19 Years (HP - Drarry)

Chapter 33: Halloween

He stood silently, content to watch her work. It was so familiar, seeing her like this, and he felt a pang of nostalgia.

She looked up before his thoughts turned maudlin, and frowned. "Hello, Harry. There's nothing new for you to sign. Didn't Ginny tell you? We're just waiting for things to get approved now, and - "

"I'm not here about Ginny, Hermione."

"Oh." She straightened, adjusting her glasses and then folding her hands on the surface of her desk. "All right. How can I help you, Harry? Is this personal, or professional?"

He hesitated. "Personal," he said finally.

She nodded and reached out to pick up the phone that was shoved precariously close to the edge of the desk. "Liv? I'm taking a break now, OK? Will you let Pansy know when she gets back? I should be back - " She stopped, covering the receiver, and looked at Harry. 'Half an hour?' she mouthed.

He hesitated again, and she nodded, uncovering the receiver. "I'll be back in an hour, Liv. Yes, I know we've reservations. Can you reschedule that for next week?" Harry opened his mouth to object, but she shook her head, sending her frizzy hair flying. "Right. Thanks, Liv. Yeah, tell Pansy I'll make it up to her tonight."

She grinned as she put the phone down, and Harry rolled his eyes, grimacing. "How did you get a muggle telephone to work here?" he asked curiously.

She gave him a sly wink. "It's not a muggle telephone. Not exactly. It's me and Pansy, Harry - what did you expect?"

He shuddered slightly, still not used to that unlikely partnership, no matter that they'd been together for nearly as long as he and... He felt himself slump back against the wall, mourning the loss of their relationship more than Ginny herself.

"Right. Come on, then." Hermione snatched her coat in one hand, snagged his arm with the other, and marched them out the door.

"Er. Where are we going?" He waved helplessly at an amused Liv as they passed her desk.

"Well, it seems the least you could do is buy me lunch, since I'll be missing my reservation."

"Er. Right. Of course."

Hermione grinned at him and tugged him down the street to a quiet little cafe. Once they were seated on the patio, at a quaint wrought-iron table, and the server had taken their order - soup and sandwiches and tea - she turned to him. "Right. Now, what is bothering you so much you interrupted me at work?"

Harry flinched. "I'm sorry, I - "

"No, no." She waved away his apology. "I don't mind - Blaise drags Pansy away for bitching sessions regularly. I just meant that you never have before." She fixed him with a penetrating stare, ticking her points off on slender fingers. "Your divorce is proceeding without any real trouble. Your family situation hasn't really changed. You don't have a job - you don't need a job. So... what is it? What do you need me for?"

He sighed, but it was as good an opening as any. "I've been having these dreams...

---

Hermione opened her eyes and sat back, biting her lip. "Well, it's definitely a memory. You're right about that. Trouble is, I can't tell you anything else. I think you've been obliviated, but it's incredibly delicate work - whoever did it had finesse and skill."

"But... how do you know? Can you undo it?" Harry looked at her hopefully, but she was already shaking her head.

"There's no test for this sort of thing, Harry. No cure. The only person who could restore your memories is the one who took them away in the first place." She leaned back in her chair, studying him. "Do you know who that might be?"