The Stag

A/N: I am so enjoying the reviews! Please keep them coming. Many thanks to Maria (helping me with writing Harry's thoughts) and Beth for their support, and to karelia, my beta, for all her hard work!

***

Harry Potter stood in front of the shop in the very heart of Wizarding Paris called La Chasseresse. He was rather impressed with the locale. Hermione was doing mighty well for herself. He walked in, and a lovely woman with a short black skirt and white silk blouse came to greet him. She was part-Veela, he could see. Her platinum hair and large violet eyes were ethereal.

"Bonjour, Monsieur," she said in a silky voice.

Before she could say anything else, Harry interrupted her. "Sorry, I'm English. I don't speak French. I am looking for my friend, Hermione Granger?"

"Yes, the owner of this establishment," she replied in English with an accent so smooth, she could have passed for a Briton herself.

"Mlle. Granger is working in the backroom, just finishing an order for another client," she explained. "Please, have a seat, Monsieur?"

"Potter, Harry Potter," he said nervously.

The part-Veela was nothing like Fleur or any of the girls he had met from Beauxbatons during his fourth year. She was affable, professional and spoke in a very soothing and disarming way.

"Monsieur Potter, we offer our clients and even friends," she said with a smile, "an assortment of drinks. May I bring you tea, café, wine, champagne?"

"Just water, if you have it. Nothing fancy," he replied. He was impressed at how the look of recognition over his name had not stopped her from being professional.

"Very good, Monsieur Potter," she said as she glided from the room.

Harry sat in the plush mahogany chair in front of an impressive mahogany desk that screamed Hermione; it was so orderly. His eye caught the imposing painting of the naked Diana, the Huntress. It was very provocative and gave sensuality to the surroundings in a way that he never would have thought Hermione could provoke.

He was still gaping like a codfish when she finally entered the room. He tore his eyes from the painting to look at his friend. She was radiant. No longer a girl, she was a woman. Her hair fell long in soft curls down her back, and she was wearing a most attractive outfit. Hermione walked in wearing a suit, a Muggle suit that must have been made just for her. The jacket was cut to emphasize her waist and gave her an hourglass shape he never realized she possessed. Her snug skirt hugged her from hips to knees and nearly made his heart race up a bit. It clung to her hips in perfection and emphasized her legs as she moved. She was, well, stunning.

Harry tried to avert his gaze when she removed the jacket because he caught a hint of her cleavage when her blouse opened a bit wider. He tried to stare at her, er, pearls. She was wearing very pretty pearls, iridescent ones around her neck in a three-strand design that looked expensive. Her face was lovely. Her lips were deep red, and the kohl around her eyes made her look absolutely sultry. When did she get so sexy?

She embraced him, and Harry inhaled a scent that was so inviting he thought he had died and went to a heaven where only lovely women lounging half-naked and frolicking lived, and he was the only male allowed. He pulled away and swallowed hard.

"Hermione?" he asked weakly. "You look so different."

"Oh, honestly!" she retorted. "Harry, all I did was grow up. I'm no longer a teenager. Look at yourself! If I didn't know any better, I might take advantage of you. Where on earth did you get to be so muscular? You've gotten a bit taller as well. Well, Ginny is a very lucky witch to have you to warm her bed."

Harry blushed. He felt Hermione had aged a lot more than he had. But come to think of it, they had only been eighteen when the war ended and that was nearly ten years ago. Hermione was a year older. She was twenty-eight, he figured. She must have wizards after her constantly, looking the way she did, dressed so elegantly with the graceful, ample shape of her body.

Harry sat down once Hermione took her seat behind her desk.

"Well, Harry Potter, what do think of my universe?" she said with a smile.

Harry had always loved her smile. Ever since she'd had her teeth fixed in fourth year, she had learned to smile more and more often. She had a cute dimple on the lower part of her left cheek. Harry smiled back at her and felt that crazed part of himself that wanted to indulge in that netherworld of randy women only for him, decide to remember Hermione would always be a girl to him, his best girl, his friend, and sister.

"I think it is amazing, Hermione!" he blurted out. "But I've come here because, well, we all miss you back home. When will you come back and see all of us again? Molly had fits when she learned you were writing Luna and not them. I know I've never been a great writer, but I sent you dozens of owls that were never answered. So, tell me, Hermione. Are we done? Is our friendship over?"

Hermione smiled slightly and said in a soft, sad voice as she crossed her arms, "The war did things that hurt us all in different ways. I couldn't stay and keep my sanity. One day, perhaps, when the time comes...when it feels right, I will return."

Harry leaned forward and said, "Hermione, I'm worried about you. Last week, we finally found Hannah Abbott's body. She had been discovered in a shallow grave near Malfoy Manor."

Hermione sighed heavily and said throatily, "That's terrible, but at least we know now...all of us who were in the D.A. and the Order."

"There were a lot of people there...even Snape," Harry reported. "He stood in the back, and he thought no one noticed him, but I could have sworn he had been crying."

Hermione began shuffling papers around her desk, and the Auror in him could see she was trying hard to disguise the trembling of her hands.

Harry leaned forward again. "Hermione, why didn't you come back? Are you still ill? I mean, after all, you had promised to come back and celebrate with us."

Hermione's hands stilled as she looked at him with cheerless eyes. "I'm sorry, Harry. There just wasn't a lot to feel happy about," she whispered.

Harry was silent for a moment and then said carefully, "Hermione, I never believed the story you gave us about Greyback. What really happened those three days?"

"I don't want to talk about it, Harry," she said, not looking at him. Then she faced him and said, "If you ever loved me, Harry. If you were ever my friend, you will just leave and not return. Let them all know that the Hermione Granger they knew is gone."

Harry was shocked. "You can't mean that!"

He stood, looking over her, sitting so gracefully in her chair.

She was looking at the painting as she spoke to him. "Harry, I have a new life now, and neither England nor Hogwarts has a place in it."

"What happened to that bloke, Jack?" Harry asked her.

Hermione's jaw clenched, and she refused to look at him. "There were some things about my past he could not handle. I suppose it is better this way. No lovers, no children, no fuss, no complications. All I need is to make my business a success and show those wretched bastards who think this witch cannot succeed in a wizard's business can not only do so but will work so hard, she'll beat them at their own game!"

Harry had stopped listening after she mentioned the "no lovers" part. "You mean you never had a lover? What...are you going to remain celibate all your life? Don't you realize what happiness you'll be turning your back on?" he asked, incredulous at the thought.

"I know enough, Harry," she hissed as she jerked her head towards him. "All it boils down to a pain-filled, humiliating experience that leads to a larger and more painful, humiliating experience called childbirth. So, no thank you."

Harry felt so sad for her. She was much too full of life to be so bitter. Too young to remain so disillusioned.

Harry stood and walked over to her side and knelt on one knee to face her closely. He took her hand in his own and whispered shyly, "Hermione, Ginny and I have been married for three years now, and have our own son, James. Now, I am no witch, but I think if Ginny believed what you just said, I don't think she would be climbing over me in bed at night and asking me to...to be with her. She even takes over, and that was after James was born! I...I even let her bind me once...but if you ever tell anyone that, I'll deny it!"

He took a deep breath and added, "Hermione, I know it hurt really bad when James was born. She told me I was a bastard, and to get the hell out of her sight. But when I went downstairs, I must have looked like hell. Arthur laughed at me and said that Molly had threatened to hex his bollocks off when she had Fred and George and swore she'd never let him touch her again. But, a few months later, they were back at it of course, for which I'm glad because there never would have been a Ron or Ginny. You see, Hermione, you've got it all wrong! It's not so bad."

She looked at him as if she pitied him. "You wouldn't understand," she whispered. "Just leave me alone, Harry. Just leave me alone." She stood up and walked into the back area, and Harry left, taking a business card with him.

***

"So, that was how it was left?" Ron whispered.

"Yeah," Harry replied.

"I dunno, mate," Ron said strangely as he gazed at the business card in his hands. "There is something odd. Hermione isn't being forthright."

The three of them were huddled outside the Burrow on the grass while little James napped in his room. They were trying to stay of out of anyone's hearing until they thought it was right to talk about Hermione.

Ron's eyes squinted in the sun as he gathered his thoughts. "It was the way she acted when you told her about you and Ginny. It was like she was offended or something."

"Of course, Ron!" Ginny snapped at him. "Like she needs to be reminded that she's never had love in her life." She huffed and said, "I don't care about the children part...it's the way she talked about sex that bothers me. 'A pain-filled, humiliating experience.' It sounds like Hermione didn't have a proper first time. I think she needs to talk about it."

"That's her call, Ginny," said Harry. "She's attractive and alluring...she must have blokes constantly asking her out."

"Well, why can't she talk to us?" Ron interjected. "We were her best mates after all! Everything we went through, and she and Ginny were closer than she ever was with Luna!"

"Well," Ginny said. "After the war, she and Luna did spend an awful lot of time together, remember? She really was attached at the hip to her and Neville."

"There has to be a reason why Neville and Luna became so important to her," mused Harry.

"I think you need to go to Hogwarts, Harry, and have a talk with Neville," Ginny decided.

"Me?" Harry sputtered. "Why do I have to go alone?'

"Look, if you go, Neville will be easier to crack. There is just more to this than the war. There has to be! If we all go in there, he'll get nervous and defensive, and we'll have not learnt a bloody thing."