mea culpa (noun)
my fault


Chapter 17

Hermione heard the sound of someone reading before she noticed anything else. The steady cadence of a voice so familiar read a passage she knew all too well from a book she had loved so much.

"Eventually, a serious argument arose between Slytherin and Gryffindor regarding the subject and such was the acrimony of the disagreement, Slytherin left the school for good. The legend of the Chamber of Secrets arises from Slytherin's departure…"

She opened her eyes and saw the moonlight streaming through a large window on the wall beside her. She could see the stars twinkling brightly in the night sky and knew she wasn't in Athens anymore. The walls of her surroundings extended to such a staggering height and held up a vaulted ceiling proudly hanging a chandelier.

She had been in this same position before; laying on a bed here in this room. The same view greeted her after she woke so many years ago after being petrified. The tears sprung to her eyes when she realized she was at Hogwarts.

She was back.

The voice coming from the side of her bed continued its reading. With a stiff neck, Hermione turned her head to the right. The reader's head was bowed as they poured over Hogwarts, A History, but Hermione would recognize that messy mop of hair from anywhere as well as the voice.

"James," she called. Her voice was barely above a whisper, but the boy heard and the retelling of the Chamber of Secrets immediately stopped.

His head jerked upwards and Hermione was greeted with the stunned look of her son. The tears spilled when James shot up from his seat and engulfed her in a tight embrace with a loud cry.

"Mum!"

It wasn't just her crying now. She could feel James shake as he burrowed himself into her side. She hugged him as tightly as her wound would allow not caring about the sharp pain emitting from her side.

God, she had missed him.

"Oh, love," Hermione whispered, closing her eyes. "It's okay, baby. I'm okay. I'm so sorry for making you worry."

James held on. The hand stroking his back up and down was calming but the relief at seeing her awake was still so overwhelming. The past few days were taxing on the little boy. He went from celebrating the magical holiday of Hallowe'en to having his mum abducted. For two days he lived in fear and thought that he wouldn't see her again. He was calmed when she was brought to Hogwarts only to learn that she had been shot and was gravely injured. Then he thought that she would never wake up again.

So many scenarios flashed through his mind throughout all of this. Images of him without his mum. Images of him being all alone. She was his world and he wouldn't know what to do without her.

He couldn't bear to lose another parent.

"I was so scared I wouldn't see you again," James whimpered. He brushed a hand over his face and looked at Hermione with reddened eyes. "I thought I'll be all alone."

That broke her. Hermione drew him tightly against her and the mother and son held on to each other for comfort. No words were necessary at that moment as they reassured each other that everything was okay. Hermione whispered sweet nothings into James' ears as he cried in her embrace. Her own tears spilled as she held onto him, her hand absentmindedly stroking his hair.

How could she ever make it up to him?

What she did was foolish and… it was all for what?

Hermione knew she should have gone to the proper authorities the moment she learned that the staff she found was enchanted. She should have alerted the Ministry of Magic of her discovery and that a man was hell-bent on finding it and using it.

But she didn't.

She could say it was because of her thirst for knowledge. She could say it was because she was curious at what the staff could do.

But that would be a lie because the real reason was that she was scared. She was scared of being found out. She was scared of the wizarding world knowing that Hermione Jane Granger was still alive.

And she was scared of Harry learning what she had done.

But look at where that had taken her now?

She was a coward and an idiot to the point of endangering herself and shaking her son's whole world.

Hermione cried with James. Her sobs mixed with his own and she decided then and there that she would do anything to make it up to him. He was the most important being in her world and she had been a truly lousy mother.

"I'm so sorry, James," she whispered. "I wasn't thinking properly. I shouldn't have put myself in danger like that. I'm sorry, love." She squeezed him tighter.

James' sobs quieted down and he leaned back from the hug to look at his mum. She looked so small and so worried and so weak. She looked so very unlike the woman who took him to his football games back in London; the one who cheered him on from the sidelines and insisted on lugging his whole kit for him after his games. She looked so different from the woman who bestowed upon him his passion for reading, who would walk out of any bookstore with at least ten books in her arms.

The only other time he had seen his mum so broken down was...

It was that summer. It was the summer he learned about magic and the summer she first spoke of his dad.

"Mum," James whispered. "We have to talk."

Hermione gazed at the boy in front of her. James had grown since she last saw him two at King's Cross. He was still her little boy, but he looked older now. His inquisitive eyes were looking at her with so many questions and his determination to find answers were palpable.

She tenderly caressed his cheek and nodded her head. "Yes, we do."

Gently and without care at getting caught by the resident healer, James climbed up on the bed and laid beside his mum. Hermione slowly turned on her side and the mother and son gazed at one another. Their brown eyes held the other pair as Hermione's hand came to rest on his waist.

"Will you tell me what happened?" James asked softly.

Hermione sighed and closed her eyes briefly. James watched as she took a couple of deep breaths before she reopened them again. Hermione parted her lips and the truth spilled from within her.

She told him about the commission she received from the man named Demetre Demos. James wasn't unfamiliar with his mum's line of work. He knew that she was some sort of historian and research specialist and many people and organizations sought her employ. Often she worked with affluent families who came to her with antiques seeking to know more about their treasures. Once he remembered his mum bringing home a red clay pot and gently placing it on a secure shelf in her office. He studied the pot from behind the glass and wondered how important the nondescript item could be. To him, it looked like a simple and worn and very dusty old pot rendered useless because of a hole in its side. A week later, his mum told him she believed it to be a pot from the Qin Dynasty of China.

James knew how brilliant his mum was, so it was no surprise to him when she told him of the museum director's tall order. Hermione said that Mr. Demos wanted her to determine and find the historical items Greek mythological items were based on. When James looked at her in question, Hermione explained further.

"Myths came from oral tradition," she said, as her hand continued to stroke up and down his side. "That means they came from information passed down by word of mouth through the generations. They were used to describe all things, both tangible like a warrior's weapon, and intangible like lightning. Zeus' thunderbolts stemmed from the ancient Greeks trying to understand lightning. That's what Mr. Demos wanted to know. What thing became Poseidon's trident? Athena's aegis? And… and Hermes' caduceus?"

Her voice hardened when she said the last two words and the stroking of her hand stopped. "I started on the caduceus. It was more unique than the others in shape and size. There were so many historical references to the caduceus as well from familial coat of arms to even modern medicine. All I had to do was find the oldest reference… and I happened upon it by luck. There was a break-in at a museum in Toronto though nothing was taken, but I became curious about its current exhibits. I looked at the catalogue and came across a description of a staff found during an excavation two decades ago from the ancient city of Lagash. It was a single column with intertwined serpents and topped with wings. It was described exactly as the caduceus," she explained. "This was after you left for Hogwarts, so I wanted to go to Toronto to see it in person. It was the oldest reference to the caduceus that I could find. I planned the trip to be immediately after I came back from my meeting with Mr. Demos in Athens. I thought it was perfect timing since I needed to update him on my progress anyway. But..."

"But what?" James whispered. His eyes were wide as he listened to his mum retell her story.

"But I overheard him say something which changed my mind. All this time I was under the impression that he was a Muggle. I knew for certain he thought of me as one. He never showed any indication that he was magical. But as I was waiting to be let into his office, I saw that he was talking to another man inside. The man who was visiting him raised a wand against him, and Demos pulled a wand from his own pocket. Then, he told the man to be patient... because I had been working on the project for months and I was bound to find it soon."

James gasped and Hermione nodded. "He sounded menacing and… and so desperate. I knew then and there he could not be trusted. So during our meeting, I didn't tell him anything about the staff. He kept prying and asking me about my progress on the caduceus but I only said that I was still in the thick of sifting through all of the information. I got back to London and immediately flew to Toronto.

"The staff was displayed in the gallery like an afterthought. It was at the darkest corner of the hall placed with the other miscellaneous artefacts with nowhere to belong. I could see why, though. Half of the wings were broken, and the wood had eroded so much you could barely see the serpents' bodies. But as I looked at it from behind the glass, it... began to glow." Hermione said, her eyes casting a faraway look as she recalled her trip to the museum. She remembered the rod behind the glass that every other museum patron ignored. "And I felt its magic, baby. It was enchanted. That staff was magical and it was powerful. I panicked. I didn't want to just leave it there. So I took it and I transfigured another object to take its place."

James' jaw dropped at his mum's admittance of a crime but she continued on. "I took it back home and I debated what to do. All I knew was that Demos was a wizard, he wanted to find the staff, and the staff was magical and powerful. I knew that I didn't trust him. I wanted to study it further but I knew that things had suddenly gotten so much more dangerous than before. I… I transfigured the staff, in case something happened."

"And something did happen," James supplied quietly.

Hermione nodded regretfully. "Yes, they did. Demos found out. He came for me. And… you know the rest, love."

James looked at her in awe and she could see the questions swimming in his eyes. "Did you figure out what the staff did? Did you really transfigure it? Where is it now?"

Hermione simply nodded her head. "I think I know what it does, but I need more time," she began, and since there was no reason to stop, she continued, "The staff was always with me."

He jerked and looked at her in shock. "What? It is? Where is it now?!"

With care, Hermione lifted her right hand. James watched as the bracelet shone on the light. The little H and J silver charms twinkled as she lightly shook her wrist.

"The bracelet?" He whispered in disbelief.

Hermione nodded her head. "I didn't want to let it out of my sight."

James touched one of the charms with the tip of his finger, seemingly in awe. It looked exactly like the gift he had given her. "Can I… can I see it?" He asked.

Hermione gave a wry smile. "I don't know where my wand is right now, baby, and I don't think I'm strong enough yet to do the spell without it."

He nodded in understanding, eyes still fixated on the silver chain. He snuggled to her side and played with the bracelet with his fingers. It sure felt and looked normal. He wouldn't have guessed otherwise for he could see nothing different with the silver. James felt himself get a little excited at the idea of seeing his mum transfigure it back to what it truly was. He hadn't seen a lot of very complex transfiguration spells in school yet with the exception of Professor McGonagall transforming herself into a cat and back. "We can ask Professor Potter where your wand is, mum. He would know. Are you… going to tell him about this? He's a really good Auror, you know."

There it was. That feeling of dread instantly followed by the feeling of freedom settled in Hermione.

It was no longer time to hide. It was time for the truth.

She squeezed him closer and shut her eyes. She breathed in. And out. In. And out. She found the courage inside of her and opened her eyes. In a whisper, she asked, "What do you think of Professor Potter?"

Hermione watched a small grin grace her son's lips. James' eyes brightened and immediately the boy stopped fidgeting with the transfigured bracelet and looked at her. "He's really cool. Defence is the best class ever and he also likes Quidditch! He helped me practice for the tryouts," James said excitedly. "And he's fun to talk to and doesn't look down on me," he continued more softly. "He's also Nate's and Teddy's godfather and they say he's really, really nice and kind to them. He's really nice and kind to me too." He gave her an earnest look and his grin widened. "You can trust him, mum. He… promised me he would find you and he did."

He said it so easily like it was fact. There was reverence and awe in how James spoke about the man he knew as Professor Potter. It wasn't the same hero-worship she became all too familiar with during school either. James wasn't simply retelling Professor Potter's triumphs and commendations from other people's lips or from what he'd read in the newspaper. It was deeper than that. It was more personal.

Her son had already fallen in love.

And his words held meaning to Hermione that he himself didn't know about. Those four words spoken so simply were another reminder of the greatest mistake she had ever committed.

James was right.

She could trust him. She should have trusted him.

But she didn't.

"Do you remember what I told you about your father?" She asked in a whisper.

James, who had started to fidget with the transfigured chain again, stopped what he was doing and turned his full attention to her. His face was scrunched in confusion at the change in topic while he thoughtfully nodded his head.

"I do, but... what does my dad have to do with anything?" He asked.

Hermione tucked him into her side and held him close. She had no idea how to proceed but there was absolutely no going back now. "What do you remember?"

James pondered in silence. What doesn't he remember? He held onto everything that was said about his father so closely. He kept all the little grains of information he collected over the years near to his heart. He told himself never to forget. After all, how could he forget when he already knew so little?

His mum told him his father was the best man she ever knew. He was described as helpful, powerful, amazing, and brave. Even Mr. Ollivander said that he was lucky to have known James' dad.

James frowned. But how could he be all that when he wasn't even there? How could he be so amazing when he didn't see what was right in front of him? How could he be so brave when he wasn't there for his mum when she needed him the most?

How could his mum still love him so much even when he didn't love her?

James honestly tried not to cast judgement towards this unknown figure. He was aware that he didn't know the whole story. He had a feeling his dad never even knew his mum was pregnant. And his mum never spoke ill of his father as well. Granted, she didn't speak a lot about him but when she did, it was to reminisce about the good times and to give him accolades.

But she still felt the need to leave. Not just him behind, but her friends, her life, and her magic as well. She created a whole new identity for herself to protect him and his father.

What did that even mean?

"I remember everything you've ever told me about him," James replied honestly.

He felt her take a shaky breath in and he watched her face. It was solemn and pensive. Her eyes were turning glassy as the tears rose to the surface. He opened his mouth to ask her what was wrong, but she asked him a question instead.

"Do you remember his name?" She inquired quietly.

James looked at her for a moment, his heart starting to beat a little faster with anticipation. He felt the tension in the air and his hands fisted at the front of her shirt.

"I do," he replied softly with a nod. "His name's Harry."

Hermione held his gaze as the tears spilled from her eyes. A choked sob left her and she had to breathe deeply to voice the name she held in her heart for years.

"That's right," she whispered. "His name's Harry Potter."

James felt as if the wind had been knocked from his chest. He was stunned, his eyes were wide and his mouth parted in a silent gasp. He felt breathless, weightless. He felt everything and nothing at once after hearing that name. He was numb. Hot. Cold. He looked at his mother in shock trying to process what she had just said, not quite believing her at the same time this little bubble of hope was rising inside his chest.

Harry Potter.

His father's Harry Potter.

"How?" He asked in a choked whisper. He felt his mum's fingers on his cheeks and that was when he realized that he was crying again.

She explained through her own tears. How they met in her first year. How they became friends because of the troll. How they and their other friend, Ron Weasley, faced dangers every single year because of Voldemort. As she spoke, James realized that he already knew all of this. He had read all about the Golden Tro's adventures in Hogwarts, A History, but now they were being told from the point of view of the missing piece; from the point of view of whom the books could only refer to as The Brightest Witch; from the point of view of his own mother.

She told him about what he knew and more. She told him about the Horcrux hunt, how when Mr. Weasley left it was when he was conceived. "I didn't know I was pregnant with you, baby," she admitted. "I found out in May right before Voldemort attacked the castle. I wanted to tell him… but I couldn't. It wasn't the right time. I didn't need him worrying about me, about us, during the battle," her voice broke as more tears spilled from her eyes. James put his hand on her cheek and tried to brush them away. His mind was whirling with all of this new knowledge but he understood. Finding out about a child would be a shock to anybody, especially to someone who was supposed to end the Dark Lord's reign.

Hermione held onto his hand like it was giving her the strength to continue. "We made it through the battle alive. All of us. I was so thankful. I told myself I was going to tell him the day after," she whispered. "I looked for him and… and I found him," she said, closing her eyes. She remembered that morning with the summer sun shining brightly down on the ruined castle. It seemed like the perfect time to tell Harry the truth. "He was with somebody else; his old girlfriend whom he broke up with before we left to find the Horcruxes. They were kissing."

James recoiled at her words. He looked at her with questions and anger rising to his reddened eyes. So that's what she meant when she said that his father didn't love her. Hermione tenderly stroked his cheek while shaking her head. "No, no, baby, don't be mad at him," she pleaded desperately through her tears. "He didn't know," his mum said, fully sobbing now. "And I… I didn't tell him. I left. I thought it would be better for him if he didn't have to deal with any more obligations. I thought leaving it all behind would be best for you."

She was shaking and James held onto her with fisted hands as she continued her story. His eyes were red and he was breathing heavily. He had no idea what to say or what to think or what to do. He was a mess of emotions and he struggled to reign them all in. "I never gave him the chance," Hermione said as she wept. "I took away his choice. I took your father away from you. I shouldn't have left. I should have told him. I am so, so sorry, love. Please forgive me."

It was finally out. Her guilt and her faults spilled from her alongside a river of tears. It was hard telling it all to James. It wasn't easy admitting that she had failed him as a mother. It also wasn't easy admitting that she had been a truly terrible friend to the best friend she had ever known.

She was Harry Potter's best friend. She loved him so much, for Merlin's sake, yet she still betrayed him. There was no other way to describe the actions she took eleven years ago. She deprived him of a chance for a family, the one thing she knew he wanted most in the world. Moreso, she didn't own up to it until she was forced to. She had eleven years to find him again. She had eleven years to seek forgiveness and make everything right.

But she didn't. She hid herself in the Muggle world under the guise of Jane Watson because she was scared...

She held onto James and drew him closer to her chest.

...and in doing so, she deprived her son the chance to know his father. And she deprived the only person she had ever loved the chance to know his son.

James quietly digested her words. The more he thought about it the more the pieces fell into place. His name, for goodness sake. He was named after his grandfather. Then there was Mr. and Mrs. Weasley who said they were friends of his mum's…

And the way Professor Potter looked at him after that Hallowe'en night. There was something different in his gaze. James closed his eyes and tried to recall the conversation he and the Auror had in the Quidditch field after his mum was taken.

The Auror asked about his mum. And then, he asked James about his dad. He seemed so lost when he questioned James about the father he never knew. James narrowed his eyes as he tried to remember the professor's reaction to his words.

"He didn't love her. My father didn't love my mum."

He remembered the pained expression on the older man's face.

"She didn't want to get in the way of his happiness."

He remembered the Auror's burning eyes.

"She left to protect him and to protect me. She loved him so much, and she still does."

He remembered how the Auror left him in the Quidditch field with another promise to bring her back home. James watched as the man walked on top of the grass with his shoulders slumped and his head bent. He looked broken.

Now James knew why. This whole mess was starting to make sense in his mind.

He embraced his mother. He didn't think he was angry with her. He didn't think he could be angry with her, at least not with what she did before he was born. She would have only been eighteen years old, still so young to have faced all that she went through alone. James couldn't even fathom having to make the decision she had to make. He also knew that it was probably the wrong decision, but he didn't begrudge her for that. She had just come out of a war, heartbroken and lost. He even heard from his friends how utterly terrible wizarding media was towards their parents, so James could imagine his mum wanting to get herself and him away from all of that. She had her reasons for leaving but James was certain they came from a place of love.

But the brightest spot in this whole dark mess was that he now knew his father! James smiled softly even as the tears continued to flow down his cheeks. He never would have thought that the man he grew to respect and care for so much during the past couple of months was his dad. His and Professor Potter's relationship evolved from a place of strangers to something so much more. Harry Potter was kind, funny, smart, and admirable. He delivered on his promises and made James feel safe and protected. He was this person whom people depended on and with good reason. He was… he was his dad and James' heart nearly burst with so much happiness at the thought.

The only thing amiss was the big white elephant in the room. James' smile vanished. His parents haven't seen each other for years… and James had a feeling that they wouldn't be reconciled quite as easily as he'd hoped. His dad probably had years of hurt to overcome and James could imagine how angry he must have felt after finding out what his mum had done. And he would be in the right to feel so hurt and angry about all of this, though James wished with all of his might that that wouldn't affect their new relationship. On the other hand, his mum had thought all of this time that his dad was in love with another person.

James was confused and frustrated as he tried to get all of his thoughts in order.

The mother and son cried with each other until there were no more tears left to cry. Their breathing slowed and the tears dried as they laid on the bed facing each other.

Hermione's hand played with his hair and James gave a gentle smile before taking hold of it. He squeezed her hand and brought it over his heart. It was getting late and the whole infirmary was dark save for a few flickering candles and the light of their eyes.

As long awaited slumber took hold of the two and pulled them into darkness, a whisper left James' lips. It was a promise filled with so much hope and determination and was the last thing Hermione heard before the shadows consumed her.

"Everything's going to be okay, mum. I love you."


"Mr. Watson!" A fierce whisper called into his ear. "Mr. Watson, this is completely unacceptable! You should not be here, boy. You'll disturb your mother!"

James' groggy eyes blinked open. He was laying on his back now and was staring up at the ceiling. There was a dancing light at the corner of his eyes and he turned his head to see Madam Pomfrey towering over him with a reproaching look on her face.

"Mr. Watson," she said again, softer this time. "You need to head back to the common room. It's well past curfew! I need to redress Ms. Granger's wound and you can't stay here in bed with her. She shouldn't be cramped like this."

James looked to his side to see his mum still sleeping. He gently sat up from the bed and turned pleading eyes to the healer. "I'll get off the bed but can't I just stay here, Madam Pomfrey? I don't want to leave her."

The witch's eyes softened but she was firm on her rules. "You have to go back to the Gryffindor common room, Mr. Watson. Worry not about your mother, you can visit her again in the morning. She's in good hands and I bet that she'd much rather have you sleeping comfortably in your own bed than in here. I'll write you a note so you won't get in trouble if you run into Mr. Filch or any one else in the hallways."

Hesitantly, James hopped off the bed. He gave his mum a sweet kiss on the cheek and gingerly took the note from Madam Pomfrey's hand. He grabbed his book bag from the ground and, with one last look at his sleeping mother, turned and walked out of the hospital wing.

The hallways were dark but James had already learned the wand lighting spell. He cast Lumos but kept his wand inside his pocket so only a faint glow was visible through the fabric. He didn't want to disturb the sleeping portraits as he walked through the silent halls. His watch told him it was nearly eleven. He had rushed to the hospital wing soon after dinner ended and spent the rest of the night talking with his mum until they fell asleep. The whole castle was cast in shadows and there was no sign of Mr. Filch, Mrs. Norris, or any of the prefects or heads on patrol.

He relished the darkness and the quiet. The hallways were absolutely silent save for his own footsteps. The treck from the hospital wing to the Gryffindor tower was a pretty long one too so he had plenty of time to think.

As he passed by the closed doors of the Great Hall, James marvelled at how in such a short amount of time (it had only been two months!), so many things happened. In such a short amount of time, his whole life changed. It was such a surreal experience. He met his best friends. He started school at a magical school. His mum got into trouble and then…

And then he learned about his dad.

What an incredible thing that was, since James spent so many years silently wondering who made up the other half of the equation that was his life.

And he never would have guessed that Professor Potter was his father.

James' feelings were all over the place. He was happy, sad, worried, excited, anxious, scared. He didn't know how the dynamic between him and Professor Potter would change. Could he call the man "dad"? Would Professor Potter even allow it? What if… what if Professor Potter didn't want James as his son?

It really hurt to think about and James' pace slowed down. That fear of rejection gripped his heart and filled him with worry to the point where he felt suffocated.

Professor Potter wouldn't do that to him, right? He was always so nice, and so kind…

James had a feeling that Professor Potter knew about their relationship when he came to talk to him after Halowe'en.

But then, why didn't he say anything? Did he keep quiet because it wasn't the right time? Or… did he keep quiet because he didn't want to acknowledge it?

James stopped walking and leaned against the stone wall of the hallway. Fear was clouding his mind and his face scrunched up as he willed the tears not to fall. But he couldn't help himself. The salty drops fell as his heart was seized with the fear and the worry that his father wouldn't want him as his son.

Footsteps echoed down a side passageway and James stood up tall. He wiped his face clear of tears as best as he could and retrieved the note from Madam Pomfrey that was in his pocket. He took a deep breath and readied himself to confront Mr. Filch.

But it wasn't Mr. Filch who rounded the corner. It wasn't a prefect either nor was it the head girl or boy. Through the darkness, James saw the tall figure emerge. His long, sweeping cloak flowed behind him. His dark, black hair was as black as the night which engulfed the castle. In his hand was a broomstick.

Harry Potter stopped his gait and looked at the boy in the hallway. Through the light of the Lumos he saw James standing by the wall with reddened eyes and damp cheeks. His brows furrowed as he noted that James had been crying.

"James," Harry called softly as he started to approach. It was almost as soft as a whisper but James heard it. The hallway was completely silent but his heartbeat thundered loudly in his ears. "Are you okay? Is something the matter? What are you doing here? Why are you crying?"

James' lips quivered at the sight of him. The tears sprung to his eyes once again. All of his emotions - all the fear and worry and happiness and elation - leapt to the surface. He couldn't stand still. He couldn't keep it in. With a strangled cry, Madam Pomfrey's note fell from his hand as he ran towards his father.

"Dad!"

Harry gasped and the broomstick clattered to the ground. His eyes were wide behind his glasses. He took a staggering step forward before dropping to his knees just as the boy - his son - ran into his arms.

"James," Harry breathed. "Oh, James," he whispered. His arms closed around the crying boy and held him tight. James' arms looped around his neck as he buried his face into his father's chest. Harry felt the tears rise to the surface and he didn't bother holding them in. "You know. Merlin, you know. How?" He asked in a strangled whisper.

James' head lifted from his chest. "Mum told me," he said softly.

At the mention of Hermione, Harry jerked and looked at James. "She's awake?" He asked, hopeful. He was gripped with worry that she had taken so much damage from the bullet wound and magical exhaustion.

James nodded slowly. "She woke up earlier this evening. And we… talked," he answered quietly.

Harry's heart pounded loudly in his chest. "She told you about… us? About… me?" He asked in a whisper.

James simply nodded.

"How do you feel?" Harry asked softly. He stopped breathing as he waited for James' reply.

"I've always wanted a dad," James said in a murmur as the tears silently streaked down his cheeks. "And I'm so glad it's you."

A choked sob left Harry and he and James embraced once again. His hand was stroking soothing circles on James' back as all of their emotions rose to the surface and spilled over the edge.

"I didn't know," Harry said in a strangled voice to the darkness. He felt James' sobs quiet down as the boy listened. "If I had, I would have… I wouldn't have... I… I am so sorry."

He couldn't find the right words to say.

What could he say? Harry was at a loss for his mind and heart were in a jumble. Ever since Hallowe'en night when James told him that Hermione left because he loved another person, he hadn't been able to think straight. How did she come to that conclusion? How could she have possibly thought that? Even though at the time he hadn't realized he loved her, he certainly wasn't in love with another.

She was the most important person in his whole world.

If he was to be in love when he was seventeen, it would be with her and no one else.

James withdrew from his embrace and the father and son looked at each other. Harry felt like he had so much to apologize for as he watched the tears leak from those brown eyes. They were her eyes and they were another reminder of what he had lost eleven years ago.

"I know, dad," James whispered, smiling slightly at Harry's stunned look at being called "dad" once again. The boy's hand rested on Harry's damp cheek and lightly brushed the tears away. As he drew his arms around his dad for another embrace, James whispered a promise which he had already given his mum. "Everything's going to be okay."

His dad walked him back to the Gryffindor common room. They didn't really talk since the surprise and shock of the discovery was still too fresh. And it wasn't like any words were needed either, since their tears and tender embrace just moments ago were enough of a statement that they both wanted this.

They parted ways in front of the Fat Lady after another embrace and a promise to have a longer talk in the morning. James went to bed with a smile on his face and his heart full. His mum was okay and she was on the road to recovery. He finally found out the identity of his father and he turned out to be the man James already deeply respected and cared for. And, it seemed like his dad actually wanted to foster this new relationship as well.

On the other side of the castle, Harry laid wide awake on his own bed. He felt everything at once that he was starting to feel numb. The happiness that he had a son who wanted this new paternal relationship with him was at the forefront. He may have missed out on eleven years of James' life, but Harry vowed that he would be present for the rest if James wished him to be. He knew he already loved the boy and couldn't imagine parting ways with him.

And then, there was that grain of anger in his heart. Anger towards Hermione for keeping this all from him. Anger towards Hermione for breaking his trust. Anger towards himself for…

For still loving her.

Because he still loved her, despite all of what she had done.

He realized that as he watched her fall after the gunshot. He came to Athens thinking he could never forgive her for the betrayal she had committed. He went in thinking that once she had answered all of his questions, he would finally stop.

Stop thinking about her.

Stop dreaming about her.

Stop loving her.

But then she just had to go and put herself in harm's way. She just had to go and save him.

And as he watched her fall and saw the blood pouring from her side, Harry realized that he couldn't stop. When he saw her fall, his heart dropped. His whole world fell into disarray. His universe shattered after seeing her so broken and that was when he realized he still cared so much. He still and would always love her.

And that really angered him, because loving her hurt.


The following morning, Hermione woke up to Madam Pomfrey tending to her wound. The mediwitch was redressing her bandaged side and immediately offered her a potion when she saw Hermione blink awake.

As Hermione drank the bitter liquid, Madam Pomfrey answered her silent question. "Your son dropped by this morning, Ms. Granger," the mediwitch said with a raised eyebrow. "He's in class now but he told me he will be visiting you over lunch."

"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey," Hermione said softly.

The witch eyed her critically and Hermione felt herself shrink under the healer's gaze. Madam Pomfrey opened her mouth only to close it again. Finally, she smiled gently and said, "And welcome back, Ms. Granger. It's good to see you again." Without waiting for Hermione's reply, she turned around and left the bedside leaving the younger witch in deep thought.

Not soon after Madam Pomfrey left her did a knock sound at the door. Hermione told her visitor to come in expecting to see Professor McGonagall or Professor Dumbledore. Instead, one of the men who helped rescue her came into the room.

"Remus," Hermione said in greeting with a shocked but pleased smile. Her previous Defence Against the Dark Arts professor returned her smile and closed the door behind him. He was carrying a stack of books in his hands which he carefully laid on Hermione's bedside table.

"Hermione," Remus said warmly. "How are you doing? Are you feeling better?" He asked, as he sat on the chair next to her bed.

She nodded her head. "The wound still hurts but not as much as before. Madame Pomfrey has been taking great care of me."

"I see that she is," Remus commented, nodding towards Hermione's comfortable perch on the bed as she sat surrounded by pillows. "I'm truly glad that you're recovering well but why I came this morning is to ask you about what happened."

"Of course," Hermione replied with a nod. She wasn't daft; she knew what he came to see her for. He was an Auror after all and she had valuable information that he needed to hear.

"Before we begin, I have something which belongs to you," Remus said. He reached into the inside of his coat and pulled out a slender piece of wood. He held the wand delicately in between his fingers before handing it to her.

"Thank you," Hermione said, wide-eyed. She grasped her wand and clutched it in her palm. It's funny how she felt so much stronger and more secure with it in her hand when she had spent years without even looking at it.

Remus sat back on his chair and looked at the witch on the bed. Momentarily, Remus remembered the last time he had seen Ms. Granger. It was in this very castle, during the feast held at the Great Hall after Voldemort's defeat. He remembered telling Tonks, who was holding onto a squirming Teddy, that it made such a great sight seeing the three friends - Harry, Ron, and Hermione - together and laughing again. Remus had no idea that the very next day he would be searching the whole castle since Hermione Jane Granger had disappeared.

"Hermione," he began softly. "Can you please tell me what happened after you… left eleven years ago?"

Her eyes held his own as she answered. "This may surprise you but… I went to London. I had money with me - I had always been good at saving money - but I had nobody else. I was able to rent a flat and pretended that I was still a student going to a nearby university. The Muggles ignored me for the most part, and I was able to live on my own," she began. "I took the next few months to just clear my head. And after I… I gave birth… I started working at a bookstore. The owner was an old woman named Tessa," here, Hermione smiled, "and she loved taking care of James. She was smart as a whip too. Her bookstore was her retirement dream," Hermione explained, seeing Remus nodding along. "Tessa was a historian and a researcher. I saw so many people go into her bookstore to commission her for work. She noticed I was interested, so she asked me to help out. It started off as just small research projects, but soon I was doing more research work for her than working at the bookstore." Hermione's eyes started to tear up. "She passed away four years later. Heart attack."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Remus said softly.

Hermione gave him a teary smile. "She lived a good life. And she helped me so much with mine. We were like family."

"So you worked as a researcher, then?" The Auror asked, continuing his questions.

Hermione nodded. "She gave my information to her clients and when she passed… they came to me, instead," she answered.

"And what about James?" Remus asked, quietly. He watched as Hermione's eyes brightened and she turned wistful.

"He was a happy child. He made friends so easily. He loved to play football and his computer games, but he loved going to school too. He is the kindest and best person I know," Hermione said about her son. Her voice quivered a little bit when she said, "He… he didn't show any signs of magic until he was 10."

Remus nodded his head understanding. "How did you get into contact with Demetre Demos?" He asked next.

Hermione told the Auror that Demos contacted her for a project his museum was undertaking. She explained that it wasn't unusual for her to work with museums and libraries, so she had no problem believing the museum director. Besides, he had piqued her interest by telling her what the project was about.

"The origins of mythical objects? That seems like a very difficult task, Ms. Granger," Remus commented, after Hermione told him what Demos asked of her.

"It was, but I thought it interesting and challenging. There's always a beginning somewhere, one just has to look for it," she said.

"Fair enough," Remus replied. "So what happened when you started working for him?"

Hermione described the lucky discovery she made about the exhibit in Toronto. She said that she was going to meet Mr. Demos in person for an update, so she thought it best that she tell him about Toronto during that meeting. Hermione told the Auror what she saw and what she heard during her visit to the museum.

"He never gave any indication that he knew I was a witch, and I never questioned him to be a wizard. But when I saw and heard that conversation inside his office, I knew he was hiding something and he could not be trusted. The wizard who came to see Demos was called Christanti," Hermione told Remus, and watched the man write down the name. "I had to pretend I saw nothing when I met with him. And it was different this time. He was so impatient and so insistent. It seemed that Christanti really shook him up. He kept asking about the caduceus and I… kept quiet about my discovery," Hermione said.

"I flew to Toronto soon after I landed back home in London. I saw the staff that was described in the catalogue and it was… enchanted. I felt its magic the moment I spotted it. I wanted to study it further so I took the staff and transfigured something else to keep its place," she admitted.

Remus' eyebrows rose at her words. "What happened after that? Did you find out what it does? Where is the staff now?"

"I took it back to London, and I studied it. I kept the staff with me all the time… I transfigured it, you see," Hermione explained.

"You've transfigured it?" He repeated the question. "Where is it? Can I see it?"

Hermione held out her wrist and showed Remus the silver chain bracelet she wore. She unclasped the jewelry with her other hand and placed the bracelet on top of her lap. After grabbing her wand, Hermione waved the wood in complicated movements and mumbled a modified Finite charm under her breath.

Remus watched, wide-eyed, as the delicate chain was transformed back into its original form because of the spell. The chain glowed and then it expanded to be a little longer than the wand Hermione was currently holding. The silver chain turned to wood and it thickened to a wider girth. Indentations formed on the surface and Remus noted it looked like two vines were winding themselves up the column. A single wing the size of Hermione's hand sprouted from the end.

"This is the staff?" Remus asked, as Hermione carefully handed him the wooden object. He held it carefully in his hands for it felt so delicate in his touch. He looked at it in awe, turning the staff over and over in his palms as if expecting it to do something. He handed it back to Hermione when it didn't perform in his hands. "What does it do?"

Hermione gently placed the object on her lap. "I think it has healing properties," Hermione responded. Remus looked at her inquisitively and she explained further. "Well, it's only a guess, but the mythical object of Hermes' caduceus which was fashioned after this one had healing properties. I'll… I'll need to do more research."

Remus nodded, noting that Hermione was taking on the task. Deciding to shelf that for later, Remus asked, "What do you know about Demetre Demos? Why does he want the staff?"

At this, Hermione frowned. Still she felt like such a fool for not realizing Demos was a wizard. She was utterly blindsighted by his deception and felt like an idiot for letting herself get caught in his web. "I… I don't know," Hermione said, though she hated saying it. "I did my research of him before taking on the job, but that only told me that he was a museum director. His post in the museum was legitimate and I never questioned his personal life. The man in his office whom I saw said that they were looking for it. And it seemed like he had a lot of men working for him too. They were able to figure out that I went to Toronto shortly before the exhibit moved to New York where they tried to get the staff. He was meant to retrieve the staff for someone else. But who?"

Remus grimaced. "That's what we're trying to suss out," he said. "How do you think he found out about the staff when you didn't tell him anything?"

She bit her lip in thought and shrugged again. "It's not unusual to have more than one researcher on a project. I reckon he might have gotten help when I… when I wouldn't tell him anything. I gave him updates on my progress until the very end, unfortunately - it was just part of the process with my clients. He could have used that and handed it off to another researcher."

The Auror nodded in understanding and looked at the staff on her lap. "I'll need to take the caduceus with me, Ms. Granger," he said softly "It needs to be protected. You need to be protected."

Hermione frowned. "It's safest here, at Hogwarts," she said. "Where it will remain transfigured into a simple bracelet that no one will care about." She grabbed her wand and muttered the spell with such precision and ease. Remus watched as the wooden rod shrunk in size and transformed into a silver chain. He was almost surprised at how easily she did the incantation but caught himself. This was Hermione Granger, after all. She was still her same brilliant self even after years of not using magic.

A knock sounded on the door making Hermione and Remus look towards the entrance. The wooden door to her private room in the hospital wing swung open and James' head peeked inside.

"Good afternoon, mum, Mr. Lupin! I hope I'm not interrupting?" James asked with a smile.

Remus smiled softly and stood from his seat. "Not at all, Mr. Watson. We're just finishing up here," he said.

James nodded his head. "I'll wait outside then!" The boy pulled the door close and disappeared from sight.

Remus turned back to Hermione and looked at his old student. Her eyes had brightened significantly at the sight of James and Remus felt himself empathizing with the younger witch. He had come to know bits and pieces of the story after these past few days. He didn't know the whole story, he was certain about that, but he knew enough to feel the pain in his chest when he looked at the members of this small, broken family.

"He's a great boy, Ms. Granger," Remus commented. Hermione looked at him inquisitively and Remus smiled. "I've gotten many letters from Teddy about his new best friend."

Hermion's lips curved. "I'm glad he's made friends so quickly. I was worried about that, you know. This is all so new to him," she mused.

"It's obvious that you've raised him well," Remus said. Hermione blushed at his praise. "He's very mature for his age… and understanding."

Hermione nodded her head in agreement. She knew her son was all of Remus' praises and more. James was one of a kind and for the longest time, the only light she had in her life.

"You can keep the staff with you for now, Ms. Granger," Remus said. Hermione was surprised at his simple, albeit seemingly temporary, acquiescence. "But please do not leave the castle with or without it. I don't suppose you can, anyway, at least for a while. Madam Pomfrey insists you not be moved from Hogwarts until you are fully healed. I will need to discuss with my commander what we are to do with the staff and of your safety." He faltered a bit at the mention of his commander and Hermione knew who he was talking about. There was another pang in her heart and she looked at the silver chain on her lap to avoid the werewolf's knowing eyes. "We have Demos in custody, but he hasn't said anything so far. Not why he wanted the staff or who he was going to give it to. Which is why you need to stay here. Whoever it was he was working for knows about you. We cannot risk your safety and I'm afraid you can't go back to your home until this is all sorted."

She sighed but agreed. She was careless before but she wouldn't be careless now.

"I understand, Remus," she said softly.

Remus gave a resolute nod and walked towards the door. "Please take care of yourself, Ms. Granger. I will see you later once I have an update." And with that, the Auror walked out of the door.

He was momentarily taken aback at the sight which greeted him when he entered the main room of the infirmary. James wasn't alone in his waiting. The boy was sitting on a wooden bench lining one of the stone walls talking to the man Remus had wanted to see immediately. But his countenance was so different from when Remus last saw him. Harry Potter was smiling softly as he listened to his son.

Harry's anguished face when he saw the photo on top of James' bedside table in London would haunt him forever, Remus knew. The werewolf had never seen Harry Potter look so broken and lost before. His commander's countenance during the museum raid was telling as well. He was so angry and went into the fight with his wand blazing not caring about the casualties he left behind. This was so very unlike Harry as an Auror. He never let his emotions rule him during his missions but that was precisely what he did in Athens.

Harry's parting words outside of the hospital wing the morning after Hermione's rescue just two days ago was a command to Remus to get to the bottom of it. His green eyes were so very angry and he admitted that he was of no mind to question the museum director they held in custody for fear of not being able to control himself. His commander then excused himself and said he'll be spending the next day getting his affairs in order.

He assumed Harry was talking to the Head Auror and Dumbledore since his priorities had shifted. If one thing was clear to Remus, it was that Harry Potter wanted to absolutely destroy whoever was the guiding hand controlling the puppet that was Demos. They were responsible for hurting Hermione Granger and for that, they would pay.

"Harry," he voiced in surprise. Harry and James stopped conversing and looked at him. The older wizard was struck at how they looked so much alike.

Father and son, indeed.

"Remus," Harry greeted. He stood from his seat beside James and approached his second-in-command. "I want to hear your updates later," the commander continued. "I've already spoken to Wincheseter and Dumbledore. I'm… I'm going to focus on this case. Dumbledore will find a temporary replacement for the Defence post. I want this resolved as soon as possible, and I need to work on it." There was anguish in his voice.

Remus understood and he nodded. "Of course," he replied. "I'll brief the team. Will you be joining us at HQ later?"

"As soon as Dumbledore finds a substitute professor," Harry confirmed. "Which should be within a couple of days, from what he's said."

"Good," Remus said. "I'm heading back then and will floo you later this evening. I'll send the patronus if there's anything urgent. Take care of yourself, Harry," he said it earnestly while looking into the younger wizard's eyes. Harry gave a sharp nod. Remus turned to James and smiled at the boy. "And see you later, Mr. Watson."

"Good bye, Mr. Lupin," James said with a wave. With another nod, Remus strode out of the infirmary without looking back.

As he walked towards Hogwarts' gates so he could apparate away, Remus sent a silent prayer to all of the gods out there. He couldn't help but feel as though he had narrowly missed a storm brewing inside the hospital wing. He could only hope that it wouldn't be so catastrophic and everyone would survive it with their hearts intact.


Hermione stared at the door through which her old professor left. There were worry lines on her forehead as she digested what he told her.

She would have to stay at Hogwarts for the time being until it was safe for her to go back home. Which, from the sound of it, wouldn't be until they had closed the case. She itched to help them as much as she could and made a resolution that the next time she saw Remus, she would offer her help. The least she could do was continue what she was doing before which was researching about the staff. Perhaps if she could figure out all of its properties they would be led closer to whomever wanted to use it.

Before she could dwell on it further, another knock sounded on her door. She voiced a soft "Come in" and the door opened to reveal her son. Her troubles melted away when she saw his smile.

"Hi mum," James greeted. He left the door ajar and walked to her bedside. He gave her a sweet kiss on the cheek and sat on the seat Remus occupied. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm better," Hermione answered truthfully. Her wound still stung when she moved too much but she felt better after she woke up today. Her hand reached to stroke his hair. She wasn't surprised when she woke up alone that morning to find the healer fussing over her and James gone. Madam Pomfrey had told her that she sent James back to the common room the previous night but that did leave Hermione wondering how her son was fairing. They had a difficult conversation the previous night, full of tears and truths, and she needed to make sure he was okay. "And you? How are you feeling, baby?"

"I'm alright," James said. He held onto Hermione's hand and saw the bracelet on her lap. He took hold of it carefully and clipped the silver chain around her wrist. He bit her lip and looked at his mum. "I... ran into dad on my way back to the common room last night. We talked."

She didn't expect to hear that and her head jerked to look at James.

"You… you did?" Hermione asked in disbelief, shocked to hear the word "dad" from her son's lips.

James nodded, his mouth curving into a smile. He recalled the conversation they had last night and that morning too. True to his word, Professor Potter - his dad - was waiting for him outside of Gryffindor common room before breakfast that morning. They walked the Quidditch pitch and just… talked. They stayed far away from the subject of his mum, but James did tell his dad stories about his childhood. He told him about his Muggle school, his friends, the different countries he's had the pleasure of visiting over their holidays, and his football league. His dad asked questions and James answered every one of them eagerly. His favourite food, his hobbies, how he felt about Hogwarts and learning about magic... He knew his dad only wanted to get to know him better and James was willing to help as much as he could.

"Yes, and we talked this morning too before class. In fact, he's right outside-"

But James trailed off when the door creaked open and the subject of their conversation entered the room. Hermione tore her eyes away from her son and looked towards the entrance. The breath left her lungs when she caught sight of him.

He stood tall in the doorway, filling the gap with his wide shoulders and his imposing figure. His stance was tense as if expecting her to leap from her bed and try to run past him. But Hermione knew that there was no more running, no more hiding. One look at him and she knew that the dreaded conversation couldn't be avoided anymore.

He stood there unflinching, his face a mask of indifference. He looked the same yet so different. His hair was still that same, messy mop of black tendrils which fell over his forehead hiding the faded lightning bolt scar. His strong jaw was tensed, his mouth in a straight line. She remembered how years before she had the pleasure of seeing those lips curve into a smile because of her. But not now… and perhaps never again. She had lost that privilege.

Because as she held his gaze with her own, she saw everything and felt everything. His pained and angry eyes bore into her soul, locked here in place, and gripped her heart. The magnitude of everything she had done came crashing down on her at that moment.

"Dad!" James said excitedly, unaware of the silent but heavy moment which passed between his parents.

Hermione watched when Harry tore his eyes away from her and looked at their son. Immediately he softened. His lips gave the smallest twitch upwards. He relaxed. He hesitated for a moment before his hand released the handle of the door. He stepped further into the room, closed the wooden door behind him, and walked to where James was sitting down. He stood behind James' chair and laid his hand on the boy's shoulder.

The image was something Hermione knew she would never forget. James was looking up towards his father, his face shining brightly, happily. Harry was looking at James too with the smallest smile on his face. The picture of the father and son clenched her heart in a vice-like grip and she almost couldn't breathe.

How could she be so foolish to keep them apart?

How could she have ever thought it was a good idea to leave?

The pure and unadulterated happiness on James' face was yet another reminder of how she had failed him by keeping his father away. He was so happy - the happiest Hermione had ever seen - as he looked at his father.

How could she have denied him this happiness for so long?

Her gaze shifted from James to look at the man standing behind him. There was wonder in his green eyes as he looked at the boy. There was warmth too, and love. So much love.

"Dad told me all about what he does for work," James said, continuing from where he left off, his gaze looking towards his mother. Hermione focused on him again while consciously aware of the eyes now boring into her skull. "I think I'd like to be an Auror when I grow up… or a Quidditch player. Mum, do you think you can watch my next Quidditch game? Will you still be here in two weeks? Are you going to go back home? Is it safe to go back home?!"

James almost yelled the last question, aghast at the idea that his mum would go back to their home unprotected. His barrage of questions was stopped by the hand squeezing his shoulder.

"Your mum is going to stay in the castle until we get to the bottom of this, James," Harry said soothingly. His voice sounded husky in Hermione's ears. "My team is doing its very best to find out who wanted to hurt her and why. At the very least, she will not be leaving Hogwarts without a guard." Hermione almost flinched at the authority in his voice but didn't question his words.

She saw the frown on the boy's lips and she reached across to grip his hand. "I'll be safe, baby," Hermione said gently. "There's nothing you have to worry about anymore. The Aurors and... ," she cleared her throat, "and your dad will figure this out soon enough."

James nodded, appeased. He filled the silence between them for the next few minutes as he told his mum about his classes and his assignments. It gave her a sense of familiarity since this would usually happen back in London once James came home from school. Over tea, they spoke about their day as James would enthusiastically recount what he learned or what he had done that day.

The only difference was the other person in the room. Hermione's eyes flicked towards Harry's face. Hesitantly she looked at him, afraid of being caught staring. But he was no longer looking at her and had his full attention directed at James. He listened intently and eagerly to the little boy and it warmed her heart.

She was staring too long, though, since his eyes lifted and met hers. In a flash, his smile was gone. He was stiff again, and cold, hard. Ashamed, she looked elsewhere.

"-oh, I should go to class," James said, looking towards the clock on the wall. The lunch period was ending and afternoon classes were starting soon. He stood from the chair and leaned to kiss Hermione's cheek. "I'll see you later, mum," he said with a smile. Then Hermione watched when James turned around and so easily wrapped his arms around Harry's waist. "I'll see you later, dad," he chirped. He grabbed his book bag which he dropped next to his chair when he entered, waved at his parents goodbye, and left without so much as another look back.

The sound of the wooden door closing punctuated the fact that they were alone. After eleven years they were finally in front of each other. Hermione didn't know what to do. She wanted to leave, she wanted to stay, she wanted to scream, she wanted to hide. She wished the bed would open up and swallow her whole. She could feel the shallowness of her breath, could feel the tears rising to the surface again, as she stared resolutely at her clenched fists.

"It's good that you're feeling better," she heard him whisper. His voice was soft but gruff. She raised her head and saw him looking at her. His eyes were an intense, dark green. He stood as still as a statue, his whole body tensed and motionless.

"Thank you," Hermione replied with difficulty.

The silence which followed her expression of gratitude was deafening. She lowered her eyes again and looked at her lap, at her hands, at anywhere but the man in the room. When her eyes left his face, Harry felt his unfeeling demeanor deteriorating away. He crumbled from the inside out as the emotions which he had tamped down when James was in the room returned in full force.

"How could you do it?"

He voiced the question softly, painfully. The tears pooled at the corners of Hermione's eyes as she bit her bottom lip so hard that it drew blood. Her shoulders quaked as she tried to keep the sob inside.

"How could you just leave?"

Another question whispered with such anguish reached her ears. The tears fell and Hermione finally looked up. The sob left her lips when she saw Harry standing beside her bed, his knuckles white as it remained wrapped around the chair's back, his head bowed. His hair hid his face but she saw the droplets fall from behind them. He raised his face and she saw that he was crying. Tears fell from those green eyes and every droplet was like a stab in her heart.

"You didn't tell me you were pregnant," Harry whispered incredulously and angrily. His face was scrunched up in a fierce frown as if he didn't - couldn't - believe the words which left his lips. "You just left."

She didn't know what to say because she was asking herself those same questions.

How could she do it?

How?

"Damn it, Hermione, answer me!" He erupted angrily. His eyes were ablaze with fury and intense anger. He had never yelled at her before and it shook her to her core.

"I'm sorry!" She gasped, her whole body shaking as she wept. "I'm sorry. I didn't know… I shouldn't have…"

Her brown curls tumbled forward framing her face as she bowed her head and cried.

He felt the anger control him and he couldn't stop the words as they came out. "You left without telling me we had a child. I have a son I didn't even know about," he cried in anguish. Harry felt his breath come out in gasps but he persisted. "You… you made a decision that wasn't your decision to make alone, Hermione. How could you just leave?"

"Because you didn't want me!" She gasped, her head jerking upwards and looking at him in the eyes. Her proclamation shocked him and he felt confused and disoriented.

"What could you possibly know about what I wanted?" He whispered dangerously.

Hermione held his gaze as she told him what broke her heart all those years ago. "I was going to tell you, Harry. After the battle," she said softly. She flinched when he narrowed his eyes. "But I saw you kissing Ginny and I just… I couldn't do it," she admitted brokenly. "Your whole life you had obligations to fulfill. I didn't want this to be another one of them."

It was good that he was holding onto the chair because Harry felt like he was going to collapse. Him? Kissing Ginny? He tried to wrack his brain for that moment and saw it vaguely in his mind. It was in the Quidditch pitch and they were walking together and talking about their future. Harry sensed Ginny wanted something more after the Defeat but he had come to tell her that they were probably best being friends. He hadn't told anyone else about what happened in the Forest of Dean with Hermione, but it had been on his mind for months and he felt himself falling deeper and deeper into his best friend.

And he and Ginny did kiss that day, but it was the redhead who initiated it. It was a parting gift, she said, before she walked away.

Fuck.

And the only reason he and Ginny even dated again was because he was so distraught about Hermione's disappearance that he found comfort in her.

Fuck.

But that relationship didn't last long either, since his thoughts were still so consumed with his best friend months after she had disappeared.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Harry felt his world spinning.

That stupid kiss was the catalyst.

"You should have talked to me," he voiced brokenly. "We could have spoken about it. I would have told you that…"

That it meant absolutely nothing because he was falling in love with her.

Fuck.

"I'm sorry," Hermione whimpered. "I didn't want to come in between you and Ginny-"

"There was no "Me and Ginny!"" Harry yelled, his voice hard. Hernione inhaled and stared at him, her eyes wide. He looked wild, frenzied. The whole mess was making sense in his mind and it made him so angry because it shouldn't have happened like this. "Damnit, Hermione, that kiss meant nothing. If you had spoken to me I would have told you that!"

Her lips were parted in a gasp as she struggled to find the words to say. "But I saw… and before the hunt you and her were…" she gulped. "Everyone expected you two to be together-"

"None of that mattered because I was falling in love with you!"

She gasped. She felt like someone had just punched her in the gut because every breath left her lungs as she stared at him with wide eyes. His words kept ringing in her ears and she couldn't quite make sense of them. Even Harry looked shocked at what he had just said but he continued with so much volition.

"If you had come to me I would have told you…" he whispered bitterly. "But instead you left. You took away my choice, my say. You just left me behind, Hermione."

She was speechless. Her mind was spinning and she felt like she was going to be sick. Her head hurt, her eyes hurt, her heart hurt.

He was falling in love with her.

Harry was falling in love with her.

"And I missed out on raising my son," he whispered desperately. "That's eleven years he and I would never get back."

It was eleven years she and him would never get back either.

"I don't think I could ever forgive you for this," he said sullenly. He brought a shaking hand up to his face to wipe away his tears. "I'm so angry at you that it physically hurts," he admitted.

Her sobs had quieted down but the tears continued to fall.

"But I won't let this get in between James and I. I already love him so much and I will be in his life," Harry said resolutely. Hermione felt herself nodding for she knew that, too. She had no wish to come in between father and son. Not anymore.

"But for you and I," he whispered, his voice deadly silent. Her defeated eyes looked towards him and saw all of the pain, and anger, and bitterness. "There is no more "you and I". You mean nothing to me, Hermione."

His words seized her. She felt breathless as she felt her heart breaking inside her chest. Her head bowed for she wasn't able to look at those angry eyes anymore.

She heard his footsteps as he walked around the bed and towards the door. She heard the door creak. She heard the rustle of his robes. She heard the door slam shut behind him as he walked out of her room and out of her life.

Her head remained bowed as she cried. She asked herself over and over again how she could have made such a big mistake.

Harry didn't love Ginny.

Harry loved her.

She felt foolish and pitiful and Hermione cried at the anger she felt towards herself. All those years of running and hiding and heartbreak and pain were all for nought because she was completely wrong.

She felt completely defeated for she knew he would never forgive her.

Hell, she didn't think she could forgive herself either.


Outside in the main hospital wing floor, Harry sagged against the stone wall. He brought his hand up to cover his face and breathed deeply. He knew his words hurt but that was the point, damnit! He wanted her to feel what he felt: unwanted and unloved.

If only it were true, because Harry knew that he had spoken a lie.

He didn't have to dig very deep to know that she still meant so much to him and that really pissed him off.

He stood tall after collecting himself. His eyes were still red but he wasn't shaking anymore. He breathed deeply and his face transformed into a mask of indifference. He walked out of the hospital wing and towards his office, smiling and greeting the students and other professors he passed by in the halls.

But inside, his heart was breaking after every step he took further and further away from her.


His afternoon classes went smoothly and Harry retreated to his chambers after popping into the kitchens for some food. He saw James briefly again but told his son that he had some business to attend to since he was expecting a floo call from Remus.

He knelt in front of the fireplace at the designated time and watched as the flames turned a jade green. Then, his deputy's face appeared in the flames.

Remus said his name in greeting and immediately told Harry what he learned from the interview with Hermione. Harry listened and nodded along, only stopping Remus to ask clarifying questions. After Remus finished his recount of the interview, he told Harry about the Gryphons' progress - or rather, lack thereof - in getting the truth from Demetre Demos. Apparently, the museum director was still not saying anything and the request to use Veritaserum had been escalated by the Head Auror himself all the way up to the Minister.

"Good," Harry said. "The approval for that should come tomorrow. Let me know once it's in and I'll make time to go to HQ to be there for the administration."

Remus nodded. "Will do. And Harry, there's one more thing."

His eyebrows raised. "What is it?" He asked.

Remus hesitated a bit before continuing. "Ms. Weasley is here demanding to speak to you. She wouldn't leave. She said it's important."

Harry's eyebrows furrowed at the mention of the witch. "What does she want?"

"She wouldn't tell me," Remus said. "She insists she has to speak to you."

"Bring her in," Harry commanded. He saw Remus nodding through the flames before he disappeared from sight. Harry waited a few moments before two faces appeared on the green fire.

One face was Remus', but the other was the face of his old friend. He found it difficult to look at her especially after the conversation he had with Hermione, but Harry knew it was no fault of Ginny's that this all happened. The redhead's face was filled with worry. Her strong eyebrows were scrunched on top of her eyes and her lips were set in a grim line.

"What's wrong, Ginny?" Harry asked.

"I received an owl at work today. I mean, I always do, but this owl was different. It was…" she struggled to find the words. "It was a scoop."

He knew what she meant. As assistant to the chief editor of the Daily Prophet, Ginny Weasley would receive mail, usually anonymous, containing scoops on new stories to be published. Some were whistleblowers spilling the truth about their companies while some were simple complaints or grand conspiracy theories. All of them had one goal in mind and that was for their story to be published. It was part of Ginny's job to fact check the scoops she had received and include them in the next publication if confirmed true.

Harry tried to understand where she was going with this for this was a daily occurrence at her job. "Alright, but what's the problem then?"

"Harry, I got a scoop about Hermione," Ginny whispered, her eyes wide. At her words, Harry's eyes looked towards Remus and the older wizard shook his head behind the witch. He hadn't told her anything for this case was top secret. Harry had asked Ron and Luna when they were at Hogwarts that they were to tell nobody about what happened either.

"What?" He whispered. "What was it, Ginny?"

The witch shuffled on her side of the fireplace and retrieved something from her pocket. She unfolded the piece of parchment and held it up to the fire.

The first thing Harry saw was the photograph stuck to the top middle of the parchment. Even through the green flames he knew that it was in black and white. It was a still image of him and Hermione in first year sitting by the Gryffindor fireplace.

Underneath the photo were cut out letters forming a simple phrase.

HERMIONE GRANGER IS ALIVE.

Harry's eyes hardened when below that sentence was another photo. It was James grinning proudly with his foot resting on top of a ball and a small medal pinned to his jersey. An older Hermione was standing behind him and smiling. They were on a football field.

More letters formed a sentence underneath that picture.

SHE IS THE MOTHER OF HARRY POTTER'S SON.

His eyes flashed dangerously. It seemed like Hermione's plan of hiding James away from whomever was orchestrating this had failed.

The last three lines chilled his bones.

SHE HAS SOMETHING THE MASTER WANTS.
WHAT'S MORE IMPORTANT?
HER SON OR THE STAFF?

And it seemed like they were trying to draw her out by exposing her and her secret to the whole world.

Harry growled and barked an order at Ginny to speak to nobody about this. She nodded frightenedly besides Remus. Then, Harry turned to Remus and told him to do anything to make Demos speak, protocols be damned.

When the fire turned red, Harry stood from his position.

He was seething in anger at the fuckers who did this.

How dare they threaten his son?

They would have to go through him if they wanted to hurt James or Hermione.

Immediately his plans shifted since there was no way he was going to leave them in the castle.

He needed to be there to ensure that they were safe and protected.

He didn't think he could survive it if he lost them again.


Author's Notes: This was a difficult chapter to write. Thank you to everyone who reached out asking if I was okay and for those who inquired about this story. It took so long because I couldn't quite put into words the very necessary confrontation. In the end, I wrote it how I thought it should be and I can honestly tell you that I feel so much lighter since that scene has finally passed. Thank you once again for your continued support and readership! ~Micca