Harry Potter and the Circle of Oblivion

I'm not sure I'm completely satisfied with this chapter, but it's been written since I started the story, so there you go. It's a bit “fluffier” than I wanted it to be. Gah. Well, we all know I have a fetish with rain - see “Whisper” and “Cheers, darlin'” and it's definitely present in this “romantic climax” as well, but I have a few loose ends coming along after it. The tone of Harry and Hermione and even Ron is a bit different in this one. I wanted them to seem changed after everything - lighter and even *gasp* 16. Perhaps they're just more self-actualized than anything else. The rough emotional trials and demons are gone so… well… I'll shut up and let you read. Hey, two chapters in 24-hours. I'm going for redemption. :D

Ron walked through the courtyard looking for Harry and Hermione, finally spotting them beneath one of the large trees near the lake. He had planned to join them after finishing his detention, but stopped before they noticed him. Not that they would have anyway. He watched them intently for a moment, their heads pressed together, obviously deep in conversation about something. Suddenly Hermione laughed loudly, her head going backward, hand to her mouth. It was almost a cackle and Harry's eyes shone with happiness at having elicited such a response. In spite of the ever so small pang of jealousy, followed very closely by a wave of relief that swept over him in swift succession, Ron was not surprised. He had known something about Harry and Hermione's relationship was changing. He'd even voiced it, but there was a difference in truly seeing it. And he felt… separate.

Granted, he had a unique bond with them each individually and of course their iconic connection as a trio, but Hermione could reach a part of Harry that Ron couldn't. Perhaps it had started that way because she was a girl and slightly more perceptive than an 11 year old boy, but it had grown into something else.

Ron shook his head and stuffed his hands into his pockets. He hardly ever let thoughts like this invade his brain but here sat a rude awakening. Hermione was a woman and he and Harry had somehow, without meaning or wanting to, become men. He smiled crookedly to himself and turned back for the castle.

“We should go,” Harry said, not noticing their red-headed friend as he disappeared inside, “It's getting dark.”

Let's stay just a bit longer.”

“Don't you want to study?” Harry's eyes were wide. “There's only three weeks until exams!”

She pursed her lips and tried not to laugh, “I need to study, but,” She laid a head on his shoulder, “sixth year is almost gone and I've decided I want to pretend it's going to last for just a bit longer.”

“Since when did Hermione Granger pretend?”

“I have a right to change.” She smiled.

“We still have another year, you know.” Harry said softly. He didn't like to think about the end of school. Or the fact that sitting under this tree with Hermione's head on his shoulder was serving as a sort of exquisite torture.

“I know, but… then what?”

“Well, you'll go be a brilliant professor while Ron and I rot away in London trying to be Aurors.”

“What if I want to be an Auror?” She lifted up her head, eyes challenging his.

“Then we'll all three rot away.” Harry beamed, painfully aware of how close their faces were, before his smile faded. “I don't want you to.”

“You don't want me to what?”

“Be an Auror.” He looked away from her, focusing on something, anything, in the distance. One day it will all come out, you know.

“And why not? Girls are just as capable --”

“No, not because you're a girl.” He rolled his eyes, “I know better than to go that route.” You could do it now.

“Then why?”

“It's dangerous.”

“Right, more dangerous than Voldemort, I suppose?”

“Now that you bring it up…” Tell her.

“You know it isn't.” She was still looking at him, wanting a reason.

“I'm sorry if it doesn't satisfy you, but that is my reason. It's dangerous. You've seen, you know, what could happen to me or Ron. If one of us were to be hurt or killed, then…” Harry stopped as Hermione gave him a very unpleasant look and stood, starting for the lake. “Where are you going?” Harry ran after her. “Hermione!”

She had stopped at the edge of the vast blackness, hugging her arms to herself, aware of a sudden chill in the air.

Harry stopped beside her and neither one spoke. He dug his hands into the pockets of his jeans and waited. Tell her. Tell her! TELL HER!!!

Tears pooled in her eyes and she finally moved closer, tugging on his arm so he would release a hand from his pocket. When he did, she took it swiftly in hers and rolled it over so it rested palm up, as he had done with hers so many months ago on the second floor. When she'd first known.

“I'm no good at divination,” She pointed at his palm, “but I see a long life here.”

“Well, if you hadn't stormed out on Professor Trelawney, you would know that was my head line, not my life line.”

“I told you I was no good at divination…” She smiled up at him, breaking his heart, “but I have a feeling on this one.”

Harry couldn't help but smile back as he laced his fingers with hers. Neither let go until they reached the common room.

***

“Were you and Hermione just holding hands?” Ron nearly pounced on Harry as they entered the dorm room. “I could've sworn… when the portrait hole opened...”

“Yeah.” Harry fell backward onto his bed, feeling it useless to deny anything. “But we have before.” Might as well get it all out to someone if he wasn't going to tell Hermione.

“I knew it! We all knew it was coming! I told you months ago!”

“What?” Harry looked at Ron as if he'd just had a conversation with Gilderoy Lockhart at St. Mungo's.

“Oh, come off it. Everyone knows you two have a spot for each other.”

“They do?” Harry seemed quite unaware, but heard Seamus snicker.

“Yeah,” Ron's impatience was showing through, “So?”

“So what, Ron?” A small smile formed on Harry's lips. “Hermione has been my friend for six years now.”

“Yeah, and I'm a thestral wearing ice skates.”

“Bollocks. Thestrals don't have arms or red hair. I've seen them.” Harry was quite amused with himself.

“Don't be a git, Harry.” Ron was now standing, arms crossed, beside Harry's bed.

“What do you want me to say? I feel like I'm being questioned by Lavender and Parvati!”

“But you're not! I'm your best mate! So… TELL ME WHETHER YOU LIKE HER OR NOT!” Ron wasn't quite shouting, but he wasn't on even keel either.

Harry sat up and looked squarely at his friend, coming to his own realization, “Feeling a bit protective are we?”

“Maybe.”

“Of her or me?”

“Both of you, you stupid, stupid git!”

“Fine.” Harry sighed and fell onto his pillows again, “I don't like her.”

“What!” Ron shrieked, “I mean… the last few months you've both… everything… I, we all just thought… well…” Then his face grew fiercely defensive, “Does she know this?”

“Stop treating me like one of Ginny's boyfriends, Ron. I haven't done anything to Hermione.” He sighed, rolling his eyes up to the ceiling, “And anyway, I think it's a bit more than that.”

“Than what?”

“Like. I think it's a bit more than liking her.”

Ron gulped and Seamus, Neville and Dean who had - up to that point - been pretending not to listen, suddenly flew toward him.

“A bit more?”

“What's that mean?”

“Does she know?”

The questions all came at once.

“Do you mean,” Ron said after a moment, “That you… l-lo-love her?”

“Yeah, I suppose I do.” Harry said calmly, leaving his normally boisterous friends once again speechless.

“For how long?” Ron said quietly, not really needing an answer.

“I guess it's been coming on since the summer. Or maybe the last six years.” He'd draped his arms across his face leaving them only with a muffled voice. “I don't know.”

“But you're only 16!” Seamus declared suddenly.

“I'm almost 17 - which is the age my parents fell in love - and I didn't say we were about to get married or anything, did I? Plus, I dunno, it's Hermione. Through everything she's been right beside me and that means something.”

“So have I,” Ron sounded almost hurt.

“Yeah, you have, and you'll always be my best friend, it just took me a while to see it was… different… with her.”

Ron smiled in spite of himself, “That's a bit foul. I don't want to hear about you two snogging!”

Harry shrugged. “We haven't snogged. I haven't even told her.”

“WHAT!” They all exclaimed together.

“I tried. Today by the lake, but I couldn't do it.”

“Well,” Ron slapped his friend on the back, “better get on that… for all of our sakes.”

***

“Take a walk with me?” Harry extended a hand toward Hermione later that evening. He'd come downstairs from his dormitory pep talk to find her sitting on the couch with Ginny laughing.

She looked from Ginny to Harry and back again, Ginny's eyes leering at her as if to say `Go on, stupid!', and leaving her no option but to obey. “Ok. Back in a bit, Gin.”

“Don't hurry!” Ginny smiled knowingly and watched them go.

“It's going to rain,” Hermione said to Harry as they stepped into the hall.

“We'll come inside if it does. I just needed to get out of there.” He quietly took her hand, not missing her sharp intake of breath at his touch.

They walked in silence for a while, “What is it, Harry?” She finally said as they descended the last staircase, “You're worrying me. Have you been having dreams since…”

“No. Well, not about Voldemort anyway.”

“Honestly,” she said after a few more moments of quiet, “you've got me a bit on edge.”

“Me too.” He said truthfully, but continued to walk in silence.

“Oh for Heaven's sake,” She stopped, yanking her hand from his, “you know I'm not very patient! You wanted to talk, Harry, but you're not saying anything.” Her voice grew taught.

“Alright, then. It's about you, actually.” He spat out. The first step is half the distance.

“Me?” She looked rather shocked as they entered the courtyard.

Harry didn't know what was going to come out of his mouth next and was a bit perplexed when he heard himself speaking, “You know how Ron feels about you, right?”

“Yes.” She said, confused. “Look, Harry, we've been over this, Ron and I settled it a long time ago. You know that. Why would you even think…”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. But I've always felt the same way about you he does.”

She took a deep breath, hoping her voice wouldn't betray her, “Like I'm your sister?”

“Yes.”

“Ok.” She felt as if someone had kicked her. She knew that's how he'd felt before, but now…

Harry sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair and dislodging more random pieces, “This should prove to the entire world that I am not my father,” he mumbled, remembering the overly confident James he'd seen once in Snape's pensive.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He said quickly.

“If that's all, I think I'm going to go in now. You really didn't have to bring me out here to tell me something I already knew,” She didn't want him to see the wetness in her eyes.

“Wait,” He grabbed her arm as a clap of thunder pounded above them, “Why are you crying?”

“I'm not!” She sniffed and then shrugged her shoulders as if giving up, “If that's how you still felt, then why have you been acting this way toward me?”

“What way?”

“This way!”

Harry suddenly noticed the way he was holding her tightly about the waist with one hand and wiping a tear away with the other. He promptly dropped both arms to his side. “I…”

She continued, apparently having been keen to ask him this for a while, “Why have you been holding my hand and hugging me and touching me like… like your…” She wiped furiously at her eyes, unable to say the word. “We almost kissed, Harry! More than once! So, there you go… I rather pride myself on dealing with my emotions quite well, but this has me completely knackered!” She stared at him defiantly, arms crossed over her chest.

“Me too.” He said finally, pulling her near and hugging her before resting his forehead against hers.

He heard her draw another deep breath, “Harry…”

“I wish we were at Grimmauld Place - just you and me - lying on the roof.” His hand found its way back to her cheek where his thumb was running idly back and forth.

Hermione reached up, grasping his wrist with her hand, “We will be soon.” A few raindrops plopped into her hair.

“Hermione, I don't feel like you're my sister.” He pulled his head back to look at her, rain collecting on the lenses of his glasses.

“No?” It was a whisper.

“You and Ron are my best friends. And you're a lot of things, Hermione. You're the smartest person I know, the one who understands me completely, who I can tell anything to, who is always painfully honest with me and who fights beside me. But you're not my sister.” He watched her eagerly searching eyes. “I don't really have a grand example of love since the only two people who have ever really loved me are dead, but…” he brushed a piece of hair from her forehead. “The thing is, Hermione, I… love you.” Harry heard the words come out in a rush and felt immediately relieved and then irreversibly stupid.

She jerked herself out of his arms, the rain steadying on them. “The ONLY people who've ever REALLY loved you are your parents, then?” Her hands went to her hips and her hair was whipping about her, “You great prat! What was Sirius? Undiluted bubotuber pus? What are Lupin and Dumbledore and the Weasley's? Because they ALL love you, you daft idiot! What's Ron?” Her hands were shaking as she raised them in the air, “What am I? A screaming mandrake?”

“Well,” He smiled and reached for her but she pulled her arm quickly away. “Why are you angry?!” He was feeling in a bit of a temper himself. They rarely ever fought and she picked this moment to be angry with him? “I just told you I loved you!”

She let out a frustrated roar, “If you hadn't been so oblivious, a trait I usually attribute to Ron, to everything but this bloody destiny of yours then you'd be quite aware that I've been in love with you for a very long time! So thank you very much, but I'd rather not hear another poor, pitiful Harry Potter sto--”

Hermione would have continued but Harry was tired of her rambling and suddenly found the most brilliant solution had been staring at him - tempting him - for the last six months. In the second between him tugging her to him - hands firmly grasping her shoulders - and finding her mouth, Harry managed a brisk, “Shhh.”

From there it was all a fabulous blur. Harry's romantic experience was very little, but the moment Hermione kissed him back, he knew with a certainty he'd felt very few times before, that he'd never kiss anyone else after her. And with that realization, the kiss that had begun quite heatedly in the midst of an argument, softened. Harry's arms snaked around her waist, pulling her wholly to him. He wanted no space between them anymore. Hermione rose onto her toes, a smile on her lips, as she wound her arms around his neck and kissed him again. She'd kissed Victor Krum (and never told a soul - save Harry, of course) and she'd even briefly kissed Ron (if that counted as kissing) but kissing Harry made her feel like he had her life in his embrace. And he did.

It was a bolt of lightening that broke them apart, neither sure how long they'd been standing there kissing in full view of nearly every window in the school. Hermione lifted her face to the sky, keeping her arms tightly about his neck. Everything about their relationship had just changed, and while her heart was beating out of her chest and every part of her yearned for him, it all felt unnaturally… natural. “The storm's getting worse.” She said simply.

Harry he pulled away grudgingly and planted a kiss on her forehead. “We should go in.”

She said nothing but took his hand, looking at it as she had earlier that same day - was it still the same day - and purposefully watched as their fingers intertwined. “This is it, you know.” She stared at their hands, distorted into one by the rain.

“I know.” He leaned over to whisper in her ear, then led them toward the castle.