, what I am doing is illegal. I mean, honestly, we kidnapped him; you know that, Ron said he told you as much." She looked at Ginny who nodded, her face stony. "So anyway, we are keeping him sequestered from anybody but his closest friends for now. So far, he has accepted this pretty well, but he has no memories of anything that happened after his seventeenth birthday. It is my hope and the goal of the treatment that he will get all of those memories back, and that he will be able to deal with them in a healthy manner. I know you are aware that I have been developing this treatment for many years, and I really believe I can help him, Ginny." "So I am not one of his closest friends?" Ginny growled, her jaw set and her eyes like steel. "Yes, you definitely are, Ginny, and I don't think this treatment can work without your eventual help. But his feelings for you are confused at best. I don't know what will happen if we get the two of you together. He is staying put right now, he hasn't tried to run at all, but given his history, I don't want to spook him." "Oh, and I would spook him?" Ginny said acidly. "There isn't anyway to tell how he would react. It could be the absolute best thing for him to see you, but from what Ron has said, he is embarrassed about the way he's treated you." "He's talked about me?" Ginny's expression melted. "Well, not to me, but he has talked a bit about you to Ron." "Does he still love me?" she asked, suddenly sounding scared. "I don't know, Ginny. Right now he mostly has the memories from when he's seventeen, but honestly he seems reluctant to talk about you to me. But, even if he had told me, I couldn't tell you; it would be violating his right to confidentiality." Hermione braced herself for Ginny's response. "You couldn't tell me! You won't let me see him. I can't even check to see if he's okay. I'm going out of my mind, Hermione! Not that that's all that unusual; I've been out of my mind with worry ever since he disappeared." She fiddled unconsciously with her ring. "I know he still loves me, Hermione; I can help him. I know he's been scared, and I also know he thinks I won't love him anymore because of some of the things he's done. But I committed myself to him, Hermione. I want no other. Those three weeks in my fifth year were enough to know I don't want to spend my life with anyone else." She sniffed, as the tears started to come. "He's needed me, and I couldn't find him. I looked so hard, Hermione, but I failed him. He had a job to do; he had to kill Voldemort. I had a job to do, too; I was supposed to help him live with what he had to become to kill Voldemort." She buried her face in her hands and started sobbing disconsolately. Hermione went to her and hugged her tightly to her chest. She rocked her and stroked her hair for a while, until she felt her start to relax a bit. When she was sure she was listening again, Hermione said quietly, "I don't think you failed him, Ginny, but I do know how you feel." "How can you possibly? He loved me, even when he broke up with me, I knew he didn't want to; he just needed me to be safe and to not have to worry about me. It was the hardest thing I ever had to do, letting him leave. I didn't want to, but then I lost him and couldn't find him." She hiccupped. "He loved me, too, not in the same way, but he did. He loved your whole family. We all had jobs to do for Harry, but when the time came, we weren't there. Ron and I were too wrapped up in our own thing, and he ended up going and fighting Voldemort by himself. We should have been there to help him, to bring him back, and to console him but he got ambushed in that cemetery, and we didn't even know he was there," she said in an almost robotic tone, as if it was something she had said hundreds of times, when actually it was the first time she had ever voiced these feelings. Ginny adjusted herself so she could hug Hermione back, and the two women sat there clinging to each other until neither of them knew how much time had passed. Finally, Ginny asked, "When can I see him?" "I don't know. We need to find out more about his memories." Hermione sighed, she had been dreading this. "Ron and I have assumed he has been alone these last seven years, but it's possible he has been with others." "Others?" "We really don't know where he's been. What if he found other friends, what if he found someone else? We have to find out soon; whoever they might be, they will be out of their minds with worry," Hermione said meekly. Ginny bolted upright on the couch, suddenly looking frightened and insecure. "You think he started a family with someone else? No, that's not possible." "I think it's unlikely, but we don't really know where he's been. I think we have to consider the possibility that he found other people who don't remind him of his past. Seven years is a very long time to spend by yourself. I don't like either possibility, but if he has new friends, at least he hasn't been alone." "I need to see him, Hermione, please." "As soon as I think he has adjusted enough to deal with whatever feelings seeing you will invoke, I will invite you to come see him." "How long, Hermione? I need to know." "I don't know, as soon as possible I promise." Ginny looked like she wanted to say more, but she held her tongue. Hermione put her arm around her. "When are you going back?" Ginny finally asked. "The morning after tomorrow," Hermione responded. "Hermione?" "Yes?" "Hurry." Hermione sat with Ginny for a while longer, and when they finally went up to bed, it was well on towards morning. Hermione slept better than she had at any point since they found Harry. Ginny sat alone in her room and didn't sleep at all.
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