Love is hope: Life after fifth year (the last chapters)

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After the holidays, Hermione had informed Professor Dumbledore of what had happened in the corridor with Snape. It’s not like she wanted to rat out Harry or anything, it was just that she felt it was important that Harry could somehow draw raw magic from her; and control it slightly, not to mention that she was worried maybe the Ministry had found out about Harry using magic out of school, again... And it wasn’t like she could trust either of the other men involved in the incident telling the old wizard.

However, she didn’t mention her suspicion about Harry having looked and found something in Snape’s mind. Belatedly she realised Dumbledore must have picked up on it, because she was clearly thinking about her suspicion, while Dumbledore was peering in her eyes... The little knowing nod he gave her, didn’t reassure her on the fact that he didn’t peep in her mind...

The first week back flew by, and all everyone could talk about was the ball. Nobody had asked Hermione to the ball, but then again, the news she was Ron’s partner for the opening dance had spread like a wildfire. Though that didn’t stop loads of people asking Ginny, Harry and Ron. She felt torn between relief and disappointment about that.

Neville having heard Ginny and Hermione preferred to go stag, had asked Luna. The dreamy girl had said yes, but only if they went as friends. Neville had confessed he’d only asked because his grandmother threatened him in having a date so he wouldn’t embarrass the Longbottom name... Luna didn’t seem to mind in the least.

At last Saturday arrived; DA had been cancelled, and the Great Hall had been decorated. Hermione and Ginny had retreated to their dormitories after lunch to prepare. Going for a slightly different hairstyle this year, she put the Sleek Easy Potion liberally in her hair. Once her hair was frizz-free, she made it curl a bit, so that her long hair curved slightly. Leaving the front strands to fall around her face, she pinned her hair seemingly sloppy with a beautiful Muggle comb at the back of her hair, so that the tips of her hair still graced her neck. Fixing the hairdo with magic, to avoid getting it messed up along the evening, she tended to the rest of her appearance.

Her unmanageable hair had taken so long and she really didn’t have that much patience for all that stuff anyway. In the short time that was left, she put on her dress, applied so little lip-gloss, mascara, eye shadow and blush, that it was barely noticeable. Just the way she liked it. Waiting for the mirror to give her approval, she watched herself critically. Satisfied, since she didn’t want to loose any more time, she went to find Ginny.

Ginny was also putting the finishing touches to her appearance. She wore the dress Fred and George had bought for her the previous year. It was a special grass green adorned with brown trims. The cut was as daring as Ginny had been allowed by her mother: puffy shoulders and a décolleté that would only become indecent would she bent forward deeply... The lower part billowed when she twirled and on any one else Hermione would’ve found the dress dull or even a waist of fabric. Ginny looked like a beautiful wood nymph in it. Her red hair was loose and curled excessively, completing her ‘free spirit’ look.

Hooking their arms together they walked down to see their ‘escorts’ waiting. Hermione decided Harry’s and Ron’s surprised expressions made the work worth it. She almost ran back upstairs when she saw Ron’s dress robes. Reminding herself that Ron was a bit eccentric when it came to such things, and that there wasn’t anything wrong with that, she decided that he was her friend, and if he liked the light purple robes with violent orange finishing touches, then so be it. At least it didn’t clash with his hair... too much, and there were no frilly things in sight.

Going down to the Great Hall, they, as in the prefects and their dates, were to assemble at the front, close to the teachers’ table, where the Minister and her entourage were going to eat. The guests were to be called when they entered... She noticed Neville not too far from them, totally in black, with Luna who had an... interesting outfit on. She had painted golden specks on her radish earrings, her dress was striped red-blue, horizontal stripes... How she had gotten her hair to look like some kind of dried-out cactus, was a total mystery to Hermione... And the real miracle was that she could get away with the look, it actually looked good on her; kind of like Ron and his loud outfit, it strangely *fit* them.

Soon it was time. Several wizards and witches Hermione didn’t know, or vaguely recognised from her visits to the Ministry filed in. To her dismay, and she would dare a couple of galleons, to Ron’s, Ginny’s and Harry’s as well, Mr. Galfadus had sent his daughter and future son-in-law in his place. Percy looked well, richness seemed to agree with him... The witch hanging on his arm didn’t look like what Hermione had expected. She’d thought Gertruda would be a stuck-up, haughty Slytherin type. She was more of the sickly looking mouse-type. Though Hermione knew appearances could be misleading, the brown-haired witch looked tired, and meek, not at all the cunning type, even with the clothing that screamed money.

When finally the Minister was present, they were seated and started eating. Hermione soon felt at ease, after all, Malfoy with Pansy as his date were at the other side of the prefects’ table, and they didn’t bother her. Though she couldn’t shake the feeling they were going to try their best to make them look like fools in front of the Minister. When the dancing was to start, she knew her intuition hadn’t lied.

Malfoy and Parkinson were trying to discourage Ron from dancing by making their usual scathing remarks about him being unable to do anything. She felt Ron tense up, remembering he’d let it bother him before with Quidditch, she tried to sooth him when the Head Girl and Boy started.

“You know you can do this Ron. Just lead and I’ll follow, and remember, don’t worry if you think you got a silly step wrong, as long as you listen to the music, you can’t do anything wrong. You trust me right?”

It was after all the last sentence that did it. Hermione and Ron danced the one and a half song without serious injury, and with a good resemblance of grace, to Malfoy’s obvious annoyance.

Harry and Ginny seemed to be still alive as well. Soon Ginny went to Dean and Seamus to dance a bit with them, Ron was asked by a blushing fourth year Gryffindor, a friend of his youngest Chaser. Harry and Hermione opted to sit a bit first, but soon were asked for friendly dance proposals from everyone of the old DA, and some other friends. Hermione saw Neville dancing with Padma after a few spins with Luna, and Padma was actually blushing. She felt a swell of pride when she saw Harry ask Luna, who hadn’t been asked all night after Neville had ‘ditched’ her for Padma.

It was then also that she realised Harry knew about her crush on Ron, because midway in the song, he switched partners with Ron, who was dancing with Lavender. Hermione was pleasantly surprised when she saw them dance at least three songs in a road, after which Ron got them some punch... Harry and her, after dancing the ‘required’ songs with their acquaintances, had both opted to sit at their table, making comments on everything and anything.

All in all Hermione had a great time, and was sorry to hear that the next song was going to be the last...

Harry spoke to her: “Hermione, we haven’t danced yet. Care to have your toes crushed during the last dance?”

Hermione smiled brightly; she had thought he was avoiding dancing with her as not to encourage the rumours about any relationship they would be having: “I’d love to”

When the first tones of the last song rang, she almost gasped out loud. She knew that song, it was beautiful and intense, and to be quite frank a bit more then just sensual. She supposed the only reason it was played was because it was in French, and they assumed no one would understand, or at least not get the true meaning of the poetic words.

Harry took her hand and led her to the dance floor. Quite irrationally she felt nervous butterflies fluttering in her stomach. This was just Harry for goodness’ sake!

(*) translation below

//Quand tes cheveux s'étalent,

Comme un soleil d'été,

Et que ton oreiller,

Ressemble aux champs de blé,

Quand l'ombre et la lumière,

Dessinent sur ton corps,

Des montagnes, des forêts,

Et des îles aux trésors,

Que je t'aime, que je t'aime, que je t'aime, Que je t'aime, que je t'aime, que je t'aime!//

It suddenly struck her as odd that in all their practising, they hadn’t danced together before. So this was the first time ever. While Ron was much taller then Harry, she had gotten used to dance with Ron. But, even so, with Harry, it seemed odd to have him looking down at her, being half a head taller. He did look very handsome tonight. His attempt at flattening his hair had already failed to survive the trip down from the common rooms, and she always did feel special under his focused gaze.

//Quand ta bouche se fait douce,

Quand ton corps se fait dur,

Quand le ciel de tes yeux,

D'un seul coup n'est plus pur,

Quand tes mains voudraient bien,

Quand tes doigts n'osent pas,

Quand ta pudeur dit non,

D'une toute petite voix,

Que je t'aime, que je t'aime, que je t'aime, Que je t'aime, que je t'aime, que je t'aime!//

The combination of the content feeling she’d had from the ball nearly being at his end, without a major crisis, the beautiful song, and being in Harry’s arms made her feel like she had too much to drink. They hadn’t spoken only held the other’s gazes; it felt so intense, that if Hermione had been more of a typical *girlie*, she’d have swooned at his feet ages ago.

//Quand tu n'te sens plus chatte,

Et que tu deviens chienne,

Et qu'à l'appel du loup,

Tu brises enfin tes chaînes,

Quand ton premier soupir,

Se finit dans un cri,

Quand c'est moi qui dis non,

Quand c'est toi qui dit oui,

Que je t'aime, que je t'aime, que je t'aime, Que je t'aime, que je t'aime, que je t'aime!//

“Hermione,” Harry asked in his low rumbling voice, which made Hermione shiver, “is there anything going on between Ron and you?”

Way to kill the mood. Wait! What mood? What was she thinking?

Frowning she looked at him: “Why would you think that?”

Harry just shrugged: “Just, because...”

Hermione wanted the conversation to end: “Ron and I are friends, maybe even more then just friends, but he’s not my boyfriend, if that’s what you’re asking”

//Quand mon corps sur ton corps,

Lourd comme un cheval mort,

Ne sait pas ne sait plus,

S'il existe encore,

Quand on a fait l'Amour,

Comme d'autres font la guerre,

Quand c'est moi le soldat,

Qui meure et qui la perd,

Que je t'aime, que je t'aime, que je t'aime, Que je t'aime, que je t'aime, que je t'aime!//

Hermione didn’t want to let him go. She wanted to spend the rest of the evening warm, inside his embrace. Why hadn’t she danced with him before? Now all she’d had was one song... Shaking her head, she deemed it about time to get to bed; she was having some thoughts that were too unsettling to be comfortable...

***

The next Sunday, of course, the ball was still the talk of the day. Harry and her seemed both so intent on forgetting the moment between them, that they were obtaining the opposite. Hermione couldn’t help but smile when she saw Luna come in the Great Hall for breakfast, looking so dreamy, she almost sat down at the Slytherin table. Ginny was teasing Ron with Luna, and Hermione saw that he finally *had* taken the hint and seen that Luna had it bad for him. She didn’t know what he thought of it yet. After all the redness behind his ears could be just a sign of shyness about being someone’s object of affection.

Ginny had danced at least twice with every boy in her acquaintance, which meant she hadn’t sat for a minute, and her muscles were paying the price today. With a mouthful of sausage Ron cheekily remarked to Harry and Hermione:

“You two shouldn’t have danced together yesterday... Next weekend is Gryffindor versus Slytherin, and you two together were advertising the wrong House colours (green-silver)”

Hermione just rolled her eyes in exasperation.

Harry and her were expected for a short lesson in Occlumency in Dumbledore’s office that day, and Hermione was pleasantly surprised when he finally agreed to teach her Occlumency properly. It was still quite draining, and Harry had to drag her to the Tower, afterwards. Ron had fallen asleep in one of the overstuffed chairs, waiting up for them.

Harry and Hermione settled in front of the fire, watching the wood being eaten by the flames. She was acutely aware of how close he was sitting, and of the whole new feeling that came with that awareness. A feeling, she realised, that she had been trying to repress for a long time now. It would not do to fall in love before she’d finished her education. She could not afford to get distracted... Harry levelled his green gaze on hers. What was she thinking again? Oh, yeah, falling in love... Who was falling in love? Certainly not her... The idea was just preposterous...

She couldn’t tell if Harry’s lips came down on hers, or if hers went up to meet his. What she did know, was that she was currently kissing her best friend, Harry Potter. How did that happen? Why did she care? How come this felt so right? What was it Ron had said again, about everything falling into place?

“Hmm, hmm,” speak of the devil.

Harry and Hermione jumped apart guiltily. Both quite red from embarrassment, they looked at their long time friend, who’d apparently chosen the best moment to wake up. Hermione saw a little bit of hurt in those blue eyes, but it was masked by the mischievous twinkle in his eyes. It became too much for Hermione, scrambling to her feet, she mumbled something, even she couldn’t understand, and quickly went up to her room.

She stayed on the stairs for a moment, when she realised she could easily eavesdrop on their conversation.

“About time”

“What do you mean?” Harry sounded quite startled.

“Well, you were dying to do that for some time now, didn’t you?”

“You’re not mad? I mean I thought... but then she said... and I didn’t know...”

“Harry... I’ll tell you the story one day, but, it’s not like she’s my property, she can do what ever she wants, and if she wants to date a wanker like you, then so be it...”

“Git”

After a prolongued silence, Hermione thought of going into her room, but then she heard Harry say: “I can’t do this, I can’t date her”

Hermione’s insides turned icy.

“Why the bloody hell not? You do know that the fact that you’re my best mate doesn’t protect you from the ass whooping you’re gonna get if you hurt her, don’t you?”

“I can’t do that, Ron! Think! She’s already a target, as are you, because you’re close to me. and the fact she’s a Muggleborn, with better OWL marks then Riddle doesn’t exactly makes the world a safer place for her. Can you imagine what will happen if they think we’re together?”

Ron snorted: “They already believe that stuff either way. You’ll have to do better then that...”

“I just can’t, Ron. If I lost her now, I would loose one of my two best friends in the whole world. If I let her get closer, I’ll just get more vulnerable/”

“Or stronger...” So Ron really wasn’t that dim-witted as he always showed himself to be.

“It would just be safer”

“For you. You know she’d die for you, as would I”

“Exactly, that’s what I’m afraid for”

Hermione blinked back tears in the darkness; she whispered, mostly to herself: “I’m not your mother, Harry... We’re not Sirius. I don’t want to die. But if it’s you or me, I know my choice. And if that’s the way you want it. I’ll make it easier for you”

With that in mind she prepared for bed. She laid awake a long time, determining her course of action. She was going to take the burden of denying the real meaning of the kiss upon her shoulders: she was going to act against her feelings...

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(*) Note that this was kind of delicate to translate, but here you are:

When your hair’s splayed, As a summer’s sun, And your pillow, Resembles a cornfield, When the shadow and the light, Draw on your body, Mountains, forests, And treasure islands, How I love you, how I love you, I love you, How I love you, how I love you, I love you!

When your mouth grows soft, When your body hardens, When the sky in your eyes, Suddenly isn’t pure anymore, When your hands would want to, When your fingers don’t dare, When your pudency says no, With a very little voice, How I love you, how I love you, I love you, How I love you, how I love you, I love you!

When you stop being playful, And you answer to the animal inside, And at the call of the wolf, You finally break free from your chains, When your first sigh, Ends in a cry, When it’s me saying no, When it’s you saying yes, How I love you, how I love you, I love you, How I love you, how I love you, I love you!

When my body on your body, As a dead weight, Doesn’t know, doesn’t remember, If it still exists, When we made Love, Like others battle war, When I’m the private, Who dies and looses it (the war), How I love you, how I love you, I love you, How I love you, how I love you, I love you!

The song’s called: Que je t'aime, and it’s from Johnny Hallyday, a French singer...

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