Mistaken Identity

Chapter 5 Stolen

A few days later Hermione was cutting vegetables when Hanna came in with a letter for her.

Hermione opened it and knew the handwriting.

Dear Hermione,

We’re in Paris and you were right. It’s beautiful. The food and wine are great. A whole lot of us went into a bakery and emptied the place of most of their goods. You will have to visit here soon. Must go. Some of the men have found some brothels and, well, you know what men are like. We are still finding small pockets of Deatheaters here and there, but I feel we haven’t gotten the real organizers and leaders yet. Take care. Harry

Hermione was dumbfounded. It was over. He didn’t need to write to her anymore.

She didn’t write back to him. He didn’t write back but Hermione got small things in the post from Paris. A pretty set of hair combs with pearls and crystals, ribbons of all colors and a silver hair slide.

Hermione sent him a simple thank you note.

Hermione got a note from Melinda saying that London and Paris were wonderful and that she could stay at the Merry Mistress Inn when she came to the cities. She wrote, ‘Don’t give up on your soldier. Men are not perfect but you have a good man there. If you feel anything for him let him know, keep him as a close friend. If you have deeper feeling for him meet him in Paris and take him as your lover for he has already broken your barrier. Take him before some wretched wench get her claws into him.’

Hermione felt her cheeks give way to a shameful blush as she felt her core warm and vibrate with the idea of having Harry as her lover.

~ ~ ~

Mrs. Figg was reading a newspaper and announced that the battle had happened outside of Surry and that many people were hurt and killed. They listed most of the dead, luckily Harry wasn’t on it, but he was among the missing.

Four days later Hermione got an official looking letter. It stated that Harry’s body had been found and was going to be sent to his Godfather Sirius Black. He was going to make all the arrangements for Harry’s burial.

With tears in her eyes Hermione wrote to Sirius informing him that she received a letter notifying her of Harry’s death. She asked if she could be any assistance to him and sent it off to Harry’s godfather.
That same day Sirius wrote back to her that it wasn’t Harry’s body they found and if any news was send on where Harry was that he would inform her immediately.

Hermione wrote back that she would send word to him if she found out any information about Harry.

Weeks went by and nothing.

They got news of another battle where most of the Deatheaters were captured or killed.

Each day a few soldiers made there way through their town. Every day Hermione waited for word on Harry. Hanna was beside herself with worry she hadn’t heard from Neville for weeks.

~ ~ ~ ~

Early in the morning Mr. Moody was in the tavern toasting the room for the army was winning the war. Banging his cane on the floor to get patrons attention,
“Here’s to our boys, putting their lives on the line for us. May they have swift wands and brave hearts to end this war and save us all!”

Hermione looked out the window of the kitchen and scanned the faces of the soldiers walking by.
‘Why am I even looking?’ She wondered.

Hermione pulled the huge slab of beef off the rack that the butcher just delivered, getting blood all over her apron, her sleeves, her neck and all down her front of her dress. She just wanted to cry. She laid the meat on the table and started to chop it up into sections. Celebrations were being held everywhere even the Inn was having a party for the soldiers coming home.

Hermione heard Mrs. Figg come in, “Hermione we’ll need more wood for the fire to cook this meat. We’ll need more ale as well,” taking some spices off the shelf and going into the dining room.
Hermione kept chopping the meat into large pieces. Walking around the table chopping off the fat for greasing the pots and the bones for broth.

She heard a several taps on the floor behind her, like Mr. Moody and his cane. She figured that Mrs. Figg asked him to get the ale for her being a strong robust man.

She turned around to show him were the ale was and froze. Her eyes didn’t look into a face a man with an artificial eye strapped to his head, but to a young face with green eyes, a few bruises, and cuts here and there. He steadied himself on a cane.

Hermione mouth dropped, Harry breath out a nervous laugh, “Hello Hermione.”

“Harry?” she barely got the word out. She wanted to run to him and put her arms around his neck and thank God he was alive, but her feet stayed stationery, frozen.

He nodded.

“What are you doing here? What happen to you leg?” shocked to see him standing in front of eyes.

“I’ve come to talk to you,” his eyesbrows knitted together in a worried expression, “but I see your busy,” he took a step back looking a the butcher’s knife. Hermione looked at the raised cleaver in her hand and lowered it.

“Just cutting up the meat for celebration,” Hermione explained, blushing as she looked at herself covered in blood.

“That’s why I came to talk to you. I was wondering if you would accompany me to a ceremony at a little before noon?” Harry asked.

“Oh Harry, I’m not sure if I can. I have a lot of work to do.”

“Then after? I think we really need to talk,” Harry insisted.

“Is that why you kept writin….?” Hermione stopped talking as Mrs. Figg came back into the kitchen.

“Guest aren’t to be in the kitchen sir I’m sorry,” Mrs. Figg was saying and then realized it was Harry, “ Oh it’s you! Come to apologize for hurting….?”

“Mrs. Figg? Harry and I will need to talk …later. Can you asked Marietta to serve lunch today?”

“Yes, you can have the afternoon off, you haven’t had a day time off in a while, but I need you for this evening.” the old woman said in an un-approving tone.

“Great!” Harry smiled, “Wear a nice dress. I’ll take you out for lunch and we can talk.”

Hermione nodded, “Okay. See you a bit after noon then.” Harry turned and limped out into the lobby of the Inn.

Hermione chopped up the meat, seasoned it and put it on the spit outside over the flames.

Hermione rolled another barrel of ale into the tavern.

A few of the customers looked at her and winced.

She looked at herself. She was cover with dry blood and dirt from the storeroom.

Hermione clapped her hands clean from some of the dirt and realized she needed to take a bath before meeting Harry.

She did the rest of her chores and then told Mrs. Figg she was going up stairs to clean up.

~ ~ ~

Hermione touched the surface of the water with her toe to see how hot it was. Steam was rising as she slid the rest of her body in the water. Washing her hair she could smell the lavender and vanilla oil that Harry sent her.

She wondered why he was here and what happen to his leg. Perhaps he got injured in the last battle, saving a fellow soldier or rescuing a civilian. She wondered if the way he couldn’t save the woman that fell dead at his feet haunted him still. She wondered if he always had to save someone because of that woman. Because that’s what he had to do to keep the guilty feeling away.

Hermione scrubbed her skin until she felt clean again. She dried herself off and borrowed a nice dress from Marietta, a soft dark blue color dress with white lace just below her chin. She got out a clean chemise and stockings. She pinned her hair back in a casual bun.

She slipped into her boots and grabbed her heavy cloak.

Harry was waiting for her in the lobby leaning on the cane.

“Ready?” Harry asked her offering her his arm. She smiled and nodded. Hermione watched him walk trying not to put to much weigh on his left leg,

“What happened to your leg? Were you wounded?”

“I’ll tell you later,” He said as they walked through the noisy street.

They walked to a small boisterous tavern and Harry looked disappointed, “I was hoping it was going to be quiet in here.”

The host pointed to a table and Harry made his way to the far side of the room. Harry took Hermione’s cloak and hung it up next to his. Hermione noticed a medal around Harry neck.

“What’s that Harry?” pointing to the award.

“Em, an award for bravery,” he said blushing. She noticed the blue ribbon against his pale skin and dark hair and wondered what it would feel like to touch his neck and hair.

She looked at the award and asked, “What did you do?”

“I protected a family from a Deatheater,” He said humbly.

“That’s so brave of you,” Hermione commented smiling at him trying not to stare into his green eyes too hard.

He shrugged his shoulders, “I wouldn’t have gotten it if it wasn’t for you.”

“What do you mean?” she inquired

“I save that family a few days after you brought us the supplies and destroyed the Deatheater’s camp.”

Harry ordered the beef pie and ale for the both of them.

Hermione and Harry talked about the war, the battles he was in, and how brave he though she was for bring the supplies to him and his men on the mountain. How clever of her to turn herself into a troll, “It was a brilliant idea and it worked – got food and aid to us,” his eyes had such light to them as he looked at her.

All the while she looked at his neck and wondered how it tasted, how it would feel to her tongue and lips. She had to mentally shake her head as Harry said her name.

“Hermione? I have to tell you something,” Harry said. His face was red, beet red, and he looked like he was perspiring a little, “The letter I send you, I never met a girl in London,” shaking his head. “But I did go to one of the brothels. The other men went so I just followed, well they dragged me. I know we weren’t really engaged but I felt guilty any way. It’s funny. There’s a Merry Mistress Inn in London too.”

“And in Paris.” Hermione told him hiding her hurt that filled her heart.

He stared at her, shocked, “How do you know?”

“Melinda and the girls moved there a while back,” Hermione said as a matter of fact eating her pie feeling a little better by shocking him, and then added with a laugh, “If I ever need a place to stay in London Melinda offered me her place … I’d be strictly a boarder … maybe help with the books,” she said digging into her food.

Harry just stared at her, “Just a boarder?”

“Yes of course. Melinda looked after me when I was … injured. I hurt my feet, she is very nice, very kind.”

He continued to eat his meal looking around and asked, “When did this happen?”

“After I climb down the mountain, I had an accident and broke the bottles of Trolls potion. I had to walk for miles in the snow without shoes.”

He grabbed her hand and held it, “Oh, Hermione. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You had other things on your mind. You didn’t need to worry about me.”

“ARE your feet alright?” A troubled looked flashed on his face.

“Right as rain, and by the way what happen to your leg?”

Again Harry turned red.

“Let’s go outside and find a quieter place to talk.”
She looked at his chest wondering what it was like to feel it with her fingers.

Harry looked down at the award and then looked at her. He lifted it off his neck and presented it to her, “Here Hermione. I want you to take this.”

“What? Harry I can’t take it… it’s your award.” Hermione said and slowly took it.

“I know. I want you to take care of it for me. I have to meet up with a few of the Ministry leaders and talk about what to do about the remaining Deatheaters. You can bring it when you come to me in London …” Harry eyes widened for a moment and he blushed and coughed, “I mean you can give it to me when you visit London. You know when you get there … to London.”

Hermione nodded and put the medal in her cloak.

They left the tavern and Hermione started walking toward the woods where she knew it was going to be quiet or so she thought.

The woods weren’t noisy but there were more people walking around the path then usual.

“Now Harry what did you do to your leg? Did you get wounded in the fighting.”

He closed his eyes and breathed out, “This is really embarrassing. Yesterday we were walking in the woods, Seamus was walking in front of me. He slipped in the mud and fell. I tripped over him and landed on the ground but my leg got slashed by a jagged rock.” he face was red, “Not very heroic.”

“And here I thought you got the wound in battle,” Hermione admitted.

“I wish I had,” he said.

“I’m glad you didn’t. I’m glad it is just a normal injury,” she told him.

“It doesn’t sound very heroic. It sounds stupid,” he laughed blushing a bit more.

They walked back into the town.

Hermione notice children were running around playing good wizards/bad wizards. The kids had wands in the hands. One child was pulling a wagon with his friend in it yelling, “They got me, I’m dying!” The child ran around Hermione and Harry. Unfortunately the wagon didn’t round the couple and it struck Harry in the back of the leg and the child flew off the wagon kicking Harry’s shin of the injured leg. The boy pulling the wagon dropped the handle and said, “Sorry!” and ran away.

Harry hissed at the pain but for a moment then bent down and he helped the little boy to his feet, glancing at the child to see if he got hurt. The boy simply ran away like his friend being embarrassed or thinking he was going to be in trouble.

Harry straightened up slowly his gripping his cane.

“Harry, are you alright?” Hermione asked.

“He kicked the cut. I think I should head back to my room and rest my leg for a bit,” Harry said.

“Do you need any help?” Hermione asked.

“No, I just want to walk slowly.” Harry requested.

The stairway was a challenge for Harry. Though he laughed most of the way up as Hermione was trying to help him up the stairs. She would try to take his weigh and they bounced off a wall or two, nearly falling down the steps.

Hermione walked him toward his room. He leaned on to his cane on the very smooth surface of the floor and the cane slid letting Harry fall forward and land on his knee. Hermione helped him up and then notice blood on the floor.

“Harry your bleeding.”

He hobbled to his door of his room and Hermione opened the door.

“You sit and I’ll get the healing kit,” she told him. Hermione ran up to the attic took off her cloak and got the box of bandages, healing potion, and soothing ointments.

Hermione ran down the stairs and noticed the Hall clock said it was a 3:00. She had another hour or so before the dinner preparation was needed.

Hermione knocked on Harry’s door.

“Come in,” Harry called out.

Hermione opened the door and walked in, “Here. Let me take a look at the cut. I have potions and soothing balm to help you feel better,” she told him.

Hermione put the field kit on the chair as Harry was sitting on the bed. He had taken off his shoe and sock that had blood on them.

Hermione knelt down in front of him and looked at his stained trousers. She rolled up the pant leg carefully and saw that the gash had opened again. She took a cloth and damped it with a cleaning potion that bubbled and stung the wound.

She heard Harry swear softly and then apologized to her.

Harry started talking about the letters she sent to him as Hermione cleaned off the blood and spread the soothing balm in the cut.

“Your letters saved my life, they really did. I know we didn’t start out well and I’m so sorry about that. I wish I had met you in a different way. I wish I never passed out at the Merry Mistress.”

“Harry it’s all right. We didn’t ... you weren’t… Fate has a way of putting people together for some reason. We were just unfortunate in that way…”

She covered the cut with soft cloth and started to wrap his leg in gauze saying, “I’ve put it behind me, we can’t change it. But through your letters I got to know you somewhat. And I could see you were a caring person. We were at the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“ I feel wretched,” Harry told her.

“Don’t. I’ve forgiven you,” Hermione told him.

“You have?”

“If I didn’t, it would be festering in me and I don’t want that. You were protecting this town. You did… you were … there was a mistaken identity... And we were both drunk, an honest mistake.”

“It’s amazing you know, I would wait for your letters like all the men did with their girlfriends, finance’s and wives. I would read them over and over. I could smell you, the smell the smoke that was in the room and the food that you cooked especially ham,” he laughed and slowly said as he thought back,

“The lines of your writing, the loops, the dotting your I’s, the crossing of your Ts. I felt …I felt I was getting to know you. When you were happy or sad or worried. I would stare at the writing. I knew you were safe and somewhere, sometime the fighting would end. Lives would continue or would be rebuilt. And I wondered if we could?…” he paused.

“That’s what make it possible to live through all of it… the possibility that we can start again … anew. I was thinking of going to London to began again.”

Hermione cut the gauze long ways and wrapped on around his leg to secure the bandage in place.

Harry murmured something softly about Paris and losing something there.

“What did you say Harry?”

He was looking at her and speaking softly,
“It flowed through the quill as my thought stained the pages. As if they were tears of joy and sorrow were flowing onto the parchment. You stole it slowly over time or did I give it, did I give it without knowing?” He gazed at her and gave her a little smile whispering “Yes you stole it from me.”

“Stole? what... what did you think..?” slowly shaking her head baffled by what he was uttering.

“Yes with each beat it, it became yours,” Harry whispered

“What did you think I stole from you?” she asked confused not grasping what he was trying to say to her.

“My heart,” he whispered desperately looking at her.


Thanks ginnyloveharry, CuteDATSexie218, Anon for your comments. It helps me keep writing.

magdelena sorry no Snape
missmonet, I am having a small writer’s block with Vows but will be posting Cursed Wolf II soon with two endings.