Harry Potter and the Circle of Oblivion

Another day another chapter. Hope I can keep this up! Please don’t threaten me because H/Hr aren’t making out yet. I like it nice and slow… because I think that’s how it should happen! Thanks to Heather from the Auror thread at FF for the idea for the gift that Harry gives Hermione.

***

Five days later, on Christmas morning, Harry and Ron were awakened (very loudly) by Fred and George. They were not at all happy to be interrupted so early, especially since they’d stayed up late playing a game of Quidditch after Christmas Eve dinner the night before. Alas, the twins bounding continually from bed to bed was enough to jerk them wide awake and force them out from under their covers.

“Get up ickles! We’ve got presents downstairs!”

The two grudgingly made their way down to the large living room (though it was barely light outside) and found Ginny, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Charlie, Bill and Lupin waiting on them. Well, not waiting exactly. There was a pile of gifts in front of each person and a plate of food in each set of hands.

“Don’t let us hold you up.” Harry said sarcastically, rubbing his neck from where George had elbowed him when he apparated onto Harry’s bed.

“There you are! Good heavens, I thought you would be the first up!” Mrs. Weasley tossed a bundle to each of them and moved toward the kitchen, “Better get those out of the way first!” She smiled.

The boys noticed the twins and Ginny fiddling with similar bundles and they all began unrolling them together, knowing what lay inside.

George gasped playfully, “Why it’s a Weasley Jumper!”

“Who ever would have guessed?” Fred played along.

“Such a classic gift.”

“Always in style.”

And so it went, Harry, Ron and Ginny laughing heartily.

“At least mine’s a pretty color,” Ginny slipped her purple jumper over her head and moved to the next gift.

“At least I don’t get one anymore.” Charlie whispered with a smirk, but not quick enough. Mrs. Weasley swatted him on the shoulder.

“Mine’s always this terrible maroon. And look, the ‘R’ is crooked!” Ron said incredulously. “Ah well, here Harry.” Ron thrust a present at him.

“Oh!” Ginny reached out to prevent Harry from taking the very badly wrapped package, “Mum said you two should open just the ones from us this morning and save your ones for each other until Hermione got here.”

“That sounds good.” Harry said quickly.

The twins exchanged a mischievous look and spoke simultaneously, “Course it does!”

“Shush!” Ginny tossed a chocolate frog at them which left tiny webbed foot marks on George’s face.

Harry ignored them and the look he was getting from Ron, and moved on to his next gift.

By lunch, the room was a mass of rubbish and wrapping paper. Mrs. Weasley shoved them all off to their rooms to take showers and when Harry came down half an hour later, there was no trace of the morning festivities, but Mrs. Weasley could be heard muttering “Scourgify!” somewhere in the kitchen.

Ron had taken second turn for the shower so Harry milled around the house, seeing if anything had changed since he left for school. Lupin had obviously made himself at home and Harry was glad to find the house lived in – and more importantly – livable. It barely seemed reminiscent of the place he’d first come to over a year ago. He drifted through the downstairs and the dining room to the front window.

Mrs. Weasley found him, several minutes later, face pressed to the glass, eyes darting up and down the street.

“She won’t be here until dinner, dear.”

“Oh… I… well… I didn’t know when to expect her. Thought I’d keep lookout for a while.”

Mrs. Weasley smiled in a way Harry hadn’t seen before. “I understand. But honestly, you look quite tired, Harry. Fred and George did wake you rather early. Why don’t you go and take a nap like the others.”

It did sound quite appealing. Harry nodded and moved back up to his and Ron’s room finding what he’d expected. Ron had gotten out of the shower, pulled on some pajamas and laid down, wet hair and all. Harry laughed to himself and moved to his own bed, thoughts drifting.

***

“Harry.” Someone’s voice invaded his mind. If Fred and George were sitting on his bed again… “Harry.” No. The voice was feminine. “Harry!”

He opened his eyes to find Hermione’s face leaning over his and sat up slowly, eyes smiling, “Hi!” He said sleepily. She still had her toboggan and coat on.

“Hey.” She said softly, reaching to hug him tightly.

“What’s the matter?” He asked into the hair that was assaulting his face.

“Nothing.” Her chin was on his shoulder. “I’m happy to see you.”

Harry pulled back and looked at her, “I’m glad you’re finally here.”

Hermione smiled and stood up, “Come on. Everyone else is waiting.”

“How long have you been here?” Harry threw back the covers and stepped into his shoes.

“Only a few minutes. Ron had just woken up when I arrived and told me you were still sleeping. I offered to wake you up for dinner.”

“I bet Fred and George loved that.” Harry said under his breath.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He looked up. “After you.”

Hermione walked through the open door wanting to tell Harry about the look she’d seen on the twins’ faces when she volunteered to go wake him, but obviously he already knew.

They made their way to the dining room and took the two empty chairs next to Ron.

“Glad you could join us.” Fred smiled.

“Yeah, we weren’t expecting you so soon.” George pointed at them.

“Will you two sod off!” Ron said, clearly irritated.

Before another insult could be tossed, the adults joined the table, leaving Harry very relieved. They all tucked in and enjoyed their Christmas dinner immensely – save for the moment when Fred nearly dropped a large bowl of creamed potatoes he was trying to levitate in from the kitchen.

Harry smiled, and watched the scene for a moment as though someone on the outside.

Mr. Weasley was talking animatedly to Lupin about a large supply of muggle microwaves he’d come across in a warehouse during a ministry raid. “Fascinating way to heat food, pressing buttons. I say!” Fred and George were mercilessly teasing their mother with various flying items and joke food products, Ginny was discussing Quidditch with Charlie and Ron, and Hermione was engaged in deep conversation about wizard banking with Bill. Harry had never had a family, so to speak, but now, with the great stories and jokes that were being passed around with plenty of boisterous laughter and smiles, he was quite sure that he had inherited a very good one.

Soon they found their stomachs full and Mrs. Weasley shooed them from the table. The evening progressed back into the living room where Mr. Weasley settled into a chair by the fire, The Daily Prophet in hand, pipe between his lips. Lupin sat in a corner with Bill and Charlie, evidently discussing something very important. The twins were also being secretive, a list of what had to be wizarding joke products between them and Ginny was lying on her stomach near the fire reading a book called Women in Quidditch, that Bill had given her.

“Hold on,” Hermione said as the three of them found places on the floor near the Christmas tree, “I’ve left your presents upstairs.”

Harry and Ron waited on her to return, taking turns looking at Fred and George.

“You’d think they were still trying to hide it from Mum!” Ron said, aggravated.

Hermione reappeared with two small packages. “Alright then.” She sat down and handed them each a small, flat box.

Ron tore into his and found a picture of himself, Harry and Hermione. It was a wizard photograph taken of them on the grounds one afternoon near the beginning of the year. Harry was in the middle, one arm around Hermione, who continually looked up at him smiling, the other arm around Ron, who kept pulling away and punching at Harry’s ribs before they both laughed.

“Hey, Neville took this the first week of school!” Ron said, remembering.

Harry had opened his as well and also found a photograph, but Ron was nowhere to be seen. Hermione sat, back against their tree by the lake, a book in her hand and the Harry in the photograph, whose head was in her lap, kept reaching up, snatching at her book and grinning as she laughed.

“Hey, I’m not in that one!” Ron exclaimed, looking over Harry’s shoulder.

“That’s because I gave Harry a copy of your photo for his album months ago.” Hermione pushed a stray hair behind her ear.

Harry couldn’t help but smile.

“I know what you’re both thinking,” she said before they could speak, “a ruddy picture!”

“No!” They said in unison.

“Well, whether you were thinking that or not,” she looked at Ron, “It’s not a normal photograph.”

“What?” Ron said, turning it over in his hands. “Looks normal to me.”

Hermione shook her head. “I’ve enchanted it. The same two pictures are on my nightstand in the dormitory. If one of you needs to tell me something after we’ve all gone to bed, if Harry has a dream, or if something happens, all you have to do is say accersitus! and it will act as a sort of telephone between us.” She looked at their stunned faces, “Then we don’t have to wait until morning to relay any messages or emergencies. And of course my photos will also ‘call’ either of you.”

“Brilliant!” Ron said. “I’ve never had a fellytone.”

Hermione blushed.

“That’s amazing, Hermione.” Harry said in awe. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” She pointed a finger at them, “Just don’t start waking me at three in the morning to tell me which animal bean you’ve eaten or you’ll find me a bit foul!”

“I don’t talk to you in the morning,” Ron said, grabbing something from under the tree, “At least not until you’ve spoken to me first. I know better.”

Hermione stuck her tongue out and took the gift Ron had pushed in her direction.

Harry watched every expression that crossed her features as she opened the box. The way her eyes lit up and watered a bit as her cheeks flushed. The genuine appreciation in her eyes. How she bit her bottom lip in concentration. He’d seen these things a million times before, but tonight they stood out like beacons. It was her laugh that brought him abruptly out of his thoughts.

“A fake rat!” She held up the furry creature.

“For Crookshanks to murder.” Ron smiled proudly. “I reckon it’s too bad he didn’t actually kill Scabbers the first time. I wanted to make it up to him. And you.”

“Ron, you hate Crookshanks.” She smirked.

“It’s the least I could do. Giving him something else to chase besides his bloody tail.” He took the small toy from her fingers. “If you tap it three times with your wand, it scurries about on its own until the cat finds it.”

“I love it!” She leaned over, hugging him, which turned Ron’s cheeks bright red.

Ron then handed Harry the same gift he’d tried to give him that morning. “I found it in Zonko’s!”

Harry opened the small package to find a bag full of what looked like house-flies, with brightly colored writing. “Are these Flies on the Wall?”

Ron grinned, “Yep.”

“Wicked,” Harry said in a tone very reminiscent of his red-headed friend.

“What do they do?” Hermione asked.

“You put one of the flies in a room – they stick to the wall, see – and take this little piece here with you,” Harry pointed to an odd looking, house like object, “And with a simple spell, you can hear anything going on in any of the rooms you put the flies in. They’re brilliant! Thanks, Ron.”

“What if people are saying things you aren’t meant to hear?” Hermione looked horrified.

“Well, that’s the point, isn’t it?” Ron sighed. “And these are much less noticeable that Extendable Ears.”

“My turn, then.” Trying to prevent a row between the two of them, Harry reached for a large box and handed it to Ron.

“Whoa!” Came the response mere seconds later, “This game is supposed to be wicked!”

“What is it?” Hermione asked.

“Quidditch Masters II!” Harry said as if she’d asked a ludicrous question.

“What the devil is Quidditch Masters?” She was still confused.

“It’s Quidditch Masters II, Hermione.” Ron said flatly. “And you need to get out more. It’s a Quidditch game that works sort of like Wizard’s Chess. You set up a pitch using these pieces.” He pointed at something on the box, “Then you pick a team. The player pieces are entranced and you control them with your wand. Then you play. Just like a real game.”

“Fabulous. As if you two don’t spend enough time on the real pitch as it is.”

Ron ignored her. “Thanks Harry!”

“You’re welcome.” His eyes drifted to Hermione and he suddenly wished he didn’t have to give her his gift in front of anyone else, but with no other choice, he handed it wordlessly to her.

Her mouth formed a small O when she opened the box and pulled back the tissue paper.

“It’s beautiful, Harry.” Her eyes shone.

“Well, what is it, then?” Ron asked.

“A diary.” Hermione lifted the book out of the box as if carrying a small child and ran her fingers lightly over its surface. It was deep brown leather, with a thin leather rope wrapping at least three times around it. On the front, seemingly branded into the cover, was her name in fine script.

She unwrapped the rope and opened the front cover, looking immediately up at Harry, before closing the book back and wrapping it tightly shut.

“You told me once last summer that you wished you’d written it all down.” Harry said simply.

“I feel like I’ll forget it all.”

“All what?” Harry asked. The night was warm and they were sitting by an open window inside Number Twelve.

“Everything that’s happened to us. I don’t want to forget.”

“I don’t see how anyone could.” Harry watched as she looked out the window.

“I wish I’d written it all down, though, so I could go back and remember what it felt like when it was happening.”

Hermione was amazed at how often Harry remembered the little, thoughtless things she said in passing and smiled broadly at him. She wanted to say something but found herself at a loss, instead hugging him tightly and burying her face in his neck.

Ron shook his head as they pulled apart, “Want to play, Harry?” He motioned toward the game.

“Sure.” Harry tore his eyes from Hermione and turned back to face Ron, “Where do you want to set up?”

“Better do it in the library. Nothing’s in there.”

They four boys disappeared from the living room. Hermione looked around and found Ginny looking up at her from her spot on the floor.

“Want to chat?” She asked knowingly.

Hermione shook her head, “Not just now. Tonight maybe.” She looked down at the diary again, “I think I might up onto the roof for a bit.”

“But it’s so cold.”

“I’ve got my Weasley jumper and a coat.” She smiled, “And I’ll take the blanket.”

“Alright.” Ginny sighed, “Don’t stay out too long.”

Hermione nodded and moved noiselessly up to hers and Ginny’s room, grabbing her coat, toboggan and a fresh quill before making for the secret staircase. Once she reached the roof, she settled herself against the chimney, smelling the smoke as it came billowing out, introducing itself to the sky. Snow from the night before still dotted the rooftop and covered the ground. She looked around, feeling calmer than she had in ages. The diary lay delicately in her hands and she unwrapped the cord, opening the cover once again. But she did not pick up her quill and write, instead staring at something inside the book.

“Bit cold isn’t it?” A voice said seconds later.

“Harry! I’ve told you not to startle me like that.”

He grinned, eyebrows hidden beneath his own toboggan. “Sorry.”

“I thought you were playing Quidditch Masters 3000 or whatever it’s called.”

“I am.” He smiled, “George rogued one of the bludgers and has Fred and Ron chasing it around the library. I slipped out for a minute.”

“Oh.”

Harry sat down beside her. “How’s the writing going? Anything interesting in there yet?”

“No.” She looked at him oddly, “And it’s a diary. I wouldn’t tell you if there was anyway.”

“You tell me everything.”

“Not everything.” She looked up at the moon.

Harry reached over, swiftly freeing her hand of the glove that covered it, and pulled it into his own bare hand.

Hermione looked up into his face wondering if he even realized what he’d done.

“What wouldn’t you tell me?” He asked, breath coming out in puffs from the cold.

“I have to have some secrets, Harry. You and Ron can’t know everything.”

“I tell you everything.”

“I seriously doubt that.” She said sarcastically.

Harry snickered and realized he couldn’t argue. “I missed you.”

“I was only gone five days.”

“Is there a time constraint on how long I should wait to miss one of my friends?”

“No.” She rolled her eyes.

“I did.” He looked down at their hands, “Miss you.”

“I missed you, too.” She smiled and he looked back at her in a way she could only describe as adoringly, and the funny feeling she’d felt in the second floor hallway that night pounced into her stomach and she began to feel rather warm despite the chilly winter air.

“Did you read what I wrote?” He asked quietly, resting his head back against the stone.

“Of course.” She looked up at him, intending to say something else, but that look was still in his eyes and she lost all sense of thought in its presence.

Harry released her hand and moved his fingers along her cheek and tapped lightly at her nose, “Your nose is frozen.”

Hermione nodded and drew in a breath as Harry’s left hand moved to match the other, framing her face. He leaned slowly toward her, stopping when his mouth was once again mere inches from hers. She watched as he hesitated, eyes floating over her lips and back to her eyes, “Happy Christmas,” he whispered and rested his lips on the corner of her mouth. Hermione was sure she was sinking into the rooftop as he pulled away and wondered why she felt so… disappointed.

It registered with her that Harry was standing up. “Back to the game,” he said, seeming flustered. “See you in a bit?”

“Of course.”

Hermione let out a deep breath that had been residing in her chest and closed her eyes, letting her head fall back against the chimney. She only realized her face was wet when a soft breeze blew across it. She wiped at the lonely tear, forbidding any others and opened the diary.

The scrawled handwriting screamed out at her.

A faithful record.

So you don’t forget me…

Harry

“As if I could.” She sighed into the night and picked up her quill.