Second Chances

Hermione sat in the rocking chair by the Burrow’s fire, her vision blurred as she stared at the flames. She heard someone else moving around the room but didn’t look up. She had failed, she had not only failed herself but she’d failed Barty too.



A hand came to rest on her shoulder and she jumped looking up to find Ron standing above her. He smiled giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “How you feeling Hermy?”



“I told you never to call me Hermy, sounds too much like a talking car.” She said, smiling as he plonked himself down by her feet in classic Ron fashion, like a rock.



“Well ‘Mione is kind of Harry’s thing,” Ron said, missing the momentary change in her expression at his words. “I’m trying to find my own nickname for you.”



“’Mione isn’t just Harry’s thing Ron. You can call me it too.” She sighed lifting her feet to rest on his bent knees, “What am I going to do? Everyone thinks Barty is the same man who was deservingly thrown into Azkaban.”



“I don’t.” Ron said, drawing Hermione’s questioning look his way. “Well, he’s not such a bad bloke when you’ve lost a few games of poker to him. Guard duty can get a bit boring so me and Joe got playing cards with him. He’s alright. I don’t think he deserves you but then again I don’t think I’d say Merlin himself was good enough for you.”



“How is he Ron?” She asked, staring into the fire again.



“He’s holding up,” Ron replied, following her gaze, “Can tell he misses you like hell.”



“I miss him too.”



“That’s what gets me. You knew him how long exactly? Two weeks?” Ron asked, looking back to her.



“Yeah, doesn’t seem very long does it?” She sighed, lacing her fingers together, “Do you trust me Ron?”



“You know I trust you with my life.”



“Well then trust me when I say that was plenty of time.” She looked around, “Where did everyone go?”



“Dad took mum and Ginny out for the evening, thought they’d give you some time alone after your meeting with Fudge.” Ron rested a hand on her knee, “How did that go?”



“As well as could be expected, I had nothing solidly logical to tell him. Nothing that could stand in court so it turned into me ripping guts out for the old codgers amusement.”



“I resent that remark,” a voice from the doorway said. Hermione’s eyes shot up to meet the smiling face of Fudge. She jumped to her feet as did Ron. “Sorry to just barge in like this, unannounced but I felt sending an owl would be so impersonal.”



“Minister, I…” Hermione’s face burned and with a glance she could see Ron’s was too.



“I’ll forget that you just referred to me as an old codger, you aren’t the first and I sorely doubt you’ll be the last. May I take a seat?” He asked.



“Yes, please do.” Hermione said sitting back down a little fast. “What exactly are you doing here Minister?”



“I have considered what you said to me today Miss Granger. You certainly know how to give a heart felt speech, it took a lot of guts to confront me with such raw honesty.” He pulled a rolled scroll from inside his robes and passed it to her, “I believe everything is explained in there.”



Hermione unrolled the scroll and read aloud, “I, Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic do hereby grant Bartimous Crouch Jnr a full pardon. This certifies his status as a free…” Hermione trailed off, not caring what the rest of it said. She looked up to meet the Fudge’s eyes. “Is this real?” She asked, her voice cracking.



“Ask him,” Fudge replied, pointing behind Hermione.



She dropped the scroll and looked behind her. Her eyes met Barty’s and she nearly fell down again. “You’re free?” She asked, tears collecting in her eyes. She couldn’t remember a day in the last two weeks when she hadn’t cried.



“Would appear so.” He said, smiling at her.



Hermione looked at Fudge, seeing a genuine smile on his face for the first time, “Thank you,” she whispered.



“Believe me when I say there’s no need to thank me. You’re the reason he’s free. If you-” He was cut off as Hermione hugged him, kissing his cheek. “Oh my…” He said blushing as she released him and ran across the room.



She threw her arms around Barty, kissing his face, his hair. He lifted her, spinning her around and laughing. He put her back on her feet and took her lips in a wanton kiss, she felt as though she were flying.



“I can’t believe it,” Hermione whispered running her fingers over his face.



“Believe it,” Barty replied, smiling at her and wiping a tear from her cheek, “I’ll have no more of this, you’ve cried too much already. The only tears I allow are tears of joy.”



She laughed as he picked her up and spun her again, “And…” He put her back down, “Remind me to never pick a non-academic argument with you. I’ll loose.”



“Damn straight,” She said, laughing.



He leant his lips to her ear, “Can I keep you?”



“Always,” She whispered back. “Come on, we’re going home.”



“Yes, ma’am.” He replied smiling as they apparated together.



“So I’m not such a bad old codger, hum?” Fudge asked Ron, looking at the place that Barty and Hermione had once stood.



“Not at all, Fudge… I mean your Highness, er, Sir… Minister?”



“Minister will do just fine,” Fudge said, a glint in his eye, “You wouldn’t happen to have any fifteen year old whiskey around would you?”



“Er…”



“No matter,” Fudge said, tapping his table with his wand and conjuring a half empty bottle and two glasses. “Care to join me?”



“Er…”



“Good, good,” Fudge said as though Ron had replied, “You know this reminds me of when I met my first wife…”