My Sacrifice

Amynoelle

Rating: R
Genres: Drama, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 26/09/2003
Last Updated: 31/10/2003
Status: completed

Sequel to Again. What would Harry do if he was presented with the most difficult choice of his life? As his relationship with Hermione grows and his friendship with Ron falters, he will soon face the biggest test of his life. How will he handle it? How will he choose?

Chapters

1. My Sacrifice

2. I Could Not Ask For More

3. In Your Eyes

4. No One is To Blame

5. By My Side

6. Sounds of Silence

7. The Scientist

8. I

9. Pretty Baby

10. Somebody Like You

11. To Make You Feel My Love

12. Goodbye My Friend

1. My Sacrifice

Author’s Note: This is the sequel to “Again”. It’s a continuation of the story. I hope to make this a three-part series. This will have both action, romance, and fluff (of course)! I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think!

Disclaimer: You know the drill….these characters are not mine…they belong to the fabulous J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Books, etc…they are not mine, however much I wish they were…they are not…yada, yada, yada….

My Sacrifice

Chapter One

“When you are with me I'm free
I'm careless, I believe
Above all the others we'll fly
This brings tears to my eyes
Cause when you are with me I am free
I'm careless, I believe
Above all the others we'll fly
This brings tears to my eyes
My Sacrifice, My Sacrifice”

Wormtail walked apprehensively toward the back on the abandoned house where he, Voldemort, and a handful of the Dark Lord’s most loyal Death Eaters had taken up residence. They’d been holed up in this house since the disastrous attempt to find the prophecy in the Department of Mysteries. They’d kept a low profile, laying low and plotting and planning their next step.

At the moment, Wormtail was quite nervous as he made his way down the dimly lit corridor. He had news for Voldemort that would probably not go over too well. Wormtail had learned the hard way that being the bearer of bad news to Voldemort could be and had been hazardous to his health, to say the very least.

When he finally made it to the room Voldemort had claimed as his own, Wormtail tried to catch his breath and quit his hand from trembling. He had to go in there somewhat in control of his emotions. Voldemort could smell weakness a mile away. Before knocking on the door, he said a silent prayer that things would go okay.

“Come in,” came a cold, hoarse voice from behind the door.

Wormtail again took a deep breath as he turned the doorknob and walked into the room. It was dark, save for the two candles on the desk where Voldemort was sitting. He was hunched over the desk, thumbing through a newspaper. When Wormtail got closer to him, he noticed it was The Daily Prophet.

“I sent for you over two hours ago, Wormtail,” Voldemort said, in a voice that barely rose above the octave of a whisper. He didn’t look up as he talked; he just continued to thumb through the newspaper.

“I—I, I know, master,” Wormtail stammered, as he sat down directly across from Voldemort. “I have some news on Potter, sir.”

Voldemort rolled his eyes and sighed impatiently as watched Wormtail fidget uncomfortably in his chair. “Tell me what you’ve heard.”

Wormtail hesitated only a second before beginning to tell his story.

“The m-mm-mudblood has returned to school,” he said. “She arrived back a couple of days ago.”

“That’s your big news? Do you think I could care less that a mudblood returned to Hogwarts?” Voldemort said, and with that he slammed his fist down angrily on the desk. Wormtail nearly jumped out of his chair.

“I asked you to get me news on Potter and this is what you come back with? I don’t care about Potter’s friends. They are of no concern to me. I want to know about Potter.”

“Apparently his relationship with her has changed. She seems to now be his girlfriend,” Wormtail said softly.

“Isn’t that sweet?” Voldemort said, sarcastically. “The Boy Who Lived has finally found love. What a wonderful fairy tale!”

“You know how much help that she’s been to him over the years, my lord. You know how she’s the top of her class? I would think that her return gives Potter an added advantage.”

Voldemort laughed. “You think that I’m afraid of some Mudblood trash? I have defeated some of the most powerful wizards and witches in the world. I have the entire wizarding community on edge with just the idea of my return!” His red, snakelike eyes were practically gleaming with rage and anger.

Wormtail cowered in his chair, his knees and hands were shaking almost violently.

“I didn’t mean to imply that you, I mean,” Wormtail stammered.

“Quit sniveling,” Voldemort thundered at him. He arose from his chair and began pacing back and forth in front of the desk. “Your weakness sickens me. You are such a weak, pathetic person, do you realize that?”

“I’m sorry,” Wormtail said softly. “I don’t know what you want me to do. I’m sorry.”

“SHUT UP!”

For what seemed like an eternity, he just stood there, staring down at Wormtail, his eyes cold and unwelcoming. His stare steely and full of hate and distaste. Wormtail sat there, looking down at the floor, worried beyond belief that he wouldn’t make it out of the house alive. To his amazement, though, Voldemort began to laugh.

“What is it?” Wormtail said, finally summoning the courage to look up at his master. “What are you going to do?”

“You’ve given me a great idea, Wormtail,” Voldemort said hoarsely. “Mr. Potter’s friends have always been his weakness. His friendship with the mudblood and the Weasley boy has been his saving grace, haven’t they? What if he was put in the horrible position of having to choose which one to save, and which one to let die?”

“What?” Wormtail asked.

“You are a complete and utter waste of space! Do you realize that? Honestly, I don’t even know why I keep you around! It certainly isn’t for your wit or keen intellect! You have the intelligence of a pebble!”

Wormtail gulped.

“What we’ll do is put Potter in a situation where he has to choose between his girlfriend and his best friend. Which one will he save? Hell, for good measure, we’ll even add a third element that will blow him right out of the water! Yes, I can see it all coming together. What will he do? The possibilities are endless!”

“Who’s this third element, sir?”

“All in due time, Wormtail,” Voldemort said, his eyes shining. “It’s too delicious to spoil the surprise just yet. You’ll now in good time. They all will. Then, it will be too late.”

Meanwhile, Hermione Granger and Harry Potter were blissfully unaware of the plan that Voldemort had just hatched. They had spent the past few days, reveling in each other’s company. They were content just to spend time together. Both of them were about as happy as they’d ever been in their lives, or at the very least, as happy as either of them had been in months.

Hermione was happily ensconced in her assignments. She was absolutely giddy about her extra classes and course work. Harry had joked with her that she was the only person he’d ever seen get so excited about catching up on assignments. Despite his joking, he could tell she was in her element. She thrived under pressure and loved to rise to the occasion of a challenge. So far, she seemed to be adjusting well to her return. Everything seemed to slowly be returning to normal, or at least as normal as they could possibly be under the circumstances.

There was one thing that put a dark cloud on all of it, however. Ron. He’d given both Harry and Hermione the silent treatment for days now. On the occasions that they were forced to spend time together—namely classes and meals---Ron sat away from them and usually shot them scornful looks.

Truth be told, they all missed each other. They had been through so much together that it seemed something as ridiculous as this would tear them apart. Everyone had warned them that something like this would happen, that something like this was bound to happen. The three of them had denied it, of course, but here it was. It had played out as everyone said it would.

Although Hermione had been upset to hear that Harry hadn’t been truthful with Ron about what he’d been doing, she understood his reasoning behind it all. She could also understand why Ron was so upset. What she couldn’t fathom, though, was why this was breaking up their friendship. What she wanted most to do was get them together in a room and have a good talking out about the whole thing. If everything was aired out, maybe the healing could begin. Things might not be like they were, but at least they’d be better than they were now.

Part of her wished that things could be simpler like they’d been when they were 11 years old. Feelings and emotions didn’t cloud your judgment so much then. Or if they did, she didn’t remember it. She couldn’t stop time, though. Things had changed. They had all grown up. With that came changes in feelings and the way you looked at a person.

Part of her also knew that she wouldn’t change a thing about it. She was in love with a wonderful boy who loved her back. It was a wonderful feeling. She prayed that in time, Ron would get past this and he’d let bygones be bygones. He’d been angry at Harry and her many times in the past, and vice versa. That was just part of friendships. There would be fights. There would be misunderstandings. If the friendship was strong enough, you found away to get past it and move on.

She’d told Harry that they just had to give Ron time and space to sort this out for himself. He’d come around, she told him. Yet, every time that she saw him, he’d roll his eyes or stomp out of the room. Hermione honestly couldn’t ever remember seeing Ron so hurt and upset. With each passing day, it seemed less likely that Ron would get over this. Time wasn’t healing his wounds and it certainly wasn’t repairing the rift in the friendship between the trio—the Dream Team as some called them. If anything, it was only drawing Harry and Hermione closer together and driving Ron further and further away.

Ron hadn’t wavered from his self-imposed schedule. He had never been an early riser, but in order to avoid Harry, he’d taken to setting his alarm clock to go off a good thirty minutes before Harry’s. By the time Harry awoke each morning, he’d found Ron had already made his bed and made his way down to the Great Hall for breakfast. They had begun to treat each other as strangers instead of the best friends that they’d been.

Seamus, Dean and Neville were seemingly caught in the middle. They’d each refused to take sides and had served as a sort of neutral Switzerland in the Great War, as they’d each begun to call it. Yet, it wasn’t a war of battles or words, it was one of silence. It was almost as if it was a challenge to see who could shoot the other the most menacing and scornful looks. Who could hold out from speaking to the other the longest? The rules were unspoken, but the message was undoubtedly clear. This wouldn’t be a problem that would be swept under the rug anytime soon. This problem had dug its heels in and was refusing to budge.

Harry hated this more than he’d ever confess to anyone. Ron was his friend; the first real friend his own age that he’d ever had. He hated the distance that had grown between them in such a short time, but he couldn’t help also feeling somewhat angry toward his friend. He was being childish. Why couldn’t he just get over this? It wasn’t as if I did any of this on purpose, Harry thought to himself. It just happened.

Harry quickly took his shower and dressed and headed down to the Great Hall. He walked into the room thinking that he wouldn’t see Hermione. She’d had to attend early morning sessions with McGonagall and Flitwick. In the afternoons, she had to attend potions with Snape, which she’d privately told Harry she enjoyed about as much as getting her teeth drilled without Novocain.

When he saw her, he noticed that she was seated away from the rest of their friends, namely because she was pored over a book and busily scribbling some notes on her parchment paper. She had a bowl of untouched oatmeal beside her, as well as a glass of orange juice. A few seats down from her sat the usual crowd of Gryffindors, including Seamus, Dean, Neville, Ron, Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil. When Ron saw Harry come in, he pointedly looked at him disdainfully and then quickly looked away. Harry rolled his eyes and made his way past them to sit beside Hermione.

She was so engrossed in her book, she didn’t see him approach.
“Good morning, sunshine,” Harry said, with a laugh.
She didn’t say anything.
“So, I was thinking that I would quit school and join the monastery. I know it sounds like a leap, but I actually like the solitude and sanctuary of it. The celibacy thing, though, could present a bit of a problem,” he said, looking at her sideways.

“Good morning, Harry,” she said sweetly, a smile playing at her lips. “I hate to break this to you, but I don’t think you have it in you to be a monk.”
“Ah-ha! You were listening,” he said, giving her a quick peck on the cheek.

She finally looked up from her work and smiled at him.

“So, how was your morning lesson?” he asked her. He still couldn’t see how she was coping with this busy schedule she’d been put on since she’d returned.

“It was alright,” she said, watching as he took a swig from his glass of orange juice. “I do have a bit of good news, though.”

“What’s that?” he asked her, digging into his own bowl of oatmeal.

“I have the afternoon off,” she said, looking pointedly at him. “Snape has a staff meeting this afternoon and so that leaves me completely free this afternoon.”

“You know,” he began, “it just so happens that I don’t have practice this afternoon. So, I guess that I, too, have a free afternoon.”

“What were you planning to do with this free time of yours, Harry?” she asked him, a twinkle in her eye.

“Oh, I thought I’d catch up on some of my reading,” he said, trying to simultaneously not look at her and laugh at the same time. The next thing he knew, she’d playfully punched him on the arm.

“Ouch,” he said. “I take it you don’t want me to catch up on my reading, then? I honestly never thought I’d see the day when you’d be encouraging me to exhibit deviant behavior, Miss Granger. I am amazed and appalled at you!”

She gave him a look of mock indignation. “I’m not encouraging deviant behavior, per se. I’m just advocating that you use this unexpected free time wisely by spending time with your girlfriend, that’s all.”

“Well, when you put it that way,” he said, smiling at her. “How about a walk around the lake?”

“Perfect,” she said. “I can’t wait.”

He beamed at her. “Have I told you lately how glad I am to have you back here?”

“Yes you have,” she said, ‘but I wouldn’t mind hearing it again.”

He laughed and watched as she took a few quick bites of her oatmeal and then hurriedly placed her books, parchment and quill into her bag. She stood up from her seat, but Harry grabbed her hand.

“Where are you off to?”

“Well, I have to turn some assignments into Professor McGonagall. I’ll see you in Flitwick’s class, okay?”

With that, she leaned down and gave him a quick kiss before departing. Harry smiled as he watched her leave. As he did, he caught Ron’s eye who was looking down the table at him. Ron held his stare for a second before angrily shaking his head at Harry in disbelief.

When Harry turned his head back around to finish his breakfast, he saw Cho Chang standing directly across from him. She didn’t look too happy, her arms were folded defensively across her chest.

“Hello, Cho,” he said, uncomfortably. He hadn’t spoken to her since the end of last year’s term.

“Harry,” she said coolly.

She just stood there for a few seconds, looking at him. Harry wasn’t sure what she wanted to do or what she wanted him to do. She finally spoke up.

“I hear that you and Hermione Granger are dating now,” she said. “I saw you sitting with her and I saw her give you a kiss before she left.”

“Yeah,” he said, shifting awkwardly in his seat.

“I remember you telling me just last year that you and she were just friends. You said that you didn’t think of her in that way,” Cho said, her tone clearly accusatory. “Your behavior this morning would lead me to believe that you’ve clearly changed your tune.”

Harry tried to remain calm. What was she getting at? She really had no place to question his relationship with Hermione. They were no longer dating. They’d never really been dating. The whole fiasco with Cho had been a mistake from the get-go. Besides, she had her own boyfriend now.

“At the time, what I told you about my relationship with Hermione was true,” he said. “We were just friends, then, Cho. It wasn’t until-“ his voice trailed off.

“Until you finally realized what everyone else saw,” she said. “You know you could have been honest with me, Harry. You could have just told me the truth. Any one with half a brain could see how Hermione felt about you. It was only a matter of time before you went for her, too. What I can’t understand is why you didn’t just tell me the truth to begin with. It would have saved us both a lot of heartache.”

Harry didn’t really know what to say. He couldn’t understand why Cho would still care about any of this.

“I’m sorry if I hurt you, Cho,” he said, “but I honestly never lied to you. Hermione and I were just friends.”

“At the time,” Cho finished for him. “Uh-huh. I just don’t buy that. I don’t buy that at all.”

“Why did you come over here, then?” he asked her.

“I don’t know,” she said angrily. “I just wanted to hear you try and explain it to me.”

“Well, there you are,” Harry said. “I’ve done it. I’ve told you. I love Hermione. Are you happy now?”

She stood, looking at him, her mouth open in shock. He thought she’d say something, but she didn’t. She turned on her heel and stomped out of the Great Hall.

“Women,” he muttered to himself as he grabbed his own bag and walked out of the Great Hall.

2. I Could Not Ask For More

Author’s Note: Thanks for the great first reviews. I’m so glad you guys like the first chapter. This story is being told in the familiar third-person style---much easier to write than in the first person. I hope this doesn’t confuse anyone.

Please read and review!

Chapter Two

“I Could Not Ask For More”

”These are the moments
I know heaven must exist
These are the moments I know all I need is this
I have all I've waited for
And I could not ask for more”

”I could not ask for more than this time together
I could not ask for more than this time with you
Every prayer has been answered
Every dream I have's come true
And right here in this moment is right where I'm meant to be
Here with you here with me”

(Edwin McCain/Also done by Sara Evans)

Although the air was crisp and cool, it was still a nice day. The temperature was unseasonably warm for a November afternoon, and many students had taken advantage of it by spending the majority of the afternoon outside enjoying the sun.

While Harry’s afternoon classes ended with Herbology, Hermione still had to attend Ancient Runes. She promised to meet him in the Gryffindor common room as soon as she’d had a chance to go back to her room to change clothes. While he waited for her, he’d snuck down to the kitchens and asked Dobby and Winky to let him nick a thermos full of hot chocolate and cookies. They’d both happily obliged, and Dobby even offered to prepare a full-course meal, but Harry had profusely told him that wasn’t necessary and that the hot chocolate and cookies were more than enough.

As soon as he’d walked back into the common room, he found Hermione sitting on one of the couches. She’d changed out of her school uniform into a pair of jeans, a grey Atlanta Braves sweatshirt and a pair of trainers. She’d pulled her hair back into a plait. She was talking animatedly with Ginny and hadn’t noticed Harry coming into the room. He stood for a moment and watched her. He felt his heart speed up at the sight of her. He couldn’t wait to be alone with her.

“Hey,” he said, coming over to the couches and tapping her on the shoulder.

“Hey,” she said, folding her arms and trying to give him her “upset” look, but failing miserably and dissolving into laughter. “I thought you’d stood me up.”

“No,” he said, laughing. “I just went to get some provisions.” He held up the thermos and bag of cookies.

“Oh, yummy,” she said, eyeing the chocolate chip and peanut butter cookies. “Well, are you ready to go, then?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Ready when you are.”

“Let’s go,” she said, smiling.

They both said a quick goodbye to Ginny and stepped through the Portrait Hole. As they walked down the corridor, they didn’t speak. They were content just to hold hands and enjoy the peace and quiet. Every once in awhile, Hermione would look over at him and he, sensing her gaze, would look back and smile warmly at her.

He didn’t say much when they’d finally found a quiet, deserted spot under one of the giant trees by the lake. Harry set out the blanket he’d brought and he listened as she talked about her study plans for the next couple of weeks. He listened thoughtfully, but didn’t really contribute much to the conversation.

“Are you alright?” she asked him.

“Of course,” he said, as they both finally sat down. He took out the thermos and mugs from his bag and began to pour them each a cup of the hot chocolate. “Why wouldn’t I be? Look at this, perfect afternoon, perfect girl,” he said, taking a sip of his hot chocolate. “And the perfect hot chocolate. What more could I guy possibly want?”

She smiled, but still looked at him, uncertainly.

“What is it?” she asked again. “You know you can talk to me about anything, don’t you? Is it Ron?”

He shook his head. “No, it’s not Ron,” he said. “I mean, I’m upset that he’s still acting like a complete wanker over this whole thing with you and me, but that’s not it.”

“Well, what is it?”

“It all seems too perfect, you know? It almost seems like it’s the calm before the storm. I mean, classes are going fine. You are back where you belong, and you seem happy. I mean, you are happy, aren’t you?” he asked her, looking up at her with a look that reminded of her of a lost little boy.

She put her mug down and took her hand and placed it on his cheek. She cupped his face in her hands and kissed him softly.

“Does that answer your question?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said, his cheeks red. “I think it does on that point, anyway.”

“Well, what else?” she asked him.

“Well, I mean classes are fine, you’re happy. I’m happy. I just keep waiting for something to come and spoil it all. It just seems like I---and I know this probably sounds so selfish---but I can’t seem to get a moment’s peace. Why can’t I have just one year of prolonged happiness? Hell, I’d even settle for a month!”

She laughed.

“None of us knows what’s going to happen in the next few days, or weeks, or even years,” she said thoughtfully. “We don’t know what we’ll have then, but you know what I do know? I know that what we have right here is a moment. We have right here a good moment, I think. This is your moment’s peace, Harry. Enjoy it. Don’t keep waiting for the shoe to drop or the bomb to fall. That’s no way to live your life, you know. Enjoy what you do have.”

“What did I do to get so lucky to have you?” he asked her, taking her hand in his.

She blushed.

“I’m serious, Hermione,” he said. “You’re right. We should enjoy what we have now. I just—I just keep hearing Moody and his ‘countless vigilance’ spiel.”

“I know,” she said. “Well, I guess I’m just going to have to teach you to enjoy the moment.”

“What?” he asked her, looking at her bemusedly.

“I’m going to have to teach you to live in the moment,” she said, winking at him. She took his mug and placed it a few inches away on the ground along with her own. “We don’t need those right now.”
“What are you on about, Miss Granger?” he asked her.

“Lean back against the trunk of that tree,” she told him.

He opened his mouth to ask her again what she was doing, but one look at her determined face and he knew he should probably just shut up and listen to her and do as he was told. So, he simply nodded and leaned back against the tree trunk.

“All right,” she said. “Okay, open up your legs a little bit. I have to have room, you know?”

He gave her a pointed look.

“Get your mind out of the gutter,” she said, rolling her eyes at him. “To sit, you moron!”

Again, he did as he was told and tried not to laugh as she situated herself between his legs and leaned back against him. She rested her head on his chest.

“Alright,” she said. “That’s step one.”

“Okay,” he said. “What’s step two?”

“Well,” she said, a smile playing at her lips. “You put your arms around me.”

He did as she asked.

“I like this,” he said, smiling at her. “Now what?”

“Well, we just sit here like this,” she said, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes. “And just enjoy the sights, smells and sounds of nature.”

He leaned his own head back against the tree trunk and closed his eyes.

They sat there just like that for a few minutes just holding each other close like that. Hermione couldn’t hear the sounds of nature, she was preoccupied with the sound of Harry’s quiet breathing and the feeling of his arms wrapped warmly around her. She was barely aware of her arm creeping up around Harry’s neck or the way her forehead rested against his chin or the easy pressure of his leg against hers. She could only feel the softness of his sweater and his slow, deep breathing.

“Hermione,” she heard him whisper after awhile. She sighed and snuggled in closer to him, pressing her face into the crook of his bare neck. He’d taken her hair down from its plait and she felt it go loose.

“Hermione,” he said again, softly.

“Hmmm,” she whispered. Her hands were now against his chest and his mouth was only inches away from hers. She felt as if she was floating on a cloud. His eyes seemed to be taking in her whole face. He suddenly pulled her in even closer to him, hugging her as tightly as he could. Hermione gave herself over to the feeling of skin and denim and wool. She felt herself leaning into a soft kiss. It was sweet and simple and the world just seemed to melt away as they sat there.

“I love you,” she said, as they pulled apart, still feeling somewhat breathless.

“I love you,” he said, smiling at her. He realized that in his whole life he’d never said this to anyone in his life before her. He didn’t feel like he was saying it just to be saying it. It felt like the most natural thing in the world, just as natural as breathing. It was just the way it was. He loved her. She was a part of him and always would be.

She leaned back away from him and lay back onto the blanket.

“Come here,” she said, reaching out her arms for him. He bent down over her willingly and they kissed again.

He broke away from her and said softly, “I’m not squashing you, am I?” He shifted to take more weight on his elbows.

She shook her head. “No, you’re fine, Harry. You’re absolutely fine.”

She wrapped her legs around him as tightly as she could. They lay there on the blanket, their bodies pressed together, kissing each other’s skin, their fingers exploring tentatively at first , then with more confidence.

Hermione felt as if she was losing any semblance of coherent thought as she felt Harry’s hand ease up sweatshirt. She knew that they were probably moving a little too fast, but her heart didn’t want to hear that right now. She felt out of control for once in her life and it felt absolutely wonderful.

They were interrupted, however, by the sound of leaves being trampled on and the sound of a dog’s barking that seemed to be getting closer. They sprung apart quickly and Hermione quickly smoothed her hair and pulled her sweatshirt back down. She watched as Harry quickly zipped up his pants and tried to smooth his own unruly hair.

Within a couple of seconds, Hagrid came walking up to them a smile on his face. Fang followed closely behind him.

“Hello, ‘ermione,” he said, greeting her warmly. “And ‘arry.”

“We weren’t doing anything,” they said in unison. They looked at each other alarmed, but neither looking at Hagrid.

Hagrid finally took notice of the blanket, the mugs of hot chocolate and the unkemptness of their hair and clothes and smiled knowingly at them.

“I didn’t say you were doing anything,” he said, winking at them. “It’ll be dark soon, though. You probably want to head on back toward the castle.”

“Right,” Harry said, sheepishly, his cheeks red. He could see that Hermione was looking down at the ground, not wanting to meet Hagrid’s gaze. She finally looked up, guiltily at him.

“Thanks, Hagrid,” she said, getting to her feet.

“Well,” he said, “I better get these critters back to my hut.”

They both noticed he was carrying a bag of something over his back. Whatever was in that bag was not happy to be in there, as they kept grumbling and moaning and clawing to get out. Harry and Hermione gave each other a knowing look.

“What have you got there, Hagrid?” Hermione asked.

“Never you mind, ‘ermione,” he said. “It’s a surprise. You’ll see in class. Don’t forget to bring your gloves to class. Now, off with you two, back to the castle.”

Harry nodded and watched as Hagrid struggled with the bag of creatures and Fang.

Hermione helped Harry pick up the blanket from the ground and shake it loose of leaves and dirt. “Smooth move covering up back there, Hermione,” he said, winking at her.

“Well, you didn’t do any better,” she said. “What must Hagrid think of us?”

“We weren’t doing anything wrong,” he said. “I mean, we were just snogging.”

“We were doing a little more than snogging, Harry,” she said. “I wonder what would have happened if he hadn’t shown up.”

“Do you think we were moving too fast?” he asked her, concerned. “I didn’t make you uncomfortable, did I? I didn’t do something wrong?”

“We didn’t do anything that I didn’t want to do,” she reassured him. “I just think we need to take things a bit slower. I don’t know about you, but I don’t think I’m ready to go to that next level yet.”

He nodded. “I hope you know that I’d never take advantage of you, Hermione. I mean, this stuff is all new to me, too. We don’t have to do anything until we’re both ready.”

She smiled at him. “You mean that.”

“Yeah, I mean that,” he said. “Now, we better get back to the castle. People will start to talk, you know? I have a reputation to protect, after all.”

“You are such a wanker, Harry,” she said, playfully punching him on the arm. “But, I love you for it.”

They walked back toward the castle, laughing and talking, and holding hands.

At that very moment, Ron was trying to finish up his essay for Transfiguration. McGonagall had already warned him that he was falling behind. She’d taken pity on him and allowed him to do some extra credit work and he’d begrudgingly agreed to take it. He hadn’t done all that well on his O.W.L.s. His mum hadn’t been too pleased. She’d told him he had to buckle down and do better this year. As she’d taken to remind him, he was walking on a thin line. His future depended on how well he did.

She wouldn’t have been too happy to know that he hoped to take up Quidditch professionally after he left school. He felt like that was the only job that he’d enjoy. He couldn’t really see himself working for the Ministry or teaching. He didn’t have the grades to be an Auror. Quidditch or working for Fred and George were pretty much his only viable options.

He knew he should be concentrating on his essay, but every time he tried to focus, he could see images of Harry and Hermione in the Great Hall this morning, looking like love’s young dream, just sitting there, flirting and touching and kissing. He hated it, and he hated how he was reacting to it. These were his two best friends, after all. They seemed very happy together, but at what cost? At my expense, he thought angrily to himself.

He’d wanted to be that person sharing a joke with Hermione. He wanted to be the one laughing with her over breakfast. He wanted to be the one she kissed goodbye to. It wasn’t him, though. It had never been him. It had always been Harry. If he was being honest with himself, he’d always know that it would be Harry. Why was it that he always ended up with everything?

Ginny had tried to reason with her brother that he should try and get past what had happened, and sometimes when he was alone, he agreed with her. He thought that he might be able to get past it. The three of them had been through a lot together. He missed them. He missed their friendship. Yet, they’d lied to him. Harry, in particular, had lied to him. Ron sat there in his chair in the common room remembering how he’d confessed a few months ago about his feelings for Hermione to Harry. Harry had just sat there and let Ron drone on and on about his feelings for Hermione and he never let on that he’d been sneaking out of the castle to visit her. He never let on that he was harboring his own feelings for her.

“What would I have done if he had?” Ron asked himself. He couldn’t honestly say that he wouldn’t have been angry. He knew he would have been, but he would have appreciated the honesty. The battle would have been fought on fairer grounds that way. They’d have both been on equal footing, each knowing the other’s intentions.

Any time he ever felt like forgiving them, he’d see them together in the Great Hall or in a class or in the halls and he’d see them smile at each other, or hold hands, or exchange long glances, and his own anger would boil up again.

He gave up on finishing the essay before dinner and quickly closed his book and began packing up his books and quill into his bag before heading up to his bedroom to get ready for dinner. He was nearly finished when he heard the familiar sound of Hermione’s laughter. He turned just in time to see her and Harry climb through the portrait hole.

They were laughing about something, but stopped dead in their tracks when they came face to face with Ron.

“Hi,” Hermione said.

“Ron,” Harry said.

Ron looked at the two of them, their hands intertwined. He snickered.

“Romantic afternoon?” he asked them, scornfully.

“Ron,” Hermione said.

“Save it, Hermione,” he said. “You know I was going to get something to eat, but all of a sudden I think I’ve lost my appetite.”

He turned to walk away from them.

“By the way, you have a leaf in your hair,” he said, turning around. He watched as Hermione’s cheeks turned red and she put her hand to her hair to pull out the leaf.

He left his two former best friends gaping at him, in astonishment in the common room.

3. In Your Eyes

Author’s Note: Thanks guys for the reviews. I am glad you are enjoying this. I hope you enjoy this and on a personal note (GO BRAVES!). You baseball fans out there will know what I’m talking about!

Chapter Three

In Your Eyes

“Love, I don't like to see so much pain
so much wasted and this moment keeps slipping away
I get so tired of working so hard for our survival
I look to the time with you to keep me awake and alive”

(Peter Gabriel/In Your Eyes)

Hermione was racing down the halls, careful not to run, as she didn’t want a prefect to come upon her and reprimand her for running through the halls. She still couldn’t believe that she wasn’t a prefect this year. Dumbledore had explained to her in their conversation the first night back that her prefect position had been given to Lavender Brown. She was told that with her extra course load, she’d probably be better off concentrating on her studies and letting Lavender continue in the prefect position. She was disappointed, up until the point when Dumbledore insinuated that she would be in the running for Head Girl next year.

It still took some getting used to. She had to stop herself from reprimanding first years that were breaking rules or going where they weren’t supposed to. Yet, it was also a relief in that she could spend her free time, what little she had, with Harry.

She’d just finished her Arithmancy lesson and was hurrying to make it to Defense Against the Dark Arts. She was almost at the classroom when someone grabbed her from behind and pulled her into one of the dark corridors.

She gasped, but the person who grabbed her had cupped their hand over her mouth. She panicked as she felt herself being dragged into the darkened corridor. The person suddenly let go of her and she turned around to see Harry, grinning at her like a Cheshire cat.

“Harry James Potter,” she said her eyes ablaze. “You scared me half to death!”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Can you find it in your heart to forgive me?”

She felt her anger fall away as she looked into those green eyes.

“I guess I could be persuaded,” she said coyly.

“Oh,” he said, stepping closer to her. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. She dropped her backpack and wrapped her own arms around his waist. “Well, would this do anything to put me back in your good graces?”

He leaned in and softly kissed her. She couldn’t resist smiling when he pulled away.

“It’s a start,” she said. “But you could definitely do better.”

“Oh, I could do better, huh?” he asked her, laughing. “Well, let’s see, then.”

He leaned in again and kissed her lips and then pushed her hair back to plant some kisses on her neck. She forgot that she was now late for class. She forgot where she was. All she could think about was how good it felt to have him do that. They stood there, wrapped in each others arms, kissing and holding each other.

They forgot where they were, up until the point when they heard someone clearing their throat loudly from behind them. They quickly broke apart and saw Snape, looking as menacing and scornful as ever.

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” he began, “but aren’t the two of you supposed to be in class right about now?”

“Y-yes, sir,” Hermione said, her face flushed with embarrassment.

“Well, let’s see that you get there,” he said. “Come on.”

To Harry and Hermione’s horror, Snape walked a couple of feet and then opened the door to the DADA classroom. Professor Lupin was in mid-lecture when the three of them walked in. Hermione and Harry stood behind Snape. Even with his back to them, Harry could feel Snape grinning. It was almost as if he’d won the lottery. Harry couldn’t help thinking that he hadn’t seen Snape this happy, since--, well to tell the truth, he’d never really seen Snape happy. Until now, that was. Harry doubted it was because he was happy that Harry and Hermione had fallen in love.

“Professor Snape,” Lupin said calmly. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

“I found two of your students here out in the halls,” Snape began. He stood back so Lupin, as well as the rest of the class, could see them. Both Harry and Hermione’s cheeks were a brilliant shade of red. Both of them made for their seats, but Snape put a hand on each of their shoulders, holding them back.

“It seems that Mr. Potter was inspecting Miss Granger’s tonsils and lost all track of time,” Snape said disdainfully. “I wanted to make sure that they made it into your class.”

Harry and Hermione exchanged embarrassed looks. They could both feel the eyes of their classmates focused solely on them.

‘Well, you’ve seen to that,” Lupin said, smiling reassuringly at Harry and Hermione. “Will the two of you take your seats, now?”

Harry and Hermione gratefully walked past Snape and sat down at their desks. Lupin turned to continue his lesson, but turned back to face Snape when he saw that Snape still stood in the classroom.

“Did you have something else you wanted to add, Severus?” Lupin asked him.

“Yes,” Snape said callously. “As a matter-of-fact, there is. I think that for Potter and Granger’s blatant public display of affection, they should each be deducted 10 points. Furthermore, I think we should take another 10 points apiece for their tardiness.”

Lupin fought the urge to roll his eyes.

“Duly noted,” Lupin said. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have a class to teach.”

Snape didn’t say anything else; he simply nodded and walked out of the classroom, but not before giving Harry and Hermione one last look of disdain.

Harry looked over at Hermione, who was still blushing.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

She just nodded and hastily pulled out her book, quill, and parchment. They both tried to concentrate and focus on Lupin’s lecture.

Two rows back they couldn’t see that Ron wore a look that matched, and could have even bettered, Snape’s look of contempt.

When class finally ended, everyone hurried to pack up their belongings and head to the Great Hall for lunch. Before Harry could even get out of his seat, Lupin came over to him.

“Harry,” he said. “Might I have a word?”

“Uh, sure,” Harry said. He quickly told Hermione he’d meet her in the Great Hall and then followed Lupin up the stone staircase to his office. Harry couldn’t help wondering what this would be about. If it had been about him snogging Hermione in the hall, wouldn’t he have called them both in for a talk?

He didn’t have too long to ponder what this conversation would be about. Within moments, he was seated across from Professor Lupin in his comfortable office. Lupin sat at his desk, looking at a complete and utter loss for words.

Harry decided to start the conversation. The best defense was a good offense, Harry thought. Maybe if I head him off at the pass, it will help, he thought to himself.

“Does this have anything to do with Hermione and me being late?”

Lupin gave a nervous laugh. “Yes, it does, in a way.”

“Harry, I know that in the six years that you and Hermione have been friends, you’ve become quite close. I know that when her parents took her out of school, you took this really hard, but on the bright side, you were forced to confront your feelings for her and you had to reevaluate your relationship. I know that you’ve come to care about her very much and vice versa.”

Harry nodded, unsure of where this was going.

Lupin seemed somewhat uncomfortable, and seemed to be trying to think out everything he said, before he said it.

“I’ve, um, seen the way you look at each other,” he continued. “Don’t get me wrong, I think that the two of you are perfect for each other, I always have. She’s a great girl and I can see that she cares a great deal about you.”

“What exactly are you trying to say, Professor?” Harry asked.

“Well, um,” Lupin said, “What I’m trying to say, Harry, is that I know you don’t really have anyone that you feel you can talk about this with. You never really knew your dad. The closest person you had to family was Sirius and he’s—well,-“ Lupin’s voice trailed off.

“Well, I hope you know that if you need to talk about anything,” he continued, “Well, I hope you know that I will always be here for you. I know I’m not your father or Sirius, but I do care about you. Sirius made me promise that if anything happened to him that I’d look after you for him.”

Harry nodded. Talking about Sirius was still a touchy, painful subject for him.

“I appreciate that, Professor,” Harry said sincerely.

“What I’m trying to say, Harry, is that you are only 16 years old. You have a lifetime ahead of you.”

“Do I?” Harry asked. “You don’t know that. I certainly don’t know that. I’m sure my parents and Sirius and Cedric all felt that they had all the time in the world, too, but they didn’t, did they?”

Lupin looked as if he wanted to say something, but he didn’t.

“If anything good has come out of all of this,” Harry continued, “it’s that I know now that you shouldn’t take anything or anyone for granted. You don’t know if they will always be there. I don’t want to waste time, anymore. We’re not guaranteed that---time. I’ve already wasted so much, pretending that I didn’t care for Hermione in a different way.”

“I guess what I’m trying to say, Professor,” he said, “is that I’m not going to rush Hermione into anything that she or I aren’t ready for. I honestly don’t know what the future holds or what might happen, but I do know one thing for sure. There has always been one constant in my life. It’s been her. She’s always been there for me, no questions asked. I trust in her. I believe in her just as she believes in me. I know I’m only 16, but that doesn’t matter. I love her, Professor. She loves me. Now, I may be too young to know a lot of things, but I do know that I love her. Nothing is ever going to change that.”

Lupin looked at Harry, impressed.

“You have matured so much in such a short time,” Lupin said. “You’ve kind of had to. I know this wasn’t the easiest thing to talk about, Harry. I just want you to be careful, that’s all. Both of you need to be careful.”

“We will,” Harry said solemnly. “I’d never do anything to hurt her.”

Meanwhile, at the house just outside of London, Wormtail carried the untouched tray of food back into the kitchen. Voldemort looked at him as he walked in, but didn’t say anything.

“He still isn’t eating,” Wormtail said, a touch of worry in his voice. “He hasn’t eaten anything in days. He just sleeps and coughs most of the day.”

Voldemort shook his head, annoyed at what he deemed trivial details.

“I don’t care how he spends his day, Wormtail,” he said. “All I care about is that he stays alive until we need him.”

“But, sir,” Wormtail began.

“Don’t tell me you’ve grown a conscience?” Voldemort asked, interjecting.

“N---no, it’s not that. I’m just worried. He doesn’t look good,” Wormtail said.

“You know, I’d be more than happy to throw your sorry arse down into the cell with him if that’s what you want. All you need to do, Wormtail, is give me one reason. I’ll do it. You know I will. I don’t believe in empty threats, you know.”

“No, sir,” Wormtail said. “I don’t want that. I was only telling you how he was-“

“And I was telling you that I didn’t care how he was doing,” he said. “The only thing you need to tell me each morning is ‘dead’ or ‘alive’. Anything else is not of my concern. This isn’t an inn. We’re not boarding him. We are simply holding him until he can be of some use to us.”

Voldemort turned to walk out of the room.

“Keep him alive, Wormtail,” Voldemort said. “Keep him alive until he’s needed.”

****************************

Very early that next morning, Hermione dressed quickly and grabbed her bag to head down to the common room to get in some quick studying before her early morning session with McGonagall.

When she came downstairs, she saw someone she hadn’t expected to see. It was Ron, asleep at one of the tables, his head buried in a book. She smiled. He looked as if he’d been there all night. She decided it probably would be best to leave him alone. So, she tiptoed over to the couch in front of the fireplace and began to set out to finish her reading assignment.

She read for a few minutes, but was distracted by the sound of Ron snoring. She couldn’t very well study with him carrying on like that, could she? So, she hesitantly arose from the couch and walked over to Ron. She gingerly shook him and stood back waiting for him to wake up.

He awoke with a start, and looked at her as if he didn’t understand why she was there or where they were, for that matter.

“Ron,” she whispered. “You were snoring.”

“Hmmm,” he said, rubbing his eyes.

“Snoring,” she said.

“Oh,” he said, smiling at her. “Sorry about that. What time is it, anyway?”

“It’s a little after six,” she said.

“In the morning?” he asked groggily.

“Yeah,” she said. “How long have you been down here?”

“A couple of hours,” he said. “I have some catching up to do.”

“Yeah,” she said. “I know what you mean. I’ve had double lessons for nearly two weeks. Trying to catch up is tough, isn’t it?”

“Well, I imagine it’s a little easier for you,” he said. “You could get much of this stuff in your sleep. It’s a little harder for the rest of us.”

She blushed. “Well, it’s hard for me, too.”

He stretched in his chair and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Well, I’m going to go,” she said, turning to walk back to the couch.

“You don’t have to go, Hermione,” he said. “I can go.”

“You don’t have to go, either, Ron,” she said, with a half-hearted laugh. “This is stupid. This is a big common room. We’re the only ones in here. Surely, we can both study without bothering each other.”

He nodded.

She sat back down on the couch and opened her book again. From the desk, Ron tried to focus on his own reading. They were both uncomfortable.

“How are you, Ron?”
“Do you really care?” his tone was colder. It was almost as if he’d remembered suddenly that he was supposed to be upset with her.

“What kind of question is that?” she asked. “Of course, I care. You’re my friend, Ron.”

He rolled his eyes. “I was your friend.”

“We can still be friends. Harry and I both miss you.”

“Harry and I both miss you,” he said, mockingly. “How sweet.”

She slammed her book shut and got to her feet. She walked over to him, her cheeks red with anger.

“Why are you being like this?” she asked him. “I’ve tried to understand this, but what I can’t fathom is why you have to be so cold. This isn’t you, Ron.”

“How would you know?” he asked her, turning to face her. “You haven’t been around. Even if you had been, you wouldn’t have even looked in my direction. I find it so hard to believe that you would settle to be one of his groupies. Honestly, Hermione, kissing in the halls?”

“One of his groupies?” she repeated angrily. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Come off of it, Hermione,” he said. “If he wasn’t ‘The Boy Who Lived’ do you really think you’d have given him the time of day?”
“You really think that of me?” she said in disbelief. “You really think that I’m the type of person who would do something like that? Well, if that’s the way you think, you don’t know me at all.”
“Right,” he said. “I think I know you quite well. I think you’re just upset because I finally called you on it. You’re just like all those other girls who stare at him and follow him around.”

“Okay, you want the truth, Ron? You really want to hear the truth?” she said, barely containing her emotions. “I love him.”

Ron looked down at the floor.

“I’ll admit that I love him because of who he is,” she said, nodding her head. “And do you know who he is Ron? He’s Harry. He’s my best friend. He’s the guy who risked everything to make sure that I was okay. He could have been expelled—“

“Like they’d really expel him from school, Hermione,” Ron interjected. “Come on. They wouldn’t expel the great Harry Potter from Hogwarts! It would be an outrage. You know, maybe if I’d been responsible for my parents’ deaths, not to mention my own godfather’s, you’d have given me a chance, too.”
Before she’d even realized what she was doing, she slapped him hard on the face with all the strength she could muster.
It was hard to tell who was more shocked by her actions---Hermione or Ron. They both stood there, staring at each other. Ron, rubbing his cheek, looked at her in disbelief.
”I never, ever want to speak to you again,” she said stoically. She looked at him once more before turning on her heels and running back up the stairs.

Ron could only watch as she ran up the stairs. He couldn’t believe what he’d just said. He hadn’t meant to say it. He didn’t even think he meant it. He was just hurt. He wanted them to hurt as bad as he did. He thought he’d feel better if he’d made them feel bad, but it was just the opposite. He felt worse. No, that was wrong, he felt absolutely terrible.

She had slapped him. Truth be told, he reckoned he deserved much worse.

“What have I done?” he asked, looking up the stairs. “What have I done?”

4. No One is To Blame

Chapter Four

No One is to Blame

“You can see the summit but you can’t reach it

It’s the last piece of the puzzle but you just can’t make it fit

Doctor says you’re cured but you still feel the pain

Aspirations in the clouds but your hopes go down the drain

And you want her and she wants you

We want everyone

And you want her and she wants you

No one, no one, no one ever is to blame”

(Howard Jones “No One is to Blame”)

There was definitely something wrong. She was too quiet. Under the circumstances and given their current location---the library---he wouldn’t usually think that this wasn’t normal behavior for her. She’d been quiet most of the day, though. There was a sort of sadness in her eyes that he picked up immediately upon seeing her that morning. It had lingered most of the day.

Shortly after dinner, they’d grabbed their books and headed to the library to finish their homework. Since they’d arrived in the library and planted themselves at one of the back tables, she’d hardly said one word. She’d busily thrown herself into her book and had yet to look up from it in the hour they’d been there.

He reached across the table, and placed his hand on the book and closed it. She looked up abruptly.

“What’s wrong?” she asked innocently.

“You tell me,” he said.

“Nothing,” she said, her eyes avoiding his. “Are you having trouble studying?”

“Yes,” he said.

“Anything I can help you with?” she asked, finally looking up to meet his gaze.

“Yeah, I think you can,” he said. “You could start by telling me what’s wrong. And don’t tell me ‘nothing’ because I’ve known you long enough to know when something is bothering you.”

She gave him a half-hearted smile.

“What is it?” he pressed. “You can tell me anything, you know that don’t you?”

She nodded, and her eyes focused on the closed book before her.

“I’m not so sure I can tell you this,” she said softly.

“It it’s troubling you like this, you have to tell me,” he said. “Your problems are my problems, and vice versa. We’re in this together.”

He gave her a reassuring smile, and took hold of her hand.

“Tell me what it is,” he said his voice barely above a whisper. “I hate to see you upset. Tell me, please.”

She looked up at him again, her eyes shining with tears.

“If I tell you this,” she began, her voice cracking, “you have to promise me that you won’t fly off the handle. That will only make things worse. I think we should just leave well enough alone and cut our losses where he’s concerned, I really do. I mean, if I didn’t know it before today, I certainly know it now. I never want to speak to him again.”

“Is this about Ron?” he asked her. He could feel himself tense up. She nodded.

“Hermione,” Harry said, his voice rising, “Did he say something to hurt you? Did he do something to hurt you? Because if he did, I can’t promise you that I won’t fly off the handle about it.”
“Please,” she said, gripping his hand tighter. “Promise me. Promise you won’t do anything.”

He looked at her and could see that she needed his word that he wouldn’t do anything. He hated promising something like that when he had no idea what had made her so sad and upset. Knowing Ron was responsible for it, made it even harder.

“Okay,” he said, reluctantly. “I won’t do anything. Tell me what he did, Hermione.”

She let go of his hand and ran her fingers nervously through her hair.

“It’s not really what he did, per se, it’s really more of what he said,” she said.

“What did he say?” Harry asked, trying to keep his voice down.

He hadn’t been too successful, as within moments Madame Pince came around the corner and threw a scathing glance at Harry and Hermione.

“Shhh!!!!” she said, raising a finger to her lips. With one last look at them, she turned on her heels, and they were left alone again.

Hermione took a deep breath.

“Well, this morning, I woke up a little earlier than usual because I had some reading I had to finish, so I thought I’d just go down to the common room. Well, when I got down there, I found Ron. He’d apparently been studying, too, and he seemed to have been there most of the night. To make a long story short, I guess, he started to talk to me, and at first it went surprisingly well. He was almost like his old self, but he became angrier as the conversation went on. He said some terrible things about me and really horrible things about you. Anyway, I slapped him and told him I never wanted to speak to him again.”

“You slapped him?” Harry asked. “He must have said something pretty awful for you to slap him. What did he say?”

She looked at him intently before continuing.

“He said that I was just another one of your ‘groupies’ or some rubbish like that. He said that I only loved you because of who you were,” she said, a tear running down her cheek. “Then, he said—“ her voice trailed off.

“”What is it, sweetheart?” he asked her.

“He said that if he’d been responsible for the deaths of his parents or his godfather,” she said, her voice breaking, “maybe I’d have given him a chance.”

Harry let go of Hermione’s hands and felt the weight of what she’d said sink in. He looked as if someone had punched him in the stomach.

“Harry,” Hermione said, her voice full of concern. “You know that isn’t true, don’t you? You know Ron just said those things to hurt us.”

He nodded and felt a myriad of emotions run through him. He wished he hadn’t promised Hermione that he wouldn’t do anything. At this moment, he wanted to find Ron and kick him, punch him out, and hex him into next year.

He knew Hermione was right. Ron had said those terrible things to hurt them, to get back at them for the great wrong he thought they’d done to him. Yet, on some level, he’d managed to touch a raw nerve of Harry’s. Whether justified or not, Harry had the bad habit of taking things too internally. He had a way of blaming himself for the bad things that happened.

“What are you thinking?” she asked him.

He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t find the words to tell her exactly what he was thinking.

“You know Harry that you weren’t responsible for any of that,” she said. “The deaths of your parents and Sirius-“

He cut her off. “Sirius was there because of me, Hermione. He was at the Department of Mysteries because of me. It was my fault he was there, and it was my fault he was killed.”

“No,” Hermione said, loudly. “I will not allow you to do this! I’m to going to sit here and listen to you blame yourself for something that you had no control over. Sirius went there because you were in trouble, Harry. He loved you like a son! He would have stopped at nothing to ensure that you were safe and that you were protected!”

“He wouldn’t have had to do that if I’d listened to you instead of rushing out to play the hero like I always do!” he retorted sadly.

“Voldemort did this. Bellatrix LeStrange did this! Not you, Harry!” she said. “If you want to get mad at someone and if you want to blame someone, look no further than them! You see, this is exactly what Ron wanted to do. He wanted to make you feel bad. He wanted me to feel bad. Well, look at us. He succeeded! He knew exactly what to say to push our buttons and we’re just falling into that trap.”

Harry nodded. She got up from her chair and walked around the table to sit right beside him.

“Look at me,” she said, taking her hand and cupping his face in her hands.

“I love you,” she said softly. “I love you more than I ever dreamed it was possible to. You do believe that, don’t you?”

“Yes, of course, I do,” he said. “I love you, too, Hermione. Sometimes, I think it would have been better if you’d stayed behind in America. You’d be safe there.”

“So safe that I was hit by a car?” she asked, giving a slight laugh. “Sorry. Pathetic attempt at humor.”

“But honestly, Harry,” she continued. “I didn’t belong there. I belong here with you. You knew that. That’s the reason why you came to see me. I know there’s a risk, but it’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” he said, planting a kiss on her forehead. “I really don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” she said, smiling at him. “I’m right here because right here is where I need to be. This is where I want to be.”

He leaned in and kissed her softly. She placed her arms around his neck and relaxed into the sweet, soft kiss.

“If you’re going to do that, you can take it elsewhere,” came an irritated voice from behind them. “The library is not a place for that type of behavior. If you want to do that, you can do it somewhere else besides the library!”

Harry and Hermione broke apart and saw an angry Madame Pince standing before them, her arms crossed.

They nodded and hurriedly gathered up their books and other belongings. Madame Pince gave an exasperated sigh before walking away.

“You know,” Harry said, his mood a lot lighter than it had been a few moments before, “I think there must be an alarm or warning system that goes off in this school that alerts the teachers whenever we start snogging.”

Hermione laughed.

“Merlin’s beard,” she said. “I hope not!”

They walked back to Gryffindor Tower, holding hands and talking. They exchanged good-natured banter and private jokes. Hermione still felt as if Harry was still upset over what Ron had said, but she was relieved to se that he wasn’t letting it take over like it might have done in the past. He was definitely making an effort not to dwell on it. She hoped he believed what she told him.

“Your first match is tomorrow afternoon, isn’t it?” she asked as they stood outside the portrait of The Fat Lady.

“Yeah,” he said. “You going to come and cheer me on?”

“I would love to, but I can’t. I have a test for McGonagall. My last one! I will officially be caught up after that. Can you believe it?” she said, her smile infectious.

“I know you’ll hate missing those extra lessons with Snape,” he teased her.

“More than life itself,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Maybe you’ll still be playing by the time I finish and I’ll be able to catch the last few minutes.”

He nodded and took her in his arms again. “Then we can celebrate?”

“What did you have in mind, Mr. Potter?” she asked cheekily.

“A little of this,” he said, kissing her neck.

“Oh,” she said softly. “I think we could definitely do that.”

“And maybe a little of this,” he said, kissing her lips.

“As much as I enjoy this little preview,” she said, her voice a hoarse whisper, “we better head upstairs. I do have a test tomorrow and you have a big match, Mr. Quidditch superstar. So, unless we want to get caught down here doing something we could get into serious trouble for, we’d better call it a night.”

“Alright,” he said, pulling her close to him again.

Neither of them moved. Harry leaned in to kiss her again.

“We should probably go ahead and go upstairs,” she said, smiling at him. This time, it was she who leaned in and tenderly kissed him.

“Yeah, well good night, Hermione,” he said breathlessly.

“Good night, Harry,” she said, before kissing him again.

Hermione didn’t see Harry much that day. She’d spent nearly every free moment she had, including lunch and class breaks, to cram some last minute studying in. The longest conversation they had that day had been a quick last minute one before he headed off for the match and she’d run off to her test. They each exchanged a quick good luck with each other, before heading off in their separate directions.

Hermione had been relieved to find that Harry and Ron hadn’t exchanged any words. They’d been successfully avoiding each other. The only time she’d seen Ron had been in class and she’d only glanced at him a couple of times. He looked a little different when she’d seen him. He didn’t seem as angry and confrontational as he’d been these past few weeks. He seemed somewhat sad and had an overwhelming sense of melancholy around him. She brushed these thoughts away. She reminded herself that she was washing her hands of Ron.

She said a silent prayer that nothing would happen at the Quidditch match. She didn’t fool herself into thinking that things would go swimmingly. She knew that there wasn’t a good chance of that, but she did hope that the match would go well and that Harry and Ron could put aside their differences to work together to win the match. It might just be a pipe dream, Hermione thought, but she hoped everything would be okay.

She finally made it to Professor McGonagall’s classroom and exchanged a quick hello with her mentor before taking a seat at her desk. She took out her parchment and a quill and ink bottle and took a deep breath. Professor McGonagall told her that she’d have two hours to complete the exam and that there were 100 questions. The test would encompass every lesson they’d had since the start of term. It would be a harbinger that would show that she’d finally caught up with her fellow classmates.

She knew that Professor McGonagall wished she could be there to watch the match, too. Gryffindor’s first match was against Slytherin. McGonagall was a Quidditch fanatic underneath it all. As Hermione began her exam, she couldn’t help but smile as she watched Professor McGonagall go over to the window every now and then to catch a glimpse of the Quidditch pitch.

Hermione tried to focus on the task at hand, and dug into the test. She really needed to do well on this. She had to concentrate all her attention on this, now. She tried to block Harry, Ron, and Quidditch out of her mind for the moment.

The two hours went by quickly and Hermione had just answered her last question when Colin Creevey came running into the classroom.

He was out-of-breath when he rushed into the classroom. He stood there for a moment trying to catch his breath as Hermione looked on amused and McGonagall looked on impatiently.

“For Merlin’s sake, Creevey,” McGonagall said. “What has you all out of sorts like this?”
Colin clutched his side, and tried to stand up straight. He continued to try and catch his breath.

“Sorry…Quidditch match…bludger….Harry…..hit him in the head…out cold,” he said, between ragged breaths.

“WHAT?” Hermione asked him. “Harry’s hurt?”

Colin nodded solemnly.

“Where did they take him?” McGongall asked. “Did they take him to hospital wing?”

Colin nodded. “Madame Hooch wanted me to come and get you…said you should know since you’re the head of our house.”

McGongall nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Creevey. Ms. Granger, you and I should probably go on down to the hospital wing.”

Before McGongall could finish this sentence, Hermione dropped her test on the floor and rushed out of the classroom. She didn’t care that she was running in the halls. She had to make sure Harry was okay.

When she finally made it down to the hospital wing, Harry’s teammates were gathered right outside the ward.

“What happened?” Hermione asked, looking around at them.

Ginny came forward and placed a comforting arm on Hermione’s shoulder, but Hermione shook it off.

“What happened, Ginny?” Hermione asked forcefully.

“I don’t know,” Ginny said. “One moment, he was okay. He’d caught the snitch and the next thing we know, the bludger comes racing at him and knocks him off his broom. He must have fell over 100 feet.”

“Is he okay?” Hermione asked. “Please tell me he’s okay?”

“I don’t know,” Ginny said. “He had the wind knocked out of him. They put him on a stretcher and brought him here. Madame Pomfrey’s with him now. Hopefully, we’ll know something soon.”

Hermione nodded.

“He’ll be okay,” Ginny said soothingly. “He’s Harry, after all, right? Falling off his broom isn’t going to finish him off, right? Come on, sit down, Hermione.”

Hermione didn’t protest as Ginny led her over to one of the chairs. Hermione sat down beside Ron, who looked about as worried as she’d ever seen him.

“I’m sorry, Hermione,” he said softly. “I’m so sorry.”

“Did you have anything to do with this?” she asked him, turning angrily to face him. “Did you cause him to fall off his broom?”

Ron looked shocked. He shook his head vehemently. “No, no. Of course not! Hermione, I’d never do anything like that. You know me.”

“I thought I did,” she said coldly.

They all watched as Professor McGonagall finally walked in. She looked at the assembled group of students, and made her way back into the hospital wing. Hermione wished she could go back there with her. It had to be serious if they weren’t letting anyone back there.

“Please let him be okay,” she whispered aloud. “Please let him be okay.”

Ginny looked at her older brother, who looked almost stricken. She got up from her own chair and walked over to Ron. “Come outside with me for a second, Ron.”

Ron nodded and reluctantly got out of his seat.

When they were out of everyone else’s earshot, Ginny asked him how he was doing.

“What difference does it make how I’m doing?” he asked her.

“It does,” she said. “You know, Hermione didn’t mean that. She knows you didn’t do anything to cause Harry’s accident. She’s just worried about him.”

“I know,” Ron said. “I’m worried too.”

“You need to apologize to both of them,” she said.

“I don’t know if I can,” he said. “You don’t understand. I said some really horrible things.”

“Like what?” Ginny asked him.

She looked on in horror as he told her every thing he’d said the previous evening to Hermione.

“Oh, Ron,” she said.

“See,” he said, holding his hands out. “Do you think they’d even want to be in the same room with me, let alone hear me talk?”

“Why did you say those things?” she asked him. “You know that none of that is true.”

“I know,” he said. “I was upset. I wanted them to feel as bad as I did. I went a little too far. I hate what’s become of the three of us. This isn’t what I wanted. Now, it’s too late. There’s too much water under the bridge as it were. They aren’t going to want to talk to me, Ginny.”

“Well, if you tell them how you feel, maybe they will,” she said. “And it’s never too late. As long as the three of you still care about each other, it’s never too late.”

Ron nodded. From his vantage point, he could see Hermione. She looked about as worried as he’d ever seen her. The two of them could probably teach a course in how to be worried about Harry. That was part of being his friend, you worried about him. He wished he could tell her how bad he felt about everything. He wished he could tell her that he wanted to take back everything he said. He didn’t know if he’d ever be okay with them being a couple, but he still wanted them to be friends. He was willing to try and salvage the friendship. He only hoped that they would be too.

A couple of hours later, Madame Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall came out into the waiting area to a group that now consisted of Hagrid, Dean, Seamus, Neville and Luna Lovegood. Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown had come in sporadically to check on Harry as well.

“How is he?” Hermione asked, her eyes red from crying.

“He’ll be alright,” Professor McGonagall said. The room gave a collective sigh at the news. “He’s a little sore and had some sprains, but Poppy has given him some ointment and some healing potion and he should be fine in a couple of days.”

“Thank you,” Hermione said. “Can we see him?”

“I think it would be best if he just had one visitor now,” Madame Pomfrey said. “He’s going to need his rest. He’s been asking for you, Miss Granger.”

Hermione nodded.

“Tell him we’re thinking of him,” Ginny said.

Hermione turned to face them. “I will.”

She followed Madame Pomfrey past the row of beds until they reached Harry’s. Madame Pomfrey pulled back the screen and then left Harry and Hermione alone. He was sitting up in his bed, his face scratched and he had a bandage around his left wrist.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hi,” she said, sitting down at his bedside. She took his right hand in hers.

“Are you okay?” he asked her.

“Me?” she asked him. “I should be asking you that. What happened?”

“I’m not really sure,” he said. “I caught the snitch and the next thing I know, I wake up in here.”

He flinched as he tried to sit up further in his bed.

“Owww,” he said. “That’s going to hurt in the morning.”

She gave a half-hearted smile. “You think?”

“How’d you do on your test?” he asked her.

“I just finished when Colin came running in to tell us what happened. I have no idea how I did. Right now, the only thing that matters is that you’re okay.”

“Well, I had to keep my steak in force, didn’t I?” he said to her.

“You’re streak?” she asked, bemused.

“Yeah,” he said. “Either I, or someone close to me, has ended up in the hospital wing every year since I’ve been here. I didn’t want to stop that. I mean, there was your accident, but that wasn’t the hospital wing, that was a Muggle hospital.”

“Well, it’s good to know you have your priorities in line, you git,” she said, playfully slapping him on the chest.
“Ow!” he exclaimed. “Watch it!”

She put her hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry!”

“Yeah,” he said. “Handle me with care.”

“You,” she said, smiling despite herself.

They hadn’t noticed that another person had made his way back into the bed area. Ron stood back, watching them from afar. He didn’t know if this was the best time to try this, but he had to do it now, while he had his nerve. Hesitantly, he took a few steps closer.

He cleared his throat and watched as Hermione turned to see who was behind them. The smiles that both of them were wearing faded when they turned to see Ron.

“I, um, “ he began uncomfortably, “I was wondering if we could talk?”

SORRY FOR THE SEMI-CLIFF HANGER! I SWEAR I’M TRYING TO BREAK THAT HABIT---but it’s a hard thing to do! What will Ron say to apologize to Harry and Hermione? Will they accept his apology? And what about Voldemort…did he have something to do with Harry’s unfortunate accident? Tune in, same Hogwarts station, same Hogwarts time….ha ha ha…forgive me…GO BRAVES!!!!!!

5. By My Side

Author’s note: I was a little depressed after my Braves lost…again….so on the bright side, I threw myself into the next chapter. I hope you guys like it. Please read and review!

Chapter Five

By My Side

“They blazed a trail I dared to run

They built this world and I have come

I need another, like a brother

For a cryin’ shoulder

This could be the last time, you will

Stand by my side”

(Three Doors Down “By My Side”)

“Could I have a word?” Ron asked them.

The difference in his demeanor was jarring to say the least. The past few weeks, he’d been quite surly and confrontational. Now, as he stood before them, he looked somewhat lost and nervous. Hermione felt as if her heart could go out to him if she wasn’t so mad at him.

“I really don’t think Harry needs this right now, Ron,” Hermione said firmly.

“Don’t you think you’ve said quite enough?” Harry asked him coolly. “I mean, I have to spend time here with my ‘groupie’ and then I should probably just reflect on the deaths I was responsible for.”

“She told you, then,” Ron asked him, not really needing to know an answer.

“Of course she told me,” Harry said.

Ron looked sheepishly down at the floor. He nervously shifted his feet. It was deafeningly silent for a few moments.

Ron finally cleared his throat. “I know I said some terrible things. I can’t believe I said them anymore than you can. If the two of you never want to speak to me again, I’d more than understand.”

Hermione nodded.

“But, I do hope that you’ll at least listen to what I have to say before you decide,” he continued.

Harry and Hermione exchanged worried glances.

“Okay,” Harry said solemnly. “What is it you want to say?”

Ron looked up to meet his gaze, surprised that Harry hadn’t told him to get out.

“Okay,” he said, taking a deep breath before continuing. “I guess I should start by apologizing. I know it doesn’t begin to make up for what I’ve done or said, but nevertheless, I am sorry.”

He looked intently at the two of them as he spoke, trying to gauge from their faces whether or not they believed a word he was saying. Their expressions were unreadable, however.

“I was hurt by what happened,” he said. “I felt like Harry went behind my back.”

“Ron,” Harry interjected, but Ron held up his hand.

“Well, you did, Harry,” Ron said firmly. “I mean, I understand why you did it, but you could have told me. I don’t think we should get into would have or should have, here. I think what hurt me most was that I thought here was another thing that you were taking from me.”

Harry looked as if he wanted to say something, but he stopped himself.

“When Hermione came back, and I saw the two of you together, I realized something. This hurt more than I can tell you, but what I realized was that how could I have ever lost something that was never ever mine to begin with? I could tell just by looking at the two of you how much you meant to each other. I mean, it’s always been that way. The two of you have always been on the same plane about everything. You can finish each other’s sentences. I guess it was just pride or something that made me think that you only went after Hermione because I liked her. I know how much you care about her.”

He looked down at the floor and then looked up to see his two friends staring back at him, hanging on his every word.

“I know it’s not an excuse, but it’s always been hard for me to watch the things that come so hard to me, fall right into your lap, Harry. I know it’s not your fault. I mean, you can’t help who you are anymore than I can.”
“I’ve had a lot of time to think about this and Ginny’s tried to help me see things from your point of view. Deep down, what I wanted was to somehow hurt you as much as I felt you hurt me. I thought it would make me feel better, but the truth is it made me feel like such a wanker,” Ron said. “And Hermione, I don’t think of you as just some groupie. I know that you’re not like that. The best thing that ever happened to me was you slapping me. I think it might have knocked some sense in to me, finally.” He gave a half-hearted laugh at that.

”It’s not been easy for me to watch the two of you together,” he said. “I won’t lie to you, but I’m going to try and get past it. Our friendship means more to me than my petty anger.”

He looked again at the two of them, who just stared back at him with stony expressions.

“What?” Ron asked. “Say something. Tell me to go shove it up my arse or something.”

Hermione stared at him.

“Well, I for one am amazed,” she said, a smile playing at her lips.

“About what?” Ron asked, nonplussed.

“You’re finally growing up,” she said.

“Don’t spread it around,” Ron said, his eyes twinkling. “I do have a reputation to protect.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” Hermione said. “Besides, I don’t think too many people would believe it anyway.”

“Ha-ha,” Ron said. He turned his gaze to Harry. “Harry?”

“It’ll be nice that she’ll have someone else to nag to do their homework,” Harry said. “I’ve been shouldering it by myself for the past few weeks. It hasn’t been fun.”

“Hey!” Hermione said. “I haven’t been that bad. Besides, if it hadn’t been for me, I know of two people in this room, who would probably be on academic probation, not to mention facing expulsion.”

“Point taken,” Ron said. “And you know, I have to say, that I much prefer you with Harry here, than Viktor Krum.

Harry laughed. “Yeah, Hermy-own-ninny.”

Hermione turned to her boyfriend and glared at him.

“Yeah, how is old Vicky these days,” Ron asked.

“Don’t call him that,” Hermione said airily. “You know as long as we’re taking this trip down memory lane, I do remember someone being absolutely over-the-moon when he heard that he was coming here for the tournament. I remember a certain someone being star-struck and nervous about asking for an autograph. Who was that? Oh, that’s right, it was you Ronald Weasley!”

Ron rolled his eyes, but clearly was enjoying the friendly, sarcastic banter that he and Hermione had perfected over the past few years. He finally sat down on the edge of Harry’s bed as they continued with their conversation.

“What ever did you see in him, anyway?” Ron asked her.

“I don’t really know,” Hermione said. “To tell you the truth, he was about as dull as dishwater. He had the emotional depth of a wading pool.”

She looked thoughtful for a moment. “Of course, it didn’t hurt that he was quite good-looking.”

“Hey!” Harry exclaimed, affronted. “I am sitting right here. Remember me? Your boyfriend? Geez, Hermione, you sure know how to kick a man when he’s down.”

Hermione dissolved in a fit of giggles. “I was just kidding! You know that I’m a one-wizard witch, don’t ya?”

“You’d better be,” Harry said, teasingly.

“So, I guess we’re okay, then?” Ron asked, hopefully.

Hermione’s smile faded a little bit. “Not yet,” she said. “But, I think we will be.”

Madame Pomfrey wanted to keep Harry at least overnight for observation. He wanted to sleep in his own bed tonight, and despite feeling sore, he didn’t feel as if his injuries warranted an overnight stay in the hospital wing. Madame Pomfrey had stood her ground, however, and had stubbornly refused to release him. Reluctantly, he’d given up hope of changing her mind. She could be quite formidable when she wanted to.

Ron and Hermione had stayed behind until Madame Pomfrey had forced them out. He and Ron had shook hands and Hermione had given him a hug and a quick kiss before she left.

Things seemed to be getting back to a somewhat sense of normalcy. He wasn’t kidding himself into thinking that he, Ron and Hermione would just fall right back to how they’d used to be. Too much had happened to just sweep everything under the rug. There were still some tense issues around them, but at least they’d decided to put their friendship above that and try to move on. Hopefully, with time, he’d be okay with Harry and Hermione’s relationship. He seemed to be willing to make an effort, which meant a lot.

Madame Pomfrey had given him a sleeping potion and he’d fallen asleep fairly quickly. He was dreaming…

He was on the beach. It must have been summertime because he was dressed in a pair of khaki shorts and a hunter green t-shirt. He wasn’t wearing shoes and he was walking along the shore. The beach was deserted and quiet. The only sound came from the sound of the waves crashing into the shore. He looked around, trying to gauge where he was or why he was here.

He heard the sound—the sweet sound---of Hermione’s laughter. He looked wildly around for her.

“Hermione!” he shouted. “Where are you?”

“I’m over here, silly,” she said.

He turned to see her, standing a few feet away under the pier. She was leaning against one of the posts. She looked beautiful. She wore a long, white sundress. Her hair was flowing in the wind. She, too, was barefoot.

He quickly walked over to her and caught his breath as he looked at her. She pulled him in closer to her and softly kissed him.

“Hmmm,” she murmured.

“Where are we?” he asked her. “How did we get here?”

“I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head. “It doesn’t really matter, does it? All that matters is that we’re here and we’re all alone.”

She rested her forehead on his. “It’s so beautiful here.”

“Almost as beautiful as you,” he whispered. “That sounded a little too cheesy, didn’t it?”

She laughed. “Just a little bit.”

She smiled at him. “Promise me, Harry, that someday we’ll come back here when we have more time. Promise me, we’ll come back here when the world isn’t so crazy and we have time.”

”I’d promise you anything, you know that,” he said. He looked down sheepishly. “That sounded cheesy, too, didn’t it?”

She just smiled and laughed.

“You find that funny, do you?” he said, taking her hand. He led her closer to the shoreline. “Let’s see how funny you find it when you’re all wet.”

He playfully kicked up some of the water on to her skirt. She squealed with delight and then decided to do the same to him. They ran along the shoreline, kicking water back and forth at each other, laughing as they went. She ran a few feet ahead of him and he was trying to catch up with her when a cold voice stopped him.

“Hello, Harry,” the voice said.

Harry turned to see Voldemort, but it wasn’t the Voldemort he knew. It was the Voldemort of over 50 years ago. He was Tom Riddle. He was dressed not in a dark, hooded cloak, but a pair of khaki pants and a black button-down shirt.

“What are you doing here?” Harry asked him.

“She’s quite pretty for a mudblood,” Voldemort said.

“You leave her the hell alone,” Harry said, his voice rising. “You don’t go near her, do you hear me?”

“My dear boy, I have no intention of doing anything to your Miss Granger…not yet, anyway,” Voldemort said, his eyes cold. He smiled sardonically at Harry.

“What does that mean?” Harry asked him. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It’s not me you have to worry about hurting her,” Voldemort replied condescendingly. “Anyone who loves you, always ends up paying a price for it, don’t they? Your parents, Sirius Black. Who will be next? Who will make that sacrifice because they love you, Harry? Who will make that sacrifice because you love them?”

Harry looked away from Voldemort and watched Hermione. She was gazing out at the ocean.

“Look at her, Harry,” Voldemort said. “Look at how happy she is. It would a shame for someone so young, so smart, and so full of life, to pay such a huge price. It would be a shame for her to lose her life because she’s a part of yours.”

“SHUT UP!” Harry yelled. “YOU SHUT UP!”

“You should turn your anger where it belongs, Harry,” Voldemort said. “It won’t be me that kills her. She won’t die by my hand. She’ll die because of you. She’ll meet the same fate as your parents and your godfather. Quite a burden to bear, isn’t it? It almost makes me feel sorry for you.”

“SHUT UP!” Harry exclaimed. “SHUT UP AND LEAVE HER BE!”

“Enjoy her while you can,” Voldemort said. “Time can be fleeting.”

Harry watched in horror as Voldemort walked down the beach a few feet, before disappearing in thin air. To his horror, Harry turned his attention back to Hermione, but found she was gone, too.

From his hospital bed, Harry awoke with a start.

6. Sounds of Silence

Chapter Six

Sound of Silence

“Hello darkness, my old friend,
I’ve come to talk with you again,
Because a vision softly creeping,
Left it’s seeds while I was sleeping,
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence.”

Simon & Garfunkel “The Sound of Silence”

It was late morning when Madame Pomfrey finally relented and released Harry from the hospital. He was restless. Ever since he’d woken up from that horrible nightmare, he hadn’t been able to get back to sleep. He’d agonized over the decision he knew he now must make. He hadn’t wanted to make it, but any doubts he had were cleared away by that dream. That familiar feeling of guilt and worry had returned to him tenfold.

There was no other way. If she was going to stay safe, he’d have to do it. Pushing her away would be the hardest thing he’d ever done in his life. She wouldn’t understand, and he wasn’t really sure that he understood fully, but he felt that in the end, this was the best and wisest decision. The question was how was he going to be able to do it? How would he be able to muster the stones it would take to do it? One look in her eyes and he knew he’d crumble.

It had nearly killed him when she’d been taken out of school and moved out of the country. How was he going to be able to do this and still have to look at her day in and day out? He couldn’t imagine not being able to tell her how his day went or listen as she told him about hers. He didn’t know what it would be like not to share private jokes and thoughts with her. He didn’t know what it would be like to not have her smiling face be the one thing that told him he could get through the day, no matter how bad it might get. How was he ever going to be able to do this?

He was supposed to rejoin his classmates for afternoon lessons. He’d been released a good half hour before lunch. Since he had a few minutes, he decided to search out Professor Lupin and see if he could offer him some advice. If he ever needed it, he needed it now.

He stood outside Professor Lupin’s door and listened as he heard him explaining dementors to a group of first-year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. As Harry looked at the students listening intently to their professor, he couldn’t help feeling envious of them. He wished he could be in their shoes. They didn’t have a care in the world, did they? Their biggest concern was probably how they’d make it through their first year lessons or what they’d eat for lunch in a few minutes. They didn’t have the fate of the entire wizarding world on their shoulders, did they? They didn’t have to break the heart of the one person they cared about above all others, did they? They didn’t have to worry about prophecies or cope with the fact that simply by existing, that they were a danger to the people who were unfortunate enough to love you.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of students coming out of their classrooms, talking animatedly with each other and rushing off to the Great Hall. Harry waited until the last student left Professor Lupin’s classroom before entering. Professor Lupin was about to ascend the staircase to his office when he caught sight of Harry hovering nervously by the door.

“Harry,” Lupin said a touch of surprise in his voice. “When did you get out?”

“Just a few moments ago, Professor,” Harry said, stepping forward.

“Are you feeling alright?” Lupin asked him.

“Yeah,” Harry said, looking down at the floor. “Madame Pomfrey wants me to wear this bandage around my wrist until it’s completely healed, but other than that, she thinks I’ll be okay.”

“Good to hear,” Lupin said, smiling. “So what brings you here this time of day? I thought you’d be reuniting with Hermione about now. I saw her in the halls and she tells me that the old dream team is back together. Jolly good to hear it!”

Harry gave a half-hearted smile. “Yeah.”

“Okay,” Lupin said, noticing Harry’s lack of enthusiasm.

“I was wondering if I could talk to you about something,” Harry said timidly. “I mean, you said that if I needed to talk to someone, I could come to you. If that offer still stands, I’d like to take you up on it.”

Lupin smiled and nodded. “Let’s go on in my office.”

Harry nodded and followed him up the stairs. Within moments, they were seated in Professor Lupin’s office. Lupin sat behind his desk and Harry sat in the chair directly across from him.

“So, is everything okay?” Lupin asked. “Well, one look at you and that tells me that was a stupid question.”

Harry didn’t say anything.

“Is this about your accident yesterday? Dumbledore expressed some concern that it might have something to do with Voldemort,” Lupin said. “I would think it was something to tell you to stay on your toes, not become too complacent.”

Harry nodded.

“That’s not it, though, is it?” Lupin asked him.

Harry hesitated for a moment before unloading everything he could remember about the dream. Lupin listened intently and nodded at the appropriate moments. When Harry was finished, he didn’t speak for a few moments. He looked rather thoughtful as he seemed to be taking in all that Harry had just told him.

“Well,” Lupin said, rubbing his chin. “I think it was just a dream, Harry. I don’t think it has any bearing on what might happen in the future. I think you have some unresolved feelings about what happened to your parents and to Sirius and it’s causing you to worry that the same fate could befall Hermione. It’s only natural to think that. Notice I said natural, but not rational, Harry.”

“Yes,” Harry said impatiently, “but don’t think on some level it is? I mean, if it wasn’t for me, she’d never have had to face any of this! She wouldn’t be in and out of the hospital wing; her parents wouldn’t have dragged her halfway across the world just to get her away from me!”

“Would she be happy, though?” Lupin asked him. “Would you be happy?”

“It doesn’t make a difference about me! It’s selfish to think only of myself!” he said angrily.

“Well, it’s stupid to think you should just go through life closing yourself off from people and letting people inside your soul, inside your heart, just because you’re afraid that something bad might happen. That’s what life is, Harry! It’s about taking chances!”

“Taking chances could get her killed,” Harry said calmly. He was trying to get his emotions in check, but finding it more difficult.

“Do you know Hermione’s a smart girl,” Lupin said. “I’m sure if she was afraid of being your friend or afraid of being your girlfriend, I think she would have taken off a long time ago, don’t you? She’s still here, Harry. She’s by your side. I think if you asked her, she’d tell you that there was no place else she’d rather be.”

“I know what you’re saying,” Harry said, “but I can’t help thinking that if something happened to her and I was somehow the cause of it, I don’t know how I’d be able to live with myself. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to her.”

“Harry,” Lupin said, but Harry interjected.

“And Voldemort knows this,” Harry said sadly. “He knows that he can get to me by trying to hurt the ones I love. You know that’s true.”

“I won’t lie to you, Harry,” Lupin said. “That’s what he does. He exploits someone’s weaknesses to gain the upper hand. Yours is that you have a big heart. You care a great deal about people. This is such an extraordinary thing to have, to possess. Considering your childhood, it’s even more amazing.”

Harry nodded.

“If you close yourself off from those who care about you, you are defeating yourself, Harry,” Lupin said. “You’ll be the weaker person for it. Trust me.”

“Consider this, Harry,” Lupin continued. “Even if you push her away, you won’t be able to deny what’s in your heart. He could still use your love for her against you. Don’t you see?”

“So, either way, I can’t win,” he said. “She’d have been better off in America.”

“You know that isn’t true,” Lupin said. “If you truly believed that, you wouldn’t have gone to such lengths to see her. You wouldn’t have gone to such trouble to get her back.”
Harry stood up from his chair and stared at Lupin for a few moments.

“I, um, better get to class,” he said. “Lunch should be just about done by now. I have, um, Herbology this afternoon.”

“You already made up your mind before you came in here, didn’t you, Harry?”

Harry didn’t answer. He turned slowly around and made for the doorway.

“If you do this, you’ll regret it,” Lupin said, quietly.

Harry pretended he hadn’t heard as he walked out of the office.

Harry quickly made his way back to Gryffindor Tower to pick up his school things before heading to the greenhouses. When he walked into the classroom, he saw that Hermione and his fellow Gryffindors were already there, along with some assorted Hufflepuff students who were also in the class.

Hermione was standing with Neville, Lavender and Ron, talking animatedly about something. They had their backs to him and for the longest time, he just stood there and watched them, namely he watched her.

Just looking at her, he felt as if his heart would leap out of his chest. He watched as Ron said something and she and Lavender slapped him on the shoulders in protest.

“Harry!” Neville called out, as he turned around to see him standing in the doorway.

Harry didn’t say anything. He just watched as Hermione turned expectantly around and broke out into a grin as she saw her boyfriend. She quickly walked over to him, her eyes bright and shining.

“Hi,” she said, beaming at him. “Are you doing okay?”

He nodded.

She threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly. He kept his arms to his side, not hugging her back.

She reluctantly let go and stared back at him, a look of confusion coming across her features.

“Did I hurt you, just then?” she asked.

“Yeah, Hermione,” Ron said, patting his friend on the back. “He just got out of the hospital two minutes ago and you’ll have him back in there with your crushing Rugby-style hugs.”

Hermione laughed nervously and blushed.

Harry, on the other hand, said nothing. His face was blank, his eyes cold.

Hermione was about to say something when Professor Sprout came into the greenhouse and ordered the students to man their stations. Hermione gave Harry a nervous smile before turning and heading for her particular station. Instead of following her, he stayed at the back of the class and sat down beside Neville.

For what it was worth, Professor Sprout could have taught the class in Russian. He didn’t hear a word she said. He kept trying not to notice the looks Hermione shot him every once in awhile. She’d turn and give him an odd, hurt look before turning back around to her own plant.

When class was over, he darted out of the greenhouse so fast; you would have thought the room was on fire. He didn’t wait for Hermione or Ron or anyone else. He needed to be alone. He didn’t want to be alone, but he knew he had to be. He didn’t like it, but he had to get used to it. This was his lot in life. He didn’t have to like it, he didn’t have to enjoy it, but he did have to do it. So, why, he couldn’t help asking himself, did it hurt so much?

He was avoiding her. She wasn’t stupid. She knew what he was doing. She just didn’t understand why. What had happened to make him do a complete 180-degree turn from the boy who lovingly kissed her goodbye just last night?

She tried to tell herself that he was just having a bad day, but that couldn’t be it. He wouldn’t intentionally be so cold and unfeeling, especially to her. She hadn’t done anything to warrant such treatment, after all, she thought.

She’d waited for him for dinner, but Seamus said that Harry was taking a nap and had told them all to go on downstairs without him. They had, but she’d barely touched her food. She was so worried about him. This, of course, was nothing new. She’d spent the majority of her pre-teen and teenage years worried about him. It was natural to her, almost like breathing.

She’d asked Ron to check on Harry for her when they got back to Gryffindor Tower. He left her in the Common Room while she waited on one of the large sofas. About 15 minutes later, Ron came back downstairs, alone.

“Well?” Hermione asked him expectantly.

Ron looked at his friend and tried to give her a reassured look, but failed miserably.

“He, um, said he didn’t really feel like coming down right now,” he said.

“Did he say why?” Hermione asked him impatiently.

“No,” Ron said. “He just said he was really tired and didn’t really feel like company tonight.”

“And you didn’t ask him why?” Hermione asked him.

“No,” Ron said complacently. “What is it with you girls? You have to have a reason and an explanation for everything. You have to make everything so damn complicated. Why not just take something for what it is, and just let it go? I mean, if a guy says he doesn’t want to talk about something, other guys take him at his word and go about their business. A girl says she doesn’t want to talk about something and waits for the guy to ask her what’s wrong, only to find out that it is usually him that’s what’s wrong.”

“Oh, honestly,” Hermione said, rolling her eyes. “You should write a book, Ron, and call it The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Friendship and Relationships.”

She abruptly stood up from the sofa and walked toward the staircase.

“Oi, Hermione!” Ron said. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I’m going to find out what’s wrong,” she said.

She left behind a flabbergasted Ron and walked up the staircase to the sixth-year boy’s dormitory. She knocked firmly on the door.

“Come in,” Harry said softly.

“Girl entering the premises,” Hermione said, as she opened the door. “Girl entering the premises.” She poked her head inside the door and looked around.

“It’s okay,” Harry said. “I’m the only one in here, Hermione.”

“Oh, so you do remember how to talk to me,” she said sarcastically.

“What are you doing up here, Hermione?” he asked her. He was sitting on his four-poster bed, flipping absently through the pages of a quidditch supply catalog.

She walked over to his bedside and sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Did I do something?” she asked him softly.

“No,” he said, not looking at her. “You didn’t do anything.”

“Well, if it wasn’t me, what is it?” she asked him, her eyes pleading with him. She grabbed the catalog out of his hands.

“Look at me, Harry,” she said. “Talk to me. Tell me what it is.”

“I can’t,” he said, standing up from the bed.

“Yes, you can,” she said. “Remember, you said that we were in this together, right? You and me against the world, right?”

She got up from the bed and stood behind him. He was looking out at the grounds from the window. She hesitantly put an arm on his shoulder.

“Look at me, Harry,” she said. “Please.”

He didn’t turn around.
“It’s not you, Hermione,” he whispered. “It’s me. Okay. That’s all I can tell you, okay?”

“Well, I don’t accept that,” she said. She could feel a lump rising in her throat. “Tell me what it really is, Harry.”

“I just think we need some space,” he said, choking on the words. “Some time apart.”

“What?” she asked incredulously. “Time apart?”

“Time…apart,” he said.

She felt as if the wind had been knocked out of her. She’d expected anything, but to hear that. She stood there for a few moments, watching him as he looked out the window. This didn’t feel right. Something in his voice told her that this wasn’t right. That this couldn’t possibly be right.

“Harry,” she said softly. “If that is truly what you want, turn around and look me in the eyes and tell me that. If that’s what you want, turn around and say it to my face and I’ll do as you ask. I’ll leave you alone.”

He tentatively turned around. He didn’t look at her, though.

“Look at me,” she said, her voice cracking. “Look at me and say it.”

He looked into her eyes and stared at her for what seemed like hours, but was only seconds.

“I,” he began.

“Yes,” she whispered. She stepped closer to him.

“I, um,” he said, still looking into her brown eyes. She closed the gap between them even further so that their faces were inches apart.

“You,” he tried again. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think. All he could see was her.

He brought his hand to her face and touched her cheek, brushing it softly with his fingers. The next thing either of them knew they were kissing, holding each other with such an intensity that both delighted and scared Hermione.

He kissed her neck, and she closed her eyes as he ran his fingers up and down her arms, lightly.

“I love you, Harry,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“What did you say?” he asked, freezing in place. He let go of her and she looked up at him.

“I love you, Harry,” she said, matter-of-factly.

He stepped away from her.

“What is it?” she asked.

“I can’t do this, Hermione,” he said, stepping away from her.

“Harry,” she said, worriedly.

He was inching out of the room, a look of horror on his face.

“What is it?” she asked again.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “but I can’t do this. I can’t do this.”

She could only look on as he quickly walked out of the room.

She couldn’t help but wonder what the hell was going on. She felt as if her knees were going to give way at any second. She sat down on his bed.

This couldn’t be happening, not after all that they’d done to be together. He loved her, she knew he did. What she didn’t know was why he was acting like this. She didn’t like not knowing something. If there was one thing she could do was find the answers. She’d never failed at that before and she didn’t intend to start now.

Author’s Note:
Thanks to ya’ll who’ve read and reviewed! I think you guys are awesome! I hope you like this chapter! I hope to post next one soon…hopefully…remember, I don’t have baseball to occupy my time now….dag dern Braves! ….I’m not bitter or anything….no, not at all….lol….

7. The Scientist

Author’s Note: Sorry for the clichéd chapter before, but I hope this makes up for it. Inspiration for this chapter comes from one of my current favorite songs, Coldplay’s “The Scientist”. Please read and review…

Chapter Seven
”The Scientist”

It had been nearly two weeks since the incident in Harry’s bedroom. It was the incident that happened, but no one wanted to talk about. Oh, Harry and Ron were still speaking, as were Ron and Hermione. Harry and Hermione, well, that was quite another story altogether.

Ron felt as if he were dealing with divorced parents. He spent part of his time with Harry and part of his time with Hermione. As they didn’t wish to be together, he was caught in the middle. He wondered if this was how Hermione had felt when he and Harry had that row in fourth year during the Triwizard Tournament.

The middle. Ron had found out fairly quickly in the past two weeks that the middle was not the best place to be. To be in the middle, you had to straddle both sides of the fence. To be on the middle, you were pulled and tugged in different directions. You didn’t want to piss off one side to make the other side happy. No matter what you did, when you were stuck in the middle, you couldn’t win.

What killed Ron was that it wasn’t as if Harry and Hermione hated each other. It wasn’t as if they’d had some knockdown, dragged out fight where horrible words were exchanged and things were done that seemingly couldn’t be taken back. As much as he could gather, something had happened that caused Harry to pull away from Hermione. Something major must have happened because Ron knew how much Harry loved Hermione. It had seemed to him as if wild horses couldn’t have pulled them apart.

In the past two weeks, he’d had a lot of time to think about this. He supposed he should be happy that their seemingly perfect relationship had encountered a bumpy path. It didn’t though. He wasn’t happy with this latest turn of events. It was obvious that they both still loved each other. They would ask how the other was doing and he’d give them each simple one word answers. He’d tell Hermione that Harry was okay. He’d tell Harry that Hermione was fine. He could see in their eyes that they wanted to know more, but didn’t dare ask.

Truth be told, the simple fact was that both of his best friends were hurting. From what he could tell, they were hurting unnecessarily. This could all be cleaned up if they’d just get together in a room and talk it out. He wasn’t sure of many things, but he knew that one thing for sure.

The problem, however, was that outside of classes, Harry and Hermione didn’t stay in the same room together for very long. They’d almost developed a seemingly unspoken, perfect schedule for staying away from each other. Hermione ate her meals early. Harry would eat his meals late. Hermione arrived early in her classes; Harry made sure he was almost the last one to arrive. It was brilliant, if Ron did say so himself. If he didn’t think they were both acting like stubborn idiots he’d congratulate them on it.

Two days before the Christmas holidays were set to begin, he found Hermione sitting in the library going over some Transfiguration notes.

“Good morning, sunshine,” he said, taking the seat directly opposite her.

“Good morning,” she said, grumpily.

“So, you never did tell me what you were going to do for Christmas. You going to go back home?” he asked her.

She looked up from her notes begrudgingly. “I’m supposed to. What about you?”

“Well, dad’s taking his Christmas bonus from the Ministry and taking the whole family to Romania to visit Charlie,” Ron said. “He couldn’t get away, you know? And with us trying to make amends with Percy and all, she thought it real important for us all to spend Christmas together.”

Hermione smiled. “That’s great.”

Ron nodded. “Yeah.”

“So, what’s Harry doing for Christmas?” Hermione asked, trying to sound nonchalant, but failing miserably.

“Harry? This would be the guy you said you were trying to forget? The one you said you were going to push out of your memory, totally and completely, one hundred percent and all that rubbish?”

Hermione slammed her book shut. “It wasn’t my decision, you know! He was the one who walked away from me.”

“Well, Miss Smarty-breeches, did you ever try and consider the reason why he walked away from you?” Ron asked condescendingly. “Honestly, top of the year and all you would think you would have picked up on it right away.”

“Well, of course, I know what it is,” she said angrily. “He’s afraid that something’s going to happen to me. He’s being completely and utterly stupid and selfish and noble and trying to do his saving people thing again. There’s nothing I can do, Ron. He’s dug his heels in and that’s it.”

He laughed.

“What’s so funny?” she asked.

“It’s just that the Hermione I know wouldn’t have let something as arbitrary as that stand in her way,” Ron said, winking at her. “Now, I know I’m not the particular brains behind our little trio, but if you listen, I might have an idea that just might help you.”

She tried to look uninterested. “What sort of idea?”

“You want my help, then?” he asked, clearly relishing this turn of events.

“Not that I am asking for your help, mind you,” she said, looking at him, “but say that I was, what did you have in mind?”

Harry helped Ron bring his trunk down to the common room. In a few moments, Ron would be leaving for the train station.

“Thanks, mate,” Ron said, as they finally finished bringing his trunk downstairs.

“You’re welcome,” he said. “What have you got in here anyways? Dead body?”

“I confess,” Ron said. “I did the world a favor. Inside this trunk, you will find Draco Malfoy bound and gagged. I’m going to set him off in Romania. Wait a minute. That would be totally unfair and cruel for Romania. I guess I’ll let him loose in the Forbidden Forest before I go. If they ask questions, we never had this conversation.”

“Your secret is safe with me,” Harry said, looking around at a number of students that were gathering in the Common Room to head to the train station.

“Have you seen Hermione?” Harry asked, trying to look nonplussed.

“Yeah,” Ron said. “Ginny and I said goodbye to her this morning. She had a Floo Connection back home to Atlanta.”

Harry nodded.

“You sure you don’t want to come along with us to Romania?” Ron asked. “You’ll be all alone here. You know my parents would love to have you.”

“No, thanks,” Harry said. “I appreciate it. I’ll be fine here. You should be with your family. Besides, I won’t be alone. I’ll have Hagrid here.”

“And the Creevey brothers,” Ron said. “Not to mention Snape. You’re going to have a grand old time. I’m kind of jealous.”

“Yeah, well,” Harry said. “I slipped your Christmas present in your trunk. I also put some in there for your family.”

“Thanks,” Ron said. “Mum had me leave some stuff for you, too. She said not to open it up until Christmas morning or she’ll hex you.”

Harry laughed. At that moment, Ginny came running down the stairs. She was followed by her own trunk, which was floating behind her.

“Bloody hell,” Ron said, smacking his hand to his forehead. “I should have thought of that! I always forget that we can do that.”

“Come on, Ron,” Ginny said. “We better get a move on.”

Ron nodded. “Happy Christmas, Harry.”

“You, too,” Harry said. “I hope you have a great holiday, Gin.”

“Thanks, Harry,” she said. “You, too. Come on, Ron.”

Harry watched as they hurried out through the portrait hole. For the first time since he’d been at Hogwarts, he was spending the Christmas holidays alone. He’d always had either Ron or Hermione or both of them to spend the holiday with. Now, he was alone. He couldn’t dwell on it. He had gotten himself into this mess. He was going to have to live with this decision, regardless of how unhappy it had made him.

Only a handful of Gryffindors had stayed behind for the holidays. None of Harry’s roommates had stayed behind. As a result, he was able to keep mainly to himself. He’d spent one of the afternoons with Hagrid helping him walk Fang in the Forbidden Forest and check on Grawp.

On Christmas Eve, he’d decided to catch up on some of his homework and spent most of the day inside his room. He was nearly ready to head down to the Great Hall for dinner when he heard a soft tapping on his door.

Wondering who in the world it could be and hoping it wasn’t one of the Creevey brothers wanting him to play a game of wizard’s chess or exploding snap, he walked over to the door and opened it. There was no one there. He felt a tug on his pants leg and looked down to see Dobby standing there.

He looked different. He still wore his tea towel, but around his neck, he wore a green and red bowtie. He wore a Santa cap on his head.

“Dobby!” Harry exclaimed, with a smile.

“Happy Christmas, Harry Potter,” Dobby said, smiling broadly at him.

“Happy Christmas to you,” Harry said. “What brings you here?”

“I is told by someone to bring you to the Room of Requirement at approximately six in the evening, Harry Potter, sir.”

“Well, it’s just past six,” Harry said, looking down at his watch.

“Dobby is sorry for running late, but he and Winky had to help with the decorations and the food and Winky---she is getting into the eggnog a little too much and—“

“What’s this about the Room of Requirement?” Harry asked him.

“I is supposed to be bringing you down there, Harry Potter, sir,” Dobby said.

“Well, that’s great, Dobby, but I was just going to go down to eat dinner,” Harry said.

“There will be dinner in the Room of Requirement,” Dobby said, proudly. “Good food it is, too, Harry Potter.”

“Who told you to bring me there?” Harry asked, intrigued despite himself.

“Dobby cannot say,” Dobby said, his eyes twinkling. “But Dobby was told to

not take no for an answer, so Dobby said he would do as they asked. You have to come with me, Harry Potter.”

“Oh, alright,” Harry said, not having the heart to tell the house elf no. He seemed so proud of himself for having such a big task. Dobby had come through for him before, even if it had come at disastrous means. Hopefully, this wouldn’t be the case now. So, he followed the house elf through the portrait hole and up the stairs to the seventh floor.

He tried to get the house elf to divulge the identity of the person who requested his presence, but Dobby’s lips were sealed, so to speak. Oh, he spoke at length about house elf gossip as they made their way to the Room of Requirement, but he didn’t divulge any information about why Harry was needed here and who wanted him there.

Harry racked his brain to think of who it could be. Ron wasn’t here. He was in Romania. Hermione was in Atlanta and after his behavior toward her in the last couple of weeks; he seriously doubted she would have been the one wanting to see him. There was a small part of him worried that Cho Chang would be in there crying up a storm, ready to ream him out again for leading her on.

“Here we are, Harry Potter, sir,” Dobby said, proudly. “You is walking three times in front of the blank wall and concentrate, sir.”

Harry looked at the house elf, quizzically, but did as he was told. Within moments, the door appeared. Dobby clapped his hands in excitement.

“Harry Potter, you must be going inside now,” Dobby said. “It’s your Christmas present.”

“Uh, okay,” Harry said, protesting a little as Dobby pushed Harry’s legs forward. “Aren’t you going to come in as well?”

Dobby shook his head. “I was told to bring you here and that is all, Harry Potter. I is needed to help Winky downstairs. She might be getting into the butterbeer again, and that would be most dreadful, Harry Potter, sir.”

Harry stumbled a bit as Dobby gave him one last push through the doors. The door closed behind him. He looked around at the room and it looked quite different from the lat time he’d been here. When he’d held the D.A. meetings in here, there’d been cushions and books and just about anything you’d have needed to teach about the Dark Arts. Tonight it looked nothing like that.

The room looked about like a cabin living room. There was a comfortable large sofa sitting in front of a fire that was burning in a large brick fireplace. There was a wooden table in the middle of the room. There were two place settings at the table. The table’s centerpiece was two lit tapered candles. The middle of the table was laden down with every a variety of foods---roast turkey, mashed potatoes, fresh dinner rolls, pumpkin pasties, a pitcher of pumpkin juice and a pitcher of butterbeer. It smelled fantastic.

He turned around the room to see a large Christmas tree in the corner of the room, decorated in silver garland and ornaments. A single silver star topped the tree and a handful of presents were sitting underneath the tree. To his surprise, a radio was playing music. Who had gone to all this trouble? Who had done all of this just for him?

As if on cue, a voice said softly behind him, “Happy Christmas.”

He’d have known that voice anywhere. He turned slowly around to see her standing in front of the table. She looked absolutely beautiful. She was dressed as she almost always was, but she looked…well he was at a loss for words. She wore a pair of jeans with a royal blue sweater. Her hair wasn’t frizzy or bushy, but curled in soft tendrils. Around her neck, was the simple silver necklace and charm he’d given to her. She smiled nervously at him.

“What are you doing here?” he finally managed to get out.

“Spending Christmas with you, of course,” she said.

“With me?” he asked her. “I thought you were going home for Christmas.”

“I am home,” she said, her brown eyes staring intently into his. “Wherever you are, that is my home.”

He looked at her, feeling as if he was going to cry.

“I, um, should go,” he said.

“No,” she said simply.

“What?” he asked her.

She stepped closer. “You walked away from me once, and I let you go. I’m not going to let that happen again. We have come through far too much for it to end like that.”

He turned back toward the door, but she grabbed him by the shoulder and turned him around to face her.

“Look at me,” she said, her voice catching in her throat. “I know what you’re doing. I think on some level, I understand why you’re doing it, but you know, you could have asked me how I felt about it!”

“I’m doing what—“, he began, but she stopped him.

“You’re doing the same thing my parents did a few months ago, remember? They were planning my life for me without asking me what I wanted. They didn’t stop to ask, Harry. You decided to cut yourself out of my life, not caring what I had to say about it. Well, you’re going to hear what I have to say about it!”

He looked at her, heard the pleading in her voice. He nodded and walked over to the sofa. She followed a few moments later. They sat there; quiet, in front of the fire for a few moments.

She turned a little to look at him. “What happened?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“Yes, I do,” she said. “I deserve an explanation for your sudden change of behavior.”

“You really want to know?” he asked her, his voice rising. “Okay, here goes. That night I was in hospital, I had a dream. You and I were on the beach. We were having a fantastic time. You ran a little bit ahead of me and I started to run after you, but Voldemort appeared. It wasn’t him as we know him now, but him as Tom Riddle. He told me that it wouldn’t be him that killed you, it would be me. He said that you would die because you loved me. He said that you would meet the same fate as everyone who ever had the misfortune of loving me.”

She sat there, listening to him, her mouth agape.

“Happy now?” he asked her. “Now, do you see why I did what I did?”

She looked thoughtful.

“That was just a dream, Harry,” she said quietly.

“Dreams have a basis on reality,” he said.

“On some level, yes, I believe they do,” she said. “But, Harry, that was just a dream. No one knows what’s going to happen. I do know one thing, though, I love you. I will die one day. Everyone does eventually. I hope to live a long life. I hope you live a long one, too. I hope we can live a long life together. What we can’t do, though, is let fear cripple us. If we do that, what kind of life is that? I wouldn’t change a single thing about my life, Harry, not one bit of it. If I had known then, what I’d known now, I wouldn’t change a thing.”

“Hermione,” he whispered.

“Believe that, Harry,” she said. “Trust in that.”

She put her hand to his face.

“No one is guaranteed time,” she said. “We don’t know how much we have. We should enjoy the time we do have and cherish the people we have in our lives. I don’t know about you, but these past couple weeks have been horrible. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life like that, wanting to be with you, but denied that chance because you were afraid that I’d end up dead. I’m afraid of a lot of things, too, Harry, but I’ve never been afraid of you. I’m afraid of losing you for no good reason.”

He was quiet. She stroked his cheek with her fingers.

“What do you want, Harry?” she asked him.

“You,” he said softly. He took her hands in his. “I want you.”

“My Harry,” she said, smiling at him.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I love you so much. I never want to hurt you.”

“Then stay with me,” she said. “Don’t push me away.”

He rested his forehead on hers.

“I don’t know if you know this, or not, but I can be pretty stubborn when I want to be,” she said, smiling at him. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good,” he said, smiling a real smile, for the first time in what seemed like ages.

“I have one question for you,” he said, as they got up from the couch, hand in hand, walking over to the table.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“The radio?” he asked. “I thought we couldn’t use Muggle electronics here at Hogwarts.”

“We can’t,” she said, her eyes twinkling, as they sat down at the table. “But, when you have connections like I do, you can make anything happen.”

“Like whom?” he asked her.

“I can’t reveal my sources,” she said. “I was sworn to secrecy.”

“Okay, okay,” he said, helping himself to a plate of turkey and potatoes. “So how did you pull all this together?”

She smiled wickedly at him as she too heaped some turkey and potatoes onto her own plate. “I had some help from some unlikely sources. Your best friend and mine, one Mr. Ronald Weasley, helped me carry out this deception. He told me to tell you upon success of our joint mission here that he was 100% responsible for this and he will be expecting gratitude, thanks and nothing short of a ticker tape parade upon his return.”

Harry laughed.

“Who would have thought he’d had it in him?” he pondered aloud.

“He can be quite the devious romantic when he wants to be,” Hermione said, snickering.

They enjoyed their meal and small talk as they enjoyed just being in each other’s company again. When they were full and happy, Harry was aware of a soft ballad on the radio.

“Would you like to dance, my lady?” he asked her, pushing back his chair and getting to his feet. She blushed as he proffered his hand to her and bowed.

“Why, certainly, sir,” she said, laughing as she arose from her chair. They walked over toward the Christmas tree and began to dance.

The music played steadily in the background. Harry didn’t know the name of the song, but it sounded like the same group that had sung the song he and Hermione had danced to that night in Atlanta at the planetarium.

“Come up to meet you, tell you I'm sorry

You don't know how lovely you are

I had to find you

Tell you I need you

Tell you I set you apart”

Hermione closed her eyes and leaned into him. His arm drifted up her back, and she could hear his breathing as they rotated in a slow circle, swaying to the music. They held each other close, enjoying the feeling of their warm bodies against each other.

“Tell me your secrets

And ask me your questions

Oh let's go back to the start

Running in circles

Coming up tails

Heads on a silence apart

Nobody said it was easy

It's such a shame for us to part

Nobody said it was easy

No one ever said it would be this hard”

He kissed her softly, taking pleasure in the feel of her soft lips. She was so warm and loving. He could have kicked himself for ever thinking he’d be able to stay away from her.

I was just guessing

At numbers and figures

Pulling your puzzles apart

Questions of science

Science and progress

Do not speak as loud as my heart

Tell me you love me

Come back and haunt me

Oh and I rush to the start

“I love you,” he whispered. He traced her cheek with his fingers, a shy smile playing at his lips. She pressed her cheek closer to his fingers when he opened his hand.

Running in circles

Chasing our tails

Coming back as we are

Nobody said it was easy

Oh it's such a shame for us to part

Nobody said it was easy

No one ever said it would be so hard

I'm going back to the start

She put one arm around his back and drew him in for another kiss.

“Harry,” she whispered nervously. “I, um, do you think we should, because I would totally understand if you didn’t, but I really think we, I mean to say, if you wanted to, I would really like to, I mean, what I’m trying terribly awkwardly to say is that I think I’m ready…that is, if you are.”

He looked down into her eyes. She looked scared, somewhat, but determined.

“You mean, you want to, you know,” he said, looking down at the carpet. “Merlin’s beard, how are we supposed to do it if neither of us can bring ourselves to say it.”

“Do you want to?” she asked him.

“If you want to, I want to,” he said. “But I don’t want you to think that we have to because I wouldn’t want to do anything to make you uncomfortable.”

“I always imagined my first time would be this perfect moment,” she said, her eyes a little hazy. “That when the time came for that moment, I would know in my heart that it was the right thing to do. That I would know it was what I wanted with all my heart and soul. I know it sounds terribly romantic and idealistic, but that’s what I feel now, Harry. I feel like this is our moment.”

“Are you sure?” he asked her, taking her hand in his.

She nodded. She took hold of his hands and led him over to the sofa in front of the fire. They sat on the floor, across from each other. She looked at him, her brown eyes shining from the lights of the fire. She brought her hands to her jumper and pulled it up hesitantly over her head. She wore a simple white, cotton bra.

She could almost hear her heart beating as she brought her hands to his jumper and eased it off of him. He looked deep into her eyes and stroked her hair. She leaned in and nuzzled her face into his neck. She could feel their bodies responding to each other and she felt as if her whole insides were going haywire.

They discarded of their pants and shoes and flung them away from them. They sat, inches apart, Hermione in her bra and knickers and Harry in a pair of boxer shorts. They were both nervous and scared, but both knew in their hearts that they both wanted this. This monumental moment in their lives was obviously meant to be shared with each other.

They kissed again, this time more urgently. They fall back onto the lush carpet. Harry tentatively reached around Hermione’s back to undo her bra strap. She gave a slight shudder as she felt the soft cotton fabric inch away from her body.

She kissed him again and watched as he worked his way down, planting kisses on her neck, on her chest, on her breasts. He sat up and his eyes never left her as he slowly pulled off his boxer shorts and then did the same with her knickers. Any embarrassment they might have felt at being naked in front of each other, melted away at the sheer tenderness of the moment.

He kissed her again as he lay back on top of her. They pressed their bodies together, kissing each other’s skin, exploring each other’s bodies, timidly at first, but with a growing confidence. She arched toward him, her fingers grabbing his hair.

She nuzzled her face into his shoulder as she felt him inside of her. She let out a soft whimper as they became one, their bodies intertwined. She buried her face into his neck to stifle her screams. They had given themselves to each other without reserve, without question. Both of them knew that this was what they wanted and needed.

She felt as if she’d gone through every human emotion possible as she tried to grasp her mind around what was happening. She and Harry were making love. Yes, it was somewhat awkward, as they hadn’t really known what to do, but it was also gentle, and tender. It hurt, but it was a pleasant sort of hurt. It felt right. It made sense and it made no sense at all. It was what it was, nothing more, and nothing less.

She was sweating and so was he as they grinded against each other. When it was over, he pulled out of her softly. She could feel tears stinging her eyes. She was breathless as she looked at him. He lay back on the carpet beside her. She nestled herself against him. No words were spoken. None were needed. They lay there in front of the fire, their bodies side by side. A few moments passed before Hermione grabbed a blanket from the sofa and placed it over them. Within moments, they were both asleep.

The fire crackled in the fireplace and the music from the radio still played on softly. They held each other, not thinking of anything or anyone else, but each other.

8. I

Author’s Note: Thanks guys for the great reviews! I’m glad you liked the last chapter…I hope you like the continued Christmas fluff….

Chapter Eight

I’ll Always Be Right There

”When you're all alone,
and you need a light,
someone to guide you through the night,
just remember that I am here,
to hold you close and dry your tears.”

“And just when you thought you were falling,
but you know I'll always be right there.”

(Michelle Branch-“I’ll Always Be Right There)

For a split second when she awoke the next morning, Hermione forgot where she was. She wasn’t in her dorm room, asleep in her own bed. She was lying on the floor, wrapped in a grey flannel blanket. She groggily opened her eyes and saw her clothes, in a haphazard pile on the floor. A few feet away from her clothes, were Harry’s discarded clothes. The events of last night came flooding back to her.

The conversation. The reconciliation. The dinner. The dancing. The moment of truth…and then, they’d given each other their innocence. It was a big step. It was more than likely the most monumental decision of her life. Once you passed that line, there was no turning back. She’d known that. He’d known that. She’d been ready. She’d known that.

When she’d planned this evening with the help of Ron, she hadn’t consciously thought that this would be how the evening would end. She’d planned on confronting him with her own feelings. She was going to tell him how she felt. She was going to tell him that she knew the risks involved, but she’d gladly face them if they could be together. She’d had faith that he’d give in and admit that he still loved her as much as he always had. She’d thought that after they made up, they’d share a nice dinner and then spend the evening listening to music and talking.

She’d be lying if she said that she didn’t think their sleeping together was at least a remote possibility. Something deep inside her told her she should read up on birth control spells, so she’d checked out a book from the library called Magical Medicine and Maladies. Just as a precaution, she’d performed the spell on herself before she’d gone upstairs to the Room of Requirement to get things ready. She was glad that she had. She knew that at 16 years of age, she was ready for a good many things, but being a mother wasn’t one of them. Maybe someday, but now wasn’t the time.

Still, she couldn’t believe it had actually happened. It made sense, really. They had gone through a whole lot in the past six years, especially in the past few months. They had come to realize how much they cared about each other. Everything had been said, but not everything had been done. It seemed like a logical step. It seemed right that the greatest gift she could see to give someone, she’d give to him. He’d meant the world to her these past few years. She’d didn’t know how she’d be able to tell him how much she loved him, how her heart raced when she saw him, or heard his name. She wondered if she meant all of that to him. She couldn’t help thinking with how gentle and tender he’d been the night before, that he must feel the same way.

She’d always heard from other girls how painful and awkward the first time could be. While it had been those things, it had also been sweet and nice and she wanted to stop herself…she sounded like those sappy romance novels Lavender and Parvati read.

Besides, she heard Harry starting to wake up. She turned on her side to face him. As she did so, she suddenly became acutely aware of the fact that she was naked underneath this blanket. Naked, as in absolutely no clothes, period. Naked, as in absolutely no clothes, beside her best friend/boyfriend, who was also naked. She stifled a laugh as she watched him rubbing his eyes sleepily.

“Hi,” he said softly.

“Hi,” she said shyly.

They didn’t speak for the longest time and just lay there looking at each other.

“What are you thinking?” she finally asked him.

He looked thoughtful for a moment and gave a slight laugh. “The truth?”

She nodded. “Please.”

“I was just thinking that this is unlike any Christmas morning I’ve ever experienced in my life,” he said simply.

“It’s Christmas!” she said, bringing her hand to her mouth. “Happy Christmas, Harry!”

She leaned in and kissed him softly.

“Happy Christmas to you,” he said, caressing her cheek. He turned over on his back and motioned for her to come in closer. She willingly snuggled in close and rested her head on his chest; his arms went immediately around her.

“You aren’t sorry, are you?” he asked, his hand rubbing her arm. “I mean, you’re not sorry about what happened? I mean, if you were, you could tell me. I’d understand.”

She turned around to look at him.

“No,” she said, her eyes serious. “I wanted to be with you last night. I want to be with you now. There are many things I feel about what happened last night, and I can tell you without a doubt that regret isn’t one of them.”

He smiled. “I love you so much, Hermione.”

He leaned in and kissed her and they spent a few minutes just rolling around on the floor, laughing into each other’s faces, kissing, touching. All of a sudden, he stopped.

“What?” she asked him, breathlessly. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Your Christmas present!” he said.

“I thought you gave that to me last night,” she said cheekily, winking at him.

His cheeks turned a crimson red. “Not that,” he said. “It’s downstairs in my room.” With that, he released her and walked over to where his clothes were and quickly scooped up his boxer shorts and put them on. Hermione watched as he continued to get dressed. As he pulled his sweater over his head, he saw for the first time that Hermione had been watching him the whole time.

“Were you just watching me, then?” he asked her, trying to look shocked.

“No,” she said, shaking her head and trying to avert her eyes. “I was just, um, staring into space. You sort of got in the way of my line of vision. So, when you think about it, it’s really your fault. And, I am appalled that you would even think so little of me that I would be some sort of peeping Tom or some rubbish like that.”

“Sorry,” he said, waving his hands. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I didn’t mean to accuse you of being some brazen, shameless-“

She held up her hand. “Stop while you’re behind.”

He laughed. “Okay.”

“Where are you going?” she asked him.

“I told you,” he said, sitting down on the couch to put his socks and trainers on.

“Down to my room to nick your presents and round us up some breakfast.”

“Oh, great,” she said, beaming at him. “I’m starving.”

“I’ll be right back,” he said, leaning down to plant a kiss on her. “Don’t go anywhere.”

Luckily, Harry ran into Dobby on his way downstairs to Gryffindor Tower. The house elf wished him a Merry Christmas and Harry responded in kind. He then asked Dobby if he could leave a basket of pastries and some hot chocolate outside the Room of Requirement. Luckily, Dobby didn’t inquire any further and happily agreed to do as asked.

Harry laughed as he watched the house elf nearly skip down the corridors happily singing Christmas carols.

He practically ran the rest of the way to Gryffindor Tower. He couldn’t believe how things had changed in such a short amount of time. Less than 24 hours ago, he had been alone. He hadn’t been happy about it, but he’d resigned himself to it. Well that wasn’t exactly true, but he’d at least made the effort to accept it. He knew now that no matter what he said or tried, he’d never have truly been able to accept it.

The cold hard truth was that he loved her. He could try and put distance between them, he could stop talking to her, but he would never be able to change that.

He’d never imagined that they’d have done what they had so soon. He’d thought about it, of course, but he thought it would have happened much later.

He knew that no matter what he did or where he went in his life, he’d never forget that first night with her. He wouldn’t just remember the act of making love, but he’d remember how it felt to hold her, to feel how soft her skin was. He’d remember how she’d responded to her kisses. He’d remember how great it was that they’d experienced this monumental event in their lives together. He’d remember how she’d fallen asleep in his arms and how he’d woken up in the middle of the night just to look at her as she slept. It was in moments like that, that he felt as if everything would be alright. He could actually believe that things would work out well in the end. With her, he didn’t have a legacy or a name to live up to. He could just be himself. He could just be.

He sprinted through the portrait hole and up the stairs to his room. He retrieved Hermione’s Christmas present from under the bed. He’d bought it a couple of months ago in Hogsmeade. He’d placed it underneath his bed and had wondered if he’d ever get the chance to give it to her. He smiled as he picked it up.

He quickly walked back out of the room and noticed that there were some additional presents for he and Hermione under the tree. There were the presents Ron and Ginny had told him about and Hermione had a few from her parents. He grabbed a basket from the corner of the room and quickly loaded the presents inside.

He struggled through the portrait hole with his load of presents, but was able to make it through without dropping anything. He was nearly to the staircases when he met Professor Lupin.

“Happy Christmas, Harry,” Lupin said, smiling warmly at him. “I was just coming to see you.”

Harry peered over the basket of presents and smiled. “Happy Christmas to you, too, Professor Lupin.”

“You sure are loaded down there,” Lupin said. “Where are you off to?”

“Um,” Harry said sheepishly. “I, um, well, I was going to-“

Lupin chuckled.

“I take it this means you and Hermione have made up then?” he asked Harry good-naturedly.

Harry looked at him dumbfounded. “How did you know?”

“Well, I’m no Trelawney, but I did see your friend Dobby heading to the seventh floor yesterday afternoon with Miss Granger in tow and just a few moments ago I said the same house elf happily heading to the seventh floor with a basket of pastries. And if I’m not mistaken, you are heading in the same direction, are you not?”

Harry sat down the basket and looked uncomfortable.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed, Harry,” Lupin said. “I was 16 once myself, of course it was ages ago.”

Harry nodded, still looking down at the floor. He sort of wished it would open up and swallow him, taking him away from this awkward, uneasy situation.

“I was actually heading to Gryffindor Tower to invite you to join me later tonight for some butterbeer. I had a present for you. I’d very much like it if you and Hermione would join me.”

“Yeah, that’d be great,” Harry said, finally looking up to meet his gaze.

“Why don’t the two of you come by my office after dinner tonight?”

Harry smiled. “We’ll be there.”

********************************** **************

A few moments later, Harry was finally walking through the door to the Room of Requirement. He found her sitting at the table, eating a blueberry muffin.

“You’re dressed,” he said, as he closed the door behind him.

“I know you didn’t think I’d open the door stark naked when Dobby came by, did you?” she asked with a laugh. “I nearly killed myself trying to get dressed.”

Harry laughed, and set the basket of presents down before joining her at the table.

“Yeah, well I ran into Professor Lupin on my way back here,” Harry said. “I think he could see right through me.”

“You didn’t get in trouble did you?” she asked, a worried tone to her voice.

He shook his head. “No, thank Merlin for that.”

A few seconds later, Hermione broke into a fit of giggles.

“What?” he asked her, intrigued.

“Could you just imagine?” she was finally able to get out. “One hundred points from Gryffindor for shagging on school grounds.”

Harry started to laugh, too. “Well, I can’t think of a better way to lose points.”

Hermione broke off a piece of her muffin and threw it at him.

“Hey,” he protested.

She grinned a Cheshire cat grin.

“He wanted us to join him for some butterbeers after dinner tonight. He said he had a present for me.”

She nodded.

“Speaking of presents,” he said, leaning down and picking her gift out of the basket.

“Oh, I have one for you, too,” she said, getting out of her seat and running over to the tree. She came back a few moments later, carrying two perfectly wrapped gifts.

“Two?”

“Yeah,” she said. “You open yours first.”

She sat back down and looked expectantly at him. He grabbed the smaller of the two presents and carefully began to unwrap it. Inside the box was a silver compass.

“A compass?” he asked her.

She nodded. “I got this for you so you’ll never lose your way.”

He grinned at her. “As long as I have you, I don’t think I could ever lose my way.”

She beamed back at him.

“Thanks,” he said sincerely.

“You’re very welcome,” she said. “Open the next one.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, laughing. The bigger present was a book, but not just any book. It was Quidditch through the Ages: the Greatest Players of our Time. It had been on the best seller list of The Daily Prophet for weeks. Harry had mentioned a number of times to Hermione how he’d planned on getting it the next time they were in Hogsmeade.

“Thanks, Hermione,” he said, kissing her on the cheek.

“My turn now?” she asked, greedily, rubbing her hands together.

“Of course,” he said, handing her the gift.

She shot him a wide smile as she opened the present to find a music box. She gasped as she ran her fingers along the engraved pink and yellow roses that were carved exquisitely on the outside of the mahogany box. Her eyes lit up as she opened it and the familiar melody of the song “Yellow” played. It was the song she and Harry had danced to that night in Atlanta at the planetarium. As the music played, figurines of a young girl and boy danced underneath a starry sky backdrop.

A single tear fell down her cheek as she looked at the music box.

“So you like it, then?” he asked her.

She nodded. “I love it.”

He smiled. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she said, getting up from her chair and taking his hand, pulling him to his feet.

“Where are you taking me, Miss Granger?”

She said nothing as she led him back over to the couch. She ushered him to have a seat and then she sat down beside him. Her eyes never left his. She kissed him tenderly then. She coyly tugged at his sweater.

“So, you’re just going to have your way with me, then?” he asked her.

She smiled as she planted a kiss on his neck.

“Hmm,” she said. He could feel her breath on his skin and tickled.

“You know how I am, Harry,” she said. “Once I get started on something new, I just want to immerse myself in it completely.”

“You know,” he said, between kisses, “I’ve always liked that about you.”

Voldemort closed the door behind him and nodded to the guard.

“Make sure he stays alive,” he ordered. “He is of no use to me dead. You have to remember to give him the potion every three hours. Trust me, you imbecile, if I have to come back down here to clean up your mistakes, it will not be pretty. Don’t think for one moment that I’d have a problem killing you. It’s taken me a long time to pull this plan together and I’m not going to let complete idiots rob me of it.”

“Yes, sir,” the guard said, standing up straight.

Voldemort gave the guard one last cold stare before leaving the room altogether.

Through the slot in the door, the guard could hear the prisoner coughing. He’d been doing that most of the evening. He’d ceased breathing full stop nearly an hour ago. The guard reluctantly had to summon Voldemort to the dungeons where the prisoner was being held.

The guard could hear movement behind the door as the prisoner’s chains were dragged across the floor.

“Please help me,” the prisoner whispered.

“I’m not supposed to talk to you,” the guard muttered back. “Keep quiet.”

“Are you going to let him tell you what to do?” the prisoner asked, his voice was quite hoarse. “You do realize your life means nothing to him. He’s just using you.”

“If I help you, I’m as good as dead,” the guard said simply.

“I can help you,” the prisoner said, again breaking out into a coughing fit.

“How are you to help me behind closed doors, chained to the wall?” the guard scoffed. “You can’t even help yourself.”

“Get word to Harry Potter for me,” the prisoner said, urgently. “If not Harry, Albus Dumbledore. You know that he’s the only wizard that Voldemort has ever feared. Or Remus Lupin. Either of them could help you and me.”

“Shut up!” the guard barked back at him. “My honor and loyalty goes to the Dark Lord.”

“You’ll regret that,” the prisoner whispered back. When the guard didn’t respond, the prisoner slumped back against the wall. The guard obviously wasn’t going to go for it now, but maybe if he kept pushing, he’d have an ally. He admitted it seemed pretty hopeless, but it was all he had at this point. There had to be someway to warn Harry of what was coming. There had to be some way to warn him what Voldemort had planned. But how?

9. Pretty Baby

Author’s Note:
Thanks guys for the reviews! I really appreciate it! Not much happens in this chapter…it’s what I like to call a filler chapter, but I hope you like it. It’s one of my funnier chapters, I think. I hope you guys like it!

Chapter Nine

Pretty Baby

“Pretty baby don't you leave me
I have been saving smiles for you
pretty baby why can't you see
you're the one that I belong to
I'll be the embrace that keeps you warm
for you're the sun that breaks the storm
I'll be alright and I'll sleep sound
as long as you keep comin' around, oh pretty baby…”

(Vanessa Carlton “Pretty Baby”)

Hermione sat on her bed the night before classes were to start back after holiday break. She was catching up on some reading she’d planned to do over the break, but certain things, or a certain person, had gotten in the way. All day long, students had been returning from their holidays. Lavender and Parvati were squealing a few feet away about their Christmas presents. Apparently, Lavender’s parents had surprised her with a new wardrobe which she was happily showing off to Parvati.

She wasn’t really concentrating on her book. Her mind was replaying that conversation she and Harry had with Professor Lupin on Christmas night. It had bothered her more than she let on.

They’d arrived a little late to Professor Lupin’s, having spent the entire day holed up in the Room of Requirement. Professor Lupin was happy to see them and served cookies and hot butterbeer. They exchanged small talk for awhile, before Professor Lupin finally came out with the real reason for his invitation.

“Harry,” he said, “I was looking through some of my old boxes and I came across some photos that I thought you ought to have.”

Harry and Hermione watched as Lupin walked over to his desk and pulled a brown envelope from one of his drawers. He walked back over to the couch and sat down. He handed the envelope to Harry. Hermione inched closer to her boyfriend so she could see the photographs.

These were photos of Lupin, Sirius, James and Peter Pettigrew. In the photos, they were adorned in their dress robes. James was in the middle of his friends, grinning broadly.

“These are from your parents’ wedding day,” Lupin said.

“These are your photos, Professor,” Harry said. “I couldn’t take them.”

“They are your parents,” Lupin said. “Besides, I was there, I don’t need the photos. You weren’t. I think your parents would have wanted you to have them.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Harry said, smiling.

Hermione elbowed him. “Thanks would be a nice start.”

They all laughed at this and Harry nodded. “I knew I had her around for a reason. Thanks, Professor.”

Harry thumbed through the photos. There was one of Sirius and James alone; they were both flexing their muscles for the camera, trying to outdo each other. They tried to look cool, but failed miserably, as they burst out into a fit of laughter. Another photo was of his mother, who was dressed in a simple white dress instead of dress robes. She carried a bouquet of daisies and her red hair had been pulled back into a chignon. She looked radiant.

“Harry, your mum was so pretty,” Hermione whispered.

Harry nodded.

The last photo was of his parents, who were posing for their official wedding photo. James had wrapped his arms around Lily and kept trying to lean in and kiss her. She kept elbowing him, as if trying to tell him to stop being so silly and pose nicely for the camera.

“That was such a beautiful day,” Lupin said. “It was going to be an outdoor wedding, and it had rained nonstop for nearly a week. We were all afraid that we’d have to move the wedding ceremony, but that morning…not a cloud in the sky, sun was shining about as bright as I’d ever seen it. And your dad, Harry, was a nervous wreck. He must have thrown up about seven times that morning. He made me swear not to tell Lily. I told him that I wouldn’t have to. He was about as green as I’d ever seen anyone. Sirius kept giving him a hard time about it. Told him that we’d just have the wedding in the loo. Said all he’d have to do is hold one hand on the toilet and hold your mum’s hand in the other. Nice romantic image, isn’t it?” Lupin laughed wistfully.

“But, it all worked out in the end,” Lupin said. “It was a great wedding. Your parents were so happy that day.”

Hermione looked over at Harry as he listened to Lupin. She put an arm on his shoulder. He looked at her gratefully. She knew it couldn’t be easy to hear about his parents. She knew he liked hearing about them, but it also served as a reminder that they weren’t there.

“But that’s not the only reason I asked you to come down here,” Lupin said. “I have something else I need to discuss with you. Dumbledore felt it would be best if I broached the subject.”

“What is it?” Harry asked, setting the pictures down on the coffee table.

“Well, there’s a proposition we have for you, that we’d understand if you turned down, but given the circumstances, I think this would be an invaluable learning experience for you in light of what we’ve heard about-“ Lupin’s voice trailed off and he looked sideways at Hermione.

“It’s okay, Professor,” Harry said. “I told Hermione about the prophecy.”

Lupin nodded.

“Well, that’s good then,” he said. “Well, what I wanted to ask you was how you’d feel about not spending your entire summer at Number Four Privet Drive?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me?” Harry asked. “How would I feel about that? How about fan-bloody-tastic?”

Lupin laughed. “I thought so, but hold off on making any decisions until you’ve heard me out.”

“Okay,” Harry said, intrigued.

“As you know we’ve had almost no reports of Voldemort or Voldemort sightings in the past few months. You’d think this would be good news, but it tells us that he’s plotting something. We can’t sit around waiting for him to make his move. We have to prepare. Which is where you come in, Harry. Dumbledore feels that it would be best if you spent the majority of your summer with Moody, Tonks, and some other Order members. We’d train you in some extensive Dark Arts methods and techniques. You’d be a full-fledged member of the Order.”

Harry smiled. “Are you kidding me? I’d love that.”

Hermione, in contrast, looked horrified. Harry didn’t notice this; he was staring intently at Lupin as he continued to discuss the summer plans. Hermione tuned them out. It was as if she was kicked back into reality as Lupin discussed preparing Harry for battle. She’d meant what she’d told him the night before. She knew the risks of getting involved with him, but she didn’t care. She loved him. She knew that meant taking the good with the bad, the better with the worse. She’d stood with him before when he’d faced grave danger. Yet, this prophecy told her that he’d have to stand up to Voldemort ultimately on his own. There was a distinct possibility that he wouldn’t make it out alive from this. This scared her. She wasn’t scared for herself, but scared for him. She didn’t want to lose him. She didn’t ever want to lose him.

“That sounds great, doesn’t it, Hermione?” Harry was saying, breaking her out of her reverie.

“Yeah,” she said, smiling half-heartedly at him. “It does.”

**************************************************************************

Now, as she sat there on her bed, she couldn’t help feeling this sense of foreboding. She wouldn’t be with him this summer as he underwent this training. This training that would help him defeat the Dark Lord. It was really a great opportunity for him. She had to give him that, but there was a part of her that didn’t want him to do that. She was selfish, she knew, for feeling that way, but so be it. That was how she felt. She hadn’t told him that, though. She’d changed the subject whenever he brought it up and if he noticed, he didn’t say anything.

“Hermione,” Lavender said.

“What?” Hermione said, looking up from her book.

“I saw Harry downstairs with Ron. They want you to go to the Common Room,” she said.

“Oh, okay,” Hermione said, placing her bookmark in her book and closing it. “Thanks, Lavender.”

She found them waiting for her in the common room. They were both talking animatedly about something. Ron spotted her first.

“Hermione Granger,” he said, grinning. “Come down here and pay your respect and gratitude to the love doctor.”

“The love doctor?” Hermione said, sarcastically. “You help me with one thing and suddenly you are the wizarding world’s love doctor.”

“I’ve been holding out on you. I happen to know a great deal about females and their needs, their wants, their desires,” Ron said.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “This from the same boy I remember saying had the emotional range of a teaspoon just last year.”

“Well, I can’t go around spouting off at the mouth about what I know,” he said, grinning at her. “I mean, I’d never get any work done. The girls would be hounding me right and left trying to solve their problems with the opposite sex.”

“Good Lord,” Hermione said, taking a seat beside Harry on the couch. “They are going to need to build on another section to the castle to accommodate the love doctor’s ego, here.”

Harry laughed. “You know it just doesn’t seem like home until the two of you are bantering back and forth like this. I sure did miss that.”

“So how was your holiday, Ron?” Hermione asked him.

“Oh, smashing,” Ron said. “Charlie’s doing great. He’s been some girl that works with him. Her name is Lorelai and mum took to her right at once. Charlie was a little bit worried, but we told him that if she could survive mum she’d make it through our family alright.”

“And Percy?” Harry asked.

“He’s still trying to get back into Mum and Dad’s good graces,” Ron said. “Mum’s pretty much forgiven him, but he and Dad still have some things to work out. It’s going to take awhile. Oh, Fred and George barely spoke two words to him the entire holiday. They left right after Christmas dinner to head back to their joke shop. They did really great profits on their Christmas sales. And somebody has got to help me get Ginny and Dean apart.”

“I think they’re sweet together,” Hermione said. “Besides, what do you need our help for, Love Doctor?”

Ron glared at her. “They are not sweet together! This is my baby sister. I’m not used to seeing her as someone’s girlfriend, let alone my roommate’s girlfriend. He sent her a present via owl and I had the misfortune of reading the card. It almost made me want to throw up.”

“Well, what did it say?” Hermione asked.

“Merry Christmas, Gin, love, Dean,” Ron said, choking out every word. “Love Dean? I mean, who does this guy think he is? I’m telling you when I see him, I’m going to tell him to stay away from my sister. ‘Love, Dean’, honestly!”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Well, you know what I think?”

“No,” Ron said simply. “But I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”

She glared right back at him. “I think that you need to start worrying about your own love life and stop worrying about your little sister’s.”

“What about my love life?” Ron asked her.

“Well, I thin you need to find you someone, so you don’t have to worry about Ginny all the time,” Hermione said.

“I agree,” Harry said.

Ron looked chagrined. “Hey, Harry. I thought you were my best mate. Give me some support here!”

“Sorry, man,” Harry said. “I think I’m going to side with Hermione on this one. You need to find you someone. I hear Elouise Midgen is doing pretty well since she started taking those anti-acne potions.”

“Very funny,” Ron said. “I’m going to go unpack my trunk.”

“Good night, love doctor,” Hermione said, laughing.

“Sod off,” Ron said, turning on his heels and angrily stomping off upstairs.

“You don’t think he’s really mad, do you?” Hermione said, looking at Harry.

“Nah,” Harry said. “He’ll forget all about it tomorrow.”

“Good,” she said, leaning back on the couch.

“Did you get your reading done?” he asked her.

“Pretty much,” she said.

“Me, too,” he said. “You know, I don’t know how I’m going to get used to sleeping alone again.”

She smiled. “I know.”

For the past few nights, they’d shared Harry’s four poster bed, as he was the only one left in his room.

“Are you okay?” he asked her, seriously.

“Yeah, fine,” she said, resting her head on his shoulder.

“No, you’re not,” he said, turning to face her. “Tell me.”

“I’m scared, Harry,” she said.

He looked around and saw the crowd of people in the common room.

“Not exactly the greatest place to have a talk, huh?” he told her. “Come on, let’s go for a walk.”

“Harry,” Hermione protested. “It’s snowing like mad outside.”

“Who said anything about outside?” he said, getting up from the couch and pulling her up as well.

“We’ll walk along the halls,” he said. “Find somewhere private to talk.”

“Okay,” she said, taking his hand and following him out of Gryffindor Tower.

They finally found a quiet corridor where they sat down on one of the benches.

“Okay,” he said. “Spill it. What’s got you so upset?”

“I’m not upset,” she said, her chin trembling. “I’m just worried.”

“About what?” he asked her.

“You and what could happen to you. It’s not about me being afraid for myself, okay? It’s about me being afraid of what could happen to you. I don’t think I really saw it as real until Lupin was talking to you about getting prepared and getting yourself ready. It just hit me all of a sudden how real this is.”

He embraced her then. “I don’t want to do this, Hermione. I have to do it.”

She nodded.

“I’d rather spend summer with you, you know that, don’t you?” he asked her.

She nodded again.

“It’ll be okay,” he told her soothingly.

“You don’t that,” she said solemnly. “You can’t tell me it’ll be okay.”

“You’re right,” he said. “I can’t, but I can tell you that I love you and I will do everything in my power to keep myself safe and to keep you safe, okay?”

“I love you,” she said.

“I love you,” he said. “Don’t forget that. Besides, I remember someone telling me a while ago that I needed to enjoy the present—what we have now.”

“Sounds like someone who was quite smart,” Hermione said, finally able to smile.

“She is,” Harry said. “Smartest witch I know.”

“Well, isn’t this cozy?” said a sarcastic voice.

“Draco Malfoy,” Hermione spat out.

“What are the two of you doing outside of your common room at this hour?”

Malfoy asked gleefully.

“Talking, Malfoy,” Harry said.

“Looks to me as if the two of you were reenacting some romance novel,” Malfoy said. “It would actually be quite sweet if you weren’t wasting your time on mudblood trash like her.”

Harry got to his feet quickly and stood right in front of Malfoy. “I don’t think I’d have a problem breaking your nose again. In fact, I’d rather enjoy it. You filthy son-of-a-bitch.”

Hermione quickly came up behind him. “Harry, just ignore him. What he says doesn’t matter to me in the slightest.”

“Yeah, Potter,” Malfoy said. “Listen to your girlfriend.”

“You listen to me, Malfoy,” Harry said. “Don’t you ever say anything about her again. I warned you against in once before. I don’t care if you deduct two thousand points from our house. If you say anything bad about her---“

“Let’s just go, Harry,” Hermione said, glaring at Malfoy.

Harry reluctantly stepped away from Malfoy.

“You know, my father always said, mudbloods were only good for one thing,” Malfoy said coldly. “Tell me, Potter. How is Granger?”

Malfoy turned around to head back to Slytherin Tower. Harry turned around and withdrew his wand, but before he could do anything Hermione had raced past him and tapped Malfoy on the shoulder. Harry watched in astonishment as Malfoy turned around. Hermione smiled sweetly at him before taking her foot and kicking Malfoy hard in the groin.

Malfoy doubled over in pain.

“I’d say I’m pretty damn good, Malfoy,” Hermione said, clapping her hands. “Good night, Draco.”

Harry watched as she walked back to him and smiled. “Ready to go back?”

“Yeah,” he said.

“What?” she asked, turning around to face him.

“Nothing,” he said. “Just admiring my girlfriend. You are amazing, you know that?”

10. Somebody Like You

Author’s Note: This next chapter finds us a little further into the school year, Harry and Hermione are happily together and Voldemort’s big plan is coming together. This chapter is short…I apologize…the next one will more than make up for that I promise. Again, not much going on here. You will hear mention of a character that will not come into play in this part of my trilogy, but will figure quite prominently in the next one. This is a three-part story---first part being “Again” and the second part “My Sacrifice” and the third…well, let’s just say I’m still deciding/debating titles on that one. I hope you enjoy this short chapter.

Chapter Ten

Somebody Like You

“Yeah, I wanna feel the sunshine,
Shinin' down on me and you.
When you put your arms around me,
Well, baby there ain't nothing in this world I can't do”

(Keith Urban “Somebody Like You”)

She was asleep. They’d snuck up here to the Room of Requirement shortly after lights out. They’d met down in the common room and used the Invisibility Cloak to sneak up to the 7th floor. This time, instead of the cozy cabin that the room has transformed itself into during Christmas, it was now just a simple bedroom with a large, comfortable four-poster bed. Harry couldn’t help thinking to himself that he’d like to thank whomever it was that decided to put such a room in the castle. It was really the only place that he and Hermione could be alone in and not worry about someone walking in on them. In the past couple of months, they’d used it quite frequently.

As it was Saturday morning, they didn’t have to worry about waking up early enough to make it back to their rooms to get ready for classes, but Harry had Quidditch practice in about fifteen minutes. At the moment, he was trying to get dressed quietly so as not to wake up Hermione. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, having just put on his jeans and jumper. He was bending down to pick up his trainers and socks when he heard the soft rustle of the sheets.

“Good morning,” he said, turning to see her sleepily rubbing her eyes.

“Is it morning already?” she asked groggily.

“Yes,” he said, laughing, as he turned back around to put on his other sock.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Getting dressed,” he said.

“Well, I can see that,” she said, with a slight laugh. “But why?”

“Quidditch practice, remember?” he asked her.

She sat up in bed and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“What time do you have to be there?” she asked him, resting her head on his back.

“Nine,” he said.

“What time is it now?” she asked, kissing his neck.

He looked down at his watch.
”Ten ‘til nine,” he said.

“So, you have some time, then?” she asked, pulling him further back onto the bed.

“Yeah,” he said, nodding, “But I still have to get my broom from downstairs.”

“Hmmm,” she purred.

“Hermione,” he said, smiling, as she playfully pushed him down on the bed. She pulled at his sweater and started to lift it up.

“I should really be going,” he said, not really knowing how he’d be able to do so if she kept doing what she was doing. Mind you, he didn’t want her to stop, not at all.

“Yeah,” she said, nodding, as she smiled wickedly at him. She began to unbutton and unzip his jeans. “Yeah, you should probably get going. You wouldn’t want to be late.”

“Hermione,” he whispered, as she let her hands wander. When he couldn’t stand it any longer, he pulled her up so he could kiss her.

“What was that you were saying about having to go?” she asked him, her eyes twinkling.

“I do believe that you are a bad influence on me,” he said, kissing her again. All thoughts of anything but her went out of his head.

Nearly a half hour later, Harry had finally managed to tear himself away from Hermione and make it onto the Quidditch pitch. His teammates were already up in the air, practicing.

“Well, it’s about bloody time, Harry!” Ron exclaimed. “Where in the blue blazes have you been?”

“Yeah, Harry,” Ginny called down to him. “We thought you’d overslept or something.”

“Lost track of time,” Harry evasively called up to him. He mounted his broom and kicked off from the ground.

Ron watched as his friend joined in on the practice, but knew that Harry hadn’t just lost track of time. There was something more there, and he was going to find out what it was.

An hour and a half later, Ron and Harry were cleaning up in the changing rooms when Ron stared quizzically at his best friend.

“What is it?” Harry asked.

“If I ask you something, will you tell me the truth?” Ron asked him solemnly.

“Yeah,” Harry said. “Ask away.”

Harry sat down on the bench. Ron, however, continued to stand.

“What’s going on with you?” Ron asked, leaning back against the lockers.

“What do you mean?” Harry asked him, nonplussed.

“Well, I’ve noticed that you’ve been sneaking out of the room at all hours of the night. You come back at the arse crack of dawn and don’t say anything about where you’ve been. Is something going on that I should know about? I mean, is there something with You-Know-Who?”

“No,” Harry said. “It’s nothing to do with him.” His face was red. He wasn’t sure if this was a subject he and Ron should be discussing. Harry turned away from his friend and became preoccupied with putting his towel and t-shirt into his bag.

“Okay,” Ron said slowly. “If it’s not that, what’s going on?”

“Ron, maybe we should head back up to the castle. I didn’t get a chance to grab breakfast this morning, so I’m famished. Let’s go get something to eat.”

“Not until you tell me what’s been going on,” Ron said. “Come on, Harry.”

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I don’t think I can, Ron.”

“We’re best friends. We can tell each other anything, right?” Ron asked. “I mean, if you asked me something, I’d tell you.”

Harry looked at him uncertainly. Ron stared back just as hard, his eyes pleading with Harry to tell him the truth.

“Oh, okay,” Harry said, running his hand through his hair. “If I tell you this, though, you have to promise that you won’t say anything to anyone.”

“Not even Hermione?” Ron asked.

“Well, it has to do with her, but I don’t know how happy she’d be to know that I’d told you about it.”

Ron sat down on the bench beside Harry, clearly intrigued.

“Promise,” Harry said.

“I won’t tell a soul,” Ron said. “Now tell me.”

Harry took a deep breath. “Okay, you know how Hermione and I broke things off right before Christmas?”

“Yeah,” Ron said impatiently. “I know all of this.”

“Well, then, you also know how we got back together,” Harry said.

“With a little help from Ron Weasley,” Ron said proudly.

“Yes, the modest and humble Ron Weasley,” Harry said, rolling his eyes.

“Go on,” Ron said, ignoring Harry’s last comment.

“Well, when I say that we got back together,” Harry said, “I mean we got back together completely.”

“What do you mean?” Ron asked confused.

Harry raised his eyebrows at Ron and watched as the realization finally hit him.

“BLIMEY!” Ron said, hitting his forehead with his hand. “DO YOU MEAN TO TELL ME THAT YOU AND HERMIONE ARE SHAGGING?”

“Shhhh!” Harry said, waving his hands, and looking to see if anyone had heard Ron. “Geez, Ron, you could have been a little louder, because I don’t think they heard you in America!”

“Sorry,” Ron said sheepishly. “But, holy cricket, Harry! Are you serious?”

“Yes,” Harry said.

“Wow!” Ron said, his voice in a whisper. “I mean…this is…huge. When did you?…how did you?….Wow!”

“Well, the first time we did was over Christmas,” Harry said. “And I don’t really feel comfortable discussing the how part with you, okay?”

“Wow!” Ron said, clearly still flabbergasted.

“You’ve said that already,” Harry said.

“Well, it bears repeating, don’t you think?” Ron asked. “Wow.”

“Can we go back to the castle, please?” Harry asked, grabbing his bag and standing up.

“Yeah,” Ron said, nodding, but still in a bit of a daze over what he’d just heard. “Wow.”

“Ron,” Harry said, rounding on his friend. “If you say wow one more time, I’m going to hit you with a broomstick.”

“Sorry,” Ron said, watching as his friend led the way out of the changing rooms. As he did so, he couldn’t help miming the word “wow” one more time.

They met up with Hermione in the Great Hall for lunch. She was reading a book with an untouched plate of shepherd’s pie was in front of her.

“What are you up to?” he asked, kissing the top of her head as he and Ron sat down.

“Studying,” she said. “You know our exams aren’t too far away.”

“Don’t remind me,” Harry said.

“Preparation is power,” Hermione said. “You know the two of you have pretty much taken the art of procrastination to an all new level.”

Hermione looked expectantly at Ron for his trademark sarcastic comeback to her comment, but to her surprise, he was silent. He just stared at her, as if in awe. She looked at him a little longer before finally turning back to Harry.

“So, you weren’t too late, were you?” she asked him with a wink.

“No, not too late,” he said.

Hermione smiled. She again, looked across the table at Ron, who stared transfixed at her.

“Ron,” she asked worriedly. “Are you alright?”

“Y-yeah,” Ron said, stammered. “I’m okay.”

He continued to gape at her.

“What?” she asked him again. “”Do I have something in my teeth? Is there something in my hair?”

Harry took his foot and kicked Ron hard on the leg.

“Ow!” Ron said.

“What?” Hermione asked.

“I think I’m going to go and find Ginny,” Ron said, giving Harry a scathing look as he limped off away from the table.

“What on earth is wrong with him?” Hermione asked.

“He took a bludger to the head in practice,” Harry said, trying not to look at her. “I think he’ll be okay.”

Hermione looked a little uncertain, but just shook her head as she refocused on her book.

Harry let out a sigh of relief and then dug into his meal.

Meanwhile, in the house where Voldemort was hiding out, Wormtail walked into the sitting room and sat down on the couch. He was waiting to report his latest findings to the Dark Lord.

He didn’t have to wait long. Voldemort came into the room and without so much as a glance at Wormtail, walked over to his desk and sat down.

“Sir,” Wormtail said, uncertainly, “Simon checked in. He wanted you to know that he has secured the location you requested and that he has procured all the documents and photographs. Everything seems to be pretty much in place.”

Voldemort didn’t say anything. He just continued to sit there on his chair. His face was unreadable.

“Sir,” Wormtail said timidly. “Do you mind me asking why you’ve gone to all this trouble? I mean, wouldn’t it be easier just to kill them all. I mean, just let Potter watch his friends die.”

“It’s not enough to do that, Wormtail,” Voldemort said condescendingly. “When you have your enemy on the ropes, you have to go for the jugular.”

Wormtail nodded as if he understood, but his face and expression were both vacant.

“I know that someone as good as Potter wouldn’t be able to sacrifice his friends. I can almost predict what he’ll do. He’ll offer himself instead. He’ll beg for me to let them go. He’ll say that it is him that I want. He’ll say I should let them be.”

“If by some stroke of luck, Potter is able to defeat me; his victory will be quite hollow.” Voldemort scoffed. “Think of it, Wormtail. In his greatest triumph, he will experience his greatest pain. His victory will be hollow. The world will rejoice and he will be in terrible pain. Either way, I win.”

“That’s brilliant, sir,” Wormtail said. “Absolutely brilliant.”
“Thank you, Wormtail,” Voldemort said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I live to impress you.”

“Are you sure this will work?” Wormtail said. “I mean, are you sure that Simon is someone we can trust?”

“I’d trust Simon with my life,” Voldemort said solemnly. “He will not let me down. Too much has been put into this plan for it not to work. Hopefully, it will all be for naught, but like I said, in the rare case that Potter manages to defeat me, this plan will lead to his ultimate undoing.”

“Simon will not let me down, Wormtail,” he said. “I chose him very carefully.”

Wormtail nodded. There was a heavy silence in the room. Wormtail didn’t dare move, he hadn’t been dismissed. He didn’t dare speak; as he knew one of Voldemort’s pet peeves was when someone spoke out of turn.

“What is the latest on Potter and the mudblood?” Voldemort asked finally.

“Closer than ever,” Wormtail said.

“Excellent,” Voldemort said, laughing. “Excellent. The closer they get, the more heartbreaking this will be for Potter.”

Voldemort arose from his seat and walked over to the window. He drew back the curtains and looked out the window.

“Enjoy it while you can, kids,” Voldemort said coldly. “It will all be over before you know it.”

11. To Make You Feel My Love

Author’s Note: Okay, my readers….here is one of the most fluffiest chapters I have ever written. I hope you guys enjoy it. I think I might need a trip to the dentist after reading this. At the end of the chapter, a bit of the dialogue is borrowed from the soap opera “Port Charles”, which sadly is no longer on the air. I truly hope you guys enjoy this and please tell me what you think!

Chapter 11

To Make You Feel My Love

“When the rain is blowing in your face
And the whole world is on your case
I could offer you a warm embrace
To make you feel my love”

”When evening shadows and the stars appear
And there is no one there to dry your tears
I could hold you for a million years
To make you feel my love”

(“To Make You Feel My Love” –written by Bob Dylan, sung by Garth Brooks)

As the school year came to an end, Hermione found herself getting more and more apprehensive. Her anxiety wasn’t over exams or anything like that. No, her anxiety stemmed from the fact that Harry would be embarking on this summer long training mission. Dumbledore had told him that he expected Voldemort to make his move this summer. It was more than likely that the final battle could occur within the next couple of months, according to the headmaster.

This terrified her to no end. She tried not to show it to him. He needed her to be brave and confident and supportive. She had the supportive thing down pat, but the brave and confident parts she was having a little trouble with. She felt neither brave nor confident when she heard him talking with Professor Lupin or Dumbledore about the things he would be learning this summer. She wanted to grab his hand and run away with him to the most remote corner of the universe where no one would find him and they’d live happily ever after. She knew, though, that this would never do. He would never allow her to do it. That saving people thing of his would cause him to take her back and confront the battle head-on.

She chastised herself for feeling so selfish at a time like this. What he would learn and what he would do this summer would be for the greater good of the wizarding community. She’d tell herself that they’d go through this and pass with flying colors like they had every challenge that they’d faced in the past six years.

Luckily, she had her exams to concentrate on. When she found herself getting worried or nervous, she’d just concentrate harder on her studies. She’d always been able to do that. When times were tough, she’d throw herself into her work to get her mind off of the thing that was bothering her.

It had worked to some extent, but whenever she saw Harry those old worries would resurface yet again. She wanted so badly for him to tell her that everything would be alright; that everything would be okay. He couldn’t do that though because that would be a lie. They’d promised each other to keep things honest and straightforward. The simple fact was that he didn’t know whether things would be okay and neither did she.

Exams came and went without too much incident. Ginny was particularly on edge because she was sitting for her O.W.L.S. When the final exam was taken, everyone pretty much breathed a sigh of relief. Well, everyone save for Hermione Granger.

The end-of-year feast was scheduled for later that evening. Everyone was pretty much taking it easy on the last full day at Hogwarts before summer holidays began. The sixth-year students did have to meet individually with their heads of house to discuss their N.E.W.T. plans for the next year.

After Harry met with Professor McGonagall, he made his way back to the common room looking for Hermione. She wasn’t there. He saw Lavender Brown coming downstairs from her room.

“Lavender?” Harry called to her.

“Hiya, Harry,” she said.

“Have you seen Hermione?”

“Um, I think I saw her going toward the library a few minutes ago,” she said helpfully. “She’s the only person I know who would be going to the library after exams.”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, thanks.”

He walked out of the portrait hole and down the corridor toward the library. He found her, not in the library, however, but on the grounds. She was sitting under one of trees. She wasn’t doing anything, but sitting. She looked lost in thought. For a moment, Harry watched her and couldn’t help smiling as he looked at her. He was going to miss her so much. He didn’t want to even think about being away from her.

“Knut for your thoughts?” he asked, sitting down beside her.

“That is the most unoriginal line I’ve ever heard,” she said, smiling at him.

“Well, I would hope that I wouldn’t need a line,” he said, winking at her. “I thought I already had you.”

“Had me?” she asked him.

“Have you,” he said. “Present tense.”

“Thank you,” she said.

“So, what are you doing out here?” he asked her.

“It’s a beautiful day,” she said, looking up at the cloudless sky. “I didn’t want to spend it cooped up in the dorms.”

He looked over at her and saw that she looked to be on the verge of tears. Her lower lip was trembling. She looked as if she was trying hard to refrain from crying.

“Hey,” he said, touching her cheek. “What is it?”

She didn’t say anything.

“You should be over the moon right about now. We’ve just finished exams, which if I was a betting man, I’d be willing to bet that you did outstanding on. Not to mention the fact that you get to go home for the summer and see your mum and dad and Kit.”

She nodded.

“I won’t have you,” she whispered. “I won’t be able to keep in touch with you, Harry. I’m scared. There’s a chance that—“ her voice trailed off, and she looked down at the ground.

“Hey,” he said embracing her. “Come on, Hermione.”

“Why does it always have to be you?” she asked him. “Why does it always have to be you?”

“I ask myself that all the time. I wish it wasn’t me,” he said. “I know a lot of people would find that hard to believe, but I wish that it wasn’t me.”
“But it is,” Hermione said, letting go of him. “I hate being so selfish at a time like this.”

“You’re not selfish,” he said, leaning in closer to her. He kissed her forehead. “You are the least selfish person I’ve ever met in my life. You are just being human.”

She nodded.

“You know,” she said softly. “This could be our last night together. And I don’t mean just our last night together before the summer, I mean this could be our last night together, period.”

“Don’t think like that,” he scolded her.

“I can’t help it,” she said, another tear falling down her cheek.

“Okay, we both know that I can’t tell you for sure that everything is going to be okay,” he said, “But I can tell you one thing that I know for sure.”

She looked up at him. “What’s that?”

“That I have a hell of a reason for making it through this, now,” he said. “We are going to have the rest of our lives to have peace and quiet. If I have to do this to guarantee that for us, I’d do it a thousand times over and not even think twice about it.”

He kissed her tenderly.

“Feel better?” he asked her.

“A little,” she admitted.

He looked thoughtful and then he jumped up from the ground as if something had bitten him.

“What?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”

“I think I might know of something that will make you feel even better,” he said.

“What?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head, and extended his hand to help her to her feet. “You will find out tonight, Miss Granger and not a moment sooner.”

Hermione didn’t see Harry again until the feast in the Great Hall. He wasn’t being particularly forthcoming with details about whatever it was he had planned. She had noticed him exchange knowing looks with Ron, Ginny and Neville all throughout the meal. He looked rather pleased with himself, Hermione mused. His enthusiasm was infectious, she had to admit. Her curiosity over what he had planned temporarily gave her something else to think about other than her anxiety over what lay ahead.

After the feast, she had expected Harry to follow her back to the dorms, but he didn’t. He begged off and said something about final preparations. Before heading off with Ginny and Ron, he’d made Neville promise to take Hermione back to the dorms and make sure that she didn’t follow them.

She was now in her room with Neville standing guard right outside. To kill time, she’d started packing up her belongings for the journey home. She would take the Hogwarts Express to Kings Cross with her fellow students and then take a cab to Heathrow Airport where she’d be flying home. Although she was now able to apparate, she had way too much luggage to do so.

She had just finished loading a trunk with books when she heard a soft knock at the door.

“I’m still in here, Neville,” she called out.

“It’s not Neville,” Ginny said, walking through the door. “He has been officially relieved of his guard duties.”

Hermione laughed. “You guys make it sound like you’re guarding a prisoner or something. What is going on?” She noticed that Ginny was carrying a bag. “What’s all that, then?”

Ginny walked past her friend and then proceeded to dump the contents of the bag out all over Hermione’s bed. There was makeup, barrettes, hair clips, and a couple of bottles of Sleek Easy hair potions.

“I’m here to help you get ready,” she said, winking at her friend.

“Get ready for what?” Hermione asked.

“For what Harry has planned,” She said. “I’ve been helping him all afternoon. He even got Ron and Neville to help. And before you ask me what he’s planned, I will tell you I’ve been sworn to secrecy that I will not tell you.”

Hermione nodded. Ginny then leaned in closer and whispered conspiratorially, “But I will tell you this…you will absolutely love it. I’d bet my life on it.”

__________________________________________________

“Hurry up, Ron,” Harry said, as he used his wand to ignite one last candle.

“I’m trying,” Ron said from the other side of the Astronomy Tower. “You know you’re the one who insisted on candles all over the place. There must be 300 bloody candles here; it takes awhile to light them! You could thank me, you know?”

“Thanks,” Harry said quickly.

“Yeah, that sounded sincere,” Ron said, lighting the last candle. He turned to look at his friend. Harry was now pacing back and forth in the middle of the tower.

“Harry,” Ron said. “Calm down.”

“Calm down?” Harry asked him. “I can’t calm down. This could really freak her out, you know?”

“It won’t,” Ron said. “Believe me, she’ll see all of this and melt into a big old pile of goo. I’m not even a girl and this would make me fall into a pile of goo. And before you start laughing if you breathe a word of that last statement to anyone, I’ll turn you into a pile of goo.”

Harry let out a nervous laugh.

“I think everything’s in place,” Ron said. “The rest is up to you and to her.”

Ron turned to leave, but Harry called out to him.

“Wait a moment, Ron,” Harry said. “I wanted to thank you for all that you’ve done. I know it hasn’t been easy for you, but I just wanted to say, you know, thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Ron said. “It would never have worked out for Hermione and me anyway. For one thing, she would drive me absolutely nutters. And for another, she pretty much had her heart set on you from day one.”

Harry smiled.

“Can’t see why, though,” Ron said sarcastically. “I mean you take away the scar, the whole world-saving thing, I mean what do you really have?”

“You’re such a wanker,” Harry said.

“Yeah, well so are you,” Ron said. “Except you’re the wanker that actually got the girl, so…”

Harry nodded. “Thanks, Ron.”

“Good night, Harry,” Ron said smiling at him. “And good luck.”

_________________________________________________________

Hermione nervously pulled the strap of her dress back up on her shoulder. Ginny had finally finished helping her get ready and sent her off to the Astronomy Tower. She’d insisted Hermione wear her white spaghetti strap sundress. She’d even loaned Hermione a pair of pearl drop earrings that had once belonged to Ginny’s great-grandmother.

“Don’t let anything happen to those, Hermione,” Ginny had said. “My mum would kill me if anything happened to them. She gave them to me on my fifteenth birthday. They’re the nicest jewelry that I have.”

Hermione had promised she’d guard the earrings with her life. Ginny had styled Hermione’s hair in an elegant French twist and had curled tendrils to cascade along her face. Hermione almost didn’t recognize herself when Ginny had finished. She had never thought of herself as beautiful, but when she saw her reflection in the mirror, she felt beautiful. Ginny had sent her off with a quick hug and made her promise to divulge details on the train home tomorrow.

With all the buildup, Hermione had become quite nervous. She took a deep breath before ascending the staircase to the Astronomy Tower. She noticed that each step was lined with a lit candle.

When she finally made it to the top of the tower, she looked around the room and saw that there must have been a thousand flowers lining the room. In the middle of the tower was a circle of pink roses and large stone rocks.

“Harry,” she whispered.

She heard him before she saw him.

“Surprise,” he said, coming out from behind one of the pillars.

He too, was dressed up. He wore a pair of khaki pants, a white button down shirt with a blue tie and dress shoes.

“Wow,” he said, finally getting a good look at her. “You look---wow.”

She laughed, her cheeks turning slightly red. “Thanks. You clean up pretty nice, too.”

They stood there looking at each other for a few moments.

“So, don’t keep me in suspense,” she said. “What’s all this for?”

“For you,” he said. “And for me, too, but mostly for you.”

“You didn’t have to do all of this for me,” she said.

“Well,” Harry said, clearing his throat. “I wanted to do something for you on our last night together, and no, I don’t know if this will truly be our last night together, but if by some chance that it is, I didn’t want to let you go without showing you how much you mean to me. I didn’t really know what to do because I don’t really know how to begin to tell you how much you do mean to me, Hermione. But, I’ve thought of a way-“ his voice trailed off and Hermione watched as he got down on one knee. Her hands began to shake as he took hold of them.

“Oh, Harry,” she whispered.

“I know this all seems pretty last minute and rushed, and maybe we’re too young to make such a commitment to each other, but I don’t need years to wait. We both know how precious time is. You don’t know how much time you have. You should never let the people in your life not know how you feel about them. Well, this is the time and this is the moment when I want you to know how I feel about you. I know we’re too young to officially be married, but tonight I was wondering if we could sort of say our own vows and sort of promise ourselves to each other.”

She was silent. Her hands were still trembling.

“Okay, have I totally freaked you out?” he asked her worried.

She shook her head vigorously.

“What is it then?” he asked gently, looking up at her. “Please say something. Anything. Tell me to go jump in a lake. Just say something, Hermione.”

She exhaled slowly and a smile played at the corner of her lips.

“Harry James Potter,” she said. “That is without a doubt the sweetest thing anyone has ever done or said to me in my entire life.”

He smiled in relief. “So, you’ll do this with me?”

She smiled and nodded. He quickly got to his feet and scooped her up and spun her around. They were both laughing when he finally put her back down.

“So what do we do?” she asked.

He took her hand and led her to the center of the tower where the circle of pink roses and stones were.
“Stand here,” he said.

He joined her inside the circle and took her hands in his. He smiled at her nervously before beginning to speak.

“People spend forever searching and looking, on a journey to nowhere. And you know what? I guess that could've been me, except I found you. And now I know that my journey began and is going to end with you. I bet you're wondering, maybe, what this stones are for –“

“Yes,” Hermione whispered.

“Well, the thing is that I don’t have a ring that I could give you, so this is sort of like the same thing. I mean, it’s not 14-karat gold or anything like that, but it’s the best that I could do. It represents the bond of our love---an infinite circle without beginning or end, never to be broken. Hermione Elizabeth Granger, I promise that I will carry our love with me forever. We will be joined together as one for now and into eternity.”

She beamed at him as he leaned in and kissed her softly.

“Wait,” she said. “You’re not supposed to do that until after.”

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “Couldn’t help myself.”

“Well, I don’t know how I could follow that,” she said, letting go of his hands for a moment to wipe a tear away from her cheek. She took his hands in hers and then spoke her own vows.

“I knew from the first moment I met you that you would be someone special in my life. I didn’t know how special you’d become to me, but I knew deep down inside my heart that we would mean something to each other, somehow. In the years that I’ve known you, you’ve never ceased to amaze me at how compassionate and kind and caring you are. With everything that’s happened, you still have this great capacity to love and it’s been an amazing thing to witness. I have never known anyone like you, Harry. You are the first person I think of when I wake up and the last person I think of before I go to sleep. I can’t imagine what my life would have been like if you hadn’t been in it. I don’t know how much time we have, but I do know that it was well spent because I spent it with you. So, Harry James Potter, I promise to carry your love with me forever. My heart and soul belong to you from now into eternity.”

By the time she’d finished speaking, Harry too, had tears in his eyes.

Hermione looked at him expectantly.

“You can kiss me now,” she said. “If you want to, that is.”

He nodded and kissed her. They held on to each other for the longest time.

“I love you,” he said.

“I love you,” she replied.

That much they knew. That much they trusted. That much they believed.

12. Goodbye My Friend

Author’s note: This last chapter of Part II takes place two months after the events of Chapter 11. Please read and review. This story will continue in Part III—tentatively to be titled “NO PLACE THAT FAR”.

CHAPTER TWELVE

“Life's so fragile and love's so pure
We can't hold on but we try
We watch how quickly it disappears
And we never know why”

(Goodbye My Friend by Linda Rondstadt)

Two months later…

August 21st, 1996

Molly Weasley had laundered and ironed Harry’s white shirt, dress pants and dress robes. She’d placed the items on his cot while he’d been in the shower. Clad in only his boxer shorts, Harry sat on the edge of the cot in Ron’s bedroom.

He’d been staying here since it had happened. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had insisted. He hadn’t protested. Truth be told, he didn’t really care where he was.

The memorial service was to be held that afternoon on the Hogwarts grounds. Harry honestly had no idea how he would be expected to make it through this. This was too soon. It wasn’t supposed to happen until they were all old and gray.

It had happened a week ago, but the memories of it and the pain from it were still so fresh. In those seven days, he’d experienced every human emotion---he’d cried, he’d been angry, he’d felt guilty. Most of all he felt like a hypocrite. He shouldn’t be the one sitting here on this bed. He shouldn’t be the one breathing, the one who got out of bed each morning. It should have been him that paid the ultimate price. If he could have traded places, he gladly would have been the one who died. He was the reason that their life was cut short. In the aftermath, he’d found Professor McGonagall and begged her to let him use a time turner to prevent what had happened. McGonagall had gently refused. He’d railed at her, but she’d stood firm.

As he got up from the cot, he heard the sounds of activity downstairs. He couldn’t make out what the people were saying, but he definitely heard the muffled sounds of people talking. He could smell the fresh muffins and pastries that Mrs. Weasley had baked. She’d pretty much been cooking nonstop since it happened. Ginny had said it was her way of dealing with her grief. Doing it made her feel useful, Mrs. Weasley said.

The Burrow had been uncharacteristically quiet the past few days. This was even more incredible, given that all the Weasley children had come home after the tragedy. Of course, the gravity of the situation had something to do with it, but Harry also suspected it had something to do with him, as well. Out of all of them, he was the one who was taking it the hardest. Yes, everyone was present and accounted for, with one notable exception.

Harry looked at his reflection in the mirror and couldn’t help thinking that he actually looked as bad as he felt. His face was pallid and peaked and he had dark circles under his eyes. He hadn’t slept or ate much in the past few days. He hadn’t felt like eating and every time he slept, he would hear the screams and see the horrible events occur and know that there was absolutely nothing he could do to change it.

He picked up the comb on the dresser and began to comb through his wet hair. As he did so, his eyes caught sight of a framed picture of himself, Ron and Hermione. Harry remembered the day that photo had been taken. It had been sometime during first year. They’d decided to study down by the lake on one of the warmer afternoons and Lavender Brown, who’d just received a new camera offered to take their photograph. He looked at the three children in the photograph and marveled at how carefree and happy they looked. They had no idea what tragedy and horror lay ahead. The Hermione in the photograph was beaming up at him and waving her hands enthusiastically at him. The Ron in the photograph was playfully punching Harry in the arm and sticking out his tongue at Hermione behind her back. Hermione finally caught sight of Ron and rolled her eyes and exchanged a look with the Harry in the photograph before bursting out into a fit of giggles.

Fresh tears welled up in his eyes as he looked longingly at the picture. Things would never be like that again. He took the framed photo in his hands and carried it with him over to the cot. He thought again of that day when his whole life had fallen apart. Looking back on it now, he should have known that things were too good to be true. Something had to happen to screw it all up. Things had been going too well for too long a time. It was only a matter of time before something came along and upset the balance. Something definitely had.

Flashback

August 14, 1996

After spending an unusually uneventful two weeks with the Dursleys, Harry had arrived back at Hogwarts to begin his extensive training for Defense Against the Dark Arts. He’d been there for nearly two months and now felt as if he was actually accomplishing something. He actually was beginning to think that if and when Voldemort made his ultimate move, he’d be ready.

The days were spent pretty much the same. He spent the mornings helping Hagrid with his groundskeeping duties. The afternoons were spent with Lupin undergoing training in different spells, counter spells, defensive tactics and drills. The evenings were the worst part of it as he had to continue his Occlumency lessons with Snape. Dumbledore had sat in on a few of the lessons, which had helped somewhat with Snape’s demeanor toward Harry, but not much.

He’d been able to correspond with Hermione much more regularly than he’d expected to. She’d had an exciting summer, but told him she’d missed him more than he’d ever know. She’d spent most of her summer with Kit, enjoying going to baseball games and even helping out in her parents’ dental practice by answering phones and doing paperwork. She, too, was counting down the days until they’d be back together.

The letters were nice, but he’d missed her more than he ever imagined possible. He was happy that the summer had gone smoothly. No sightings of Voldemort had been reported. Lupin told Harry not to put too much credence on that, as it more than likely meant that Voldemort was up to something big. Still, Harry couldn’t help feeling excited at the prospect of beginning his seventh and final year at Hogwarts.

The day that everything changed started out as they normally did. He woke sometime after 7 in the morning and quickly showered and dressed before heading down to Hagrid’s Hut.

Harry found Hagrid sitting on the steps of his Hut, a plate of toast and marmalade at his feet.

“Mornin’, ‘arry,” Hagrid said, smiling at him. “Take a seat and grab yourself some breakfast.”

“Thanks,” Harry said, taking a seat on the bottom step. He helped himself to some food.

“I can’t believe you lot will be startin’ your last year soon,” Hagrid said. “Seems like just yesterday I was collecting you from those ‘orrible Muggles and bringin’ you to Diagon Alley.”

Harry smiled.

“Now, look at ya,” Hagrid said, beaming at him. “Your mum and dad would be so proud of ya, they would.”

Harry’s cheeks turned a little red.

“Thanks, Hagrid,” Harry said. “For all that you did for me, I mean. If it wasn’t for you, I don’t think I’d ever have come here.”

“Codswallop,” Hagrid said. “You would have been here, Harry. Your name was down since you were born.”

“Well, if it hadn’t been for you, Hagrid, I would never have known about any of this,” Harry said. “You were the first real friend I had.”

Harry gave his friend a hug and Hagrid laughed.

“Well, I hear congratulations are in order,” Hagrid said, later when they were walking toward the school gardens. They were going to put out some flesh-eating slug repellent on the school cabbages.

“For what?” Harry asked.

“For you being named Head Boy and ‘ermione being named Head Girl,” Hagrid said. “When did Dumbledore tell you?”

“A couple of days ago,” Harry admitted. “I reckon Hermione is over the moon about this.”

Hagrid laughed. “Too right, she is. She ruddy well should be! That badge was made for her! Cleverest witch this school has ever seen, I’d reckon.”

“I know,” Harry said proudly. “I just wish I could have seen her face when she got the letter! She’d never tell you she expected it, but I know she did.”

Hagrid laughed.

“What?” Harry asked, helping Hagrid with the canisters of repellent.

“I always knew about you two,” Hagrid said. “Knew that it would be a matter of time before you wised up.”

“Yeah, well, I wish you would have clued me in a little sooner,” Harry said. “I wouldn’t have wasted so much time.”

“Well, I think it ‘appened at the right time for ya two,” Hagrid said. “It happened just like it was ‘spose too.”

“I think so, too,” Harry said. “Well, we better finish this up. I’ve got to meet Lupin in 20 minutes.”

_____ _________________________________________________________

After Harry’s lesson with Lupin, he’d gone up to his room to take a nap. To his surprise, he found a package sitting on his bed. He wondered who it could possibly be from. There was no return address on the package or any writing of any kind at all.

He took a seat on the bed and began to unwrap the package. Inside was a plain copper bowl. A letter was taped to the bowl. An uneasy feeling came over Harry as he pulled the letter off the bowl.

His hands were shaking a little as he unfolded the letter and began to read. This is what the letter said:

Potter:

Heart.

Friend.

Family.

Which one will you choose? Choose wisely. This bowl is a portkey. You must come alone. If you tell anyone of this letter or bring anyone with you, you will lose all three. Be smart, Potter. Be smart.

Harry read the letter over and over again. There was a sinking feeling in his stomach. Heart. Friend. Family. It couldn’t be possible, could it? Hermione was safe and sound in America? How could Voldemort have gotten to her? He felt stupid for thinking that. He was talking about one of the most powerful wizards in the world. It wasn’t as if something as minute as geography would stop him.

So, there you had it. Voldemort obviously had Hermione. Friend---well, that had to mean Ron, Harry thought. Family? Voldemort wouldn’t have taken one of the Dursleys---they didn’t mean anything to Harry.

He tried to focus and think rationally. The last time something like this had happened, he’d gone off to the Department of Mysteries after Voldemort had banked on him wanting to play the hero. This could very well be the same exact thing. What if it wasn’t, though? Lupin had said that Voldemort’s long period of hiding probably meant he was planning something big. This was certainly big, if it was what he thought it was.

If he ignored this, and Voldemort really had Hermione, Ron and some unknown person, what would happen? Life obviously meant nothing to Voldemort. He wouldn’t hesitate to kill them.

There was no other choice. He had to do this. He took his wand and placed it in his right hand. With his left hand, he grabbed hold of the copper bowl.

It happened immediately. He felt that familiar sensation of being jerked forward. At first everything was dark and then within seconds, he saw a flash and whirlwind of colors. All he heard was the sound of the violent wind. Before he knew what was happening, he hit the ground. He dusted himself off and picked his wand up from off the floor. He looked around. He seemed to be in some sort of house.

It all seemed vaguely familiar. He was suddenly hit by a violent pain in his forehead. His scar felt like it was burning. He tried to shake off the pain, but it was so intense. He knew exactly what this meant.

The floor was wooden and creaked with every step Harry took. The house was old and dusty and looked as if it hadn’t been taken well care of. The curtains were drawn. There was a terrible odor to the place---it smelled of decay and rot. Harry’s nose scrunched up as he took in the horrible scent.

Harry walked down the corridor and at the end of the passage, a door stood ajar. A flickering light shone through the gap. Harry took a couple of steps closer and grasped his wand tighter in his hand. With each step, he looked left and right, ready for whatever came at him. As he moved closer to the door, the pain on his forehead intensified. Harry tried to concentrate.

When he finally opened the door, he saw at once that Voldemort was sitting in the middle of a very large room, surrounded by lights, from candles and lanterns. The light was nearly blinding. He was draped in a black cloak, his skin pale and ghostly and his eyes as red and menacing as ever. He smiled as he saw Harry come through the door.

“How nice of you to come,” Voldemort hissed. “Welcome to my home. Well, if I’m being honest this hasn’t been my home in some time, but I feel it should all end for you where it all began for me.”

Harry had no idea what he was on about. He just gripped his hand tighter around his wand, and pointed it straightaway at Voldemort.

“This is my childhood home,” Voldemort said dismissively.

“I care,” Harry said. “Where are they?”

Voldemort laughed. “You figured out my riddle, did you? I thought you would. I admit I wasn’t very original, but I wanted to make sure you came.”

“I’m here, you bastard,” Harry said angrily. “Now, why don’t you tell my why I’m here.”

“Excellent!” Voldemort said, clapping his hands together. “I like a man who wants to get right to the business at hand and not mess things about with the mundane! You truly are a wizard after my own heart.”

“You don’t know what a heart is,” Harry spat.

“Well, I might not,” Voldemort said. “But you do.”

Harry looked as Voldemort whispered, “Accio, wand!”

Harry watched in horror as his own wand shot out of his hand and flew across the room into Voldemort’s outstretched palm. Harry cursed himself for being so stupid. Voldemort turned his attention to a curtained area.

“Ah, there she is,” Voldemort said, lifting his hand at the curtain. The curtain drew back and Harry gasped as he saw Hermione, tied to a chair, her arms and legs restrained by ropes. Her mouth was gagged with a scarf.

“Let her go!” Harry screamed.

“Tsk, tsk,” Voldemort said. “She’s not our only guest, you know? We mustn’t forget the others.”

“Your friend,” Voldemort said, lifting his hand at another curtained area, which drew back to reveal Ron, who was similarly bound and gagged.

“Let them go!” Harry screamed back. “You don’t want them! This doesn’t involve them! This involves you and me, not them!”

“Wait! Wait!” Voldemort said scathingly. “You just wait, Potter. We haven’t welcomed our last guest to this little party. This one, in particular, was quite a catch. You thought you’d lost him, but in our world, things aren’t always what they seem, are they?”

Harry looked at him.

“Is the suspense killing you?” Voldemort said. “Well, let’s end that, shall we?”

With a flick of his hand, another curtained area opened and to Harry’s shock, Sirius Black, was seated on a metal chair. He was bound, but not gagged as Hermione and Ron were.

“Sirius?” Harry choked.

“Harry,” Sirius said, his voice quite weak. His hair had grown quite long and he had an even longer beard. He looked quite pale and looked as if he’d been ill for quite some time. He looked weakened and was truly a shadow of his former self.

“Is that really you?” Harry asked, his voice barely a whisper.

“Harry,” Sirius said. “You have to get out of here.”

“Not without you three,” Harry said. “I came here to save all of you.”

“Ah! But you can’t,” Voldemort said gleefully. “The deal, my dear Harry Potter, is that you can only save one of their lives.”

“You’re asking me to choose?” Harry asked, astounded.

“Yes,” Voldemort said simply. “You see, you and I will have our duel, but first I will take out two of the three assembled guests here. You can save one of them.”

“How about you take me and let them go,” Harry said. “That’s my choice.”

“It doesn’t work like that, Potter,” he said. “It doesn’t work like that! You have to make a choice. Will it be the lovely mudblood whore you’ve been carrying on with? She’s quite smart, isn’t she? Reminds me of your mother, she does. I wonder if it will be as satisfying to kill her as it was to kill your mother.”

“SHUT UP!” Harry screamed back. He looked over at Hermione, who was trying, in vain, to break free from her ropes. Her eyes were pleading at Harry, she looked scared to death.

Harry was starting to panic. He knew this wouldn’t help his cause at all, but how was he supposed to do this? He could save one of them only? How could you choose? These were the three most important people in the world to him. He couldn’t choose between them. It was impossible. There had to be someway to save them all. For Merlin’s sake, what had he been spending all summer doing? He’d been working on ways to defeat the dark arts. Here he was facing the biggest threat he’d ever faced and he was on the verge of panic. This wasn’t any way to get out of this. He told himself to focus. There would be a way, but how?

“And your best friend, here. Mr. Weasley,” Voldemort said.

“And then the only family you’ve ever known,” he said, coming to stand beside Sirius. “The man you looked to as a father.”

“Harry, don’t listen to him,” Sirius said. “Don’t listen to him.”

“I must have your answer soon,” Voldemort said. “Or heads will begin to roll, so to speak. Tick, tock. Tick, tock.”

Harry looked back and forth at the three of them. He couldn’t choose!

Voldemort sighed impatiently.

“Mr. Weasley,” Voldemort said, flicking his wand over at Ron. Ron’s eyes were open wide as Voldemort pointed his wand at Ron. To Harry’s relief, he didn’t mutter any unforgivable curse, but muttered the spell to remove the ropes and gag.

“Harry,” Ron said, rubbing his wrists where the ropes had burned his skin.

“Ron,” Harry said.

“Ah, no, we won’t go with Mr. Weasley first,” Voldemort said. “What is that Muggle gentlemen always say? Oh, yes. Ladies, first.”

To Harry’s horror, he watched as Voldemort turned his attention and his wand on Hermione and without blinking an eye screamed out “AVADA KEDAVRA!”

“NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” Harry screamed out. He watched as Hermione’s body went limp in her restraints.

Both Harry and Ron barreled at Voldemort who simply yelled “STUPEFY:” at the two of them and laughed as he watched them both fall back to the ground.

“You gentlemen should think twice about doing something like that,” Voldemort said. “Seeing as neither of you has a wand, that isn’t the smartest thing to do.”

Harry tried to avert his eyes away from Hermione. If he looked at her, he knew he’d fall to pieces and they’d all be doomed. Harry had never before felt so angry. Any thoughts of rationality and self-control went out the window as he saw Voldemort standing there, laughing.

“You know, Harry,” Voldemort said. “If you kill me, it won’t bring her back. She’ll still be as dead as she is now, you know? She’s gone. Your indifference cost her life. Who should go next? We only have two other choices now!”

“You son-of-a-bitch,” Harry retorted. “The next one to die is going to be you.”

“I didn’t kill her, Potter,” Voldemort spat back. “It was you. You did it. If she hadn’t been associated with you, she’d still be alive and happy. Well, as alive and happy as a mudblood deserves to be.”

From behind Voldemort, Harry saw that Ron was now quietly inching toward Harry’s wand which was on the floor a few feet away from Voldemort.

“If only I had been able to take care of you when you were a baby, all this could have been avoided, really. Well, better late than never, I always say,” he hissed. All of Voldemort’s attention was on Harry. He wasn’t paying any attention to Ron, who was creeping closer and closer to the discarded wand on the floor.

Sirius, who had also noticed Ron’s attempt to get the wand, suddenly spoke up. “LEAVE HIM ALONE!” he shouted.

This diverted Voldemort’s attention even further as he turned his gaze to Sirius Black.

“What are you going to do about it, tied to a chair, Black? Yes, I think it’ll be you that goes next.”

Voldemort cackled once more.

The diversion gave Ron enough time to grab the wand and toss it to Harry, who caught it triumphantly.

“Not so fast, you son-of-a-bitch,” Harry said. “Now, it’s just you and me.”

“You don’t have the guts to kill anyone, Potter,” he said. “You’re still just a child!”

“Am I?” Harry said. “I don’t think so. I’ve waited my whole life to do this. Accio, wand!”

Voldemort’s wand flew out of his hands and into Harry’s.

“AVADA KEDAVRA!” Harry screamed. A flash of light bolted out of Harry’s wand and struck Voldemort dead on and Voldemort’s look of shock quickly vanished as he fell to the ground.

Harry kept his wand pointed at Voldemort, his eyes shining with tears. Ron stepped uncertainly forward.

“Harry!” Ron exclaimed. “You did it!”

Harry felt numb as he lowered his wand. “G,g—get Sirius out of his ropes,” he whispered. He felt as if he was going to collapse, but he managed to make his way to where Hermione was slumped over in his chair. He quickly undid her ropes and pulled the gag out of her mouth. She didn’t move. She didn’t say anything. Her skin felt cold.

“Hermione,” Harry said, taking her out of the chair and cradling her in his arms. ‘Come on, ‘Mione.”

Ron and Sirius ran over a few moments later.

“Go and get help, Ron,” Sirius said. Ron didn’t move. He stared at the sight before him.

“Now, Ron!” Sirius said. “Go and get help!”
Ron nodded and ran out of the room.

“Harry,” Sirius said.

“She’s not dead, Sirius!” Harry said, rocking her in his arms.

“She’s just resting,” he said. “I told her she should get some more sleep. She was probably up reading. She’s always doing that, you know?”

“Harry,” Sirius said, tears shining in his own eyes. His heart was breaking for his godson.

“No,” Harry said. “Come on, sweetheart. He’s gone. We finished him off, finally. We can finally have our peace and quiet, remember? We said we were going to have that?”

“She’s gone, Harry,” Sirius whispered.

“No,” Harry said. “She’s going to open up her eyes. She’s going to. It’s not over. It’s not over. Hermione. Come on! Wake up, please!”

“Hermione,” Harry said, pleading. “Come on, sweetheart. Wake up. Don’t leave me here by myself, okay?”

“Harry,” Sirius said.

“She never gave up on me, Sirius,” Harry said, shaking his head. “I’m not giving up on her. Do you hear that, Hermione?” He bent down and kissed her forehead. “I will never give up on you.”

_______________________________________________________________

August 21, 1996

Asheville, North Carolina

Simon Maxwell sat in the waiting room at Asheville General Hospital, looking every bit the worried father. He had thumbed through every magazine in the waiting room since his only child, Julie, had been admitted as a patient here a week ago.

The doctors had monitored her condition quite carefully. The cause of her coma-like state hadn’t been determined. She’d sustained some sort of head trauma as the result of an auto accident. In the past few days, she’d slipped in and out of consciousness and the doctors were baffled as to why.

Her father had barely left her side since she’d been admitted. He’d told the nurses the sad story about how he and his daughter had recently moved here from London, England, following the death of his wife, Julie’s mother. They’d decided to start over in a new place. They hadn’t even unpacked all of their boxes from the move. His daughter, Simon had said, had taken the move quite hard. She still missed her mother very much and like most 16-year olds, she liked to rebel. She’d taken his car without his knowledge one night and the paramedics found her slumped over the steering wheel on one of the back roads. She’d crashed the car into a tree. The car had been totaled, but the accident itself hadn’t been all that serious. It certainly hadn’t warranted the condition that Julie Maxwell found herself in.

She was a healthy 16-year old girl who was only a month away from her birthday; her dad had told the nurses. She was a normal, healthy child, Simon had bragged to the nurses.

She had sustained no broken bones or internal injuries from the accident. Aside from the scratches and bruises on her face, you might not have even guessed she’d been in an accident just to look at her.

Dr. Williams had been assigned her case. He’d asked Simon to leave the room as he performed his daily checkup on Julie. Simon had simply nodded as he left the room. He looked up expectantly at Dr. Williams, who had just entered the waiting room.

“She’s awake,” Dr. Williams said, a smile stretching across his face. “She seems to be alert. Her vital signs are good.”

“Has she said anything?” Simon asked.

“No,” Dr. Williams said. “Maybe you can help with that? Would you like to see your daughter?”

Simon nodded.

“Yes, please,” Simon asked, getting to his feet. He shook the doctor’s hand. “Thank you so much.”

Simon followed Dr. Williams through the double doors down the hall to Room 312. Julie Maxwell was sitting up in her bed. Her brown, bushy hair was somewhat disheveled and her brown eyes were open wide, taking everything in.

Dr. Williams walked into the room with Simon, standing back behind him.

Dr. Williams stood beside Julie’s bed. “Julie,” he said. “I’ve brought your father back to see you. He’s been quite concerned.”

She looked at Simon quizzically, no sign of recognition on her face.

“I’m sorry,” she said hoarsely. “But how did I get here?”

“You were in a car accident,” Dr. Williams said. “You crashed your father’s car into a tree.”

“My father?” she asked her voice still quite hoarse.

“I’m right here, sweetie,” Simon said, stepping past Dr. Williams and grasping Julie’s hand in his.

Tears shone in the girl’s brown eyes.

“What is it?” Simon asked her.

“I’m sorry,” Julie said, taking her hand away from Simon’s. “But I have no idea who you are. I don’t remember how I got here and I certainly don’t remember being in a car crash. You say my name is Julie, but that doesn’t seem as if it’s my name. My God! I don’t even know who I am? What’s happening?
Dr. Williams exchanged a look of concern with Simon. He patted Julie’s shoulder reassuringly as Julie continued to sob. “It's okay, Julie.”

“Mr. Maxwell,” Dr. Williams said. “Might I have a moment to check her out some more? See if we can find out what’s going on?”

Simon nodded. “Of course. Julie, I’ll just be right outside.”

He took one last look at the girl as she continued to sob before finally stepping out of the room and closing the door quietly behind him. He leaned back against the door and took a deep breath.

“So far, so good,” he muttered.

“So far, so good.”

TO BE CONTINUED

PART III COMING SOON

TENTATIVELY TITLED “NO PLACE THAT FAR”

THANKS TO ALL WHO HAVE READ AND REVIEWED. A SPECIAL THANKS TO ASH and SHADOWMASTER WHO HAVE LISTENED TO MY IDEAS AND BEEN GREAT SOUNDING BOARDS. YOU GUYS ARE GREAT!!!!

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To SUMMRMAGIC, ISSABISSA, CASSIEVALENTINE, HARRYHERM84, MPOTTER77---THANKS FOR TAKING THE TIME TO READ MY STORY AND TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK! You guys are great!!!!