A/N. Happy Monday! Wanted to give you another one relatively quickly- it's again short. It doesn't advance the story much but I needed to exorcise some bad mojo and air important matters out in the open - kinda like spring cleaning :)
Love the reviews. It's very encouraging how many of you get where I'm going with this.
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Chapter 55 - Connections
The Ex-Auror quickly figured out what was going on.
"I hate to break up arguments, especially ones about me. It's deeply flattering, by the way. I am honoured - "
"Warren," Hermione hissed, snapping Warren out of his meant-to-annoy ramble and refocusing him with a chastising tone.
"Oh - yes - sorry," the Canadian said insincerely, "Jericho has stepped down for health reasons and appointed the Head Auror to replace him in the interim."
Hermione looked at Harry, somewhat in shock.
"That would be Humptail," Harry clarified, "Leo replaced me a few hours ago."
"Dammit!" she swore loudly and turned to glare at Warren.
"Don't blame me," Warren held his hands up, "I told Heartbreak here to stay away and mind his own business. Had he done that he would have kept his job and this wouldn't have happened."
"Next time Heartbreak here will try to get his priorities straight," Harry replied acidly, doing his best to take the high road and let the little thing go, "The Wizengamot will convene soon to choose a new Minister. I can't imagine them choosing Humptail."
As far as Leo's 'health' was concerned Harry didn't care and he wasn't that worried about the Ministry but Hermione had much less faith in the system.
"The Wizengamot won't but whoever is chosen will have Malvado's blessing."
Warren countered, "That should be the least of your worries. Heartbreak has to go."
Harry had enough of his taunting, "But I'm waiting for you to show your true colours. Wait, what am I saying? You don't really have true colours, do you? You just blend in and change into whatever colour protects your ass the most."
That felt good; bonus that it ticked Warren off.
Hermione chastised him, "Harry, please."
"I'm just calling it the way it is," he reasoned, and it wasn't him who started it.
"What happened?" she asked Warren.
Warren's revenge was engaging her in wordless communication again. Enough of that. He was about to eavesdrop when Hermione's eyes widened and her head snapped quickly in his direction.
"You have to go," she told him urgently.
"I thought I just said that," Warren commented dryly.
"Humptail sent the MLE into the Pitch -," she started to tell him, immediately raising his worry level through the roof. Hermione quickly added before he could jump to bad conclusions, "They're okay. Someone from the IMP is with them, escorting them to where Al is."
With Hermione's reassurance he calmed down somewhat, his agitation displaced by a deep craving to hurt Humptail for even thinking about touching his family. He felt Hermione's hand squeezing his arm gently.
"Don't waste your energy. Humptail will get what he deserves. Right now they need you."
She was right, of course. The children would have had a fright. And Ginny. He nodded slightly and Hermione let go, aiming her attention at a stewing Warren, voice in command mode.
"Make sure the elders know that the human visitors are temporary. Take Jessie with you."
Warren argued, "Hewitt? No, not a good idea."
Hermione reminded him, "You brought her into this."
"Only to save your life. You're welcome, by the way. Why can't we just Obliviate her?"
"No!"
"Absolutely not!"
He and Hermione had the very same reaction.
"Geez, lighten up you two. I was just kidding. You do realize Finnigan's going to have a fit."
"Seamus will understand. He'll just have to live with it. And take Grudy and her team, too"
Warren didn't like that idea either, "If you get ambushed again..."
"They're loyal but they're not going to make a difference."
Harry interjected, "I'm with him on this."
She rolled her eyes and countered, "I'm the only one allowed to do any mothering around here. And don't either of you dare insult me by mentioning Hugo. I can take care of him. We'll be fine. We'll regroup at Pag-asa."
Hermione was firm on it and both he and Warren knew not to push. Harry had a suggestion.
"Why not come with us?"
Warren let out a low whistle, "I'd love to see that."
He was alluding to Ginny and Hermione being at the same place at the same time. Harry thought nothing of it, rationalizing that for them it should be no different than before he found out about Hugo. In fact, he was confident things between them would be better. But Hermione had a different perspective.
"It's best if we didn't, for Lily. I imagine she's still having a very tough time with this."
Hermione was right. Even though showing up with Hermione wasn't wrong he didn't want to hurt his daughter more than he already had. He had yet to talk to Lily about Hugo and he wasn't sure if or when Lily would be up to talking. He had to remember that she was only thirteen.
Warren snorted, "In my opinion it's about time the princess see what it's like in the real world."
Harry spoke back, "Shut up. Nobody asked you."
"Whatever. You -" Warren pointed at Hermione and reminded her, "See you at the village. And don't do anything stupid until then."
"Since when have I ever done anything stupid without you?"
"Right. Heard that one before," Warren was unconvinced and said to Harry, "Watch out for her - she lies."
"And you think I'd listen to you because...?"
Warren laughed, "I get it that you don't trust me. There's only one person in this room who does and I've told her many times she's wrong about me. One of these days, I will prove it."
"So you've been telling me for twenty years," was Hermione's unimpressed answer. "Are you done picking on him?"
"I'm just warming up," Warren pressed on, "It bogs my mind why she insists on trusting me blindly. She's been on a wild run lately; resurrecting Jean Peverell, meeting the Being elders as the Mistress of Death, staying at her house knowing that Malvado was on his way. She had time to send Hugo to you. Doesn't it make you wonder why she didn't Port key out with him?"
Harry glanced at Hermione, waiting for an answer but she wasn't planning on giving one.
"Warren, we don't have time for this," she said instead.
"You know what all this recklessness reminds me of?"
"Just ignore him, Harry. He's just being a prick."
But Harry wanted to hear what Warren had to say.
"What does it remind you of?" he asked.
The Canadian happily obliged, "How she was like around the time you got hitched. She was unpredictable and illogical then, murky on the inside, constantly crossing lines and daring fate to do its worst. I've always loved that suicidal side of hers. Talk about hot, whew! She was to die for. Have you ever seen that side of hers, Harry?"
Harry gritted his teeth, internally cringing at Warren's open reference to their previous intimacy and her past that he had no clue existed. Warren was who he was to Hermione because of the circumstances Harry left her in and the asshole was making sure he realized that. She trusted Warren because he let her down. If Harry didn't like it, he only had himself to blame.
It was an invite to a pissing contest of who knew her best. Warren was flexing his knowledge, daring Harry to question it, to piss back. And they both knew Harry couldn't even if he wanted to. They had been out of touch for years and his confidence of his knowledge of her was at an all time low. He'd lose handily. But just the thought of admitting the obvious was sickening.
Hermione stepped up to the plate for him, telling Warren exactly what he wanted to hear, "He hasn't - no other person has - only you - because you're special. Satisfied?"
Warren sighed wistfully for show before saying, "Honey, your words warm the cockles of my heart."
Harry flushed some more, thinking of the many ways to erase the arse's arrogant expression. The one good thing about all this banter between them was that Hermione seemed eager to end it.
She reminded them with more urgency, "You really need to get moving."
He had to leave but unsure of when they'd see each other again and still quite worried about her, Harry couldn't just go without having a final word.
"We need to talk for a second; in private."
Warren scoffed at his request, commenting, "You sure have interesting priorities."
The insult bothered Hermione more that it did him but even though Hermione hesitated, his ask was something she wouldn't refuse.
"Warren, can you give us...?"
The Canadian didn't let her finish.
"Okay, okay, you don't have to tell me. I'll get the others ready."
Resentful of the dismissal, Warren stomped off through the kitchen door. They were alone again but now in a tense stillness.
He broke their silence with a question.
"Why are you making this so difficult?"
"I'm not," she replied earnestly, then tried to explain, "It's just that I didn't figure you'd be here."
"But I am here."
"I see that."
"I'm not going away."
"I realize that."
"I'm seeing this through."
"I know."
"Then let me help you."
"I'm trying!"
The intensity in her eyes and the strain in her voice rang of a desperate need for him to believe her. She was trying, or at least she believed she was.
"I want to understand," he intimated, "But it's like I don't know you and it's an awful feeling to not know you."
Harry was hoping she would say something that would take away the bad taste of what he just said. It hurt her to hear it and he tried to take it back.
"I'm sorry," he apologized.
But he was too late. Tears welled up in her eyes and guilt filled him. This was the last thing he wanted to happen.
"No, no, please don't-"
He reached for her the same time she took his hand and placed his palm against her chest, holding it there, very much like he held hers against his that very first night he told her how he felt about her. The dizzying, frenetic chaos just moments before dissipated. Time and all else stood still.
Her beating heart thumped fiercely against his bare flesh, immersing him in a tidal wave of memories of the countless times they touched - physically, mentally, emotionally - the steady cadence of her blood and her life coursed through him, reminding him of their deep and eternal connection.
In the rush of emotions he didn't notice that he had closed his eyes, until he heard Hermione speak and he opened them directly into an ocean of rich brown.
"You do know me, Harry," she said gently, "It's me. I'm still me. And just because Warren knows things about me that you don't it doesn't mean that he knows me better than you do. You shouldn't let him get to you that way."
She let go of his hand but held his gaze. He nodded, appreciating how she set him straight. He should know better than to fall prey to Warren's mind games and realize that Warren would take full advantage of his weakness. With renewed confidence and pressured by an urgent necessity, he took the opportunity that was presenting itself.
"Hermione, you're wrong about him. He doesn't care about you the way you think he does."
"Harry-" she interrupted, not wanting to get into an argument about Warren again.
"How can you be so sure?"
With reluctance she told him, "I see what he sees and I feel what he does. I know how he feels about me."
That was painful for Harry to take. This thing, this bond of sorts she had with Warren was something he didn't fully understand. He quickly determined that much of it was envy. He was jealous of it, of how easily Warren could make her believe he cared about her when it was something Harry had struggled with and failed to do. But...
"I'm sorry but I'm still not buying it."
She was amused, "Is it so hard to believe that someone cares about me?"
Hermione was teasing him. He wasn't going to let her make light of the situation.
"You know it's not that," he was struggling to find the right words, then decided to pick a more concrete illustration, "lf he really cared about you he would have never broken the Fidelius. Had I been your secret keeper I never would have."
She answered simply, "That's why I chose someone else."
In a way he understood. Hermione would value her secret keeper more than her secret but knew that he would value her secret more than his life. It still annoyed him that she picked Warren and that Warren put her life at risk. To him it was proof that Warren didn't care. Unfortunately, he couldn't convince Hermione to see it that way. He had to ask the burning question.
"What's he to you nowadays?"
"The same as he's always been; a good friend," Hermione replied vaguely.
Maybe he should have asked the question differently. He weighed her response. Somehow he felt she was downplaying it. They seemed more a couple now than they were before. His old emotional battles about her with other men and his struggles with his self-imposed rule not to meddle in her affairs resurfaced. He really hated the idea of her and Warren having a relationship in whatever shape or form. But it did make him wonder; had Warren been a regular, trustworthy bloke, would he feel the same way?
Admittedly, his judgment was less than completely objective but Hermione's was likely not totally objective either. Nonetheless, Harry felt it his obligation to make sure Warren didn't get the opportunity to sell her out again and if Warren did, he would be there to make sure nothing bad happened to her and Hugo.
Blag!Blag!Blag!
Loud successive banging on the door broke their conversation. Her impatient 'good friend' called out from behind it, in a cheerful sing-song voice.
"Honey! Sweetheart! I'm not a fucking cab driver! I don't have all day!"
"You better go," she said to him. Then she apologized, "I know it's frustrating. It's frustrating for me too. When we talk again, I'll tell you what I can."
That was fine for now. He was getting the sense that there was something above her holding her back from telling him everything. Or maybe it was someone?
The door suddenly swung open, Warren's ugly face jutted into the kitchen.
"Honey," Warren addressed Hermione with a fake smile, "His wife and children are waiting."
"Right. Thanks for the reminder."
"No problem. Anytime."
Warren retreated. Hermione had one last thing to say.
"Ginny will not want to stay there. Shell Cottage will do for now but I suggest having a back-up, in case this goes on longer than expected."
"I'll find a place," he assured her, then asked of her one other thing, "Promise me you'll avoid getting yourself killed."
That made her smile.
"I'll do my best," she promised, "At least until we see each other again."
They moved from the kitchen to the sitting room where a confused Jessie and the elves were gathered anxiously around an old Quidditch jersey, one of his. Warren was smirking with satisfaction in reaction to Hermione's disapproval of his choice of a Port Key.
He took the empty spot across from where Warren stood just as the jersey glowed a deep blue. Looking up he caught Hugo watching him. The kid wore this intense determination, an obvious mask for something less positive. Harry found it unsettling. He wanted to know what Hugo was trying to hide.
As the room spun and Hermione's and Hugo's images blurred, he began hearing Hugo's private thoughts.
"It'll be okay. We've survived without him for years. Mum and I will be just fine."
His son's brave words pulled at his insides and stung. He couldn't deny the truth. They had been fine without him. They would probably be fine without him.
But Harry had a huge problem with that. Knowing what he knew now he was certain that he would not be fine without them.
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Hugo watched as the last remnants of his father disappeared into thin air.
"Are you okay?" his Mum asked him, concern in her voice.
He wavered at first. He didn't want to admit how much he wanted his father to stay. He didn't want to hope too much and set himself up for disappointment. He didn't want to have more reasons to be angry.
"He will be back to help, right?"
It sounded so childish to ask and he immediately regretted asking it. His Mum seemed cool about it.
"Yes, he will."
There was no shred of doubt in her answer.
"What if he doesn't come back?"
"I know your father. I couldn't keep him away even if I wanted to," she replied, "Do you have your stuff?"
Hugo nodded, slinging his rucksack on his back.
"Where to, Mum?"
His mum answered, "Godric's Hollow."
He felt her grip tighten and he steadied himself, keeping his eyes shut as they spun in place. He opened them when he felt cool wind on his skin.
It was almost dawn, the sun was just about to break through the horizon. They were in a cemetery. There was singing in the background, coming from the church nearby.
He wondered why she brought him here. And why now?
"This way."
He followed his Mum's lead. They weaved through a path in between very old tombstones away from the church, leaves crunching in the wake of their footsteps. A few meters down she stopped and pointed to the well kempt tombs on the right side.
"Your grandparents'."
Hugo swallowed the lump in his throat as he read their names and the writings below them. He knew they were buried there but never felt a connection until now. His Mum stood beside him and spoke softly.
"You are his son. Now that he knows he will keep coming for you. It's time you stopped fighting it."
"What if I still don't want him to be in my life?"
"Why wouldn't you?"
"A part of me still hates him for what he did to you."
She smiled sympathetically, "I know you're looking out for me but what happened between your father and I had nothing to do with you. He did what he had to do."
"He had a choice."
"A choice that would have made us both unhappy. We cared too much about each other to let that happen."
Then, without thinking, his let his emotions leak out, "It would have been perfect if I hadn't come along."
"Don't say that."
His chest began to hurt as he added, "But it's true. I was an accident, a mistake that shouldn't have happened."
His Mum looked straight into his eyes and said, "You were unplanned. You weren't an accident and definitely not a mistake. Sometimes the best things in life come to you when you least expect it."
Hugo understood what she was trying to say but couldn't think he was the best thing that happened in her life. He wanted to believe it though.
He brushed the pesky tears off his cheeks as his Mum put her arm around him and hugged him, telling him in a soothing voice, "Hugo, it isn't his fault. It was mine. I didn't tell him about you. Had he known he would have been there for us right from the very start."
Hugo couldn't stop crying now. It was annoying that he couldn't. And the gnawing pain in his chest kept on hurting.
"But it was his fault. He chose them over you. He was married. He had no business being with you when he had no intention of leaving his family. And had he stayed with you, you wouldn't have had to keep me a secret."
She sighed. This was as difficult for her as it was for him.
"In time you'll realize that not all things in life are black and white, especially when we most wish they were," she always said that when things didn't make sense, "I know you think you hate him but I know you. What are you really afraid of?"
His Mum was right. He tried so hard to hate his father. He used 'hate' to describe how he felt about his father often enough that he really felt that he did. But it wasn't what he was feeling now.
"What if I let him into my life and he'll choose them over me?"
It was a relief to finally say it; his fear that his father would turn his back on him just like he turned his back on his Mum.
His mother tried to set his mind at rest, "Your father will never do that."
"He doesn't care about me."
"That's not true."
"I am nobody to him."
"Stop," his Mum turned and held his face up to her as he wept. She had tears in her eyes too when she spoke to him, her tone firm yet comforting, "Don't make yourself less than who you are. You are his son. In his eyes you are no less than James, Al or Lily are his children. You too are his flesh and blood and you will always have a part of him in you. Your father is a good man; give him a chance. He will not let you down."
Hugo took in her words and felt more truth in them than he had in the past. He sobbed openly in her arms, accepting that there was no fighting it. In the couple of days since knowing about him his father did try to set things right between them. He even annoyingly and predictably exercised his authority as a parent. Then there was the encounter with Malvado. Hugo blew it and had his father not been there, he would be dead. And maybe, even just for that Hugo would try harder.
When he finally stopped crying he pulled away and looked down upon his grandparents' graves, feeling guilt and shame for his past disrespect for anything and anyone associated with Harry Potter. He remembered their story, their heroism, their sacrifice. He, their snotty grandchild, had no right to be the way he had been to them. With remorse, he took his wand out and showered rose petals over their tombstones.
As he said a little apology, Hugo felt his Mum's hand on his shoulder.
"Come, I want to show you something else."
They walked a short distance and came up to a much older part of the cemetery. With the limited light he could barely make out the name on the tombstone where they had stopped but when he saw the Hallows symbol, he knew it belonged to Ignotus Peverell.
He watched his Mum approach the gap beside it. She got on her knees and began gently clearing a portion that was covered with a thick layer of dried leaves and twigs. Then she stopped. Underneath was a small, grey, marble tablet set flat against the ground.
Hugo knelt beside her and read the coarse dark markings on it.
Jean Peverell, 28 May 2003
Warren had told Hugo about 'Jean Peverell'. Jean Peverell was the alias his Mum had used on the first case she and Warren worked on.
"I don't understand."
His Mum met his confusion with a quiet calmness.
"I heard you spoke with the Hag. I assume you want to know more about your sister. This was where she died."
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A/N. Now that I've cleared most of the angst off my plate, I think we can move forward.