Out of nostalgia, the girls in the house had decided to take the Hogwarts Express instead of just apparating to Hogsmeade. They would Apparate to London however. Nevertheless everyone in The Burrow was awake much earlier that Sunday than they would have needed to. While the others took their time packing, Hermione had decided to stay at the kitchen table after breakfast, working on her Thesis. The last thing she had muttered to Ron was how of course he only left to go back to bed, but he had simply ignored her and disappeared in their room with Harry, as Ginevra was busy in the `Battlefield´ – they had somehow developed the habit of calling Harry’s and her room like that.
In all fairness Harry had made himself comfortable on Ron’s bed however in tailor-fashion, reading. Possibly though so as to give Hermione one less thing to complain about. Therefore Ron was lying on Hermione’s bed, left of the door, Harry’s pocket watch dangling from his fingers and glistening in the pale morning light. Mostly the couple would share one of the beds, but still each claimed their own, just in case. With a sizzling sound, he whirled the chain around and caught the watch in his fist.
“Catch.”, he said, completely out of the blue.
“What?”
Harry had barely looked up from his book when he saw the shimmer soar towards him in the corner of his eye. Quicker than a fly could breathe, his arm zoomed out and caught the metal device.
“Ha!”, cheered Ron.
“Thanks for the training.”, Harry meant boredly, stuck his hand under his loose buttoned shirt and skilfully dropped the watch in his Mokeskin Pouch.
“So.”, during that, Ron slid from the bed, adjusted his baggy pants and went over to sit down opposite to Harry, in the same manner, trying to decipher the text. “Still not intending to stop learning Russian?”
“No. Why would I?”
“Can you read that?”
“I’m merely fascinated by the symbols.”, Harry mumbled.
“Really?”
“Of course I can read that.”
“Yes? Well, let’s hear. Just read from wherever you are.”
“If you want,”, Harry cleared his throat.
“Go for it.”
“Sure. Политические аресты нескольких десятилетий отличались здесь именно тем, что люди никоим образом не были арестованы и поэтому не были готовы к какому-либо сопротивлению. Было общее чувство обреченности, представление – ”
“Whow – ”
“C нашей паспортной системой, этого достаточно, однако, правда, что было невозможно сбежать из ГПУ-НКВД. И даже в разгар эпидемий ареста, когда люди, выходя на работу, каждый день прощались со своей семьей, потому что они не могли быть уверены, что вернутся вечером – ”
“Goodness sake – ”
“даже тогда они почти не убежали – ”
“And what – ”
“и в редкие случаи они закончили с ними. Что требовалось Приручить овцу волка в зубах. Now I’m done with the paragraph.”
“Blimey! You’re really fluent!”
“Why, thank you.”
“And? What’s it?”
“The Gulag Archipelago by Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn. The collective works is describing the life in a Communist Soviet labour camp.”
“Whow! And you can actually read that kind of stuff already?”, and he did read on while listening. “When did you say again you started learning Russian?”
“Shortly after you ran away from our tent?”
“Not even one and a half years ago then – ”
“Apparently,”
“Why Russian?”, Harry just shrugged.
“Why not? It had happened to have appeared being useful already.”
“Uh – ”, Ron tarried, “I mean what? When?”
“Early November the Witch Watchers picked up a little girl from a crime scene. Not our case. But I overheard that they couldn’t get her to speak and her thoughts were so confusing to them that they passed on. Inama eneded up with her eventually, but she also couldn’t get her to speak and asked me for help. Nobody considered she might not understand English. I just tried naming a couple languages and suddenly she said русский.”
“Russian, yeah. So you interrogated her? You never told me – ”
“Because it was unimportant. She just found her mother dead on the ground and because she tried to defend herself with magic, they’d arrested her. The death wasn’t her fault though. Turned out it was someone from their refugee hostel. I think Inama made sure she was adopted by a Russian speaking couple.”
“Still, why Russian?”, very slow, Harry looked up. “Sorry – it’s just kinda curious, isn’t it? He secretly fed you with books. Why teaching you Russian? Didn’t he speak French too?”
“And Scots Gaelic, Latin, German, Mandarin Chinese,”
“Chinese.”, growled Ron, his face even more contorted. “Okay?”
“And before you ask, your sister told me.”
“Oh. But still – ”
“Well, Hermione, how should I know? I never asked his portrait. Maybe he thought that out of all the languages he knew, that’d be the most useful for the career everyone knew I’d go after, sooner or later? Or maybe he thought, his best friend would survive the war while he was certain he himself wouldn’t and knew that in this case, that man would need someone who would bear his idiosyncrasies for the sake of it?”
“Huh? Wait – Karkaroff?”
“What other crazy friend of his with Russian descent do we know?”
“Yeah. But blimey – now you learned that language for noth- sorry – ”, Ron froze at Harry’s obliterating look. “And anyway – er – it’s not like – I mean, you have somebody’s idiosyncrasies you decided to bear for the – ”
“Oh finally!”, Harry sighed and read on.
“Huh?”
“I thought you’d never get to the point.”
“Point?”
“Where you would start asking me about Draco.”
“Well, yeah! What’s that thing you’ve got going there?”
“You think we have a thing going?”, Harry’s tone bore no significant characteristic of emotion.
“Do you?”
“I mean, I know you think that.”
“And am I right?”
“Depends,”
“On what?”
“How much of a thing you think it is.”, Harry briefly gave him a smart-alecky frown before his eyes were back on the book and he flipped a page.
“How long has this been going?”
“Not even a handful of days,”
“Really? Not longer?”
“No.”
“So not long enough for – uh – ”
“For what.”
“Dunno – had sex?”
“That really depends on how you measure speed in relationship and define sex, doesn’t it?”
“Probably.”, Ron chuckled, to Harry’s surprise quite relaxed and he even seemed less judging than during the past months, now that it was out.
“But of course, seeing as one of the scientific terms for a blowjob is `oral sex´, yes.”
“Okay?”
It still surprised Harry, but perhaps Ron did indeed feel more comfortable talking about such matters when all cards were laid open – seeing as he hadn’t minded sharing stories about his own sex life with Harry in times. That had lead to having him know things about Hermione he hadn’t really wanted to know, but all in all he didn’t bother much knowing them either. In fact he himself was quite indifferent as well.
“And? Is he good?”
“What d’you mean?”, Harry looked up again.
“Has he got some notable talents?”
“Oh – I – I think, you misunderstood that a little.”
“What now – did you or did you not?”
“We did.”
“But – oh!”, it seemed, Ron’s eyes were opened wide enough now that the scales fell from them.
“Yes.”, Harry smirked to his book.
“Does Ginny know?”
“She does. And for whatever reason, not mind at all.”
“Really.”
“Yes.”, sighed Harry languidly, placed the bookmark and stored the novel in his pouch at last, to be able to look at him without being distracted by wanting to know what came next in the book, for the time being. “The only thing she made clear is that she doesn’t want a threesome yet.”
“Yet?”, Ron smirked disbelievingly.
“Yes, this is your sister we’re talking about. I really don’t know what happened to you, but two years ago you’d have strangled me if I told you that the thought somehow turns her on.”
“Quite possibly, yeah.”
“And I don’t know why or how, but she must have expected it to happen quite a while ago. Otherwise – ”, he needed a thinking pause; whether he should have actually broached.
“Otherwise what?”
“I don’t think she would have bought me that very peculiar Christmas present – and waited till New Year’s Eve to – ”
“What’re you talking about? What did she buy you? A dildo?”
“A strap-on, actually.”
“A what?”, Ron frowned, but Harry could tell it wasn’t astonishment – he really didn’t know what that meant.
“Very well. I think it’d be better to show you than trying to explain.”, he rummaged in his pouch, barely able to pull out the construct then. “Phew. There.”
“What the – ”
The way Ron took the assembly of belts in his hands, trying to figure it out; and his expression; just made Harry grin.
“Wait – uh – hold on – I – I think,” he childishly put it on his head with the dildo atop, “Yeah. I think I got it.”, and he actually found a way to secure it with one of the straps.
“Brilliant!”, Harry shook his head, laughing.
“Is it?”, he too had to laugh.
“Yeah! The best Unicorn I’ve seen in a while!”
“So – uh – ”, Ron could barely calm down. “She – she wears that?”
“Yes. But not on the head, I hope you know.”
“Yeah. But – I mean – did you – try it out too?”
“Well, that was actually the whole point of it.”
“Doesn’t it – hurt?”, with the narrowing of his brows, Ron’s grin was gone instantly – and Harry’s turned into a pondering but assuring smile.
“It did, a bit. But she did her best to make it as comfortable for me as she could.”
“Did you like – ”
“What are you two laughing about in here?”
She had opened to door so fast she had frozen the whole situation – herself included, and it was clear that for the entire time she stared at Ron, she wasn’t entirely sure what she saw there.
“What in the name of Agatha Chubb.”, her shock was very real.
“Oh shit.”, moaned Ron, bright red drowning his freckles. “I forgot you have unrestricted access to this room.”
“I’m not really sure whether I’d like it to remain that way, to be honest. What is that!”
“That, Hermione,”, Harry explained, trying hard to keep a straight face, “Is a very rare Magical Creature. It is called Ronicorn.”
Neither could help bursting into laughter. Hermione though, the door handle still in hand, only shook her head aghast.
“How come you just happen to have a strap-on!”
“Easy! It’s not mine!”, Ron grinned. “And how come you know what that is!”
“Well, I’m not exactly living under a rock, you see. And whose is it then, if it isn’t yours?”
“Theoretically speaking,”, Harry meant, his head still turned to her as well when her eyes fell on him, but another curious face appeared behind her in the door.
“What the actual fuck are you doing with my strap-on, Ron!”
“What?”, Hermione yelped, cracking her neck as her head spun. “Your – ?”
“Heck, get inside, Hermione. Mum doesn’t need to know everything, really.”
“Oh goodness, of course!”, hastily she scuttled into the room waiting for her to close the door behind and explain herself.
“I mean, yeah – legit positioning. But why!”
“Sorry – ”, Ron hastily bound it off and threw it into Harry’s lap, whereupon Harry supported his head on his hand, his elbow resting on his knee while he studied the girls’ expressions thoroughly, his other hand –
“Well, your dear brother wanted to know. So I showed it to him.”
“Okay,”, Ginevra sang. “Well, now you know!”
“Your strap-on?”, Hermione aspirated.
“Problem?”, the bored groan and stare she gave her, made her falter for a second.
“Uh – no – I mean – what? Why do you have a strap-on?”
“Let me think.”, mock ponderingly, she crossed her arms. “Because – I bought it?”
“What for!”
“For my brother to bind it onto his head, because all he ever wanted; the one thing he strived for in life; was to become the living breathing eroticization of a unicorn!”
“Oh shut up.”, all three of them knew she had meant that for Harry, rather, who snorted into his hand. “Harry could you – uh – could you please – stop – ”
“Please what?”, he grinned.
“Fumbling that – that thing!”, she shrieked.
“Why.”, Ginevra dropped her arms and slowly walked up to Hermione, her naughty gaze right on her flushed cheeks. “Does it unsettle you? Because – deep. Down. You know; understood; that I – secretly, bought it not only for me, but – for you?”, she was now so close that Hermione had to back up against the desk, which also didn’t help.
“What?”, it was only a whimper that left her.
“Oh come on.”, Ginevra smirked lustily, then bared her teeth in a broad grin. “You should see your face, damnit.”
“That is not funny!”, Hermione puffed.
“What’s you problem, Hermione!”, her friend laughed. “You two keep boasting to us about all those things you do in bed and now that you finally know what Harry and I do, you’re all flustered and shocked?”, Hermione’s eyes now flicked between the two, trying to avoid looking at Ron, who was almost as perplexed.
“I – I’ll better – go – ”, she mumbled.
“Yeah.”, smirked Ginevra. “Before Mum comes in, asking questions. Oh and you’d also better change your clothes.”, she pointed at the clock on the desk. “We’ll be leaving in half an hour. Oh but wait – this is your room. So, Harry, come on,”
Still grinning, he slipped off the bed, taking the strap-on with him and Hermione gasped again, as she apparently had just now noticed that he only wore underpants along with the white shirt.
~~#~~
Various things could be interrupting an everyday course. So it had been the message of Dolores Umbridge’s most peculiar death amidst a certain carnage. The different circumstances had made it clear to everyone that something was going to happen. Naturally, Kingsley Shacklebolt had summoned all capable duellers to the Ministry for the announced day. Guards were posted at every entrance and exit and the security measures in the departments had been raised. All Aurors were alarmed and extra watchers had been placed in front of the Minister’s office on the date everyone had been quivering at all throughout the week when just thinking about it while attending their usual business, or as it had been for some, cleaning up Azkaban.
One minute to twelve o’clock. The entire Ministry stood still and people were crowding behind the shields the Aurors in full combat uniform had cast in the Atrium. Patrolling up and down in front of the armed audience, they were not less nervous than everybody else.
Instantly, silence fell over the hall when the telephone box floated down, the four guards that had watched the entrance, squeezed into it. Frightened eyes followed it down to the ground. It landed softly and the doors sprung open. Gasps of shock rushed through the masses when one after the other toppled slackly out onto the floor. But when they were levitated aside by some invisible force, every person conscious was quiet again. Wands were raised, ready to strike. The red phone box flew back up as though nothing had happened.
“Put on the glasses – ”, one of the Aurors whispered to another.
Hastily he loosened them from his belt, but the moment he lifted them, a white flash shot through the air and knocked it off his hand, shattering as it crashed against a wall where it had landed with such force that the tile it had hit, bore a crack now. Immediately his colleagues answered to the attack, but all of their spells were blocked by a shield that hadn’t been seen otherwise. Its caster remained hidden.
“Stop it, everyone!”, a young man yelled; the only among them to having refrained from the heavy leather uniform in exchange for a much more comfortable robe of his own; and stepped forward when they had done so.
“What the hell are you doing?”, his friend hissed. “Get back Harry!”
“They’re not fighting, Ron!”, Harry hissed in return. “They’re not here for fighting!”
“How can you know?”
“I just – know it, alright?”
“’E ees a clever man, Ronald Weasley.”, the muffled, rather deep and slightly hollow voice of a woman with French accent echoed out of nowhere. “You should listen to ’eem.”
“Who’s there?”, Ron called out, staring at the motionless bodies like almost everyone else. “And how come you know my name?”
“Zat ees because you are famous.”, like her voice, footsteps resounded in the wide underground hall. “Not as famous as ’eem of course, but famous enough.”
“Show yourself!”, Harry shouted.
“Eef zat ees your wish, son,”
From thin air three figures covered entirely in long blood red velvet cloaks appeared, side by side. Each of them wore a mask that hid their whole face, even their mouths. That probably explained why the voice of the woman had sounded a bit muffled. The one to be seen right from Harry’s viewing point, seemed slightly overweight; or simply crooked; while the other two were slim and the person to the left a head taller than the one in the middle. This one’s red and silver mask was definitely from Venice, Harry thought. The middle looked more like a doll with red ornaments on the forehead, but had marks under the eyes as if the carrier cried tears of blood and the mask of the seemingly chubbier person was unmistakably Asian. Harry couldn’t fully see it from the distance, but it looked like that white mask with black and red decoration had the wearer’s eyes covered and painted as well. Either lips were red too.
The puppet-masked figure took one step onward, if though appearing to have some problems doing so. It was the woman that had spoken. By their appearance, Harry knew that the last thing they would do, was hurting any of the people in the hall. But it also shocked him that they were supposedly indeed the same –
“Now, you are perfectly right, dear boy. Eet ees not our intention to ’arm anyone ’ere. So you need not worry about zose guards ’ere. Zey will wake up een about two ’ours, as fine as zey were before zey were stunned and forced to drink a Sleeping Potion.”
“Who are you and what do you want?”, Neville asked from Harry’s other side.
“I thought, we made our point clear. Eet ees merely our wish to be ’eard by ze Minister.”
“I am here.”, Kingsley had joined the gathering unnoticed and stepped out from the masses, to Neville’s right. “First of all, I’d like to point out, that you are clearly outnumbered.”
“Oh I would not be so sure eef I was you, Minister. Each single one of us ’as fought such numbers on zeir own already and survived eet, as you see.”
“And who would you be?”
“Zat ees,”, she waved her glove-covered free left hand to the chubby one, “Feng; you should not underestimate ’er eyesight and speed; and ze lady to my right ees dear Abelarda, ’o will cut off your fingers and ’ave zem for dinner eef you should only sting a ’air of mine. You may call me Jeanne.”, she made a short bow. “To you, we are known as – what was eet? Avengers? But of course zat ees not what we call ourselves.”
“And what do you call yourselves?”, Kingsley’s brows knitted.
“Ze Peverell Sisters.”, Harry and Ron weren’t the only ones who exchanged alarmed looks. “We are ze mistresses over Death, quite likely. Each of us ’as escaped Death often enough.”
“So you consider yourselves invincible?”, asked Robards, standing further away between more Aurors.
“Oh, no, no, no. Not at all, Mr Robards.”, she sang and he frowned, obviously surprised after all that she knew his name too. “Merely cunning enough to escape every single time. Or lucky; take eet as you might.”
“How did you know, Dolores Umbridge used to be a Death Eater? None of us knew. The same goes for quite a number of your other victims.”, Kingsley continued.
“Well, we are – efficient. I must daresay eet would ’ave been much easier to work while Lord Voldemort was still alive,”, many people shuddered at the name, perhaps out of mere habit, “But we still ’ave our ways to track those fools down and let zem pay for zeir crimes.”
“Do you not think, it would be better if you left the execution to the Ministry?”
“Ah of course zat would be een your favour, but I must disappoint you, we are not willing to cooperate. You see, for all our lives we ’ave been working alone and as soon as somebody wanted to assist us, everyzing went – ah – down ze tubes. Please understand zat we cannot work togezer wiz you. Especially not now.”
“What was the point of changing your approach with Madam Umbridge? Why hanging her upside down from the ceiling on her underwear, rather than eviscerating her?”
“Zat was ze wish of a friend of us, may God rest ’er soul.”
“Who was this friend?”
“We do not blame ze dead. Once gone, zey are forgiven. Everyzing after taking ze step over ze verge, ees not fully een our ’ands, therefore we do not blame zose anymore, ’o passed over. Eet ees a different world wiz different laws and such needs different judgement. We are solely cognizant in ze world of ze living.”
“You would say you see yourself as rightful judge and executioner?”
“Why all zeese questions!”, Jeanne gave a pitiful moan. “Eet ees like een a kindergarten ’ere! But no, I do not. I am only ze judge, as you wish to call it, Abelarda does ze dirt work; and what a devil she ees; and Feng, takes care zat no – little children – spy on us. So now zat all ze monsters ’o are left ’ave fled abroad, I ’ardly reckon you would be needing our ’elp. Zey are too far away for your Ministry to be een charge. You ’ave no choice but leaving ze job to us, Minister, and I assure you, ze ozer Ministries will not even notice we ever were in zeir countries. Eef you seek for cooperation zen, you will only earn panic. We shall work much cleaner from today on. Or as eet ees razer, we will also do ze washing.”, she gave a playful giggle. “Now before we leave you to your everyday stress, I would like to speak a few words to zat wonderful young man ’ere ’o ’as guessed our motives right.”
“Me?”, Harry aspirated.
“Well, of course, yes, exactly you, dear ’Arry! ’Aving known your fazer for years, I can gladly say zat, eef ’e could, ’e would like to tell you zat ’e ees utterly proud of you zat you ’ave become a better person zan ’e was.”, Harry’s heart leapt up high. “You ’ave proven to be a fantastique Auror.”
“You knew my Dad as well?”
“Eet ees apparent, not? Yes, your fazer and I ’ave been – fairly good friends.”, the woman took a deep breath and Harry could have sworn to see the shiny eyes in the holes glisten for a moment. “And wherever ’e may be, I can tell you zat ’e ees proud of you.”
“That’s some words,”, Ron chuckled quietly.
“Shut it.”, Harry hissed back.
“I would also like you to deliver messages to some people we ’ave been watching out of ze shadows on ze account of an old friend ’o left zis world.”, Jeanne continued over their short argue.
“Yes?”
“Ze words come directly and exactly like zis, from Severus Snape.”, the very same heart that had been throbbing against his larynx, now plunged into his stomach that nearly gave in.
“Hang on,”, whispered Ron.
“But first you must understand zat ’e could not ’ave said those zings while Voldemort was still among ze living.”, Harry nodded. “Very well.”, the woman reached into the front pocket of her red velvet robe, pulled a sheet of paper and held it up.
“Harry!”, Ron hissed, but he didn’t care. “What the – what’re you doing! Are you mental?”
Steadier with every step, he left the masses, the shield letting him through without resistance. He quite well knew that feeling of walking far longer than it actually was, but probably he didn’t have it now because he had already expected it to come. Far more, it felt as though he was approaching an old, very good friend, unknown but ever present, almost like walking into trustworthy arms, going home after a long day of exhausting work.
Being close enough then, he tried to look explicitly at those strangely familiar eyes behind the mask. But from the distance he could for sure say the person in the wide red velvet dress, who was his size, was indeed a woman. She now brandished with the letter so as to make him take it. Harry did that with another quick glance, pulled it from the envelope, unfolded it and read the words that were written with a handwriting similar to that in the Potions book he had miraculously received at the beginning of his last school year at Hogwarts, only that there was much more flow to them, much more security. It was the writing he had last seen on a simple birthday card.
Should this letter ever reach any hand but mine, I ask it only to be passed on when the war against Tom Riddle was won and following people survived it, but me:
To Minerva McGonagall I would like to speak my congratulations for having secured Hogwarts and its students. My gratitude also goes to each and everyone who assisted her. Furthermore, I beg Horace Slughorn to finally give up on all of his bad habits of which he knows perfectly well to what I am referring to. I would also wish Filius Flitwick to take the same into account.
Then I would like to ask Draco Malfoy not to overdo things once peace is returning. It does not get along well with his pointless wish to live long enough to take responsibility for all of his father’s faults.
I also wish to speak my apology to all those who had suffered emotionally from my teaching methods and respect to all who stood up against the torture of the Carrow twins, and even more, the whole regime they had been serving.
The following words go to Hermione Granger:
Harry’s eyes nearly popped out when he saw the signs written there. He couldn’t read them at all yet as it was handwriting, but recognised them to be Cyrillic letters. Looking up, he only saw that Jeanne had closed her eyes. The rest of the letter was in English again.
From Ronald Weasley I expect at least a little acceptance and discretion. Some rules might be asking for being broken, but others are crucial to be followed.
To his sister Ginevra and her dear friend Luna Lovegood I would like to speak my utmost gratitude for everything they have done for me and the world. For Ginevra, I have a few more words: don’t linger in worlds in between. Don’t cling to that which has been given no heart. As a good friend once said to your dear, `It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live´. Live, my foxy. And for Heaven’s sake, tell Hermione to listen to what Luna tells her. If possible, with all the vigour of a true Weasley.
Then last, I am writing to you, Harry, in hope you will be ready to forgive me for all I have done to you. Please do not think bad of me – or your mother even. Some reasons might not be clear to you yet, but I beg you to accept them in the way given, until you can fully understand. I dearly wish you the future Sybill Trelawney predicted for you in her last desperate attempt to not being slapped by PP but advise you to reconsider the Minister-part and rather do some really useful manual work. I wish you from the bottom of my heart, the chance to be the father you always longed for having yourself. May a long time pass until we meet on the other side of the river..
Letting the tears make their way, Harry carefully stuck the letter back into its envelope and stuffed that securely in his Mokeskin Pouch. Unsure whether to actually do what he felt the need for, he didn’t even notice that he scratched his neck until Jeanne escaped a faint chuckle. On that, he composed himself, looked at Jeanne once more and pulled her into a grateful embrace that made her stagger slightly, but he caught her weight.
“Thanks.”, he whispered, his voice shaking. “For everything.”
“For you, always.”, she whispered back and, though a little hesitantly, returned his gesture.
It didn’t matter how the people in the hall stared at them. None of them knew the reason. He could hear deep, faintly trembling breathing from under the mask and hood and knew that she cried as much as he did. On that, he held her close, as tight as he could without becoming forceful, or even only demanding. And when everyone lowered their wands; including Ron at last; the two separated and Jeanne patted on his head in a way that made Harry’s breath get stuck. In the moment the memory flashed before his eyes, the three women stepped back and became glowing white fog that melted to a single bundle.
“Good luck – ”, Harry gargled at them the second they vanished into thin air and he could have sworn to have heard three familiar voices breathe their gratitude.
For a long while, he just stood there, his wand in hand, and stared into space where they had gone, having left a blinded spot on his wet eyes. Ron had come running, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t care less who was going to ask what or whether the encounter might be making it to the front page of the Daily Prophet. If it did, he would surely add it to his grandfather’s collection. He ignored the stare Ron gave his tears or the words he whispered when he placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Harry? Are you – crying? Hey – what was that mate? Talk to me! What’s in that letter? And why did you – ”, with a sigh, Harry got back out the parchment and read one wish aloud.
“`From Ronald Weasley I expect at least a little acceptance and discretion. Some rules might be asking for being broken, but others are crucial to be followed.´ Whatever that means, Ron, I think he’s right and you should do that.”
Sighing again, Harry stored the letter another time, wiped off his tears and marched straight to the lifts, dropping some more information as the crowd made way.
“The Avenger Case is officially and unofficially closed. Someone should tell Gringotts that the victims’ vaults are released. There’s nothing in there anyway which they’d need to protect. And after lunch I’ll take a look at that shop that swallows customers up in Glasgow, if nobody minds.”
~~#~~
“And? What did he write?”, Ginevra asked, her head resting in Harry’s lap.
“You really think I’ll tell you?”, huffed Hermione, carefully cut out the part with two flicks of her wand and melted the rest seamlessly together with another.
“Hey!”, Harry moaned from the sofa, but Hermione had already thrown it in the air and stored her part in her beaded bag. “That’s really unfair, you know?”, he summoned the now shorter letter into his free left hand; the other was brushing through Ginevra’s hair.
“There is a reason why he wrote that in Russian. It’s awful enough that you stole my book for Gaelic Runes. And besides, I thought you had enough time to decipher it.”
“For the last time, Hermione, I didn’t steal it! I didn’t even touch it! I merely tapped it twice with my wand.”
“And why had it laid on my bed then?”
“You should ask Luna,”, meant Ginevra.
“Oh come on.”, groaned Hermione, leaning back in the armchair that faced them.
“Really. And I’ve been ordered to tell you to listen to her. You just read it. So Hermione, for Heavens’ sake, listen to what Luna tells you.”
“Yes. After all she seemed to have known exactly what we would face if we broke into Gringotts, Just to name one.”, Harry noted. “You can’t deny. And you even understood it then.”
“I remember exactly what she said. That could have applied on everything! The whole war! The entirety of life!”
“Well, then you have proof she’s wise enough to be taken serious.”
“Oh shut up.”, she murmured at their mutual smiles, fighting hard against her own.
“And since when do you understand Russian? Stole my books or what?”
“He gave her lessons.”, Ginevra answered casually.
“What?”, Harry’s brows narrowed.
“And also in Occlumency. It appears, I succeeded. Not even Dumbledore could enter my mind.”, she crossed her arms and legs and gave him an utmost malicious, conceited smirk. “Can you say that of yourself?”
“I have learned to shield my mind at last.”, her played tension fell off.
“But it took you far longer.”, she sighed.
“And I can provide you some very good reasons. A, I’ve not been connected to Voldemort because he used Legilimency on me but because I was carrying around a piece of his soul, if you should remember, and B, he admitted that it was mainly his own fault that I failed in his lessons.”
“When did he do that?”, Hermione straightened with interest.
“What did he write to you?”
“That’s none of your business!”, she hissed.
“Touché.”, meant Harry and took a deep, self-satisfied breath, looking out into the darkness.
“What are you doing?”, Hermione had raised, searching for something in her pouch and went around the armchair, coming to halt in front of the warming fire in the big chimney.
“A job,”, she aspirated.
“No, honestly, what are you – ?”, Ginevra sat up as well, staring at her orange shining outlines when she studied a small piece of paper. “Hermione?”, the other girl had slid from the sofa now and walked over to her. “What’s that?”, Hermione let her read the pencil note. “When did he – ”
“Grimmauld Place.”, Harry now joined them too to have a look on what they discussed. “Remember, when he yelled at Walburga – and told you off for being rude towards your mother? He pushed that under the door. I could just hide it and lie down before you came in.”
“Potion? So there’s really been one?”
“I never told you?”, Hermione now fought with tears, rather than a smile.
“Er – tell me and I know whether it’s again or for the first time.”
“That’s how it all started. With a – a little serving of Sleeping Potion.”
“Oh. That one.”, Ginevra chuckled sadly.
“I kept requesting more throughout the year.”
“Yes. Now I definitely remember.”
“But I forgot some in my trunk when I handed back the Time Turner. Then I carried it around in my school bag as a sort of Remembrall. I still have it, to be honest.”, she smiled as sad as Ginevra’s chuckle had been.
“He asks you there to – ”
“Burn the paper, yes.”
“And – ”, Hermione took a deep breath and threw the small, crumpled piece into the flames. “Not really.”
“Yes, really.”
“And what’s that roll?”, she slightly unrolled it, reading the lines and lastly, some tears ran down her cheeks and her lips curled like the paper in the fire. “Hermione?”, but she only waived Harry off with a shaking head and quiet crying, trying not to feel Ginevra’s hand on her back or see the tears that stood in her friend’s eyes as well. “If that is what I think it is – ”
“And what – do you think – it is – Harry?”
“He had had a P in Divination?”, Harry moaned disbelievingly and Hermione couldn’t restrain her sobbing any longer.
“Yes, he had. They both had – and dropped it for Muggle Studies. But your guess – had been – right. I did – write to him.”
“So that’s why he wrote in capitals. So – ”
“You wouldn’t recognise the writing, yes.”
“Wow. You really were deep into this,”, both girls escaped a flat laugh.
“Yes, she was far deeper into that than you might imagine.”, Ginevra smirked and Hermione wiped her tears dry to look at his writing one more time, before she – “Hermione – ”
“I think, he didn’t quote Dumbledore only for you.”, she took one of the deepest breaths she had ever taken and slightly shivered at the sensation. “And he ordered me several times to burn it. Also in that letter. He wrote that no matter how much I would write onto the paper, it would only erase his words and bring no new. He meant, the one or other way, I would eventually erase them. But that I should decide for myself which way would hurt me less.”, she explained hollow while they watched the roll burn down. “And I think, following the instructions in his last will hurts me much less.”, Hermione sniffed shortly, wiped off some more tears and went for the portrait hole.
“Where are you going?”, Ginevra asked quietly.
“Dinner. You should be going too, if you don’t want to order the waste from Kreacher.”
With a last chuckle, she left them alone with the fire in the otherwise empty common room. Arm in arm, they listened to the crackling, the heavy wind blowing around the tower, their breathing and beating of their hearts, and watched the flames dance. When those ate up the final word, Ginevra leant her head closer to Harry, holding onto his Oxford blue satin shirt and he laid his right hand on her head, comforting it to his collarbone when her eyes closed. He didn’t see it, but somehow, he could feel it. His own remained open.
“What’s precious?”, he whispered softly.
“Hmm?”
“The last word – any idea what he might have written there?”
“Time.”, Ginevra aspirated back.
“Time?”
“Time’s precious.”, she sighed. “Will you stay overnight?”
“I’ll leave on Monday morning. That store’s really worrisome, but it can wait until Monday.”
“Okay. Are you hungry?”
“I’m starving, actually. But it doesn’t matter.”
“And how it does. You’re no use to me or anyone else if there’s just bones left. And I’m starving too. Besides, I don’t know whether you know, but I don’t like waste and I think Kreacher doesn’t like me at all either. So before Hermione turns out to be better at predicting than Luna, we’d rather get cracking.”
~~#~~