Paying the Debt

by Ydream08

Chapter 8

"At least you are not crying as well," Ron muttered, his hands going absentmindedly to grab a cupcake to stuff in his mouth. Next, he spoke with his mouth full, and for the life of her, Hermione couldn't decipher what he was saying.

It had been long since Hermione got out of Grimmauld Place. It was actually a miracle, she conceded. If it were not for Ginny's wedding today, Harry couldn't have convinced her out of the secure Black Library.

"Yeah?" Ron asked all of a sudden, having swallowed his bite. Hermione scrunched her face at him but the longer she looked, the easier it was for a warm smile to stretch her lips. Ron was as she remembered him. All those years back, before Lav-lav or even the Yule Ball. The same honest eyes, sheepish grin and eager stomach.

"Oh, Ronald." Hermione's giggle made his smile even the wider.

"What, Mione?" He shrugged. "You weren't listening, were you?"

Hermione shook her head, her eyes tiredly but fondly finding the wed couple.

Ginny wore beautiful white robes, slender and fluid, its tail sweeping the ground. Her hair was done up in a loose bun, decorated with pearls and glitters. She looked magnificent, even better in the arms of the groom, contently dancing to their song.

"I didn't know," Hermione murmured out of nowhere. "They look in love, though. Nott must have swept her off her feet."

It was Theodore Nott, their former classmate from Slytherin, who had said yes to a life forever with Ginny. His eyes never leaving hers as they swayed to the rhythm, and an everlasting smile that reflected in Ginny as well, declaring that what the two of them had was sincere and genuine.

"With all this rush and secrecy?" Ron retorted. "You bet."

The two best friends never commented on how Harry had been sulking at a corner since the start of the wedding. The reason why Ron and Hermione were conversing with each other actually- another miracle of today.

"I'm glad that Ginny is the happiest I've seen her." Perhaps Hermione shouldn't have said it, but she knew Ron was aware how she stared at Harry. She couldn't understand Harry; he had no reason to drown in misery. He had let Ginny go.

"She is truly in love, and put the past behind her," Ron commented, picking up Hermione's line of thought.

Hermione turned to Ron just when he downed the rest of his champagne. This was not a light conversation that suit to his liking, apparently.

"Why did Ginny invite us?" Hermione blurted out. Ron blushed instantly and avoided her eyes. The way he sighed was a clear indication he thought the question rather problematic to answer.

"Honestly? I think she is bloody nuts. In a way, she wanted to show him what he's lost, you know. She is over him and wants him to witness it, I think. Like I said, crazy, if you ask me. I mean, they had never been friends."

Hermione nodded, processing what Ron has just said.

"It's not the same thing as, say, I invite you to my wedding. You've been my best mate, shared seven years together. We were friends before everything else." At that Hermione rose her brows. She shrugged though. She could agree with that.

"You're right."

Hermione watched Ginny and Nott's dance after that. It was entrancing. The way he twirled her, pulled her close, smiled at her. He occasionally whispered to her ear, made her smile. He kissed her forehead, squeezed her hand and sighed in content. Ginny, too, had him close, never once straying her gaze from his. Always searching and finding what she looked for. Sometimes sliding her hand from his shoulder to his chest, making sure he's there. Strong and real. Her hand then traveled to his neck, her thumb stroking his cheek further up as she assured him with promises, Hermione could guess.

They promised each other the future.

In arms that were not confinement, but trust; in a gaze, that was not pressure, but support; in promises that were not lies, not hopes, but aims…

Hermione yearned to experience the same, she realized. All those feelings and expectations from life that she had forgotten- dismissed actually- upon the death of her parents resurfaced. She wanted it. To be loved.

Her attention from the couple was drawn, however, when she spotted from the corner of her eyes that a certain black-haired man had tried to get to his feet, accidently toppling over his own chair.

"He needs me," Hermione declared, sighing at the sight of her drunk friend. Love can wait. "Can you pass my congratulations to Ginny again? And tell her we had to-"

"Yeah, of course. Are you sure you don't want help?"

Hermione would have rathered Ron run to Harry and help him instead of her, but she was aware that this was an important day for him. It was his little sister's wedding, and frankly, Harry had no right to ruin it whatsoever.

"I've got it."

Of course, it was easier said than done. She helped Harry to his feet, draping his arm over her shoulders so that she could support his weight better with her own arm circling his torso. He was heavy and drunk. And sad.

"It's not fair," he mumbled to her ear. He sighed nonstop and had to stall before pronouncing every word as though he worked to imagine how they'd sound. "I'm happy for Ginny, really. But, you know, she never looked at me that way."

"Harry, Harry— just stay on your feet!" Hermione exclaimed as Harry let all of his weight on her.

When she gathered their footing, Harry looked straight into her eyes. "You never looked at me that way, too, Hermione. Look at me— no, not like that. I'm not dying, thank you very much."

"Harry—"

"Girls love scars, I have one, you know. Right-" -his fumbling hand found his forehead and he got his hair out of the way- "-here."

"Harry, we're going home."

"Oh? That was fast. Alright, lead the way." Harry gigled, his glasses sliding a bit on his nose. "I'm not going to play hard to get."

Harry winked at her. Harry bloody Potter, her long time best mate winked at her.

Hermione didn't wait a millisecond to Disapparate. It was either a sober-up potion, or a good night's sleep for Harry. She would have no protests.

"But, Hermione, the Quidditch match! It's gonna air in five— why don't you open the TV?"

That was his babbling when she was tucking him to bed. Hermione could understand his devastation. It was not for Ginny, in the end. He yearned for love just the same as her.

That's why Hermione didn't make a fuss when he got a hold of her wrist and whined for her not to leave him. She gave in when he tugged her into the bed and even offered his own blanket. It wasn't like they never fell asleep together, nearly every night when he came to console her, they spent the night together to chase away terrors.

Harry was her everything. Hermione couldn't imagine life without him. And it wasn't only because it was Harry who urged her to freely be whom she wished to be. She had always stood tall in face of ridicules and insults, but Harry had been the one to evidence her that constantly standing her ground wasn't for nothing. It was important. It was who you are, and there were those who appreciated you for your unwavering personality. You could appreciate yourself in the end even if you were exhausted physically or mentally because of your effort.

All those lessons Harry had taught her aside, it was the fact that he was her brother that sealed the deal for her. Her life would be as broken as without her parents if he were to be out of her life.

She brushed his hair out of his forehead and thought about all of these. She had put his glasses on the nightstand, so he would look at her with narrowed eyes if he ever did. He was really sleepy.

"I wouldn't know what to do without you," Hermione whispered. She was about to cuddle him and welcome sleep as she was exhausted herself, but Harry made the first move.

He pulled her close and touched his lips briefly to hers.

Hermione froze, but her mind repeated that it was alright. Her drunk friend was overly expressive at the moment and the kiss didn't mean anything. He would fall asleep now.

She could try and lie to herself only until Harry dipped again and this time didn't back away immediately. His lips were soft, Hermione noticed. But even that thought was alarming to her, just as how Harry darted his tongue to lick her bottom lip. She gasped, inadvertently giving him access to deepen the kiss.

The alarm bells in her mind finally kicked in and she firmly pushed him away. Her ears were buzzing as she threw the blanket off of her and herself out of the bed.

"Herm-"

Hermione twirled around at the sound of her name, but she was already a good five meters away from him.

She was not going back to bed with him, not tonight. Not for some time either.

"No, Harry. It didn't happen." Hermione was aware of her teary eyes and clogged nose. She felt gobsmacked, not sure how to proceed with this and suddenly feeling lonely more than ever.

Hermione fled the room, her mind berating herself, her luck and her parents for having left her by herself.

The uproar in her mind, as a result, made her miss Harry calling after her. When she couldn't hold it in any longer and sobbed on her way out, she had no chance of hearing Harry's whispered cursing.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN SHE MARRIED, RONALD WEASLEY?!"

Hermione stopped at her tracks at the screech. Perhaps it was not the best time to visit the Burrow. But she had so dearly wanted to confide in Ron. Something quite extraordinary if everything was to be considered, but it was not like she could go to Ginny.

"Mum, she is happy-"

"-She better be! Marrying without us knowing! I'll have a word with her-"

Her knocking was luckily heard and it was George to welcome her intrusion to their small argument.

Ron was swaying on his feet. He was lightheaded, obviously. Hermione could guess that was the reason why Molly Weasley was privy to the news of Ginny's wedding.

"Hermione, dear, is something wrong?"

She was already silently crying but Molly's motherly voice broke her vells. When the Weasley matron rushed to embrace the curly haired witch, forgetting about her drunk son and crazy daughter, George found it a chance to scurry away to his room, dragging Ron beside him.

Some time later, Hermione didn't know how she ended up sitting at the couch, crying on Bill Weasley instead of Molly. She remembered noticing the shift, and Molly whispering something about preparing tea, but Hermione had hardly cared that she was hugged by someone else.

Her hair was stroked, the arms around her torso never leaving and soothing consolation tirelessly given. It reminded her of her parents. It reminded her of her mum and dad. They are gone.

So she cried harder.

"Duck, look-up. Mum has brought some herbal tea. It will make you feel better," Bill said when her crying eventually morphed into quite whimpers.

Hermione sighed, trying to calm herself. She felt drained. Empty. She forced herself apart from his warmth, sniffling and wiping her face.

When he brought the tea nearly to her lips, Hermione had no choice but to accept.

"Drink." Bill ordered. "Here take a chocolate, too. Works wonders on me."

It was miracle of a change, really. Hermione was warmed up immediately, her throat feeling much better and her head clearing slightly. Then the chocolate? Well, summed up, it was pure bliss.

"Whatever that happened," Bill started again. She liked that he filled the silence, being distracted was the best for her at the moment. "It is certainly not worth crying yourself over. These are happy days, duck. War is over, we're safe, Ginny got married. Not to forget, tomorrow Rowle will be released as well."

Her head snapped in Bill's direction, her eyes wide and the chocolate frozen mid-way to her mouth, she sputtered. "T-thorfinn?"

"Yeah. Do you know him? He was in Slytherin. Third year when I graduated, but I'm not sure if you-"

"I was in fourth year when he graduated," Hermione provided. It was not the only reason she was acquaintanced with the man. It felt so long ago that they had come across at the Shell Cottage. She thought about him occasionally. She would cease her wondering when her dread for the former Slytherin turned into mourning. She hadn't known if he had survived.

This was the first time she had heard of him since the war, actually.

Bill continued, "He rescued me when Dolohov kidnapped me. You were newly recovering, so you might not remember. I owe my life to him."

Hermione knew that he and Fleur were expecting since before the Battle. She was in the last trimester.

"He is a good bloke, Hermione. Back at the Battle, he got my back even. We were separated, though. And with Fred…"

Bill closed his eyes for a moment and gulped. It could have been over half a year since the Battle of Hogwarts, but the wounds were still fresh.

"I lost sight of him. I didn't know he was sent to Azkaban, until recently. Had to help him, you know."

Hermione nodded. "What happened?"

"Six months of Azkaban and only last week he had his trial. I objected to his sentence, Wizengamot seat and everything. We had the retrial two days ago. Better sentence this time, and he was sent to St. Mungo's directly. Tomorrow he will be discharged and his official time will start."

"Which is…?" she pressed. What was with Weasleys and their lack of explanations? She was dying out of curiosity here!

"One year of house arrest, three years of being magic-bound, and for the following five years his wand will be monitored bimonthly."

Hermione released the breath she wasn't aware that she was holding. "That's great news."

"Yes. He will be free of all charges in five years, overall. So, as I told you, these are happy times."

Bill cocked his head, taking her chin in his hand and smiled for her to mimic. "Smile, duck. It will only get better."

Hermione didn't return to Grimmauld Place. The Burrow was welcoming, sure, but it didn't feel right to stay the night there either.

Her feet eventually dragged her to her childhood home. The one she exited a year and a half ago, having recently wiped her parents' memories.

It was quick to cast detection spells and a few others just in case stray Death Eaters or the like lurked in the shadows.

Afterwards she entered the dark, dust-smelling house. The eerie silence of the night put her on guard but her stranded nerves did little good for her to think clear. She didn't check the whole house- her spell had said it was empty.

What she did was to directly go the living room, lie down the couch and transfigure a cardigan into a blanket. She curled up there, and tried to fall asleep, with her usual protective wards already set in place.

The next morning came early. Hermione couldn't sleep when sun persistently shone on her. Not that she had a deep sleep during night, anyway.

Determined that she was not going back to Grimmauld Place in the near future, Hermione pushed all her grief and loss, buried them to the depths of her soul, so that she could go around her home and make it livable again.

It was quite. Really quite.

She didn't like listening to her own footsteps, or how static each room she left was. Opening the TV didn't help either. That's why when she was finished with her cleaning charms, and warding the house in a larger scale, she restocked her beaded bag and left the house.

She had a place to go today and somebody to visit.

Everywhere bloody ached. Not to mention, he had no power whatsoever to even open his eyes.

He wanted to sleep again. Sleep he would, if it were not for the dumbass that tirelessly chattered at his bedside.

"Warrington," Thorfinn forced himself to wheeze out. It was Cassius Warrington sitting at the chair by his bed. Talking about this or that. For Salazar's sake! "Shut up."

"Thor, mate, this is boring. You lying down all day."

"Could have stayed in France, then." Thorfinn groaned. He shouldn't be complaining that his old mate had come to help him with his discharge from the hospital, but he was making the whole process taxing on his nerves.

It was a ridiculous coincidence that Warrington's contract with his Quidditch team had ended after the summer season. He had played professional Quidditch after their graduation, scoring a place at the French National Team. Of course, he had waited out the aftermath of the war to quiet down before coming in town, but here he was finally. It was the first thing he had done to check on his old friends. Thorfinn had learned from him that another fellow mate from their year back at Hogwarts, Anthony Rickett, and the Hufflepuff's girlfriend from back then, Heidi Macavoy, were well and worried for Thorfinn also. The three males used to be tight mates, all years back.

It was their families that prevented Anthony or Cassius from getting involved in the war. They were the neutral bunch. Not to mention, both of his friends had been abroad while all hell broke loose.

Anthony, for example, had gone to Canada to further his education on potions. He was one of the rare Hufflepuffs who was not terrorized by Snape. He had even gotten himself a recommendation letter.

Warrington said they'd meet up once Thorfinn got better. Till then he and Anthony would take turns visiting him. Something that had made Thorfinn teary even though he had blamed the dust in the room when Warrington inquired.

"And leave you alone with your personal nurse?" His best mate's obnoxiousness brought Thorfinn to here and now.

Warrington and his over enthusiastic mind! Thorfinn was a barely recovered man, and it was only natural that a nurse was assigned to him so that he wouldn't die on his own during his house arrest.

"Want me to help you bleed internally, too? Perhaps you'd want a few broken ribs while I'm at it?" Thorfinn snickered, both former Slytherins enjoying their little bickering. "Nurse Bones would gladly heal the cut on your lips, or tear it in half. Her choice."

"Funny, mate."

Thorfinn had been sleeping through Nurse Bones' shifts the past two days, but apparently Warrington had been wide awake. He'd been ecstatic at the news that she would care for Thorfinn in the following week at the Rowle Castle.

"You feeling good to go?" Warrington asked sometime later. He had signed the papers for his discharge.

Thorfinn would rather they won't leave, but he had to return home. It wasn't easy to prepare himself for the blow in the stomach when he once again faced the fact that his house was completely empty.

No Eadric. No Dammy.

Just a big empty house.

"More or less," Thorfinn groaned. Returning home was becoming a much more harder of a task with each passing moment.

What was he going to do now? He felt unsurprisingly lost.

"I know that look, Rowle." Thorfinn looked up at Warrington. "Just take it one at a time."

What would he know about it? Thorfinn flared at the thought of Warrington's blissfully unburdened life. He had not fought in the war. He had not killed, starved, lost those who were dear to him. He felt no danger whatsoever, hanging above his neck like that of the giyotin.

Thorfinn gritted his teeth and tried to remain calm. Warrington would not understand. He simply wouldn't.

"Let's go," Thorfinn changed the subject instead.

He was put in a wheelchair, waiting for Warrington to deal with the last of the paperwork as they stood in the hallway that had the fireplaces at the far corner.

Thorfinn sighed when a thought occurred to him. He had shut the floo network of the Rowle Castle.

Only way in would be Apparating but he was in no shape for the trip. Side-Apparition included.

"We can't use the floo," Thorfinn informed Warrington. His friend looked sideways at him, his brows creased as if he read his mind. Warrington was always quick to come to conclusions. And he was most of the time right with them.

"Going there the Muggle way?"

At that the secretary behind the desk interfered with their conversation. Thorfinn was under arrest, after all. She had to inform the Ministry to arrange transportation and assign Aurors while they were at it.

"No, need. We can call a cab."

"That is not an option-"

The secretary's words died immediately at the sight of the speaker.

The witch looked better than he had last seen her, but it would have made no difference to Thorfinn. It was Granger. The same wild hair, the same jutted chin and a look at her face that challenged everything and everyone.

Those were among the few features that would never change about her. Just like his own smirk.

"Darling, came to take me away?" Thorfinn shot her way, all too smug that the witch was indeed involved in his small world. What were the chances that her path crossed with his?

"Oh, shut it." Granger rolled her eyes. "Warrington."

Her greeting of Warrington, though, had caught the two of them off guard. She knew him?

"Order of Merlin, First Class. Hermione Jean Granger," the witch introduced herself to the paled secretary. "I'll escort Mr. Rowle. Inform the Ministry all the same, tell them that I'm on top of this case."

Thorfinn couldn't help himself. "Are you? I'd rather enjoy that-"

Granger coughed to hush him, her cheeks slightly tinted pink.

Afterwards, the three of them exited St. Mungo's and called a cab. A silent drive to the Rowle Castle awaiting them.