Day Twenty-Five
“Order! Order!” Kingsley's booming voice echoes through the room. The quiet chatter stills to an eerie silence. “We shall now begin. Our first order of business, we have a new member in our midst,”
He gulps, not expecting to be the center of attention so fast.
He should know better. He should really just know better by now. The walk down to the Wizgamont meeting had been painful at best a nightmare at worst. He’s not sure how people had found out he was going to be there or if they had just been waiting and hoping every week fo him to show up. The slew of reporters and flashing cameras had been disorienting, and he’d already promised Percy a raise six times this morning for getting him and Hermione through the atrium without being stampeded.
Ron had met them outside the meeting room, and it was a bit awkward when they all had to stop themselves from embracing. Percy had given them a pitying look before ushering them inside. He glances over to the viewing section, making sure for the tenth time that his partners are where he left them. He had been a bit miffed when Percy explained they couldn’t sit with him. There was only one guest seat for each Wizgamont member, and Percy was the most helpful person since Harry had no clue how these things worked.
He resists the urge to tug at the collar of his robes as all eyes turn on him.
“Harry Potter has joined us today to take up both the Potter and Black family chairs. Any opposed?”
Silence.
“Thank you. Now, our second order of business so as not to waste his time. Gawain Robards has an update for us regarding our new recruitment program and death eater arrests,”
“Here we go,” Percy mutters under his breath. Harry casts another look across the room at his boyfriend, only to find him glance back nervously.
Robards takes the floor, talking at length about the people they’d caught and were trying to catch. Harry is surprised and wary at how many names he doesn’t recognize, but he also knows he was more privy to the inner circle. A “privilege” that had been handy but not extensive. Someone asks a question about resources and warm bodies, and Robards nods eagerly.
“Yes, we have several new Aurors in training,” Robards pipes up. “And we are more senior members every day. We are grateful, of course, to Mr. Ronald Weasley, who is in the room, for joining the program. Though he’s in training as other new members are, his insight and knowledge of the death eater ranks has proved invaluable,”
There are a few murmurs of appreciation, and Harry can barely see the blush on Ron’s cheeks from across the room. For a moment, he thinks that will be the end of it, and no one will push. But, of course, he should know better.
“And what of Mr. Potter?” someone asks. “Why has he not joined the force?”
All eyes swing to him, and he resists a huff. Percy nudges him and he realizes he’s supposed to speak. “Er-”
“Mr. Potter is still unwell from his battle with You-Know-Who,” Kingsley pipes up. “The offer, of course, is open, though we have not required an answer from him,”
Harry rolls his eyes. “Voldemort,” he says without thinking. His correction of people is automatic. A soft murmur echoes through the room. “Sorry, habit. But the point remains. No use in letting him scare you anymore. He’s dead,”
Another murmur.
“Quite so,” Kingsley says, clearly trying to regain order. “Now about the-”
“How soon will you be recovered, Mr. Potter?”
“Will you join the force when you are able?”
“Is he really dead?”
“Now, now,” Kingsley says desperately, but Harry holds up a hand to stop him.
“Right. The answers are I don’t know, I don’t know, and yes,” he shouts over the din. “Any more questions? I’m not here to be a spectacle, you know. There’s real work to be done,”
His annoyance seems to shame them all into silence, allowing Kingsley to regain order. Harry fights a wave of rage when he sees a reporter scribbling on a pad. That line is gonna be in the paper this evening. He knows it.
The rest of the meeting passes by without much incident until it’s over, and Kingsley is walking right up to him. As they shake hands, he sees a camera flash in the corner of his eye. Lovely. Why was there even a reporter?
“Thank you for coming, Harry,” Kingsley grins. “I appreciate it,”
“Sure,” he shrugs. “Not sure I did much,”
“Well, the next one is the big one,”
“Ah,”
“Mr. Potter! Excuse me!”
He turns to see the same reporter, his pad and quill ready. “Would you care to comment on why you showed up today? Was it because of speculations made in yesterday’s paper?”
“Course not,” Harry lies through his teeth.
“Then why now? There have been plenty of other meetings,”
Harry shrugs. “I took the time I needed to recover. I intended to be more involved now,”
“So you’ll be joining the Auror program?”
“Er, no comment. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” He pushes past the man, Percy on his heels, and walks over to his partners.
“You did great, mate,” Ron grins, patting him on his shoulder. He wishes he could kiss him instead.
“That wasn’t so bad,” Hermione agrees. He could kiss her, but he better not.
“Sorry, I stole your thunder,” Harry sighs.
Ron shrugs. “It’s alright, ba- Harry,”
Hermione eyes something over his shoulder and lowers her voice. “Reporter?”
“Yep,” Harry says with a pop. “We should scoot before he starts speculating even more,”
“You three go on. I’ve got to get back to work,”
“See you at home then,” Harry smiles awkwardly. Ron nods and kisses Hermione on the cheek out of habit, then freezes, realizing what he’s just done, staring at Harry nervously. A camera flashes.
“Well… that’ll be interesting,” Hermione sighs.
Ron looks a bit green. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t-”
“It’s fine. Let’s just go before he comes over here,” Harry says, keeping his voice low. He can hear the click of dress shoes on the tile behind him and does not want to deal with it.
Percy ushers them out, splitting off from Ron at the elevators. “Maybe don’t read the paper tonight,” he half-jokes as they wait for their floor.
Harry and Hermione grimace. “Yeah,” he sighs. “Maybe not,”
Getting home is a feat in and of itself. They floo to The Burrow before apparating home. People hadn’t figured out they were living at Potter Manor yet, and Harry wanted to keep it that way, thank you very much. He and Hermione don’t speak a word to each other until they’ve both changed out of their dress robes and into pajamas. Switching to wizarding clothes after being used to muggle ones was never fun.
Harry collapses face down in the bed, sighing in exhaustion. “Is it too soon for dark humor?” he mumbles into the pillow.
“Way too soon,” Hermione groans, collapsing down next to him. “No death jokes,”
“Fine,” he grumbles.
“I miss Crookshanks,” she bemoans. “I could use cuddles right about now,”
Harry snickers. “Still mad at you then?”
She scoffs. “I think he’s officially become an outdoors cat. Molly says he doesn’t even come in at night anymore. He just chases gnomes and sleeps on the porch,”
“At least he’s at the burrow,” Harry shrugs. A pang of grief stabs him in the chest, reminding him of Hedwig. “You could get a new cat or see if he likes our garden,”
“Maybe,” she hums. “I’ll think about it,”
“I can cuddle you,” he grins, rolling over and holding his arms out for her. She laughs and tucks herself into his hold. He hums happily as her familiar scent of cinnamon surrounds him, and some of his anxious tension loosens. “I hated all of that. Especially being alone,”
“You had Percy,”
“Yeah, well, I can’t hold his hand now, can I? Imagine those headlines,”
“Are we going to talk about it?”
“It?”
“The fact that Ron and I are dating is going to be in the papers tomorrow after speculation that we were dating?”
“Oh, that,”
She chuckles softly. “You two give each other heart eyes, you know that? It’s adorable until you're looking at each other like that across a room with a reporter,”
Harry frowns. “Do I not give you heart eyes?”
“Oh, you do,” she giggles. “But I just like seeing how much you love each other. It makes me happy,”
He feels his cheeks burn. “Oh,”
“Seriously though, are you gonna be okay?”
“Yeah,” he sighs. “It’s probably the better option until we decide to say anything,”
“You know you’re allowed to be upset about it?”
“I know I am,” he assures her. “And I’m not happy about it, but I’m more peeved that everyone is asking about me joining the Aurors,”
“Yes, they were quite persistent, weren’t they?”
“I just don’t get it. I mean, do people think I like fighting off the forces of evil?”
“I think they view you as a sort of superhero. If you’re not out there catching the bad guys, then who is?”
“Ron,”
She laughs. “Well, there you go,”
He sighs again. “It would be better if I had something to counter with, but I just don’t,”
“What about Grimmauld?”
“Yeah, I guess I could use that,” he hums. His thoughts turn to Hogwarts classrooms and D.A. meetings. He briefly wonders if the curse on the Defense Against the Dark Arts position has lifted now that Voldemort is dead. Naturally, his mind wanders to the final moment and falling bodies. Then, before he can stop it, he’s thinking of white rooms and train whistles.
The now familiar tightness in his lungs is aggravating. It’s been days, maybe even weeks, since the last one. Why now?
"Harry?”
Her voice is muffled, and he tries to breathe through it. He knows what’s happening. If he can just focus, maybe he can-
“Sweetheart, can you hear me?” she’s asking, hand slipping in his.
He tries to squeeze.
It must not work.
Her voice is even more muffled now. “Just hold on. Shit. Just-”
His body goes limp, someone levitating him. He can hear Hermione muttering to him in soothing tones but he can’t make out what she’s saying. A rush of water. Cool air on his skin. Cold. Cold. Please, not the cold.
The white clouds his vision even more. And then it goes dark.
Maybe he’s really dead this time.
✦✦✦✦✦
“Harry, baby? Sweetheart, can you hear me?”
He blinks his eyes open, squinting at the light. “Hermione?”
“Oh, thank Merlin,” she sighs.
He groggily looks around. He’s still in bed, though he feels different. He’s not wearing a shirt, and his hair is partially wet. Hermione is sitting on the edge, holding his hand tightly. Dizzy is standing next to her, tiny hand on her knee, also looking anxious.
“What happened?” he asks groggily.
“You had an episode. The shower didn’t work, and you passed out,” she explains, tears in her eyes.
“How long was I out?”
“About ten minutes. You were breathing, so I tried to let you come around on your own,”
“Does Master Harry need a healer?” Dizzy asks nervously.
“No, no, I’m okay,” he assures her.
“Are you sure, Harry?” Hermione pleads. “I mean, you were fine one minute, and then-”
“I know what triggered it, Mi. I’m okay,”
“Did I- did I say something? Oh god, Harry, I’m so sorry,”
“No, no baby, it’s okay,” he shushes her, bringing her sobbing frame into his chest. “I’m okay,”
“HERMIONE?”
“What’s he doing home?”
“I might’ve called him,” she sniffs.
“Oh honey, you didn’t-”
Ron comes busting through the bedroom door. “I’m here! I’m here!”
Harry winces against his shouting. “I’m okay, Ron,”
“You said he passed out!”
“I just woke up. Do you think you can stop shouting, love?” Harry winces.
Ron softens. “Yeah, yeah, I’m sorry,”
Hermione is still tucked away on his chest, hiccuping sobs racking her body. “Mi?” he says gently. “Honey, can you look at me?”
“I’m sorry,” she sobs. “I just- I can’t- it-”
“Hey, I’m here,” he assures her, brushing a tear off her cheek. “I’m sorry I scared you, okay? I’m right here,”
“Dizzy, can you make us some hot chocolate?” Ron murmurs. “Should help both of them,”
“Yes! Dizzy can!” Pop!
“Budge up,” he says, quickly undoing his jacket. Harry scoots over, dragging Hermione with him and Ron lays down behind her. Harry rolls over to face them both as Ron wraps one of his long arms around them.
“You’re on the wrong side, Ron,” Hermione says through her tears.
“I’m right where I need to be,” he assures her, giving Harry a nervous glance. “Now, can someone talk to me about what happened?”
“We were just talking-” Hermione sniffs. “And then he went all quiet, and his breathing went funny, and he had that look in his eye. So I tried to get him in the shower, and he passed out,”
“Do you know what triggered it?” Ron asks, looking at him for an explanation.
“Yeah,” he says softly. “It was stupid, really, I’m okay,”
“It’s never stupid,” he insists, his tone indicating there’s no room for questioning.
He sighs. “We were talking about how maybe everyone would stop bothering me about the Aurors if I could say I was doing something else,”
“So it was something I said!” Hermione says blearily.
“No, no, it wasn’t- It- I was thinking about what I might like to do. I was thinking about teaching,”
They look at him blankly, clearly not seeing the connection.
“I was wondering if the Defense Against the Dark Arts position was still cursed now that- anyways, it just made my brain start replaying things you know. The duel and the forest and-”
“Whoah, hey, let’s not revisit them again,” Ron says quickly.
He shakes his head. “I’m okay now. It just caught me off guard, really, probably from the long day. I could hear you, Mi. I was trying to come back. I felt… calmer than some of the other ones,”
They both seem to relax a little at the knowledge that he wasn’t freaking out about the episode. Not that he feels great about it, but he’s more annoyed than anything. He takes some more deep breaths, his chest still feeling tight.
“Harry, you- you want to teach?” Hermione asks softly.
He lets himself imagine it. Teaching at his favorite place in the world, maybe alongside some of his friends. Being the person that his younger self needed, someone like McGonogall or Hagrid. It seems… right, yet still like a wisp of a dream. Still, if anyone could tell him if we were being ridiculous, it would be them.
“Yeah, I think so,” he finally says, “Unless you don’t think I should,”
“Harry, I think you’d be amazing,” she says with such sincerity that it startles him.
“Really?”
“It’s perfect for you,” Ron agrees. “If that’s what you want,”
He laughs a little. “Luna mentioned it, and I thought she was mad at first, but-” he stops, remembering his mother’s letter to Remus. He can almost hear her voice saying it to him instead.
I can see it, you know? Professor Potter sitting in his chair by the fire, sipping on his hot chocolate… it’s a good dream for you Harry, you should pursue it.
“-it’s a good dream,” he says softly. “I think I’d like it,”
They’re both beaming at him now, and the attention is a little disarming, so he tries to change the subject. “Are you okay?” he asks Hermione, tightening his arms around her. “You’ve never- you were really upset,”
“It was terrifying,” she whispers. “You just sort of… went blank. And then my mind started racing, and it was not thinking anything helpful, and god, I felt useless,”
“You did everything right, sweetheart,” he tells her, kissing her forehead. He grabs her hand and places it on his heart. “I’m okay. Alright?”
She starts crying again and curls against his chest, pressing her ear to his heart. He glances up at Ron and sees tears in his eyes, too. He reaches over and cups his face, brushing his thumb across his cheek.
“Getting that call was not fun,” he says hoarsely. “And my first thought- oh, it’s so stupid,”
“It’s never stupid,” Harry says, echoing his words back.
He puffs out a teary laugh. “My first thought was, ‘I need to marry that man before my heart gives out from stress.’,”
“Wha- what?”
Hermione also laughs wetly. “I had a similar thought when I was… when I was waiting for you to wake up. I was staring at you and trying to think about anything other than the worst-case scenario. And I looked down at your hands and wondered what they’d look like with a ring,”
Without thinking, he holds his left hand up, trying to see what she sees. They both raise their hands to match and a well of emotion bubbles in his throat. It feels wrong all of a sudden that their fingers are bare. “You-you really want to get married?” he asks, still a bit in shock.
“Of course I do,” Ron says plainly. “Do you not-”
“I do!” he says quickly. “I mean, I don’t plan on ever letting either of you go, so- yeah, bloody hell, of course I do,”
“Me too, but maybe not right away,” Hermione blushes. “I think we’ve got enough on our plates,”
Ron shrugs, and they both stare at him in shock. “What?”
“You- you’d get married, like, now?” she stammers. “We’re barely adults, Ron,”
“Yeah, I didn’t mean we actually had to, like now,” Harry adds, his voice shaky. “I mean, really, I just… I meant eventually,”
Ron gives them a fond little smile. “Now, five years, ten years. It’s like I told Harry. You’re both mine, and we’re going to be the crazy 139-year-olds that still snog like teens, and I still don’t understand why you’re both looking at me like that,”
“Because you basically just proposed,” Harry says, still a little in awe.
“Yeah,” he says, his voice thick with emotion and his eyes wide like he’s processing what he just said. “I suppose I did,”
Harry and Hermione look at each other in shock. Ron gets a determined look in his eye and grabs his wand. He taps it against Regulus’s ring that Harry still wears around his neck, and two duplicates fall in his hand. He casts another charm on one, making it thinner and smaller.
Then, with what can only be described as the confidence that comes from pure Gryffindor nerve, he takes a deep breath. “Harry, Hermione, will you marry me?”
“You’re actually serious?” Hermione laughs. It’s not a mocking laugh but rather one of pure joy and shock.
“Yes! And the fact that neither of you have actually agreed is making me nervous,”
“Yes,” Harry says instantly. “Of course I will,”
Ever the realist, Hermione is still wrapping her head around it. “But- but- I mean, we haven’t even talked about all the important things that people talk about before they talk about getting married? Like our life together and kids and-”
“Hermione,” Harry says lovingly. “After all we’ve been through?”
Ron looks sheepish. “We can still do all that. You probably deserve something more romantic, but I just-”
She cuts him off with a kiss. Then gives one to Harry. “You’re both crazy, but I love you. Of course, I’ll marry you,”
There’s a split second of silence before they all let out a teary exhale and giddy laughter. The ache in Harry’s chest finally eases, like he’d been holding his breath since he woke up. Ron slides a ring on each of their fingers, kissing them each after.
“You need one,” Hermione insists, duplicating the ring once more. She slides it on his finger, and they hold their hands up again to see. Harry lets a tearful laugh at the sight.
“What?” Ron asks, concerned.
“I just think- this must have been what it was like for Reg and my parents,” he sniffs. “They got married on the living room floor, remember? I mean, I know it’s not that yet, but… I’m just happy,”
They both start crying at the thought as well, piling on top of him for a hug. He’s still exhausted from his episode, and in the back of his mind, he knows they need to worry about prophet articles tomorrow and all sorts of other probably important things. But for now, he savors the happiness he feels and revels in the fact that this won’t be the last happy moment with the two people he loves most in the world.