Chapter Thirteen
The holding cell where Harry had been placed was on the lowest level of the Ministry of Magic, just down the hall from Courtroom Ten and the Department of Mysteries. These cells were for those who were awaiting trial in front of the Wizengamot. Unfortunately, that included Harry's least favorite Death Eater, Severus Snape, who was not particularly happy that Harry had nearly crippled him the last time they had seen each other.
Thankfully, Harry was put in a cell at the far end of the hall from Snape, meaning that he didn't have to look at that ugly git for any longer than it took to walk past his cell.
At first, the waiting wasn't too terrible. Sure, he was in a cell, but at least he was alone. However, as time passed, that isolation began to wear on him and the longer he stayed in that cell, the more the images from Diagon Alley flashed into his mind. The worst part was that the one time Harry had tried to sleep, he had seen Diagon Alley again on flames, but this time, Viktor Krum's body had been lying in front of the words painted on Gringotts.
Harry was woken up by an Auror after a few hours. The Auror solemnly informed Harry that another eleven people had died in the five hours since Voldemort's attack. That brought the total of deaths to forty-eight. In the end, Harry would learn that four of them were children under the age of eleven, two were pregnant, two had just been married, and more than a dozen children at Hogwarts had been suddenly orphaned by the attack.
As the hours passed, Harry's guilt threatened to consume him. The faces of all those that had died fighting Voldemort flashed in front of his face. On any other day, Harry would have known that those deaths weren't entirely his fault. But on any other day, Harry was a rational person. Instead, Harry imagined children burning in the streets of Diagon Alley, dead, their lives snuffed out because Harry had the brilliant idea to provoke Lord Voldemort.
It was more than twelve hours before anyone other than an Auror came to visit Harry. Harry was sitting against the back wall of his cell, desperately trying to ignore the spiraling nature of his thoughts when he noticed someone was watching him. When he looked up, he saw that Hermione was standing just outside his cell.
Even hours later, she looked like hell. While she had clearly been home to shower after helping with the fire, she was still a mess. Her hair was sticking out at all angles, there was soot on her chin that she hadn't seemed to remove, and it was evident that she had spent some time crying, judging by the redness in her eyes.
She looked at Harry with an expression that told him she was uncertain about how to feel about him. To be fair, Harry didn't know how to feel about himself at the moment either.
"I told the others to stay away," Hermione explained. "Ron and Daphne wanted to come visit you the moment we found out that you were down here."
"Well, I guess I can be glad for that."
"I just didn't want anyone from the SAF down here. Percy is on a warpath. He's already threatened to fire me, Tonks, Amelia, and half the Aurors for failing to stop you from provoking Lord Voldemort."
"That's not fair and he knows it."
"Who cares about what's fair?" Hermione snapped. "Fair would mean that almost fifty people wouldn't have died while they were doing their shopping!"
Hermione's voice echoed down the hall. This was as angry as Harry had ever seen here. He couldn't blame her.
"I don't understand, Harry," Hermione finally said. "This is not something that you would have done before."
"Well, I'm a different man now."
"Bullshit," Hermione shot back, her voice practically slapping Harry in the face. "If you're this man, then I don't want to know you."
"Maybe you-"
"I don't want to hear your 'woe is me' routine right now," Hermione said, cutting him off. "You're desperate in a way that I've never seen you before. When we went to Albania, it was evident that all you wanted to do was race back to England. But you were patient. You gathered information and allies and you helped us strike when it was advantageous for us."
"I also got half the Ministry, most of the members of the Coalition, and two of the greatest Aurors our Ministry had ever seen killed."
"That's not your fault. It never was," Hermione said resolutely. "Those people made their choices. They chose to follow you."
Hermione began to pace back and forth in front of Harry's cell.
"Something is different," Hermione reasoned. "Every time you've come back from your training, you were a bit different. This last time, it was noticeable that there was something about you that was off. I initially attributed it to your training. I figured that the training had changed you. You weren't entirely unrecognizable, just a bit too serious for my liking."
"Then, you told us about Viktor. Even before I figured out that there was something wrong about your story, I figured that was why you were different. I figured that you felt responsible for Viktor because you had the chance to save him and failed. But if you had just failed, you wouldn't be this desperate."
"I've always been this desperate," Harry argued. "Ever since I learned about the Prophecy, I've been desperate to kill him. Before then, I thought that there was a chance that I could have just walked away. That's not who I am, but just having the option would have been nice. Instead, I learned that I would bound to him in a way that defied all normal understanding of magic."
"Still, I fought. But when I fought, I always had objectives. In the Graveyard, my goal was to escape. I went to the Department of Mysteries to save Sirius. We led the charge in Godric's Hollow to take down the Death Eaters. Knowing that we had a goal in mind made being patient that much easier. It wasn't easy, but it made it tolerable. I knew that, in the end, we were going to Godric's Hollow and we were going to take down the Death Eaters."
"All I know now is that I have to kill Voldemort, something that I've already failed to do once. Being patient was hard before. Now, it's almost impossible, especially in the wake of Viktor's death."
Hermione glared at him.
"Are you going to tell me how he actually died or are you going to keep telling me that he died a hero?"
"He helped train me every day. If I ever beat Voldemort, it will be because Viktor helped me. He was a hero."
"But that doesn't change the fact that you lied about how he died."
"I lied because the truth of the matter is that Viktor Krum should still be alive. If I had done the right thing, he would have been."
"But you did the wrong thing? How?"
Harry sighed. "Most of the story that I told you, from the beginning to the duel with Voldemort, was completely true. I did Stun Voldemort and I was too slow to press my advantage. Voldemort realized that I was winning. Instead of accepting defeat, Voldemort turned and cast a curse on Viktor. In seconds, Viktor's face had turned completely blue and he'd dropped to the ground. Voldemort explained that if I didn't stop the curse, Viktor would be dead in less than a minute. Dumbledore was down and Fleur was only barely conscious. I had a choice. If I helped Viktor, Voldemort would get away. If I went after Voldemort, Viktor would die."
"I chose Voldemort. I chased him down but before I could finish him, he got away. By the time I came back to the others, Viktor was dead and Fleur was passed out next to him. When she woke up a few hours later, she told me that she had discovered the correct counter-curse, but she passed out before she could administer it. In the end, I allowed Viktor to die so that I could kill Voldemort. That's how desperate to see him dead I was, desperate enough to let a friend die. Maybe if I had killed him, Viktor's death would have been worth it, but it wasn't. Viktor died for nothing. You thought that I was desperate before? That doesn't even merit using the same word. This is desperation."
Hermione stood in silence, watching Harry through the bars of his cell as he spoke. When he finished, she said nothing, did nothing. She just kept staring at him. Harry legitimately wondered if she might just walk away from him and let him rot. Instead, she shook her head.
"You're not fighting Voldemort anymore."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that you might be fighting Voldemort physically, but the real war is the one in your head. That one will decide what kind of man you'll be," Hermione explained. "You think of yourself as a good man. I know you do. You believe that you are a good person and you can't reconcile what you did and the choice that you made with the image that you have of yourself."
"Sure, that sounds about right."
"You can't defeat Voldemort if you're fighting yourself."
"Probably not, no."
"Then we're going to fight one war before we finish fighting another," Hermione stated. "You'll be released in another twelve hours. This block of cells is for Death Eaters and I've already confirmed with Amelia that Percy won't be able to hold you any longer than a day. When you get out, you'll come back to my apartment and from there, we'll figure out a way for you to win the war for Harry Potter's soul before we take care of Voldemort."
"Sounds like a plan," Harry shrugged. "I'm not exactly sure that I know what it all means, but it sounds great."
"I'm not either," Hermione admitted. "But I think that you've been trying to do too much on your own, carrying too many secrets. You are not Albus Dumbledore as much as it might be easier if you were. You need other people, not just to do what you say, but to be a part of your life. So, we're going to bring you back to the people that love you and then we're going to go from there."
"Okay," Harry said, smiling despite the situation. "This doesn't change the fact that Viktor is dead because of me."
"Viktor is dead because of Voldemort," Hermione replied. "You were faced with a horrible choice with no good answers. If you had killed Voldemort then and there, maybe we'd remember it differently?"
"Do you think I made the right choice?"
"I don't think there's a right choice in that situation," Hermione said. "Do I wish that you had made a different choice? Yes, I do. Viktor was a friend, although I'm certain that you knew him much better than I did in the end. Still, I imagine that if you asked Viktor, he would have told you that you did the right thing."
"But he's still dead."
"Yes, he is."
Harry's second twelve hours in his cell went by much quicker than his first. As Hermione had anticipated, at just a few minutes shy of twenty-four hours, Harry was released from his cell. He was escorted from the cell block back to Tonks's office. Waiting inside was Ron, Hermione, and the Head Auror herself.
"Sit," Tonks ordered, which Harry did quickly. "You're lucky."
"How so?"
"Well, you're going to get away with beating the shit out of the Minister of Magic," Tonks replied. "Percy has spent the last twenty-four hours begging Amelia and I to charge you. However, Dawlish came to us and told us what Percy said to you. Normally, that wouldn't be to get you out of trouble."
"But…"
"But Dawlish also revealed that Percy told Dawlish that he was trying to get you to hit him."
"What?" Ron asked.
"Percy saw an opportunity to get rid of Harry and so, he antagonized you until you hit him. Dawlish has already agreed to sign a statement saying that much today. That doesn't mean that you get to walk away without any punishment. It just means that you won't be charged for assaulting the Minister."
"You're still going to be removed from the SAF," Hermione said.
"And my research?" Harry asked. Losing the SAF was one thing. If he was forced to turn over all of the information that he had, then the fight against Voldemort might as well already be over.
"That is for the Minister of Magic to decide," Tonk stated. "You'll be glad to know that the Wizengamot has temporarily suspended Percy's executive authority. It appears that the Wizengamot is preparing a vote of no confidence just as soon as someone makes the motion."
"Why?"
"To the outside world, it looks like you made a mistake and Percy jailed you for it."
"No one knows that I punched him?"
"They learned about that at the same time that they learned that he...said all those things about you," Hermione explained. "Like it or not, you're Harry Potter and the general reaction from the public was not good for Percy."
"Go home, Harry," Tonks said wearily. "Get some rest and we'll see how all of this plays out."
"Right. Thank you, Tonks."
"Don't thank me just yet," Tonks replied. "If you do something as stupid as taunting Lord Voldemort again, I'll gladly throw you to the wolves."
"Of course."
Harry, Ron, and Hermione left the Ministry, pushing through a swell of reporters in the Atrium until they got to the Apparition point. From there, they Apparated to Hermione's apartment just a few blocks away. Unlike Harry, who lived completely apart from the world, or Ron, who had chosen to live in a mostly magical community, Hermione lived in a regular Muggle apartment building. Certain wards and protective enchantments had been placed on the apartment which allowed her to use magic and have magical items without her Muggle neighbors knowing, but for the most part, Hermione lived a mostly Muggle life, just a few blocks away from her parents.
A few years back, Harry had asked Hermione why she had decided against living in a more magical part of London. Her response was simple.
"I'm a Muggleborn. Being a Muggle will always be a part of who I am. My parents are Muggles, my cousins are Muggles. I love the magical world and I will never walk away from that. But I love the Muggle world, too, and that will always be a part of me."
Hermione revealed that she had set up the guest bedroom for him. She had also returned to Potter Manor and collected some items for him. She told him to take a nap (knowing that he hadn't slept much the night before) and then take a shower and then they would talk. Knowing that it was stupid to argue with her, Harry did as she asked.
Two hours later, after a nap and a shower, Harry walked back into the living room feeling like a new man. He knew that his time in confinement was nothing compared to some, certainly nothing compared to the years of solitude that Sirius must have felt in Azkaban. But that time spent with nothing but his thoughts had been trying.
Ron and Hermione were waiting for him in the living room. Hermione's apartment was on the twelfth floor of her building and had a nice view of Westminster Abbey. Ron was seated in a lounge chair, facing the window, a mug of coffee in his hand. It was a bit late for coffee, but Harry imagined that Ron hadn't slept much better than he had, not after helping clean up what was left of Diagon Alley anyway.
Hermione was seated on the couch. She was wearing her glasses and reading something in her lap, a document for work it seemed. Both of them looked up at him when he entered the room. While they did smile at him, it was a smile that Harry could tell was burdened with the knowledge of what he'd done.
"You told him?" Harry asked her.
Hermione nodded. "He needed to know if he was going to help you."
"You both should have known the truth much earlier," Harry admitted as he sat next to Hermione. "I just felt...so ashamed of myself for what I'd done, the choice that I'd made."
"Mate, you had the chance to kill the man who had killed your parents and hundreds of others. Let's not pretend that the decision that you made was easy."
"But it was wrong."
"It was wrong in the sense that Viktor was your friend," Ron countered. "But given the chance to save hundreds over one person, most would choose hundreds. It's only in that exact situation that the ethics of it get murky."
"Because Viktor was my friend."
"Right."
"Well, that's over and done with," Hermione said. "I know that Viktor's death will weigh on you forever, but right now, you have a bigger concern: Percy."
"What about him?" Harry asked warily.
"As we said earlier, his decision to arrest you was already fairly unpopular. When people learned that he had effectively goaded you into hitting him, that changed the narrative entirely."
"You've gotten to hit that git twice now," Ron grumbled. "When do I get to hit him?"
"I wouldn't recommend it right now," Hermione replied, although Harry could see the corners of her mouth fighting back a smile. "However, this might have been the push that we needed to get him out of office. I spent most of the day wandering around the offices of the Wizengamot and let me tell you, there's real traction to get rid of him. There are even some considering a provision that would prevent him from holding the Minister's position ever again."
"We can only hope," Harry scowled. "So, we have Percy sitting on the edge. What can we do to push him off?"
"That's the thing," Ron said as he reached into his bag and pulled out more than a dozen parchments. "These are all from members of the Wizengamot, including Amos himself. They're all urging you to remain silent while the Wizengamot decides whether to replace Percy or not. They're also asking you to keep your opinions about who should replace him to yourself."
"They clearly don't know you very well," Hermione snickered.
"Have they moved for the vote of no confidence?" Harry asked.
"No," Hermione replied. "There's been a lot of talk but no action at this point."
"What a surprise," Harry grumbled. He got up from his seat on the couch and moved to the window. He stared out over the city. The sun was setting just over the Abbey and the lights of London were beginning to shine in the growing darkness. It was a beautiful view, one that Harry had always enjoyed the few times that he'd been there.
Harry was conflicted. On one hand, he desperately wanted Percy gone. On the other, he didn't want to be seen as someone who meddled in the affairs of the Ministry, especially considering he had just more or less been fired from the Ministry. But the more Harry thought about it, the more he felt that he couldn't remain silent.
"What do you think I should do?" Harry said to Ron. For his part, Ron looked surprised, probably because he had asked Ron instead of Hermione. But Ron had known these people his entire life. If there was anyone who knew what was going to upset the balance of the Ministry, for better or worse, it was Ron.
Ron shook off the surprise, but he didn't answer immediately either. Instead, he sat in thought for the better part of a minute before he finally looked up at Harry.
"The Wizengamot is used to getting what they want. They're a mix of Purebloods and lifelong Ministry employees who are so entrenched in the mud of the Ministry that they can't even see the sun anymore."
"That's...oddly poetic," Hermione said.
"Thanks," Ron replied. "Lucius Malfoy basically ran the Ministry because he had a seat on the Wizengamot. He never voted as far as I know, he just used that seat to influence others. That plus his money is how we ended up with Fudge, someone that Malfoy chose because he knew that Fudge would never stand up to him."
"What do you think I should do?"
Ron smiled. "I think you should tell them to shove these letters up their ass. Then, I think that you should very loudly tell them who you're going to support for Minister of Magic."
"Hermione?"
"While I think that telling them to shove anything up their ass might be seen as a bit too combative, I agree with Ron's general sentiment. Based on everything I've read, the Wizengamot has run the Ministry largely unchecked for centuries. You're a private citizen, so there's nothing that they can do to prevent you from expressing your opinion."
Harry was uncertain of a lot of things in life, but he knew one thing: when he, Ron, and Hermione were in agreement, there was nothing that could stop them.
"Hermione?" Harry said, turning to her. "Are you interested?"
"What?" Hermione asked.
"Are you interested in being the next Minister of Magic?" Harry asked. "If you are, then I'm supporting you."
Harry could tell that Hermione was uncertain. On one hand, he knew that she did want to be Minister of Magic. On the other hand, it was entirely possible that she didn't want that now. She had a long window where she would still be a viable candidate for Minister of Magic. She might think that using that eligibility now was wasteful, better saved for a later moment.
But Harry was serious. If she was ready, then there was no one else that he'd rather support.
Hermione thought about Harry's proposal for a moment before she shook her head.
"Not yet," Hermione replied. "I do want to be Minister, but I want more experience when I do."
"You could do it now," Ron assured her.
"Maybe," Hermione replied. "I'm not going to wait forever, but I would at least like to be a Department Head before I try and become the Minister of Magic."
"Are you sure?"
Hermione nodded. "I'm sure."
Part of Harry was disappointed, even if he understood her misgivings about the position.
"Alright, what do you two think about Penelope Clearwater?"
Both Hermione and Ron looked at each other. Clearly, they hadn't expected Harry to have someone else in mind already.
"You want to support Penelope?" Ron asked. "As in Percy's ex-girlfriend, Penelope?"
"I don't care who she dated."
"Percy will."
"Do you think I give a damn about what Percy says at this point?" Harry replied. "Penelope came to me weeks ago. She told me that if I supported her for Minister, she would make the motion to remove Percy."
"She would move for a vote of no confidence?" Hermione asked.
"That's what she said," Harry replied. "She's the only person that I know that's interested in the job that doesn't completely repulse me, but you two know her better than I do. So, tell me what she's like."
"She's a bulldog, mate," Ron stated. "Every position that she's ever had in the Ministry ended up boiling down to one thing: get shit done."
"Sometimes in not necessarily the most ethical way," Hermione added.
"Has she done anything illegal to get the job done?" Harry asked.
"Not as far as anyone can prove," Ron stated. "Honestly, I don't think she'd go quite that far. She's more than willing to stand in your way and ensure that you can't get anything done, but I don't think she's open to blackmailing people."
"Hermione?"
Hermione looked less certain. "I agree with Ron in the general sense. However, she has made a lot of enemies during her time at the Ministry. The only way she gets the Minister's job is with your backing."
"And she knows that," said Harry. "She knows that I can get her the job. That's why she approached me in the first place."
"She's playing with fire," Ron replied. "You could just as easily encourage her to make the motion and then back someone else."
"She would then tell everyone that's what happened," Hermione countered. "Even if they believed Harry over her, it wouldn't be a good look for you."
"I wouldn't do that," Harry stated. "But, she'd still have to know that I could just as easily remove my support."
"Why does she want the job?" Hermione asked.
"What do you mean?"
"The Minister of Magic is the most high profile position in the country. It's a job that holds only a marginal level of power for a great deal of stress. Even the good Ministers end up looking bad by the end. Why does she want that job? Is it for power? If it's for power, tell her to become the Head of the DMLE. That's where the power in the Ministry is. Tell her to run for Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. That's power."
"What if it isn't for power?" Harry asked.
"Then, she's doing it because she wants the right thing for our country," Hermione stated. "That might honestly be more dangerous."
"Why? It's why you'd run," Ron stated.
"Thank you," Hermione said warmly. "It's dangerous because Penelope isn't a subtle person. Like Ron said, she's a bulldog. You give her a target or an agenda and she'll push until she's succeeded or failed. If she does that and fails, she could upset a lot of people. She'll need good people around her to temper her worst instincts."
"Don't we all?" Harry smirked.
"I hope she listens to those people. If not, we could end up with someone even worse than Percy as a reaction," Ron realized. "We could be looking at Theodore Nott as the Minister of Magic."
"The Death Eater?"
"His father was a Death Eater and while the three of us might be certain that he is, we've turned up no proof to back up that accusation," Ron said.
This was why Harry hated politics. How anyone could think that Theodore Nott was a viable candidate for Minister of Magic was simply beyond his understanding. Penelope had the legislative mind for the kind of candidate that he wanted, but everyone mentioned that she was a blunt instrument, meant only for beating people into submission. Was that the kind of person that they wanted as Minister?
Of course, they had tried the subtle route with Amelia. Everything about Amelia had said that she was on their side. Instead, she proved to be on her own side, much like most of the politicians at the Ministry. Based on what Harry had seen out of Penelope, she was most definitely on their side.
"Hermione, can you talk to Penelope at the Ministry tomorrow?"
"Sure. What am I saying?"
"Tell her to take lunch at noon and go to the Hog's Head."
"Do I tell her why?" Hermione asked. "She'll want to know why."
"You can insinuate why, but I would prefer that you not come out and say it," Harry said. "The last thing I need is rumors flying around the Ministry about me and Penelope meeting."
"Of course."
"Are you going to support her?" Ron asked.
"I have some questions that need answering," Harry said. "If I like her answers, then she might earn my support."
That night, Harry stayed at Hermione's apartment at her request. He could tell that she was worried about him and that she wanted to keep an eye on him, so he agreed. He thought that the safety and literal warmth of her apartment (relative to the cool stone of Potter Manor) would make it easier for him to sleep, but that wasn't the case.
At some time after two in the morning, having stared at the ceiling for hours, Harry finally sat up. Having given up on the idea of sleep, he went to the kitchen, made some coffee, and then opened the sliding glass door in the living room that led out to a small balcony. The building that Hermione lived in was over three hundred years old but at some point, the owner had decided that adding personal balconies for each apartment was necessary.
Hermione had decorated her balcony with a variety of potted plants that she meticulously looked after, watering them each morning and each night. Still, a space remained in the middle for Harry to lean against. He stood there and drank his coffee and listened to the sounds of the city at twilight.
It was an odd experience. There was nothing magical about it at all. Every light was one manufactured in a factory. The sounds weren't of magical nature, but a mechanical one as automobiles and buses traversed the streets below. Above all of that was a constant buzzing sound that seemed to emanate from the city itself, a sign of electricity that didn't happen in the wizarding world.
Even at peace, the Muggle world was nosier, busier. It was something that Harry never would have noticed if not for the years that he had spent in both worlds. Unlike Hermione, who straddled the line between Muggle and witch, Harry's experience with the Dursleys had made it much easier for him to jump into the magical world feet-first. Even after learning what had happened to his parents and what that meant for him, magic was home in a way that the Muggle world would never be for him.
That didn't make the magical world any easier. Harry knew that life among the Muggles would be easier by a wide margin for him. There, he would just be Harry, a young man likely just graduating from uni and ready to start the rest of his life. He wouldn't be famous or even that particularly talented in anything.
As much as Harry might have hated the public attention that his fame brought him, he knew that he appreciated his talent in the magical world. Not many third years ever produce a full Patronus and even fewer fifth years are able to teach that spell to more than half of their class. It had been one hundred years since the last first year had been allowed on a Quidditch team. That ended when Harry chased after Neville's Remembrall.
For as much stress as the wizarding world brought to his life, it brought him his gifts and it gave him his family. No matter how much simpler his life would be among the Muggles, he would never give up the magical world for two reasons: Ron and Hermione.
"You couldn't sleep either, huh?"
In the past, Hermione's presence might have frightened him. However, Dumbledore had trained him to be in tune with his magic in such a way that allowed him to sense magical differences in the air. It allowed him to anticipate what kind of spell a person might cast at him.
It also allowed him to more or less sense when another magical person had walked into the room.
"No, I don't sleep much anymore," Harry admitted as Hermione joined him at the balcony. She took the mug from his hand, gave it a sip, and then held onto it herself, embracing the warmth that it gave off.
"Viktor?"
Harry offered a short laugh. "Viktor, Kingsley, Moody, the corpses of my parents, Sirius, Cedric, you falling at the Department of Mysteries, children burning in Diagon Alley; the list of things keeping me awake at night is not short."
"I know."
"Tonight wasn't anything quite as interesting, unfortunately."
"What do you mean?"
"Tonight's insomnia was caused by the burden of responsibility."
"Something you are very unfamiliar with," Hermione chuckled.
"This is different," Harry replied. "Even before the Prophecy, I knew that Voldemort was always going to be my mountain to climb. I just sensed that he and I were connected in some unknown way. When I learned about the Prophecy, I was upset because Sirius had died for something that I had known from the moment I faced Quirrell. My entire life has been predicated around the belief that the way forward for me was through Voldemort."
"But this? This is something that requires a conscious choice. I could choose to say nothing and no one would blame me. I could remain silent, stay in the shadows, and avoid politics altogether and no one would blame me. But could I live with myself if I did that? Could I live with myself if I knew that I had the ability to affect change and did nothing?"
"I don't know. Could you?" Hermione asked. "That's something that you have to answer for yourself."
"I know, I know," Harry said in exasperation. "I want to ignore it. I want to just walk away from it all and focus on Riddle...but I can't. I know that nothing matters if I don't beat him, but I can't just ignore the rest of the world until I do. I have influence. I'm not sure that I deserve it. In fact, I'm pretty certain that I don't, but I have it."
"I'm certain."
"What?"
"I'm certain that you deserve the influence that you have," Hermione responded. "Fifth year, I dragged you kicking and screaming into the idea of Dumbledore's Army. You didn't feel like you deserved the responsibility. One year later, during your...prolonged disagreement with Dumbledore, you doubled down on Dumbledore's Army and created The Lightning Legion. I created a study group, you created an army. You didn't do it because you wanted to. You did it because you felt that people needed to be prepared."
"I also did it to stick it to Dumbledore," Harry admitted. "I lied to you when I said that it wasn't about Dumbledore."
"I know," Hermione smiled. "But you could have chosen to just do another year of Dumbledore's Army, but you didn't. Instead, you chose to teach your classmates how to defend themselves. You felt that exact same sense of responsibility that you felt now and when given the opportunity, you acted on it."
"Now, a few years later, you're doing the same thing. You've been given an opportunity to affect real change by removing someone interested only in their own power and the status quo and replacing them with someone who supports a better world for all of us. For most people, it would be easy to just remain silent, but you can't. You feel that sense of responsibility where most people would feel nothing. That's how I know that you deserve the influence that you have. It doesn't matter how powerful you are or how talented you are with your wand. It's you that has the influence and I know that you are going to use that influence wisely."
"If not, you'll tell me."
"Damn straight," Hermione said firmly as she set the mug down in front of Harry. Then, she picked up one of Harry's arms and slipped in between him and the balcony.
"What are you doing?" Harry asked.
"I'm cold," Hermione replied. He couldn't say that he was surprised. It was three in the morning on a day in late March and Hermione had come outside in just a sweatshirt, a pair of shorts, and some slippers. Looking down, Harry could see the goosebumps rising on her legs.
"Clearly."
Hermione turned over her shoulder, her lips grazing the underside of his jaw.
"Keep me warm?" she asked as she leaned back against him.
"Here? Now?" Harry asked incredulously.
"Well, you could take me back inside, but I think that seems kind of boring, don't you?"
Harry noticed that Hermione's hand had slipped under the waistband of her shorts. She slowly started to lower them so that her ass rested up against the front of his pants. As if he wasn't hard enough, she then leaned back ever so slightly, grinding up against him.
Harry thought for a moment about what Parvati had said to him. He thought about the conflicted nature of his last sexual experience with Hermione. Eventually, Harry settled on his truth: he loved Hermione, but he was not in love with her, which, in his mind, was an important distinction to make.
It also made it much easier to pull down his own pajama bottoms. A moment later, Harry rubbed himself against Hermione, who was already wet. She grabbed the balcony and braced herself against it as Harry thrust inside of her. This time, Harry was prepared for just how wonderful he felt being inside of Hermione, which meant that he didn't come after less than ten seconds.
Instead, he took this opportunity to tease her. Slowly, he pulled himself out of her until he was almost completely out and then he slowly drove back in, taking every opportunity to drive her mad with want. More than once, Hermione tried to buck back against him to get him to go faster but Harry grabbed her hips and held her in place.
"Not yet," Harry growled as he continued at his labored pace.
"Harry...I swear to Merlin, if you don't-"
The tone of frustration in her voice was all that Harry needed to hear. Instantly, he began pistoning in and out of her, causing Hermione to cry out in ecstasy. Harry reached forward and covered Hermione's mouth, softening the sounds of her cries as she came. Then, he pulled himself out of her, grabbed her, and set her down on one of the chairs next to them.
The chair was low to the ground, which was honestly more helpful for what Harry was about to do. As Hermione settled into the chair, Harry Summoned his wand from the table on the living room floor and cast a Muffling Charm around them. Now, no matter how loud they got, the only thing the upstairs neighbors would hear was what sounded like a moderately loud television set.
Harry tossed his wand back inside Hermione's apartment before he settled himself over top of her. He grabbed her legs and lifted them up, exposing her to him. Harry settled both of her legs on his right shoulder as he positioned himself at her entrance.
"Now you can be as loud as you want," Harry said as he pushed himself inside her. This time, Harry did not waste any time taunting her. Instead, he set a deliberate pace, not too fast and not too slow, but making sure that he hit the perfect spot each time. Within just a few moments, Hermione, with some assistance from her own stimulations, was ready to come again.
"Come for me," Hermione pleaded. "Come with me."
That was not an order that Harry was going to readily refuse. However, unlike the last time, Harry wasn't about to finish inside her. Instead, he pulled out just at the last moment and finished on her stomach. As he came down from his own high, he noticed that he had effectively folded Hermione in half on the chair as her knees were practically resting on her shoulders.
"Sorry about that," Harry said as he lifted off of her.
"If you had hurt me, I would have told you," Hermione replied. "Thankfully, I've been attending some yoga classes with my mother."
"What's yoga?"
"I'll explain some other time," Hermione said as she stood and finished removing her shorts. Then, she turned and walked into the living room. She picked up Harry's wand and set it back on the table before she turned back to him. She gave him a smile and then lifted her sweatshirt over her head, leaving her completely naked in the middle of her living room.
She was gorgeous. There was no other word for it. Harry stared at her for a moment, letting himself accept the fact that Hermione Granger, his best friend, was standing naked in front of him.
"I need a shower," Hermione said plainly. "Coming?"
Harry had realized that Hermione enjoyed giving him directions when they were together. Clearly, she also enjoyed having them given to her, but for the most part, Harry imagined that she would be the one in control.
They had sex one more time that night in the shower before Hermione went back to her room and Harry returned to his. He fell asleep almost instantly and when they woke up the following morning, it was like nothing had happened. They didn't avoid the subject. In fact, they talked at length about how Hermione had always secretly wanted to have sex in the shower, but she'd never had the opportunity. She'd even thanked Harry for "fulfilling her fantasy," which was something that Harry assumed that no woman would ever say about him.
In fact, despite everything that had happened the two days prior, that morning was the best that Harry had felt in a long time. He and Hermione enjoyed a casual breakfast before she went off to work, leaving Harry with a key to the apartment and an invitation to stay with her for "as long as it took to get him back on his feet."
As Hermione walked out the door, his thoughts again turned to Parvati. She had told him that he was in love with Hermione. The night before, Harry had rejected that notion, but as he considered what a perfect morning would look like, he was struggling to come up with something better than breakfast with Hermione in an apartment that they shared. Harry told himself that it was because they were friends and because he enjoyed being around her and (if he was being honest) because he liked having sex with her.
But Harry was starting to realize that maybe there was something to what Parvati had said. What had been one of Harry's favorite mornings slowly turned into something else as he sat at Hermione's kitchen table and pondered what exactly he wanted. Unfortunately, Harry didn't have time to figure out the answer to that particular question. Before he met with Penelope, Harry thought that he could use some guidance from Arthur Weasley. He had already talked to Arthur about Penelope, but now that he was seriously considering her proposal, one more talk with the Weasley patriarch was in order.