0—0—0—0
Ron and Ginny sat in the Common Room of the Gryffindor tower too emerged in their conversation to notice the extendable ears stuck behind the couch. Fred and George, for the first time in their lives, were using their creations for good, not for their mere enjoyment.
"Ron, listen!" hissed Ginny.
"Sorry," came a mumbled voice.
"Now, I have a plan," she started, "If you agree—which I know you will—you'll have to swear not to let it out. No one can know. No one," she looked around, as if making sure that no one was hearing, and looked back at her brother, who was looking at her with eyes wide with anticipation.
"Gin, you know no one is watching. I mean, c'mon, no one pays attention to the Weasley's; we're the sidekicks, remember?" said Ron, nearly spitting it out.
"Apparently Lavender does," Ginny commented smugly. She nearly laughed at the expression on her brother's face.
"I'm only using her," he spoke.
It was true, he was only using her. When he had confronted her in the Great Hall nearly a month ago, he very nearly forced her into seducing Harry—or, at least try to. She was very, very reluctant at first, but in the end (and a few kisses later), she agreed, though she said that she wasn't going to do much. Since she had the looks that Harry would appreciate, he 'hired' her.
"Mhmm," she smirked.
"Shut up and get on with the plan already!" he said aggravated.
"Okay, okay, don't get your knickers in a twist." She looked around once more, then leaned in. "Remember, no one," she whispered. Since they were both sitting on the couch, Fred and George could still hear them perfectly.
At his nod, she continued. "Okay, I want Harry, and there's only one—okay, maybe three—ways I could get to him: Hermione and his kids. I don't think I'll kill Granger because you want her, but since both of us don't want those two Potter brats, I was thinking that we could-" she was cut off.
"No," Ron said sternly. He wouldn't do that, no matter how bad he wanted Hermione. If he was going to get her, he was not going to hurt her children. No matter how tempted he was.
"But-"
"I said no, Ginny," he repeated. "I don't care what you do, just don't involve their kids. Please," he very nearly begged.
She sighed heavily and rested her head on the arm of the couch. "Please?" she asked quietly, pleadingly.
"No, Ginny, we can't do that, no matter how tempted we are." He had to think of a good enough lie to convince Hermione. He thought for a few seconds, then said, "Just think, Ginny. If their kids die, they'll start mourning and all that other nonsense. But, because of that, they'll latch onto each other and probably make more children!" said he, very proud of his lie. "Think, Ginny, if we do anything to their children, and then we just so happened to date them, being all nice, they'll start being suspicious.
"I just don't think we should do anything to them," he said after a few minutes.
"Whatever," she mumbled before leaving.
She didn't care; she was going to get Harry, no matter what the costs.
Once Ron had left, Fred and George walked in, discussing what to do. They looked at each other, having a silent conversation. After a few moments, they looked at each other and nodded in unison.
Their minds were made up: they were going to go against their flesh and blood, and help their friends in need.
0—0—0—0
It had been nearly a week and Harry and Hermione still weren't talking to each other. Harry tried to talk to her, whether it be by simply walking to her and asking for forgiveness; walking to bed at night and hoping that she wouldn't be mad in the morning; sending her flowers and candy; he even tried asking for forgiveness through their children.
"Please! Think of the children!" He got down on his knees and put his hands together. He knew she'd forgive him; she wasn't that horrible, but she was making him suffer.
Honestly, he only wanted some "fun." What was a bloke to do?
Hermione was enjoying this, however. At night, she'd remember what Harry did for forgiveness, then laugh hysterically into her pillow. But then she'd feel sorry; she was in this huge bed while he was on that small couch.
She decided that today was the day she was going to forgive Harry.
She could only imagine his face.
0—0—0—0
Hermione walked into the nursery, only to find Harry talking in hushed tones with Dobby. She could only hear a hear a few words, and wondered what he was talking to Dobby about that was so important that it had to be spoken about in near silence.
"Yes! Yes! Dobby love to!" the elf shouted in glee. Harry grinned and got up, shaking the elf's hand in a business manner.
"Okay, so w-" Harry started, but was cut off by Dobby.
"Harry Potter's Miss, Dobby now works for Harry Potter!" he shouted bouncing up and down, ears flapping with joy.
Harry turned around quickly, locking eyes with Hermione. She looked at him, as if asking this were true. At his nod, she asked, "Dobby, what do you mean he hired you?"
"Dobby is now working for Harry Potter, Miss, and little Harry Potter babies! Dobby be getting paid one galleon a month and be getting weekend and holidays off," he stated proudly.
After that, there was only silence. James was staring at his father, eyes blinking with confusion, and Lily was dosing off again. Harry went over to the crib and stared down at his son, and then picked him up, taking him to the changing table. James didn't even fuss when he was being changed of his diaper and clothes, only stared at his father.
Odd, really, how children seemed to understand everything. Ever since Harry and Hermione's fight, they had been abnormally quiet; no crying at night; no crying when being changed; no giggling when in their mother's arms. It was odd. And yet, it worried Hermione. They didn't cry for her or Harry, but they did giggle, burp, smile, and play when Harry held them. But not Hermione. It was as if they knew what had happened, and blamed her for it—making Harry sleep on the couch.
But it wasn't her fault; it really wasn't. Was it too much to ask if they wait a few months to get intimate? She knew that if they started this early, there was a very likely chance that she could conceive again. Though there were many protection charms and spells, but neither she nor Harry knew of any. She could look them up, but it'd seem too suspicious, and she certainly wasn't going to ask Madam Pomfrey about it either. She could just imagine what she'd say.
"That's what landed you here in the first place! Not using protection, honestly!" Then she'd walk away, muttering, "Teenagers and hormones, typical."
"Dobby be going now, be back after breakfast." At their nods, Dobby disappeared with a 'pop'.
She walked over towards Harry and heard him humming softly. James' head was resting on Harry's shoulder, hands wrapped around his neck. He had his arms safely wrapped around the small child, humming to him. He turned around, ignoring Hermione (he'd given up on asking her nearly three days ago), and walked out.
She felt tears come to her. It wasn't her fault, she kept reminding herself. It wasn't.
She walked to her daughter's crib and picked her up, attempting to ignore the extreme silence.
Hermione thought about how much stress this had brought upon them, and how they were barely talking now. At first, Harry would simply say he was sorry, stare at her for a few moments, silently waiting for her to say she forgave him, and when she didn't, he's simply walk into the nursery and ignore her for the rest of the day. That had been going on for nearly the past week now. The school, too, had started noticing their odd behavior; they wouldn't sit next to each other in class; they wouldn't sit next to each other during meals. Hell, they barely even talked at all. And that just caused the rumors to flare. Of course, though, Hermione tried to ignore them the best they could, but she could only handle so much. Having the whole school say nasty things about you, and have your boyfriend ignore you, was not something she could handle very well. Ever since the whole fiasco, her grades had been steadily declining as well; she no longer got the 'O's', but instead started getting 'A's', just barely having enough time to revise her work.
Harry, she noted, was doing much worse. His hair would be messier than ever, large bags under his eyes would show signs of sleep deprivation, his eyes weren't their bright emerald, but a mere dull green, and his grades were now horrible. He would dose off in class, often losing nearly thirty points by the end of their second class, and would be horribly nasty to anyone who said a word against him. It wasn't him. She knew it wasn't; her Harry was kind and gently and loving, not the person he was right now.
Suddenly, she felt tears sting her eyes. She blinked them back, focusing on the task at hand: making her child to make a noise. She picked Lily up and rocked her, hoping that she'd get a giggle out of her; no avail. Hermione walked over to the rocking chair and sat, starting to bounce her child on her lap, hoping to get something—anything.Still, nothing happened. Lily merely looked at her, mouth unmoving, eyes boring into the eyes of her young mother.
Finally, she couldn't take it anymore. She clutched her child to her chest, and started to sob violently. She cried about all of the times that she could've forgiven Harry, about all of the times that she should'veforgiven Harry. She cried about making her children hate her.
Oh, God.
Her children hated her.
Her sobs just got louder, echoing in the empty room.
0—0—0—0
Harry walked out, James in his arms, quiet tired. He hadn't gotten sleep again. It had been really hard on him, the last few days. Not the mere sleeping on the couch, but not speaking to Hermione for nearly a week. He didn't think, having sex, it was such a big deal. But apparently, to her, it was a huge issue. He tried asking for forgiveness, but she'd simply gaze down at the floor as if it were the most marvelous thing in the world. He didn't question her motives; he did that too, when he was angry, depressed, or embarrassed.
Though, one thing he couldn't quiet grasp: why hadn't she forgiven him? And why had he acted that way? His mind was plagued with logical, and some illogical, reasons to his behavior. The main thing, however, was Hermione. She hadn't forgiven him, and that was making him wonder if she even wanted him now. The other issue, though, left him quiet baffled, not knowing why he acted in such a manner. It wasn't him, not fully, anyway. He wanted it to happen, only because he saw her react. But then there was the actual starting of the whole thing; he simply rolled on top of her and started kissing her. He wouldn't do that, especially when she was sleeping; he thought of it as a sin to wake someone up from such a peaceful slumber. His mind could only come up with one logical answer: Dumbledore.
Dumbledore hadn't done anything for the past week, just sat there, enjoying the scene that was being playing in front of him. He hadn't so much as talked to them, but Harry couldn't help but think that something, something including Dumbledore, caused the sudden oddity of his nature. He made a mental note to talk to Draco later, knowing that Draco always had accurate information.
He sighed, letting his mind cool down, and sat on the couch, James sitting on his knee, and watched joyfully as his son giggled happily, smiling widely, big emerald eyes full of joy.
That was another thing, his mind told him. James and Lily were always normal around him, but never towards Hermione. No, they'd always be quiet, too quiet. Whenever Hermione would change, feed, dress, or whatever she did to them, they'd always shut up and stare at her, as if blaming her for her behavior towards Harry. But children couldn't do that, could they? No, they couldn't. But then why were they quiet in her arms, and lively in his?
He was quickly brought out of his thoughts when he heard a loud sob escape the nursery. He quickly picked up James and put him in the swinging chair, and nearly ran into the nursery, thinking the worst had happened. What he saw was just that: Hermione was clutching their daughter lightly, tears pouring from her eyes, while Lily was abnormally quiet, playing with her mother's hair.
He quickly took Lily from her arms and placed her in the crib, and kneeled in front of Hermione. He picked her up and took her out of the nursery, placing her on the couch. She was still sobbing, but even louder now, having seen her son gaze quietly at her. Harry took her in his arms, rocking her back and forth, murmuring things in her ear.
She abruptly stood up and shook her head, and started sobbing again, now on the floor. Harry sat on the floor and put her on his lap, gently stroking the small of her back and he rocked her back and forth, hoping that he was giving her comfort.
"I'm a horrible mother," she sobbed. His hands stopped and he stopped rocking, shocked beyond words.
"What?" he whispered, finally finding his voice.
"I'm a horrible mother!" she shouted, breaking down into sobs again. "My children hate me. I'm a horrible mother," she kept whispering, finally giving into Harry's embrace.
He took her chin and brought her level with his face. "Hermione," he said sternly, "you are not a horrible mother." He lightly brushed his lips against hers. "You're a wonderful mother, and James and Lily don't hate you." He gently placed her head against his shoulder, and patiently waited for her to stop sobbing.
Hermione decided not to talk anymore, but instead decided to let her tears flow. After a few more minutes, she finally calmed down. "Why," she whispered, "do they hate me?"
"They don't," he said again.
"Then why are they always quiet? Whenever I change them, they're quiet; feed them, they're quiet. Whenever I do anything with them, they're quiet." She buried her face in the crook of his neck. "I think they shunned me out of their lives, and they're only a month old." She let out another stray sob, clutching onto her boyfriend, previous arguing forgotten.
"I don't know," he spoke quietly, rubbing her back. "Maybe they don't like us fighting."
Hermione chuckled softly. "I doubt it, Harry. They're only a month old."
"Does age really matter?" he asked seriously.
Hermione quickly sobered up and looked at him in the eye. His expression was of seriousness, nothing else. She knew his question had a double meaning. She expected him to bring it up sometime, but not this soon. It was too soon, for her, at least. She brought her gaze downwards, and thought. She thought about what could happen, and what really would happen. If she said 'yes,' then it would be likely that Harry, and their children for that matter, wouldn't talk to her for another long period amount of time. But, if she said 'no,' then she'd have them back. But was it worth taking the risk of getting pregnant again? She looked at her left, where her son was in a peaceful sleep, then towards her right towards the nursery, where her daughter lay, and then in front of her at Harry. He was her everything; the father of her children; her boyfriend, and in the future, husband. At that moment, she decided that her family was more important to her than anything. Besides, she could always look up protection charms, or check when she was ovulating.
She met his eyes and said softly, "No, I guess age doesn't matter."
His eyes widened ever so slightly, and she thought she saw a twitch of his lips move upward, but then they formed into a frown. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his fingers playing with the loose strand on her shirt.
She titled his head up, forcing him to look at her. "Whatever for?"
"It was all because of me that we had to suffer for everything." She saw a lone tear glide down his cheek, and she was reminded of the child that was blamed all his life.
"What do you mean, 'suffer for everything'?" she asked quietly.
"If I hadn't gotten you pregnant, you wouldn't have to-"
"Harry James Potter, don't you dare speak like that!" she said fiercely. "I don't doubt having these children at all! Do you understand that? These children are a part of us! How could you say that?" She gave him a glare that would make him cringe (which he did, on the inside).
"I don't regret our children; I really don't. It just that, if I hadn't liked you in the first place, we wouldn't be in this predicament," he whispered miserably.
"Please, Harry, don't blame yourself. If it wasn't for Dumbledore, our children wouldn't be here in the first place." Her tone of voice seemed to move Harry a bit.
"Dumbledore…" His tone was voice was one of revelation. "It was Dumbledore's fault; it always was." His expression darkened immensely. "He's going to pay."
A plan started forming in his mind, ways of killing Dumbledore. Yes, he had gone too far, he figured that out when he tried to kidnap his children, but now he was going to actually do something. No, not just something: he was going to kill the sadistic bastard. Because of Dumbledore, he had gotten Hermione pregnant. Dumbledore tried to kill him, not once, but twice. Dumbledore hadn't done anything to the Weasley's, though he doubted he would, he still wished he had. And then, what really took it was the fact that Dumbledore tried to kidnap, not he or Hermione, but his infant children. That really drove Harry over the edge. Hogwarts wasn't safe anymore, and they had to leave, but not without doing something first: kill Dumbledore.
His eyes darkened, and Hermione noticed that too, because she was right in front of him, staring into his eyes—the same eyes that were staring off into space, a cold expression etched on his face.
"Harry." She spoke quietly, softly, almost afraid that she might be caught on the wrong side of his anger spurt. "Harry, look at me, love."
He finally looked at her, expressions calming down a bit. "Sorry," he mumbled. "It's just that… that Hogwarts isn't safe anymore, and I think we need to leave."
"Leave school?" she squeaked.
He sighed. "Yes, Hermione, leave Hogwarts. I know that you're probably scandalized about the idea, but it's not safe anymore. I was nearly murdered two times, and our children were almost kidnapped and could've been murdered."
She looked to be deep in thought, her eyes moving to the nursery, and then to her son, and then at Harry. After a few minutes, she walked into the nursery and came out, Lily in her arms. "I… I think you're right." She handed Lily over to Harry and picked up her son, and walked over to him again. "I'm willing to leave Hogwarts. This place isn't safe for our children, or us.
"But what about the Tri-Wizard Tournament, Harry? What are you going to do about that?"
He gazed down at his small daughter and said, "I'm not too sure, Mione. But I am sure that I'm not going to participate in it anymore, given our circumstances."
"But I thought that there was a magical binding contract which literally forces you into participating." She looked at him in question.
"I know, Hermione, I know. It's just that… I can't take this anymore… I just can't," he said, voice low.
She nodded in understanding. "W-what are we going to do, then?" she asked. She still wasn't too keen on the idea of leaving school, but for the welfare of her children, she'd do anything.
"I was thinking that we could…" he trailed off, shifting his gaze, eyes hardening.
"We could…?" she asked perplexed.
"Well, I could—no, need to—do something before we leave." His eyes were unforgiving, and a soft nonexistent breeze started, blowing his hair.
"Harry," she warned. She had a pretty good idea on what his mind was thinking, and she didn't like it at all.
"No, Hermione. This is the one thing I won't listen to you on, alright? I'm going to kill that bastard, and I don't care what you say," he said. If his children weren't in the room, he would've most likely shouted at her.
"Harry, do you know what you're about to do?" Her voice was quiet, but held a dangerous tone, so Harry knew to let Hermione finish. "You're about to commit murder," she said, emphasizing each word slowly. "Can you honestly do that, Harry? Can you go through murdering another man because he gave me a potion to get me pregnant?"
"Hermione, don't question what I can and can't do." His anger was rising. "It's not the matter of that damned potion, but more of the matter what he did after that." He glared at her, not caring that they had just made up nearly ten minutes ago. "He needs to be punished, just like he punished me." He paused for a moment, and then said, "Did you know, that if Madam Pomfrey hadn't come when she did, that I could very well be dead right now? Did you? Or were you just going to let Dumbledore kill me, knowing that he finally got what he wanted?" he asked, voice laced with venom and sarcasm.
"Harry James," she said, giving him her worst glare to date, "don't you dare think that I would've let him kill you. But that doesn't give you the right to kill him."
"Oh? And it gives him the right to kill me?!" he nearly shouted.
"No, it doesn't! But that didn't stop him, now did it?" she spat back.
"And what's going to stop me, Hermione? Please enlighten me on what's going to stop Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived, the fourth Tri-Wizard Champion, from doing what he wants this time?" He asked furiously, walking back into the nursery to lay his daughter down back into the crib.
"I will, Harry! I'll stop you! You cannot do that!" she answered, following suit.
Once they were children-free, Harry and Hermione started to scream at each other. (Harry really hoped that no one would be able to hear them.)
"You can't order me around, Hermione! I can do things without your permission, you know, I'm not your child!" he shouted.
"I know I'm not your mother, Harry! I just care too much to let you go through this!"
"Why the hell do you care, eh? You're not the one that's doing this, I am!" he shouted, getting close to her.
"I don't care if you're doing this or not, Harry, I'm your girlfriend, don't I have any say in this?!" she shouted, hurt by the fact that he didn't care about her thoughts.
"NO!" He shouted loudly, "you have no say in this matter!"
"SHUT UP, HARRY!" Then she did something she never should've done: she slapped him, hard.
His face turned away sharply, cheek turning red quickly. He looked at her dangerously and said, "Fuck you, Hermione, fuck you." He shot her one last glare before he stormed out.
Hermione sighed. There were no more tears left in her, so she couldn't cry. She sat on the couch and lay down, her mind blank. She closed her eyes and finally let exhaustion over come her, and she fell into an uneasy sleep.
0—0—0—0
Harry was furious—no, scratch that, he was raging-bloody-mad.
He walked into the Common Room fuming and sat on the couch. He needed to think, and the Gryffindor Common Room seemed to be the best place so far.
Hermione was right, he shouldn't be killing Dumbledore, but he had to. Not because he wanted to, no, but because of the fact that he needed to. He thought about the times where Dumbledore could've manipulated him, and his first thought went back to the time when he was in first year. If Dumbledore really wanted to protect the Philosophers stone, then why was it hidden in a school full of kids? Honestly, he should've known that there were people bound to go into the forbidden area at least once—the trio had the misfortune of being the first. Because Dumbledore had hidden something (they didn't know what yet), that intrigued them to study further, get answers on why there was a Cerberus guarding it. And because of it, Harry nearly lost his life at the tender age of eleven.
And that wasn't all, he noted, there were many times where he had been foolishly manipulated by the old man.
He sighed in frustration and stood up, pacing. He needed to let loose some of the built up energy, but he didn't know what to do. He certainly wasn't going to go back to retrieve his Firebolt; that'd just be wrong with Hermione in there, doing God knows what.
He needed to do something—anything.
0—0—0—0
Ginny was in a fairly happy mood today. Ron hadn't bothered her too much on killing Harry's children, or about putting another love potion on him, so she was happy. Or at least, happy enough. She'd never fully be happy without Harry. Too bad that girl Granger had to take him away from her.
Hermione had been her friend, yes, but Ginny couldn't stand the fact that someone else would be able to take something that was rightfully hers. No, that just wasn't done.
She quietly descended the stairs, having heard someone walk in there, sounding quiet frustrated. When she saw who it was, she grinned to herself and ran upstairs, retrieving her potion.
She put a bit of the potion on her lips, since she knew that he wasn't going to drink anything she gave him, and checked herself in the mirror. Her bright red hair was slightly curled at the bottom, mid-way down her back. Since she had the potion on her lips, it gave a soft luminous effect, giving her lips a glossy glow. Her eyes were the beautiful brown that she loved, though she wouldn't mind having her brother's sapphire blue color, either. She smiled, satisfied, and left her dorm room, walking down the steps once more.
There she saw Harry. She put on a concerned face and slowly walked towards him.
He looked a complete mess; his hair was messy as ever; he had dark circles under his eyes; his clothes were wrinkled; one shoe was untied, and his usual bright eyes were anything but.
"Harry," she said quietly. She knew that he was probably mad at her, but since he was furious at Granger (or so she assumed), maybe he'd be too furious to realize.
He turned around quickly. "Ginny?"
"Yes…" she said slowly.
"What're you doing here?" he asked, eyeing her.
"Erm… you see, Harry, this is the Gryffindor Common Room, and I'm in Gryffindor… so, you see…" she attempted to be funny, and it worked, for Harry chuckled slightly.
Was he drunk? She didn't know.
"Yeah, sorry," he said smiling.
"What's wrong?" she asked, faking concern.
"Everything," he muttered. He wasn't going to tell her all of the details, but the gist of it would work. It was true, partially, everything was wrong right now.
"Care to be more specific?" she asked smiling.
"Sorry Gin, but it's a personal matter," he said, smiling at the thought that he could talk to someone without blowing up.
"Oh… is it Gra—Hermione?" she asked, putting her hand on his shoulder lightly, as if questioning.
"Yes," he murmured.
Ginny sighed; this boy was getting no where. She felt that this was the time to let her plan go into motion.
"Harry," she said quietly.
"Hmm?"
"You've something on your lip." She smiled on the inside; this was going to be easy.
He brought his sleeve up to his lip and wiped it. "Is it off?"
"No," she simply said.
"What do I have?" he asked, wiping his lips.
"My lips," she said before capturing his lips. She quickly put her arms around his neck tightly, not letting him move away until his tongue touched her lips.
Just then, there was a large intake of breath, and someone, a female, nearly whispered, "how could you, Harry?"