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Finding True Happiness	By : CeliaEquus Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female Views: 19445 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I have no claim on the Harry Potter franchise, and am making no money from any of my fan fiction.

Chapter List
- 14
- 15
- 16
Warning: A bit of bad language in this one, too. Only a bit, I promise! Oh, and I’m kind of prepared for you all to hate me by the end of this chapter, but hopefully I’ll have justified stuff along the way. Just please see this story through to the end!

“Betrayal”

“Hermione.” Peeves reached out a hand, but she yanked hers away from him. “Hermione, please listen to me…”

“No!” She stood up, realised that she was naked and grabbed the corner of the quilt to cover herself. “Please tell me it isn’t you. Please tell me this is just a mistake.” He averted his gaze and she moaned. “No, no, no. You wouldn’t. You can’t.”

“I… I did, and… and I c-can,” he said, looking down at his hands. “Hermione…”

“This has all been a…” She shook her head again, trailing off.

“I don’t know what to say,” he mumbled. She laughed bitterly.

“It all makes sense now,” she said. “Not speaking too much, just in case I recognised the voice of the school poltergeist. Being invisible but still able to make things move. Your kisses were… were always dry. I never tasted anything. And you were able to get into the room without removing the wards or anything.”

“You’re right, of course.”

“Yet you’re here now.” She ran her hands through her hair. “I don’t understand.”

“Please let me explain.” Peeves leaned forward, his eyes raking over Hermione’s form. She immediately grabbed the blanket back and tried to wind it around her body. “I didn’t mean for things to happen the way that they did…”

“You’re supposed to be a ghost,” she said. “You’re not real.”

“I was real enough last night.”

She blinked back tears, determined not to cry in front of him. She could be strong. Really. She could.

“You…”

“Use my name,” he whispered. She’d never seen anyone so serious. “Please.”

She drew in a shaky breath. “Peeves.” He shut his eyes, frowning slightly. “You took the most important thing from me.”

“You gave it to me,” he said, standing up. She took a step back, even though he was on the other side of the bed. “Willingly.”

“I was deceived! You lied to me!”

“I never lied to you,” he said, pointing at her. “You made assumptions.”

“You led me on.”

“You said that you loved me!”

“You made me!” she shrieked, waving her arms. The sheet fell again. Sick of it, she grabbed her dressing gown from a nearby chair and wrapped it around herself. She noticed the blood between her legs and felt the sadness and betrayal well up inside.

Peeves took some calming breaths. “Hermione… I love…”

“Bastard,” she said. He froze.

“I… I beg your pardon?”

“I called you,” she gulped, “a bastard.” She looked at him over her shoulder, avoiding his eyes. “Everything you’ve done…”

He remained silent while she thought. He felt the noose tightening around his neck… or was it around his heart? Whatever it was, he was wishing that he’d stayed a poltergeist. At least he didn’t have to feel…

“Was it,” she said, and he braced himself, “because you were bored? Have the Weasley twins managed to outdo you at last? Or worse, was this all a big prank? Did you just do it for the Slytherins, and all this business with Draco Malfoy was just a cover?”

He sighed. “The second one. I felt redundant; I needed a change of pace.”

“Well, you’ve certainly had that ‘change of pace’ now,” she said. Pulling the gown tighter around herself, she glanced out of the frosted window. “Go. Just go away.”

“Hermione.” He took a step forward. “Wait…”

“Go! I never want to see you again,” she said.

Still staring out the window, Hermione steadfastly refused to look back, even as she heard the door close.

Stairs. He’d seen thousands of people using stairs – possibly more – and knew the mechanics of it. But negotiating them was considerably harder than it looked. Still, he had picked up everything else quickly.

One foot down, then the next, then yet another. Hands out at either side to support himself, he stumbled to the bottom of the staircase, nearly tripping on the final step, and then grabbed the wall to get his footing. To his immense relief he saw that MacMillan wasn’t around, which was just as well. He couldn’t have dealt with questions, and he doubted that Hermione was ready to answer any, either.

Oh. Especially as he was still naked. Clothes were certainly going to be an interesting sensation. Comforted that his knowledge was still intact, he conjured underwear, jeans, a collared shirt, socks and boots onto his body. There. It was okay… he supposed.

He had to get to Dumbledore before Hermione could, and put forth his side of the story first. Was it selfish? Of course it was. But look at how he had behaved so far; selfishness was mild by comparison.

“Goodbye, love,” Peeves murmured, glancing back at the stairs. No sign of Hermione; he couldn’t even hear her. When he tried to fly off, however, he found that he couldn’t. Frowning, he walked over to the fireplace. Using wandless magic he banished the flames before stepping in. He closed his eyes and pictured the headmaster’s office.

It worked. Only people with a deep connection to Hogwarts could do this; in fact, he was probably the first person since the Founders to try it. Flooing without floo powder.

He stumbled out of the hearth at the other end, glad – for the first time – that he was in the headmaster’s office.

Hermione paced. She couldn’t believe how she had reacted. Yes, it was a huge shock that she had slept with the poltergeist of Hogwarts. If she’d known it was him she never would have done it.

“It could have been a prank,” she muttered. “It really could have been.”

She looked at the patch of blood on her sheets and hung her head. What she had done was shameful. How many times had she promised herself that she would wait until her wedding night, until she was with the man she loved and who loved her?

His face. He’d looked so sincere. What if he had been sincere? What if he really did love her? How could he?

She knew she should hate him. Logic told her that she should hate him for not telling her who he was right from the start. He had had so many opportunities.

“Why me?” she whispered, looking towards the ceiling. In doing so she noticed the painted vines on her bed, and the drawing of Ferret Malfoy, and… and everything that he had made and done for her.

Why didn’t she hate him?

“Because I love him,” she said. She smiled. “Nothing else matters. I love him!”

Dumbledore looked up, startled. He hadn’t seen the flames turned green. The man stomped his shoes on the floor before looking up.

“Professor,” he said. The headmaster was touched by how miserable the stranger looked, and he gestured to the chair in front of his desk. With a nod, the man sat down.

“How may I help you?” Dumbledore asked kindly.

“I don’t know.” He looked haunted. “I don’t think anyone can help.”

“Well, then, first things first. What is your name, and why did you come here?”

“Oh, gods.” The stranger put his head in his hands, shoulders shaking. “I’ve done something terrible. I should be lynched for what I’ve done.”

“Calm down. I’m sure it isn’t that bad.”

“It’s worse.” The haunted look grew worse. “It’s so much worse.”

“Your name, sir?” Dumbledore said, more than slightly concerned.

“My name?” He looked confused for a moment, but then it cleared. “Oh, yes. It’s Peeves.”

“As in our poltergeist?” A nod. “That… no.”

“I wish people would stop saying that,” Peeves muttered.

“Peeves, it cannot be you,” Dumbledore said, wide-eyed. “Can it?”

“It is.” He looked more miserable than ever.

“But… how did this happen?”

Just then the fire changed, and Hermione stepped into the room. She smiled shyly and walked towards Peeves. He smiled back and stood up to meet her, a look of dawning hope on his face.

“Good morning, Miss Granger,” the headmaster said.

“Good morning, sir.”

“Uh… I do have a… guest,” he looked strangely at Peeves, “so perhaps this isn’t the…” Then his eyes widened again and he opened one of his desk drawers. He swiftly pulled out a book and opened it to the index. He trailed a finger down the page until he found what he was looking for and then turned to it in the tome. Eyes darting back and forth, he took in every word before raising his eyes to the man before him. Peeves was softly stroking Hermione’s arm, but he turned around when the headmaster cleared his throat. He turned white when he saw the open book.

“It’s in there?” he asked. Dumbledore nodded slowly.

“Peeves, how could you?” he said.

“How could he what?” Hermione demanded, looking confused. Suddenly, Dumbledore understood.

“Miss Granger? You used Miss Granger to gain life?” he said, his voice steady but loud. Peeves sat down heavily and rested his head in his hands.

“I… I tried to make it easier on her,” he said. “I never meant no `arm.” Then he frowned, having fallen back into his poltergeist manner of speech. “I mean, yes. I did want to become human, but…”

“What?” Hermione grabbed the book from the headmaster and read the paragraph on poltergeist humanising. She swallowed and then looked up. “I see.”

“Hermione, I never meant to hurt you,” Peeves said softly, reaching across to her arm. She slapped his hand away.

“Don’t touch me, you… you disgusting animal!” She threw the book onto Dumbledore’s desk and stood up. “You’ve played me for a bigger fool than I thought I was. And to think…” Her voice broke.

“Miss Granger, surely you didn’t…” Dumbledore trailed off. “Forgive me, my dear. That was a foolish question. But I don’t understand why you would throw away your innocence like that.”

“I didn’t know that I was throwing it away,” she said, her voice and posture now stiff.

“What did you think?”

“He tricked me!” She pointed at Peeves accusingly. “I thought that he loved me, and that I l-loved him, even after… But I was wrong.”

Peeves looked at her sorrowfully. “What were you wrong about?” he asked quietly.

She glared down at him. “Everything.”

He swallowed and stood up as well. Dumbledore studied the strange couple.

“I trust you used protection,” he said. Hermione paled.

“I forgot,” she said. “I forgot to cast the Spell. Not that it would have been of any use beforehand, since it only works on human males,” Peeves looked guilty, “but I should have taken a Morning After Potion. I… I thought that you’d bring one.”

“I was so eager to get to you,” he said. “I honestly thought that I’d remember, and I certainly didn’t expect either of us to fall asleep so soon, or stay asleep.”

She looked over at the clock. It was a quarter to ten. They must have slept through breakfast.

“I may be too late,” she said. Images flashed through her mind; words that she had said, thoughts that she had had.

‘Gods, I want your children. I’ve never wanted any; but I want yours. Give me children. I want your baby. I have to have your baby. Promise me.’

‘I’ll give you everything.’… ‘Take it. Take it all.’

‘Please, please, please. Please give me a baby.’

Begging to have his children, she had completely forgotten contraception. She had forgotten nearly everything: her education, her friends, her family, even her own name; everything but the feeling of him, and the desperation to be pregnant by this man who had betrayed her. What if he had impregnated her?

“This can’t happen,” she said quickly. “Professor, I’ll do anything.”

Dumbledore sighed. “Fortunately I always have some prepared, just in case.” He walked over to a small potions cabinet and retrieved a vial. “Will it be within the twelve-hour limit?”

Hermione shook her head, swallowing the lump in her throat. “No. It’s been about… well, more like thirteen hours. Not much more than that.”

“Well, the limit is approximate,” he said, handing it over. She accepted and downed it gratefully. “It can differ from person to person. You are young; it may work better for you. And who would buy a potion with a thirteen-hour limit on it?” He chuckled half-heartedly. “It is more a provisional amount of time. Still, you can go to Madame Pomfrey within a few weeks for a proper test. Are your parents expecting you at home?”

“No,” she said. “I told them that I needed to study this year, so they’re going to Vienna.”

Peeves watched the conversation with a heavy heart. He could understand Hermione’s desire not to be pregnant, especially by him, but it still hurt. The look of horror on her face didn’t just stem from the fear of teen pregnancy, he was sure of it.

“I should leave,” he said, turning away.

“Yes, you should,” Hermione said. He flinched but continued his walk to the door. His right hand shook as it reached out for the doorknob; however, when she remained silent he knew that it was a lost cause.

“Just a moment,” Dumbledore said. “May I advise keeping this between us?”

“Of course,” Peeves said. “I wouldn’t dream of telling anyone.” He saw that Hermione still had her back to him. “Good luck, Hermione. I hope you get what you want.”

He nodded at the headmaster and then left the office, shutting the door quietly.

“I am so sorry, my dear,” Dumbledore said, closing the book as he studied the Head Girl. “Had I known what he was planning…”

“It’s fine,” she said, raising her chin. “I’ll just… chalk it up to experience. Just like Ginny.”

She flooed out of the office again, only speaking to say her destination, and Dumbledore sat down.

“In my own school,” he said. “How could this happen?” Then he remembered something that she had said. “What about Miss Weasley?

Ooh, drama. Sigh. I’m just trying to make it realistic. I mean, she has every right to be angry, and Peeves has every right to be ashamed.

Of course, then readers wanted an immediate happily ever after, but I couldn’t bring myself to do that. So I just added the bit where she wants to forgive him. And my additional warning at the top.

Please review, my dears!

By the way, who wants Hermione to be pregnant?

And Hermione knew where Peeves was because it would be logical for him to go to Dumbledore… not to mention the fact that she just… just knew where he would be.
- 14
- 15
- 16
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Finding True Happiness