Summary: Over ten years after Hogwarts, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny find that they can't escape from all their problems just yet. Loosly based on Oscar Wilde's "An Ideal Husband". RHr HG
Categories: Post-Hogwarts Characters: None
Warnings: None
Challenges: Series: None
Chapters: 20
Completed: Yes
Word count: 68512
Read: 66540
Published: 01/25/06
Updated: 07/13/07
I'm Stronger These Days by Liisa
Chapter 8 â“ Iâm Stronger These Days
âI survived the crash, survived the burn,
Survived the worst, yeah baby, but I learned.
Survived the lies, survived the blues.
Almost killed me, but I survived the truth.â
- âI Survived Youâ by Clay Akin
----
âSeven, right?â
Harry turned and smiled, reaching down to kiss his fiancĂ© quickly on the tip of her nose. âYeah, Iâll be there, alright? Iâve just got a few more files to go through. Weâre so close to finding this guy.â
Emily glanced down at the stacks of papers on Harryâs desk smartly. âYou sure you donât want help?â
âNah, youâre probably sick of this case.â He waved her away. âBesides, youâve got to get gorgeous for tonight. Weâre going somewhere special.â
Emilyâs eyes light up beautifully. âReally? Where?â
Harry winked at her. âSurprise.â
She pouted for a second before smiling at him and kissing his cheek. âAlright. But donât wear yourself out.â
Harry couldnât help but watch as she walked out of his office.
Turning back to his files, he examined the next suspect. This guy was going to be the death of him. After almost a year in the states trying to track down the group of the cult that was wrecking havoc on both British and American soil, they had finally gotten one fingerprint on one of the members.
But they werenât matching up to anything.
A half hour later the frustration caused him to throw his head back, blinking out the haze of boredom. He wasnât getting anywhere here.
He had half the mind to just drop it till Monday, but something about the fingerprints kept nagging in the back of his mind. He grabbed the muggle magnifying glass out of his drawer, once again, inspecting the carefully preserved index finger print.
There was nothing special about it.
He glanced up at the clock and saw that it was already 6:30. Finally giving up for the night he began routinely locking the files up with both a key and his wand (discreetly so the muggles walking by his office couldnât see).
Exactly a half hour later he was sitting in Emilyâs kitchen, waiting patiently as his date used a few more minutes up to get ready. The frustration from work must have shown on his face earlier because as soon as he entered, Emily had brought him into the kitchen and rewarded him with a box of half a dozen powdered doughnuts, an American favorite to Harry that Emily often teased him about. They had both sat down and munched on the doughnuts and some pumpkin juice for a few minutes before Emily left to go finish getting ready.
He drummed his fingers absentmindedly on the table, trying to think of something other than work. He hoped his reservations were still good if they turned up a half hour late. But even if they werenât, he and Emily didnât really need anything grand. Heck, heâs be content with a long walk through the park with her, just holding her hand and being near her all night.
He glanced at his watch that now read 7:30 and glanced around for his drink. Seeing it was empty, he reached for Emilyâs half full cup of pumpkin juice but stopped short before he picked it up.
Emilyâs fingers, coated with powder from the doughnuts, had left several white fingerprints around her cup.
He shook his head. No. That was just stupid. Impossible. He was thinking crazy.
He reached for the cup again and picked it up, bringing it towards his face.
But his eyes couldnât leave the white marks.
Suddenly he set the cup down on the table in front of him, his face ducking down to look right at one of the fingerprints.
He didnât even realize as his hand slipped, knocking the glass completely off the table and spilling the juice all down his nice suit.
Emily rushed into the room, her eyes wide. âAre you alright? What happened?â She rushed up to him, concern filling her features as she picked up the cup and began wiping the juice off of him in a motherly way. âI swear, that job is doing something to your head. Thank goodness itâs the weekend.â She finally stopped, looking into his eyes. âItâll be nice to spend some time together, huh?â
Harry forced himself to blink and smile, adding some sort of emotion into his voice. âYeah. Yeah, it will be.â
He had been staring at that fingerprint for almost two weeks straight now. He had it memorized completely, every curve, every dip, everyâŠmark. And as Emily took his hand and led him out the door, he couldnât get the image away of that fingerprint and the one on his fiancĂ©âs cup and how they matched completely.
----
Harry ran a hand through his ever-messy hair, willing the woman behind him to disappear.
Needless to say, she did not.
âWhat do you want, Emily?â he asked in a tired voice, not turning to look at her. It didnât matter anyway as she proceeded to walk around the couch, coming into view in front of him and taking the other armchair.
âDid you miss me?â she asked, her voice dripping with poisoned honey and her head cocked slightly to the side as she gazed at him.
Harry blinked once. âYouâre not serious, are you?â
She said nothing but continued to smile. Harry heaved a large sigh, standing up and starting to pace slowly around the room, not wanting to just sit there and watch her watch him. It was times like this he wished he smoked or drank or something. The silence was too unnerving and he wanted to do something with his hands.
He settled for leaning against the mantle over the fireplace, looking at the pictures he had displayed of friends and family.
He turned as he heard her start to chuckle behind him.
âOh, my dear Harry,â she said suddenly. âCan you think of no reason I would want to come see you?â
He heard a distinct *click* in his head and he worked hard to his the surprise from his face.
âYouâve come to sell me Ron Weasleyâs letter.â
It wasnât a question. There was no plausible reason that she would be there otherwise. Though he didnât have the foggiest idea what she wanted in return.
She seemed pleased with his answer and stood up quickly, walking a few steps forward to be in front of him. âOn condition of course. However did you guess?â
âWhatâs your price?â He turned away from her, leaning an elbow on the mantle and holding his head in his hand. Whatever she was going to say, it was probably going to give him a headache.
He heard her walk up to his side, no doubt looking at the pictures on the mantle, probably basking in the silence that was torturing him. Finally, she spoke.
âIâve arrived at a romantic stage,â she confessed. He turned his head so he could see as she slid a hand along the picture of Ron and Hermione on their wedding day. âTragic that it should capture us all, but there you have it.â She smiled and looked over to him. âSo, on the day that you marry me, I will give you Ron Weasleyâs letter.â
Harry had to blink three times and then remind himself to breath before he had time to process exactly what she had just said.
âAre you quite serious?â His voice was softer than he had wanted it to be, possibly because he was afraid that Emily needed to be carted off to the spell damage section of St. Mungoâs.
Her expression seemedâŠnostalgic. âWhen I saw you that night at the Weasleyâs party,â she began walking back to her chair, strutting slowly in a way that brought Harryâs eyes down to her hips involuntarily, âI knew you were the only man I had ever loved.â She turned back to him, her expression brightening as she saw where he had been looking. âThat is, if I ever loved anyone at all.â
âYou question the fact?â he asked smartly, leaning up off of the mantle and crossing his arms in front of his chest.
âDonât you?â
âTouchĂ©, madam,â Harry topped off his remark with a small salute and then went back to sit in his seat, realizing that this entire conversation was becoming ridiculous. âIâm afraid I would make you a very bad husband, Emily.â
âI donât really mind bad husbands,â she waxed lazily, walking closer to him, âIâve had one already.â
As she spoke, she had reached him, leaning down and practically sitting in the chair with him. She was wearing her old perfume that always seemed to intoxicate him. Memories flashed through his mind of the good times they had together.
âBesidesâŠâ she leaned down, whispering huskily in his ear. âI can make it veryâŠâ she lightly kissed his ear, ââŠworthâŠâ she kissed his neck, ââŠyour whileâŠâ
Before he could clear out the perfume and the hormones that were screaming around the room, she caught up his lips in a searing kiss, momentarily blinding him of whatever else was going on in the world.
He managed to pull away slightly, but the adrenaline was running high and she continued to lightly kiss his mouth and he couldnât find the strength to protest. The need for intimacy was so strong that even her pull, the pull of the woman who he swore to loath for eternity, enticed him to keep his hands on her waist, keeping her close.
âHarry,â she sighed as he kissed her neck, âyou loved me onceâŠâ
The fog was lifting, but he continued to lightly kiss her, his mind now running wildly as he thought of what exactly he was doing.
âYou asked me to be your wifeâŠdo it againâŠâ her voice was barely more than a whisper and he saw that she was undoubtedly caught up in the fog that had obscured his senses only moments ago.
He brought his mouth to hers and kissed her firmly.
âEmmy,â he whispered her name as they broke apart, putting a bit of distance between them. âI have to give you some advice.â
She looked quite twitter-pated and chuckled, her arms somehow wrapped around his neck now. âHarry, never give a girl something she canât wear in the evening.â
He sighed, his hands loosening from around her waist. Dear Merlin, what was he doing?
âYou canât do this, Emily,â he said softly, looking her right in the eye. âYou canât buy loveâŠand I donât think itâs in the power of either of us to give it right now.â
âYou underestimate yourself, Mr. Potter.â Her voice was low and husky. Apparently his sudden reluctance had no affect on her at all. âMe as well.â She leaned in as if to kiss him again, but he spoke before she could.
âGiving with no thought of reward? Isnât that what love is?â he leaned forward so their lips were centimeters apart, his hands now sliding into her cloak. âDoes either of us really know how to love?â
He kissed her gently, pulling back ever so slightly.
Her breath cascaded across his face and he could feel her head beating loudly.
âI did love youâŠâ she whispered.
He kept perfect eye contact with her as his hand found the pocket inside her robes and just as he was about to reach in, she jerked out of his grasp.
âNot that much,â she said quickly, still sitting in his lap, but turning away from him and reaching into her pocket to bring out the note that he was trying to grab.
Blimey, he had been so closeâŠ
But it wasnât just the regret of not being able to get Ronâs letter.
He leaned back, sighing wearily. âI must admit, I never thought you did.â She had never really loved him, then. It was both a relief and a shame. âBut, I thought it worth a try at least.â
She seemed a little ruffled at his attempt to seduce her (not a very good attempt, but an attempt nonetheless), and kept her back to him, sliding off his lap onto the couch right next to him. âI respect you all the more for the attempt,â she admitted, her voice strangely high pitched. âI take it you reject my offer?â
Harry stretched out and crossed his legs in front of him. âIâm afraid I must. Even as tempting as it seems, itâs really little more than blackmail.â
She turned her head slightly so he could see her profile. She smiled a tad. âTrue.â
----
It wasnât the first time that Ginny Weasley was annoyed with Harry Potter, though it was definitely the first time she was both annoyed, embarrassed, worried and ashamed all at the same time.
She tried to walk as she heard the knock on the front door, but she ended up sprinting and all the euphoria leaving her as she saw her sister-in-law standing there, practically in tears but doing a very good job of hiding it.
âGinny,â Hermione gave her a small smile. âErâŠHarry isnât here, is he?â
The annoyance crept back in and Ginny heaved a sigh. âNo.â
âOh dearâŠâ Hermione wrapped both her hands around her enlarged stomach, her eyes tearing over. Ginny immediately reached out, wrapping and arm around Hermioneâs shoulders and pulling her into the house.
âHermione? Gracious, whatâs wrong? Whereâs Ron?â
At those words Hermione positively burst out into tears, sobbing onto Ginnyâs shoulder as Ginny held her, confusion and empathy joining the tumult of emotions that swam through her mind as she led her distraught sister-in-law into her sitting room.
----
âWell I guess Iâll look for you at Saturdayâs game then,â Emily said as she gathered up her cloak and prepared to leave. She smiled up at Harry. âAt least Iâll have the opportunity to see your friend submit to my desires.â
Harryâs hands were now in his pocket, a curious eyebrow raised towards his ex-fiancĂ©. âI wouldnât be so sure about that.â
She straightened up, instantly curious and getting another devious gleam in her eye. âWe both know how much Ron values his team. Surely you donât expect him to give it up?â
âI look forward to him proving you wrong,â Harry stated truthfully. âIn fact, Iâd stake my shirt on it.â
The gleam was becoming bigger. Dear God, what did he just get himself into?
âYour shirt?â
Harry realized that this was Ron they were discussing, but the idea of one-upping Emily was so thrilling that he ran with it. âOf course. In fact, Iâd probably be wiling to stake my entire wardrobe on my friendâs honor.â
Emily paused, scrutinizing him. âWould you stake your liberty?â
Pause. âExcuse me?â
âAnother little gorgeous idea has just popped into my head,â she started to pace slightly as she spoke. âAnd as I think more about it, it is becoming quite a big idea.â
Harry hesitated momentarily. âGo onâŠâ
âIf, in fact, Mr. Weasley holds true to your word and does not allow the Cannonâs to loose on Saturday, I will give you the letter to dispose of as you please. But,â her eyes flashed at him, âif he does submit to my desires and backs down from the winâŠâ
âThen will I give you my hand in marriage?â Harry caught on. âTo dispose of as you please?â
âExactly!â She was happy again. A giddy happy like an evil tyrant is over his latest kill. âAs a betting man, you must see it has a certainâŠthrill to it?â
âA betting man?â
âYouâve gambled your life on several occasions, Harry.â She gave him a calculating look. âWhatâs one more time to save the honor of your best friend?â
The words startled him momentarily as she compared marriage to herself like death at that hands of Voldemort. Though, he had to admit, at the moment he couldnât seem much different between them either.
âPerhaps,â she said over his silence, âyou are now less confident of your friend?â
âNo,â he said suddenly. âI accept.â
âYou do?â She sounded surprised at his quick tone.
âI do.â
She burst out into short, girlish giggles. âOh, Harry. Isnât it strange how two such little words can quicken the heart?â
He did not reply, merely brushed past her and exited the room, instructing Dobby to show her out and quickly rushed up to his room, locking his door and collapsing on his bed as the reality of what he had just agreed to sunk in.
----
He had made himself put on an act, a display. If there was the slightest chance that she had anything to do with the cultâŠ
Harry shook his head, shaking the thoughts away. He found himself once again sitting in his office. It was only eight on a Saturday, the Saturday after the most uncomfortable date in his life, but he could not stay around Emily any longer.
It physically started hurting. Burning.
She wouldnât do it. She couldnât.
But thenâŠhow long had he known this girl? A year? Was that enough to truly know someone? The Marauders had known Peter for years and none of them had suspected his betrayal.
âBoss? Boss!â
His head snapped up. It was Arlene, his secretary.
âEmilyâs on the phone,â she said, sounding a little scared. âShe sounds mad.â
Not saying anything to Arlene, Harry picked up his phone. He didnât have to speak.
âDid I do something wrong?â Emilyâs voice definitely sounded mad, but it also sounded like she had been crying.
âEmmyâŠâ
âWe were supposed to spend today together, Harry! You were going to help me paint my room and teach me how to do a Wronski FeintâŠâ
âEmmyâŠâ
âAnd all I get when I wake up this morning is a note that says âSorry, had to go to work. â“Harryâ.â
She finally stopped, but Harry couldnât find words to say.
She sniffed and it sounded like she had started crying again. âYou didnât even write âLove, HarryââŠJust âHarryâ.â
He winced at that remark. âEmmy, I think youâre blowing this out of proportion.â
âAm I?â She challenged. âYour work is becoming more important to you than me, Harry.â
âThatâs not true!â He found himself arguing.
But the line was dead.
Fifteen minutes later he raced up the stairs of Emilyâs apartment building, not quite knowing why he was going to such lengths to do this for someone who might turn out to be a traitor, but he wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt. He needed to give her the benefit of the doubt.
Letting himself into her apartment, he searched the whole place but was unable to find her.
A frustrated groan emitted from his mouth before he decided to use this as an educational opportunity and pulled out his wand, muttering a tracking spell.
There were evidences of Emily all over her apartment, but he finally found the spot where she had apparated out and followed her trail.
He was surprised to not only appear right in front of Emily, but right in front of the man who was currently in lip lock with his fiancé; both of them pressed into a corner of an office on the same floor that Harry himself worked on.
The lovers tore apart and Emily looked shell-shocked to see him. The man (a guy Harry recognized as Michael, a muggle who worked in Emilyâs department) started shouting obscenities at Harry about appearing in mid air and seemed to think he was going crazy.
Harry paid the terrified muggle no mind. His gaze cut through Emily for several seconds, but she didnât move. Without a word to her, he apparated back to his own small apartment, his breath coming in shallow gasps as too many realities crashed down on him.
One: his fiancé was cheating on him with a muggle. Two: she lied about that, which meant she probably lied about more. Three: that meant his suspicions about her were most likely true.
Without really thinking, he apparated to his own office, but his frantic search was in vain as he could not find the suspectâs fingerprint files anywhere.
After a few hours of talking to various âbossesâ with no ability to convince any of them of Emilyâs guilt (they blamed it on his recent knowledge of her cheating on him which apparently many people knew about), he packed one suitcase and flew out on the next flight to England.
He never spoke another word to Emily until several years later when they ran into each other at a party in England.
----
A/N: A lot of you probably didn't like that chapter (it was a pain to write Harry with Emily), but it was necessary. sowy. Incase you're wondering about what the timeline is now, at this point of the story it's Monday night (the next post will start on Tuesday morning) and Ron's big game is on Saturday so we've still got a few posts till we find out what's going to happen! ah!
Thanks for reading! Please review!
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