Forced to Love by Nephthys Moon

Chapter 3 - Revelations

When Hermione arrived home, Ron was sitting on her doorstep. “I suppose you’ve heard, then?”

“You’re damn right I heard!” Ron bellowed. A light came on in an upstairs window across the street. Shushing him, Hermione pushed open the door and forced him inside. “I’m sorry,” he began. “I just can’t believe that Bulgarian bastard has the audacity to do this!” he complained. “It’s all your fault, you know,” he added petulantly.

Hermione froze in the act of removing her cloak. “My fault? Exactly how is it my fault?”

“If you hadn’t encouraged him years ago, he wouldn’t still be stuck on you: all those letters, the Yule Ball – bloody hell, Hermione, you snogged him!”

“Ronald Weasley, are you jealous?” Hermione giggled.

“No! I’m angry at you!” Ron denied. Seeing the knowing look on his girlfriend’s face, he admitted, “Well, maybe a little.”

“Then come upstairs with me, and I’ll prove that you have nothing to worry about.” Still giggling, she took Ron’s hand and led him to the bedroom.

The next morning, Hermione gave the still sleeping Ron a quick kiss and left for work. When she arrived, she nearly dropped her tea at the sight of Ginny sitting on her desk, a blue scroll in her hand.

“How did he find you?” she asked, foregoing a greeting. “It wasn’t Luna, was it?” Personally, Hermione had always thought Luna was a bit dotty, but she’d never suspected the girl would betray Ginny, one of her few friends.

“Of course it wasn’t Luna. In fact, it’s not even him.” Ginny looked distinctly uncomfortable as she passed the scroll to Hermione. Setting down her tea, she scanned the document.

“Smith?” she shouted, startled.

“Yeah, I’m a lucky girl, aren’t I?” Ginny muttered sarcastically.

“Oh, you poor thing. This is worse than…”

“Harry,” finished Ginny. An uncomfortable silence fell. While Hermione suspected that Ginny pitied Harry in his madness, she wasn’t to that point yet. She believed the young girl had every reason to fear Harry after that night and couldn’t imagine why she was sitting in the Ministry, clearly visible.

“Why did you come back?” she asked.

“I had to speak to my future husband, of course,” Ginny’s eyes twinkled.

“You didn’t!” a shocked Hermione whispered.

“I did,” Ginny confirmed. “Bat-bogey Hex. I haven’t used that in years. I was afraid I’d forget how, honestly, but it worked beautifully.” She chuckled at the memory.

“You strolled into the Magical Law Enforcement office and hexed an Auror?” Hermione shook her head in disbelief. “Why weren’t you arrested?”

“I was a bit worried I would, but apparently, that stupid git is just as unpopular now as he was at school. They all just cheered.”

“Only you could get away with that.” Hermione had always envied Ginny her brashness and courage, but there were times she couldn’t decide if those were the things that kept her out of trouble, or if it was her more obvious physical assets. In this case, Hermione guessed it was probably the latter, as the Minister had forbidden women from becoming Aurors nearly three years before. He’d said the community couldn’t watch anymore of its mothers die in battle. In an office full of men, good looks and large breasts will get you farther than bravado any day.

“They were a bit sorry to see me go,” Ginny grinned.

“Stop that!” Hermione chided. Ginny had learned Legilimency and it had become a habit for her to scan the thoughts of those around her. It irritated Hermione, for Ginny was one of the few people she allowed past her mental guard.

“Hopefully, now Smith will change his mind,” Ginny said smugly.

“If he doesn’t, you’ll have to marry him. You’ll be put in Azkaban if you don’t.”

“Then I’ll go to Azkaban,” Ginny said, shuddering. Faced with the decision to serve the Ministry or be destroyed for their revolt, the Dementors had resumed their post at the prison. Rumour had it that they were more vicious than ever.

“Someone else will Contract you, you do realize that, right? What will you do? Hex them all?” Hermione asked seriously.

“Maybe,” Ginny whispered. Before Hermione could comment, an owl flew into her office, deposited a blue scroll and flew back out. “That’ll be from my brother.” Ginny smirked.

Blushing furiously, Hermione opened the Contract. Her smile froze in place. “It’s from your brother, alright, but it isn’t from Ron.”

“But the only other one of my brothers who isn’t married is – no! Not Percy!” Ginny exclaimed.

“Percy,” Hermione confirmed, holding the scroll out to her friend.

***

Ginny wandered down Diagon Alley alone. After advising Hermione to curse Percy, she’d left the Ministry. Seeing Zacharias’ name on the Contract instead of Harry’s had made her realise she’d been silly all these years. Harry wasn’t coming after her. He hadn’t that night, nor had he attempted to since. It had been arrogant of her to assume he’d still want her. If Hermione was right, and she always was, Harry was so far into the bottle by now that he probably didn’t even remember her name. She’d wasted years of her life hiding away.

Well, it wasn’t a total waste, she realised. She’d learned quite a lot of things as a Dragon-Keeper, and she was sure it would help her get a job. She could probably work for the Ministry if she wanted to. Hermione would probably hire her, but she wasn’t sure that was the route she wanted to take. She’d been about to start her first year of teaching Care of Magical Creatures at Hogwarts when she fled, but she was certain that position had been filled.

She walked along, looking at the various flats advertised in that morning’s edition of the paper. Nothing really caught her fancy, so she decided that for the time being, she’d just go home. The cosy clutter of the Burrow sounded wonderful after three years in a barren castle.

***

Harry’s snores filled his darkened living room. A loud rap on the door startled him awake. He pulled his wand, walked to the door and pulled it open.

“Expelliarmus!”, he shouted, pointing his wand at the figure on the stoop. Percy’s form fell backwards. “Sorry,” he said, holding out his hand to the older man. Percy stood without assistance, rubbing his backside.

“Well, I was here to ask you a favour,” Percy began. Seeing the scowl on Harry’s face, he quickly, “Not for the Minister. It’s for me.”

The shreds of decency remaining in Harry forced him to open the door and allow Percy to enter his home. He closed it immediately. “What do you want, Percy?”

“Harry, I know you have – problems. I know there was a situation awhile back and you went to Azkaban. I know what you did. I’ve read all the reports, and I have to say that I feel sorry for you –“

“Well, don’t!” Harry interrupted.

“The point I am trying to make is that despite what you’ve done, I still think you are the best man to Contract Ginny.”

“You can’t possibly be serious.”

“Harry, please. Zacharias Smith submitted his Contract yesterday.”

“Percy, I’m not husband material,” Harry said darkly.

“Harry, you killed a dangerous criminal. Several, as a matter of fact. You can’t keep letting it ruin you life!” Percy exclaimed shortly.

“I killed an innocent man. He wasn’t a Death Eater. He assisted a suicide – he didn’t murder anyone. And I killed him. I’m a murderer. I should still be in Azkaban!”

“Harry, you were tried for the death of Severus Snape, by the full court of the Wizengamot – at your own request. You presented evidence against yourself. Despite Snape’s innocence in one murder – which was debatable even then – he was still guilty of countless others, not to mention treason and conspiracy to commit murder – your murder, Harry. And every single person in that courtroom was thankful you rid the community of him.”

“I don’t care what they thought. He wasn’t a murderer and I killed him. I didn’t kill Voldemort, but I killed Snape. And in case you’ve forgotten, I nearly killed Ginny. I can’t marry her!”

“Then you will get your wish. Anyone who doesn’t abide by the new law is to be sent to Azkaban until they are prepared to comply,” Percy informed him testily.

“You’re not serious?” Harry asked incredulously.

“The Minister felt it would impress upon the community the seriousness of the situation,” Percy added pompously. Harry decided he’d had about enough.

“I think it’s time you left,” he told Percy.

At the door, Percy turned. “Harry, if you ever loved my sister, please, Contract her. Smith will take pleasure in having her under his thumb. As an Auror, he’s considered above the law. No matter what he does to her, I can’t stop him. Just do it, and then she can go back to Romania, where she belongs.”

“Good-bye, Percy,” Harry said dismissively. Percy stepped through the doorway and disappeared. Harry picked up his discarded bottle and raised it to his lips. Disgusted with himself, he put the bottle down. Ginny, he thought.

Making a resolution, he sat down at his desk in the corner, took out parchment, ink and a quill. Hands shaking, he began to write a letter to the one person who might still help him. It was a difficult letter to write, but after crumbling six attempts, he finally felt he had the proper mix of humility and desperation. He sat back in his chair, trembling, and waited for Hedwig to return from her hunt.

***

Hermione arrived to a dark house. Ron must be at the Hog’s Head, she thought absently. She opened her front door and listened. There were sounds of a struggle from the kitchen, and she thought she heard Prongs swearing. She rushed to the back of the house and stared at the sight that met her eyes. Prongs was shouting obscenities at a beautiful snowy owl, which she was clearly trying to retrieve a letter from. The owl in question was refusing to relinquish the scroll and had perched out of reach on top of the mantle.

“Hedwig?” Hermione asked, confused. The owl hooted affirmatively and flew to the arm Hermione stretched out. She dismissed Prongs and rubbed the owl’s neck affectionately. Hedwig held out her leg. Hermione pulled the scroll off, and the bird nipped her playfully and flew up the chimney.

Opening the scroll, Hermione whispered, “Harry.” She quickly scanned the letter. When she reached the end, she reread it in disbelief, trying to ascertain that she’d understood it. She had. The letter fluttered to the table as Hermione collapsed into a chair.

Dear Hermione,

I’m sorry. I’ve wronged you – I’ve wronged all of my friends. But most of all, I wronged Ginny. I’m desperate and I need your help. Please come by as soon as you receive this. I’m begging you, in the name of friendship.

Harry

She sat at the table, staring at the letter. An hour later, Ron stumbled in, reeking of mead and supported by Ginny.

“Who’s that from?” he asked suspiciously. His words were a bit slurred. Ginny dropped him unceremoniously into the chair opposite Hermione and picked up the letter.

“Harry,” she whispered.

“Ginny, isn’t it about time you got over that piece of hippogriff droppings?” Ron looked up at his sister through slightly bleary eyes.

“I am – the letter, Ron. It’s from Harry,” she explained.

“Give me that!” Ron snatched the letter, straining to read it, he finally asked, “Hermione, what did he want?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t gone yet,” she murmured.

“You will go, though. Won’t you?” Ron sounded anxious.

“Of course. Harry was my best friend for eight years. I’m not going to abandon him now, when he obviously needs my help.” The superiority had returned to her voice.

“Don’t go,” Ginny whispered pleadingly.

“I have to. I’ll be back soon.” Hermione activated the Floo Network and stepped into the flames. A moment later, she was gone.

“Prongs will get Master and Miss a pot of tea. Mistress will come back, and she will want her tea,” the tiny elf said, entering the room and bustling towards the stove.

“Why didn’t you want her to go, Ginny?” Ron asked with uncharacteristic shrewdness.

“That’s a long story for another time,” she replied shortly.

“Ginny, I know he almost killed you, but he wasn’t right in his head at the time. He went to Azkaban for six months. I know why you left; you were scared of him. I’ve never blamed you for that – but this is more than that.”

“Damn you, Ron!” Ginny shouted. “Just leave it alone!”

“No,” he persisted. “There’s more to it than what I know. Something else made you run and Harry’s involved. You always did act a bit oddly around him. The Ginny I grew up with would never have run away.”

“Why?” she pled. “So you can confront him and get yourself killed? He’s not the same, Ron. You can’t help him.”

“What do you mean?” he asked slowly.

“You really want to know?” He nodded. “Fine. You know I was getting ready for my second year teaching Care of Magical Creatures. I was spending most of my time that summer over at Harry’s, working at the desk in the living room while he moralised over his firewhiskey. Well, sometimes, when I got there, things would be broken; lamps and glasses, things like that. If I asked about it, Harry would always mutter something about Snape and I would just nod and ignore it. I shouldn’t have. That night…” Ginny shuddered.

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