The Grey

Chapter 6: Leashed

A/N: Thank you to the lovely BirdieMing for her beta work! Happy Holidays to everyone!

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You make me happy when skies are grey.

-You Are My Sunshine

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April 2022

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In the week after their visit to Maggie's, Hermione had come to an uncomfortable conclusion. She was going to have to speak with the Unseelie King. There was nothing else for it. The grimoire was proving useful, but it just wasn't enough and until Hermione figured out what the Grey was, she had to tackle this from another angle.

She shuddered when she thought of the Unseelie King. Hermione had never been interested in the Fae or the gods or any sort of Muggle religion. Her parents were firmly Christmas and Easter attendees of church and when Hermione had gone off to Hogwarts, she'd stopped attending altogether. She liked facts and science and magic. Not the unknowable entity that was religion and even if the Fae were real—very much real, her mind whispered—that didn't mean she wanted anything to do with them. But she was running out of options and maybe out of time. Another reason to speak with the Unseelie King.

And the decision to speak with the Unseelie King created its own problems and issues. How did one find the Unseelie King? Could he be summoned like a ghost or a god? She didn't know. Although, if she had to put money on it, a summoning arranged similarly to summoning one of the old gods would probably work. The Fae were descendants of the Tuatha Dé Danann, the old gods according to Irish mythology.

Hermione's head ached. Mythology. They weren't mythology if they were real. Then what were they? Hermione didn't like anything that couldn't be classified somehow. And the Fae was just wishy-washy enough to drive her mad. So, she'd come to the conclusion that the Unseelie King had to be spoken to, which meant another trip to Maggie's and speaking with other Fae experts. The last thing Hermione wanted to do was offend the Unseelie King in some way and truly fuck up the world.

She sighed as she wrote out a list of everything she'd want to ask about summoning the Unseelie King when a knock sounded on her door. It was a drizzly, cold Saturday afternoon, and Hermione was surprised to find Harry standing on the other side. She quickly invited him in, shutting the rain and wind out with a firm snap.

"Harry," she said as soon as he was through the door. "Can I get you anything? Tea? Hot chocolate maybe? I just made some biscuits this morning," Hermione rambled as she shuffled to the kitchen to start the kettle. She was tense and yet relieved at the same time. Flustered. When was the last time she and Harry had fought? Truly fought? She didn't know.

Once she had Harry parked at the breakfast nook with a fresh cuppa and a plate of biscuits, she sat nervously across from him, winding her own hands around her warm mug. Neither of them said anything for a moment, and Hermione bit her lip, worried about what Harry was going to say. About why he'd come. She'd done the unforgivable and as forgiving and kind as Harry had always been, she was almost convinced that he was here to tell her to leave him alone, to tell her he wanted nothing to do with her.

She couldn't stand the silence anymore. "I'm so sorry. I didn't think about what I was depriving you of, only that I'd made a mistake and I needed to fix it. And I never should have tried to keep you and Sirius apart, and I'm so sor—"