The Power He Knows Not by Vicarious Leigh

Rating: PG13
Genres: Romance, Action & Adventure
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 28/10/2003
Last Updated: 17/01/2004
Status: Completed

During the summer between 5th and 6th year, what begins as an innocent flying lesson at the
Burrow results in Harry's realization that something more is happening between he and Hermione.
However, fast upon this realization is the mortifying thought that loving Hermione marks her as a
tempting target in an unfinished battle with Voldemort.




1. The Flying Lesson
--------------------

**Chapter 1 - The Flying Lesson**

The sun shone warmly on the streets of Little Whinging, and the wind brushed happily through the
trees. Birds chirped in pleasant conversation, and the distant laughter of children brightened an
already beautiful day. The weather seemed to beckon everyone out of their homes, and the park
bustled with activity. On a noticeably deserted swing, sat that unusual boy the neighborhood had
come to avoid. The messy-haired boy with the lightning bolt scar on his head sat swinging alone,
staring blankly into the distance, lost in thought.

Harry didn’t seem to mind the lack of activity around him. He’d grown used to being alone and
frankly found it much easier to contemplate the things weighing so heavily on him lately. Harry sat
on the swing with one picture after another floating through his mind, one disjointed sentence
following the next. He thought about Sirius, the conversation he had with Dumbledore, Sirius, his
parents, Sirius, the D.A., Ron, and Hermione. It had only been two weeks, but it might have been
two months. Harry had never been more alone. Even the Dursleys had taken far greater leave of him
since their reunion at King’s Cross. After their encounter with the Order, Dudley had reduced
himself to mere whimpers and squeaks anytime Harry was within shouting distance of him. Uncle
Vernon merely spoke *at* him, telling him how much better his holiday was this year than in
years past. Harry knew Vernon intended him to write these very words in the owls he sent to the
Order every two or three days. It wasn’t as if Harry obliged Uncles Vernon’s attempts. The little
solace he found resided firmly in making Vernon wonder if Harry quietly begged for the cavalry when
he wrote to the likes of Mad Eye Moody and Remus Lupin.

He thought about Dumbledore’s explanation of why he had to return here every summer. He knew he
had to make his home with Aunt Petunia and her family, though he really wondered if he’d ever feel
like he had a “home” or not. He was unsure what “home” was supposed to feel like, but felt rather
confident the impeccable Dursley residence was a substandard approximation.

“Home,” Harry harrumphed as he suddenly found himself staring at number 4 Privet Drive.
Somewhere in his musings, he had left the park and walked back to the Dursleys without even
noticing that he had moved.

Harry walked into the house and rejoiced in the silence. Uncle Vernon was at work, no doubt
bellowing orders to dozens of underpaid workers. Dudley was unmistakably searching for the next 10
year-old victim of his latest boxing moves. Harry walked up the stairs to his room. The door opened
with a familiar squeak, and for a moment, he had to refocus his eyes to ensure they were working
properly. On his bed sat Aunt Petunia. Her face carried such a familiar expression. She looked, for
only the second time in Harry’s memory, human. He understood the emotion behind her expression. It
was sadness, a deep and seemingly incurable sadness.

In a flash, it was gone.

Petunia seemed to realize her expression the second Harry had glimpsed it, and it was quickly
replaced by something more recognizable. She leaped up from the bed and the familiar pursed lips
and furrowed brow returned to her face.

“Harry! We have opened our home to you for years. Will there ever be a moment when you decide to
keep it clean?” Aunt Petunia roared. “It simply doesn’t fit with the rest of our home. “It’s
disgraceful!” she added.

“It’s nice to know that my room and I have something in common then, right?” Harry said coolly.
Aunt Petunia dropped a few of his rumpled clothes back to their places. She threw the burgundy
sweater Ms. Weasley knitted last Christmas back down on the bed where she had been sitting and
stormed from the room. Just before slamming the door, she decided to make a point of her exit.

“You will clean up this mess, or you will have no supper!” Aunt Petunia barked as she slammed
the door behind her.

Last summer, anger would have pulsed in every vein of his body, not now. He just didn’t care. He
flopped onto the bed, still strewn with his clothes, and stared at the ceiling. He had spent last
summer so angry, and in many respects, it was better then. At least he could feel something. As it
was now, he couldn’t feel at all. He was numb, and had existed in that state since his return
“home.” His thoughts began to drift to their familiar place, the same thoughts he never seemed to
keep far from his mind. He had no idea how long he’d lain there when a tapping came at his
window.

Pigwidgeon was fluttering about the window, slamming his beak into it regularly as if forgetting
the glass was there. Hedwig gave a exasperated click of her beak as Harry opened the window and
Pigwidgeon darted into the room. After calming him a bit, Harry removed the letter attached to
Pig’s leg and unrolled it.

*Hi Harry!*


*Mum spoke with Dumbledore last night and he reckons you’ve had about enough of the Dursleys
as you can stand. Pack your trunk, because you get picked up tomorrow! See you then!*


*Ron*

A weak smile graced Harry’s face and he decided to join the Dursleys for dinner.

“You better have cleaned up that awful room Potter!” yelled Uncle Vernon.

“It will be squeaky clean in the morning,” Harry retorted. “I’ll be leaving for the
Weasleys.”

The silence in the room was palpable. Dudley had even stopped chewing, a feat on its own, and
Vernon and Petunia merely stared at him. Uncle Vernon no doubt was pondering the last meeting he
had with the Weasleys. The last time Harry had been picked up by the Weasleys, they had attempted
to come by means of floo powder and blew half the living room wall away when they found themselves
blocked behind the boarded up fireplace. Petunia’s face held a different expression. Harry couldn’t
decide if it was concern, confusion, or just plain stupidity. He quickly ruled out the first two
and turned his attention to the meager portion of beef stew Petunia had absent-mindedly ladled onto
his plate.

Dinner progressed without much meaningful conversation, and before long, Harry returned to his
room and dropped onto the bed. At least he had something to look forward to, and for the first time
in two weeks, fell asleep with a smile.

***

His dreams seemed to mirror his conscious thoughts, with endless faces and memories streaming
before him. Ron, the D.A., Hermione falling helplessly to the floor, tears falling down
Dumbledore’s face, and Sirius. He watched Sirius fall through the veil again and again. Each time,
it seemed more real. Harry moved closer and closer each time he watched. He found himself staring
at the veil, just a few feet away; he could almost feel it. He dared to press his face closer if
only to glimpse the other side. He could feel the veil. Then, a terrifying thought entered his
mind. This was no dream. It had the same familiar realism as the times in which Voldemort had
entered his thoughts. Harry jerked awake and instantly realized it was not Voldemort at all. He had
forgotten to close the window after letting in Pigwidgeon, and the dusty sheer curtains that
adorned the window were blowing across his face while he slept.

Feeling utterly ridiculous for having succumbed to his fear again, he stared out of the open
window realizing the sun had risen and it was sometime along in the morning. He cleared the dream
from his mind and decided to pack for the Burrow.

Downstairs, the doorbell rang, and for one fleeting moment, he thought his rescue had arrived.
However, the familiar thundering of Dudley’s feet to the door and Vernon’s chipper tone of voice
assured Harry a witch or wizard could not be within 50 kilometers of the house. Harry continued to
pack his things by throwing them unscrupulously into his trunk. He picked up his red burgundy
sweater and stood motionless in place.

Petunia’s expression returned to him. The look of sadness, grief, and loss he had glimpsed only
for a moment returned in full force. Could this be what Petunia was doing? Under the sweater lay
the photo album Hagrid had created for Harry. It was lying open to familiar page Harry had glanced
again and again.

He had always imagined that this particular photo of his mother was taken by his dad. She was
flittering around in the framed opening, waving and flipping her hair. Her wide eyes beamed out at
Harry as she blew a kiss to the camera. Had Aunt Petunia been sneaking a glance at her sister? The
moving pictures drew Harry’s glance across the page where Ron and Hermione stood smiling at him. He
could almost hear Hermione’s voice.

“Harry?”

It seemed so real that he was reminded of his task and returned to packing so he would be ready
to leave the moment the Weasleys arrived.

“Harry,” Hermione’s voice sounded again. Harry spun around to see his best friend standing in
his bedroom doorway.

“Hermione!” Harry exclaimed, stunned, and a wide smile broke across his face. Any temerity in
Hermione’s voice faded with the wideness of Harry’s smile, and she crossed the small room with her
arms wide. She greeted him with a familiar peck on the cheek and a warm hug. It was a connection
Harry had not felt with another human being seemingly in ages.

They stepped back from each other and began speaking excitedly at the same time.

“You first,” Harry conceded.

“How are you doing?” Hermione asked with obvious concern.

“I’m fine,” Harry lied. “How are you doing? Are you feeling better?” Harry asked, knowing full
well she had recovered from her encounter with the Death Eaters before leaving Hogwarts last
year.

“I’m fine, thanks,” she replied. “Are you all packed?” she asked looking around the room. It was
then Harry realized the uniqueness of the situation. Hermione had never been to the Dursleys and
Ron obviously wasn’t with her.

“What…Where?” He began.

“My parents were bringing me to the Burrow, and Ron told us to stop by and pick you up on the
way. He figured the Dursleys wouldn’t mind my parents coming to their house.” Laughter floated up
from the kitchen downstairs.

“Sounds like he was right,” Harry grinned. Harry finished stuffing his trunk and ensured he had
packed all his belongings. They brought his things downstairs and walked toward the kitchen.
Harry’s emotions ranged from elated to relieved. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and drew
his beaming eyes to her face, too excited by his impending return to the wizarding world to feel
her tense under his grasp. His eyes, however, were not deceived.

“Hermione? What’s the matter?” Harry asked as they walked down the hall.

“This house… It’s so clean,” she said with a perplexed look on her face. This was no surprise to
Harry. Aunt Petunia kept the house more like a museum than a residence. He often wondered if her
lack of personality simply repelled all the dirt from the house as it was always maintained to this
standard, yet he rarely saw Petunia actually cleaning.

“It’s always been like this in the parts they live in,” Harry said, giving a thought to all the
spiders that used to keep him company in the cupboard under the stairs. “I guess some Muggles are
just excessively *tidy*,” he sneered.

“Harry, *my* parents are excessively tidy Muggles, and our house has never been like this,”
Hermione added with a continued look of concern. “It’s practically unnatural,” she muttered as they
opened the door to the kitchen.

Harry had seen the Grangers, but never really spoken to them. They were engaged in polite,
rather forced, conversation about drills at the kitchen table. They noticed the cavalry enter
immediately and hopped out of the sterile chairs to greet them both.

“Hermione, dear, are you ready to go? You must be Harry… Hermione talks about you so much I feel
like I know you already,” said Hermione’s mother, pulling him into a warm embrace. He shook hands
and smiled at Mr. Granger. Harry couldn’t help but notice the perplexed look on Dudley’s face. He
wrapped a second arm around Hermione’s waist, not wanting to lose the opportunity for one last jab
at his hopelessly single cousin. In this situation, it made no difference to Harry that Hermione
was his best friend and not his girlfriend; what Dudley didn’t know he could spend all term
thinking about. Harry thought to feel guilty about using Hermione to taunt Dudley, but the wide
smile she flashed Harry as she turned her head back to look at his gleaming green eyes was enough
to make Harry forget his motives. He watched a look of jealously flash across Dudley’s face and
went in for the kill.

“I think we’re ready to go, don’t you?” he asked, maintaining his stare at Dudley. The
expression passing across Dudley’s face could’ve passed for indignation or constipation, given his
eating habits; Harry chose not to continue thinking about that one, flashed a bright smile and
turned with Hermione toward the door.

***

The ride to the Burrow passed quickly. Harry didn’t even mind the incessant conversation about
the impeding O.W.L. results. Harry’s theory that this had been Hermione’s only topic of
conversation for the last two weeks seemed to be confirmed, judging by the polite agreements and
sniggering from her parents. Harry only half listened to her musings about Hogwarts’ lack of
consideration for those eagerly awaiting their scores. He stroked Crookshanks, purring loudly in
his lap, and noticed the glints of sunlight falling across Hermione’s hair.

“I said don’t you *agree,* Harry!” Hermione reiterated indignantly.

“Oh, yeah, definitely,” Harry added, having only realized he had been staring at Hermione for at
least five minutes not hearing a word she had said. He felt his cheeks grow warm and suddenly found
the trees passing by his window incredibly interesting. He also noticed Hermione had not continued
in conversation. He could feel her staring at him. Her father broke the silence just as Harry felt
his ears turn as red as Ron’s hair.

“We’re here!” Mr. Granger said brightly. Harry peered out of the window to see the entire
Weasley clan, minus Percy, waiting on the front lawn. As they opened the car door, Harry was
greeted by Mrs. Weasley’s embrace.

‘Harry, dear, it’s so good to see you!” she beamed and hugged him again. He thanked the Grangers
and traversed the lawn to greet Ron and the rest of the family. They spoke, laughed, and clapped
each other on the shoulder as Harry turned to see if Hermione was coming along.

He saw her standing with her parents. They both hugged her together, her mother playing with her
hair, and her father kissing her on the head. They smiled so contently at their daughter the pride
was unmistakable. Hermione’s mother had a gleaming tear in her eye as she hugged her one last time
and climbed back into their car.

Suddenly, Harry was overcome with the same feeling of emptiness he had wallowed in for two solid
weeks. Her parent’s warm smiles reminded him so much of the faces he had stared at in the mirror of
Erised. They reminded him of the first smile he ever saw cross Sirius’ face when he agreed to come
live with him. He was suddenly, and sadly, reminded that he was alone.

“Harry,” Ron said softly next to him. He always seemed to understand Harry’s thoughts and what
he truly needed. “There’s a least an hour’s worth of Quidditch to be played before supper is
ready!”

Harry didn’t say a word. He dropped his trunk and he and Ron darted into the backyard with Fred
and George. Ginny, apparently having thought ahead of them, was already waiting with the balls.
Harry felt better than he had in weeks. He loved to fly, and nothing in the world could clear his
head or cheer him like a clear day and his Firebolt. They played a rousing game of Quidditch and
laughed until they nearly cried. All the while, Hermione was cheering on the players from a
comfortable patch of grass below.

As Harry glanced at Hermione’s frame lying pleasantly in the grass, he caught a glimpse of the
familiar golden flicker and shot toward her in a perfect dive.

“Harry. Harry! *Harry*!” Hermione screamed as she flattened herself on the grass. Harry
flew only inches over her, easily grabbing the snitch from just beyond Crookshanks’ reach.

He smiled and hopped off his broom, “Game over, boys!” Harry announced, as he held up the snitch
triumphantly.

“Geez, Harry! Do you think we can ever play a game that lasts longer than 10 minutes with you
around?” Ron quipped.

“Yeah! If *you* want to play seeker,” Harry joked back. Fred and George took special
delight in Harry’s comment and flew off heckling their youngest brother.

“Seeker? Heavens! George, can you play a pick-up game of Quidditch at eighty years old?” Fred
shouted to his brother.

“Only if Ron plays seeker! That blasted ginger ball of fluff is likely to spot the snitch before
ickle ronnikins!” George cackled back.

Hermione giggled quietly at Harry’s side.

“You should smile more, Harry. It becomes you,” Hermione grinned beside him. “You never seem to
have any troubles after you’ve flown around on that thing for a while,” she added looking a bit
blushed.

Harry smiled wider and a thought crossed his mind.

“You know, Hermione, I don’t ever see you flying,” he said.

“Oh…well…I don’t ..well, I -- you know…” she stammered. Hermione seemed to be reluctant to try
anything she couldn’t first master out of a book. Flying wasn’t a skill you could learn from words
on a page; it was inside you.

“Why don’t you give it a go?” Harry said, looking into the sky.

“No. I don’t really know how. I mean, Madam Hooch is a good teacher and all, but I just don’t
really think I…I don’t really know how,” Hermione fumbled.

“You just haven’t had the right teacher,” Harry added confidently.

“Well, I don’t think Hogwarts will be changing teachers anytime soon Harry,” Hermione said.

“I seem to remember not to long ago you thought I would be a good teacher for Defense Against
the Dark Arts,” he added with a wry smile.

Hermione seemed to realize Harry’s offer and looked quickly away. She glanced at the Firebolt,
and without saying a word, Harry understood her concern. His Firebolt was an international standard
racing broom. Aside from the galleons it must’ve put Sirius back, it was the fastest broom
currently on the market. For Harry, this translated into pure unadulterated exhilaration. For
Hermione, it likely translated into a lurching stomach.

“Hey, Ron! Come down here for a minute. I need to borrow your Cleansweep,” Harry shouted up to
Ron who was gliding about.

“My Cleansweep, Harry, are you mental? You’ve got a Firebolt!” Ron barked incredulously.

“I’m going to teach Hermione to fly, and your broom is….” Harry trailed off. He had walked into
that without thinking about it. The last thing he wanted to do was sound like Draco Malfoy bragging
about the quality of his broom over Ron’s. However, Ron didn’t need Harry to finish the sentence.
Amazingly, he darted to Harry’s side and handed over the broom immediately.

“Well, if you’re going to borrow mine, you obviously don’t need the Firebolt,” Ron added. A huge
smile broke across Ron’s face as Harry handed him his broom before Ron even finished the
sentence.

Ron shot into the air whooping and darting around as the Firebolt carried him at breakneck speed
around the house.

“He bears a striking resemblance to Pigwidgeon on that thing,” Hermione said, trying to stave
off the inevitable.

“Come on,” said Harry, handing her Ron’s broomstick. The next few minutes passed as Harry tried
to explain the finer points of maneuvering a broomstick with Ron screeching about overhead. All the
while, Hermione looked entirely uneasy. As she kicked off from the ground Harry could see she was
not going to be as successful with these lessons as with the D.A. She fluttered about for a few
minutes growing red in the face and Harry beckoned her back to the ground.

“I have an idea,” he said. “I think I need to show you how to do this rather than tell you.”

“Harry, I’ve watched you fly for years. What else can I learn by watching you? It’s no use; I’m
just not meant to be in the air,” Hermione said begrudgingly.

“That’s not what I meant,” he said, climbing onto the Cleansweep behind Hermione. If she blushed
before, she surely matched it as Harry wrapped his arms around her and grasped the handle. He
kicked off from the ground and they were soon flying around the yard together. He put his hands
over Hermione’s and gently turned them from one side to another to demonstrate turning. He pulled
his hands up and back to show her how to increase and decrease altitude and then let go of her
hands all together.

“Harry!” Hermione yelled, seeming to realize they were about thirty feet off the ground.

“You can do it. Just turn it like I showed you,” he said confidently. Hermione pulled back on
the broomstick and they soared higher. Harry grabbed her around the waist to keep from sliding off
the back. “Good job, Hermione!” he shouted over the wind rushing through their hair.

Hermione continued to improve a bit, even withstanding Ron’s occasional heckling until a
familiar warm voice shouted up from the house.

“Supper’s ready, you three! Come down!” Mrs. Weasley shouted. Not having to be told twice, Ron
darted for the ground, hopped off the Firebolt, and ran inside. Hermione edged the handle forward
and they fell into a dive. Hermione screamed, not realizing what she’d done or how to undo it.
Harry grabbed the handle just in time to keep them from spearheading the ground, but with two
people on one broom, the landing suffered anyway. He and Hermione skidded on the ground and rolled
off the broom, Hermione landing in a patch of flowers at the wood’s edge.

“Hermione!” Harry yelled as he rolled over to see where she lay. She was face down in the
flowers, but she was moving. Harry ran to her side.

“Hermione are you okay?” She appeared to be crying, and a horribly familiar feeling swept over
Harry. His thoughts flashed back to last spring when he refused to heed her warnings and stormed
off to the Ministry of Magic. Hermione did not truly want to accompany him then, and her decision
to do so nearly ended her life. This was the second time his prodding her into something she was
afraid of doing had gotten her hurt.

“Hermione,” he said as he gently rolled her onto her back. “Answer me, please.” He moved her
hands away from her face and received the shock of his life. She was laughing! She was laughing so
hard she wasn’t making any noise at all! And her delight was infectious. Harry began laughing as
well. When she caught her breath, she uttered something else Harry couldn’t believe.

“I love you,” she said barely catching her breath.

The smile vanished from Harry’s face immediately, “What did you say?” Harry asked perplexed.

“I said I love it!” Hermione reiterated, opening her eyes to look upon Harry’s face. “What did
you think I said?” she added now focusing on his shocked expression.

“Oh, nothing,” Harry fumbled. “Um – we better go inside before supper gets cold,” he added
quickly as he helped Hermione to her feet.

Harry relived the moment in his head and realized she really had said she loved it. How could
his brain have twisted it that far? He was lost in thought and embarrassment when her voice
interrupted him.

“Harry, what did you think I said?” she asked again.

He could’ve gone the rest of his life if she just wouldn’t have asked that one question. He had
no answer, and he surely didn’t want to tell her the truth. In fumbling for a smart reply, he saw a
look of comprehension cross Hermione’s face and she quickly turned her head as her face went
red.

Dinner was as awkward as any he’d ever had. The Weasleys chattered and laughed. The house was
full of life, but Harry couldn’t hear any of it. All he could think about was the last hour. He
thought back to the flying lesson and touching Hermione’s hand, grabbing her around the waist,
seeing her beautiful smile, and hearing that contagious laugh. He forced himself to stop thinking
about it. His flopping stomach was making it very hard to eat. He chastised his stomach
silently-*you’re not supposed to get floppy over Hermione! She’s your best friend!*

He spent the rest of supper participating half-heartedly in the conversation and trying to avoid
Hermione’s glance. It wasn’t too difficult to do; she seemed to be averting her eyes as well. For
the first time in weeks, he was flooded with emotions, but what emotions were they? What was he
feeling, and more importantly, why was he feeling it? He had been best friends with Hermione for
over five years. What changed in the last hour? As he processed this thought, he realized his
avoidance of her had stopped and in fact he was staring directly at her. She caught his eyes and
they both quickly blushed and found interest in their steak and kidney pie. Harry was lost in his
world, but the scene did not pass unnoticed. From the far end of the table, Mrs. Weasley grinned
and returned to the potatoes on her plate.

Harry stayed behind after dinner while the Weasleys went back into the garden. He carried some
plates in to Mrs. Weasley who was standing alone in the kitchen by the sink.

“Oh, thank you, Harry dear,” Mrs. Weasley said, taking the plates from Harry.

“I was hoping we’d get some time alone,” she added. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot this
summer Harry,” she said as she stopped washing and turned to him. “I don’t pretend to know what
you’ve been thinking or feeling since the end of last year,” she added, clearly talking about the
loss of his godfather without wanting to say the words. “But I do want you to know you’re not
alone.” She took a breath and seemed to muster the courage for her next sentence. “I wasn’t lying
when I told your godfather you were as good as a son to me. You’re part of our family, Harry.”

Harry, warmed by her words, managed to squeak out a quiet “thank you” before handing her another
plate.

“I just want you to understand that there are people here who love you,” Mrs. Weasley
smiled.

As he heard her words and felt a presence behind him, he fumbled with the last plate, and it
crashed to the floor, breaking into several pieces.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I didn’t think there was anyone in here,” Hermione said in
a quiet voice from behind him. Mrs. Weasley looked from Harry to Hermione and back again.

With a smile she responded, “Not to worry, Hermione. Why don’t you two go and join the others.
I’ll finish up here.”

Harry heard the faint clinking of porcelain and the sound of Mrs. Weasley’s voice saying
“reparo!” in the kitchen. As they walked into the living room, realizing darkness had descended;
the rest of the Weasley family came in from the garden and took up chairs around the fire. They
passed the next several hours talking and laughing. Harry and Hermione became noticeably tense
whenever the subject of flying was breached; a point that did not seem to be lost on the Weasley
twins.

“Oy! Harry,” George barked from across the room. “Getting a bit too big for your britches, eh
mate? One season on a Firebolt and you can’t land a Cleensweep without making a dent in mum’s
flowerbed!” he finished smiling.

“I don’t know Forge,” Fred added with a look of pained concern.

“What’s that Gred?” George answered, happily playing along.

“I think our star seeker is slipping.”

“Hmmm, you may be correct, dear brother.”

“It might, perhaps, be time for a bit of motivation.”

“Perhaps a lively tune?”

“Perhaps!” and with that, Fred and George, either having thought this out ahead of time or
merely adding credence to the suspicion they, in fact, shared one brain broke into an edited
version of “Weasley is our King.”

*“Potter-soil” we call him,*

*we all so clearly saw him!*

*He took Hermione too far up,*

*And crashed into the buttercups!*

*That is why we loudly sing,*

*Potter-soil’s our King!*

With that, Hermione decided she’d had enough small talk and discreetly retired to Ginny’s
bedroom as the Weasley family laughed hysterically and swept the tears from their eyes. A while
later, Harry, having finally relaxed in Hermione’s absence, decided similarly and went to Ron’s
room at the top of the stairs. As he passed the floor where Ginny’s room was located, he stole just
a moment to glance down the hall.

The door was cracked open and he could see the candlelight on Hermione’s hair as she brushed it
in front of the mirror. Then she turned, with the wisp of her robe trailing out of sight of the
door, the candle was extinguished. She had gone to bed. Harry realized he’d been standing longer
than he intended and quickly made his way to Ron’s room.

He slumped on the bed, head in his hands, trying to make sense of the day. He had no idea when
he actually fell asleep. However, the constant flopping of his stomach kept him from truly getting
any rest. For the first time in weeks his dreams seemed to be more directed. The flying lesson
played over and over in his mind. He opened his eyes and saw the familiar outline of Ron - snoring
on the bed beside his. He realized it must be the middle of the night. He quietly crept from the
room to get a glass of water from the kitchen.

As he descended the stairs, he had one desperate wish. He wished he could talk to Sirius; he
needed advice about girls now more than ever! He was shocked to see who was seemingly waiting for
him in the kitchen.

“Mrs. Weasley?” he asked quietly.

“Can’t sleep, can you Harry?” she said smiling.

“I just came to get some water,” Harry replied. “What are you doing up this late?”

“I don’t sleep well either these days,” she replied. Harry realized she was clutching the
sweater Percy sent back last Christmas unopened. She looked down at the sweater and understood the
comprehension that crossed Harry’s face.

“It’s funny how things work out sometimes, isn’t it?” she said with a strange glint in her eye.
Harry had the feeling she might have been talking about more than just Percy. Her next statement
confirmed his suspicion. “Ron sure did enjoy the ride on your Firebolt, the way he carried on about
it all night,” she smiled and seemed to catch his stare a second longer than normal.

“Well, I think I’ve sat here long enough. My back will never forgive me. I think I’ll try and
get some sleep,” she sighed, standing up. As she crossed the room she put her hand on his shoulder
and looked lovingly into his striking emerald eyes and added, “I know I can’t replace what you’ve
lost, Harry, but I am a wonderful listener, and conveniently have been a girl all my life.” She
gave him a short squeeze and disappeared up the stairs.

Harry slumped in the chair she vacated and became lost in thought. He missed Sirius terribly.
Not a day went by he didn’t think about him or his parents. Over the last several weeks, he was
drowning in a world of finality, in what seemed to be the end of everything. But for the first time
since then, as he sat in this loving and welcoming home, new thoughts crossed his mind.

He needed someone to help him decipher what happened that day. Could he talk to Ms. Weasley the
way he *wanted* to talk to Sirius? Could he open his heart to her and allow himself to be
loved by another adult the way only a mother can? He loved Ms. Weasley dearly, but something in him
hesitated. He still didn’t feel ready to allow himself to be cared for that way. For all the growth
he had made since receiving his Hogwarts letter, it was quite difficult to erase eleven years of
perpetual belittlement at the hands of his family.

His mind flashed through a thousand pictures of Hermione throughout their years at Hogwarts.
Today, he felt emotions he’d never felt in his life. Obviously, Mrs. Weasley had seen it, but did
Hermione? What if she figured out what he’d been musing about all evening? Would that be so bad? He
no longer felt the all-consuming emptiness that had plagued him for weeks. Something was
different.

Since the flying lesson that afternoon, he’d not thought once of the incessant memories that
haunted him all summer. All he thought of was her. He didn’t think of her incessant nagging over
his unfinished homework. He didn’t think of her unremitting verbal altercations with Ron. He didn’t
think of her obsession with the political and social rights of perfectly happy house elves. He
thought of the highlights in her hair. He thought of the way her faint perfume enveloped him as
they flew. He thought of her rich mocha eyes laced with strands of gold radiating from her pupils.
He thought of everything differently than he had all summer.

He realized in that moment, that for whatever he was thinking, and why he was thinking it, that
the end of his fifth year at Hogwarts was not the end of his life. This revelation was especially
meaningful given the prophesy that seemed attached to his scar. It might very well be the
beginning. As a quiet smile came to his face, he fell into a peaceful sleep in Ms. Weasley’s
tattered wingback chair.



2. The Wooded Trail
-------------------

Chapter 2 – The Wooded Trail

The sun broke through the morning mist hanging over the Burrow and warmed the small hearth room.
As it grew brighter, Harry stirred in the chair he had fallen asleep in only hours before. As he
opened his eyes, he couldn’t remember having slept so well, even though he knew he’d pay for it
now.

“Ouch,” he muttered to himself, rubbing his sore neck. He had fallen into such a relaxing sleep
even the increasing pain in his neck from sleeping upright in a chair all night hadn’t manage to
wake him. He closed his eyes and tried to rub the pain away from his neck. He felt his heart nearly
jump into his throat as his hand collided with someone else’s.

Startled, Harry leapt from the chair and spun around to see who was behind him.

“Hermione!” Harry gasped. “You nearly scared the life out of me.”

“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” Hermione replied, looking a bit dejected. Apparently noticing
Harry was still dressed from the night before, she asked, “Did you sleep in this chair all
night?”

“Well, I… er,“ Harry stammered, looking at Hermione, suddenly remembering what had brought him
downstairs in the middle of the night.

“Harry, we need to talk,” she said quickly. “Let’s go for a walk,” she suggested, motioning her
head toward the door. Harry followed her into the morning dew, and they set off for the wooded
trail leading out of the garden.

A quiet walk, just the two of them, was not a new experience for Harry and Hermione. They had
walked around the lake together at Hogwarts several times. The most memorable of these meanderings
came only last year. This time, however, it was different. They had known each other for years, yet
this was the first time they both seemed to be at a total loss for words. Harry broke the awkward
silence first, clearly trying to stave off the time he would be required to discuss the
inevitable.

“So, what did you want to talk about Hermione?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

She continued to walk beside him but couldn’t bring her eyes to his. “Well, I was just thinking.
Yesterday seemed a bit strange to me. You were very quiet from dinner until I turned in for the
night. You didn’t seem to want to look at me. I was just wondering if I had done something to make
you angry?” she asked, with a guilty look on her face.

Harry had the clear impression this was not what she wanted to talk about at all, yet this was
her attempt of discussing the events of yesterday without actually having to say anything. He
thought it was quite a clever strategy and was unable to control a faint smile.

“No, I’m not angry about anything. I’ve just had an awful lot on my mind. I’ve just been a bit
down this summer, that’s all.” He was only speaking the partial truth.

Hermione looked up at him with a compassionate expression and asked, “How have you been dealing
with Sirius?”

Harry was almost surprised at the candor in which she asked the question. Given this particular
subject, everyone seemed to be prancing around him as though not wanting to remind him he had
witnessed the death of his godfather only weeks before. He looked back at her and began recounting
the last two weeks. The images, the dreams, and the thoughts that plagued him all summer became the
focus of the conversation. He stopped short of telling her about his conversation with Dumbledore
and the prediction concerning him and Voldemort. It almost seemed unnatural for him to stop talking
to her. That was one thing that was so incredibly easy for him to do; it always had been. Following
Harry’s lead, Hermione began telling him about the short holiday she’d spent with her parents in
Switzerland.

He listened to Hermione rattle on about her summer and thought about the times they managed to
communicate without words. He remembered Malfoy’s threat on the Hogwarts Express about “dogging”
Harry throughout his fifth year. While Harry and Hermione both seemed to understand the play on
words and the implied threat toward Sirius, Ron had continued on blissfully unaware.

They continued to catch up, avoiding any reference to Quidditch, flying, or yesterday’s events
in the backyard. Harry could smell bacon in the distance and realized the Weasley’s would no doubt
be wondering where they had gone.

“We’d better be heading back before Mrs. Weasley gets worried. We don’t have hands on that clock
yet,” Harry said, chuckling. He was thinking about the ingenious clock in the Burrow that let Mrs.
Weasley know exactly where each member of the Weasley clan was stationed.

“Oh, I just feel so much better about everything, Harry,” Hermione added in a relieved voice. “I
mean for a very small minute yesterday I thought you might have been looking at me… I don’t know…
differently,” she continued, looking away into the woods.

“That would’ve been awkward, wouldn’t it?” Harry chuckled with the best laugh he could
muster.

“Yeah, it would’ve! But, everything is okay. It’s just Harry and Hermione again, best friends!”
she said, suddenly stopping in his path and beaming up at him with her hand awkwardly extended to
shake his.

However, Harry failed to notice her blocking his path. As soon as they breached this subject, he
had turned to watch a few nesting birds in the dim hopes Hermione wouldn’t see him reddening. As he
continued to look upward, he walked directly into her.

His reaction was what one would expect from the celebrated Gryffindor Seeker. He seized
Hermione’s arms firmly to keep her from crashing to the forest floor. The result, he was sure,
flushed his face unmistakably.

“Oh! Hermione! I’m sorry…I, er-,” he stammered, trying to think of good reason why he would’ve
charged right into her. Somewhat taken aback, she looked up at Harry. His embarrassed glance
connected with hers and he found himself unable to conjure any words to explain himself out of the
situation. Apparently, Hermione was in the same predicament. She opened her mouth to speak but
nothing came out.

All he could hear were the sounds of the forest. He heard the birds chirping in the distance and
wind rustling through the trees. He was still holding her close to him. He could see every
highlight in her hair as he looked into her face. He couldn’t explain why, but he wasn’t letting
go. More shocking to him, however, was the fact Hermione wasn’t pulling away. They stood in the
forest silent and immobile for what seemed like an eternity.

Harry wasn’t sure who started to move first. All he knew is they were getting closer to each
other. Where he could only feel her arms in his grasp before, now he could feel her body
approaching his. The scent of her hair eclipsed the faint smell of Mrs. Weasley’s breakfast. His
heart was pounding. What was he *doing?* He could hear his own voice screaming in his head.
*Harry, this is Hermione. Reality Check, please!* He could feel her breath beginning to mingle
with his own…

“Ouch!” Harry yelped, more out of surprise than pain, as Hedwig landed on his shoulder. A letter
was attached to her leg. The shock seemed to snap both Harry and Hermione back to reality, and they
quickly separated. Hermione was obviously clamoring for anything to look at other than Harry.

“Hedwig!” Harry said, snapping at his snowy owl. She flashed with indignation at his tone. She
stuck her leg out further as if to reiterate the fact she had brought the post. As he begrudgingly
pulled the letter off her leg, he heard Hermione gasp frightfully. In the split second he turned to
look at her, she had already spun toward the Burrow and set off in a run. His confusion was quickly
extinguished. The Hogwarts seal on the back of the letter drove Harry’s heart even higher into his
throat. Their O.W.L. results had arrived.

By the time Harry looked back up at the Burrow, Hermione had already charged inside the house.
She was obviously rifling through the post for her O.W.L. results. Harry looked down at his letter
and began to stroll toward the back door where Hermione had disappeared.

He spent some time over the summer thinking about his O.W.L.s. He constantly wagered in his mind
which he had done well on and which he hadn’t. He felt as though he should be compelled to tear
open his letter, but it stayed intact as he meandered back to the Burrow. He was in another world.
This world was entirely foreign. It looked the same as the world he knew, but it felt completely
different. In a word, albeit a horrifically understated one, Harry was confused. He was thoroughly
confused.

Things seemed to spin wildly out of control yesterday, and they were off to no better start this
morning. As always, Hermione had a great idea. Going for a walk seemed to work all the awkwardness
out of the air hovering between them. That was until Harry decided to trounce her down in the
middle of the forest.

*Way to go, Captain Coordination.*

But even that didn’t bother him as much as the realization that his hands completely ignored his
brain’s order to let her go. Adding to his confusion was Hermione’s lack of a well-placed right
hook. The Hermione he knew should’ve embarked on some scathing verbal tirade that would’ve left him
seeking a dictionary for the proper definition of the word “audacious.”

And what happened after that? He didn’t even want to think about the ramifications kissing her
would’ve brought about!

*Imagine what Ron would’ve said to that!* Suddenly, Ron’s voice echoed through his
thoughts.

“Wow! You must’ve done really well Harry!” Ron said impressed.

Lost in his thoughts, Harry had not only returned to the Burrow, but walked into the kitchen
without realizing it. “What do you mean?”

“Well, look at you! You’re smiling broader than Lockhart at a book signing!” Ron retorted.

Harry suddenly realized he was not hiding his expression at all, not that he could’ve if he’d
tried. “Where’s Hermione?” He asked trying his best to look nonchalant.

“You know Hermione; she snatched her letter and dashed upstairs to open it in private. I’m sure
if we hear her crash to the floor it will be over an “E” in Ancient Runes rather than an “O,” Ron
sniggered. “Mum chased up the stairs after her. So what did you get? You must’ve done well!” Ron
reiterated.

“Oh! I um… I haven’t actually,” he looked at Ron’s confused expression and decided his salvation
might be staring him in the face. No one knew Harry or Hermione like Ron did. He might not have
been as quick as Hermione to pick up on some things, but this was an emergency situation. He needed
his best friend and could currently care less about his test results. Honestly, he didn’t care if
he was a bona fide “Troll” in every subject if he could get some modicum of explanation for what
dimension his brain had port-keyed to in the last 24 hours.

Harry stuffed his Hogwarts letter in his pocket and slumped down at the table across from
Ron.

“What’s the matter Harry?” Ron asked curiously.

“I need to talk,” Harry added bluntly.

“I thought you didn’t open your results yet?” Ron said, apparently having picked up on the fact
Harry’s letter was still sealed before he put it away.

“It’s not about the O.W.L.’s Ron,” he added quietly. He drew a deep breath and tried to
determine where to start. “It’s about…”

“Harry!” Fred’s voice was nearly singing as he waltzed into the room.

“Hey, George,” Harry slumped his shoulders and let out the breath that had prepared to spill
every strange detail to Ron.

“George!” Fred guffawed at Harry’s mistake. “Well, I’ve never been so insulted in my life,” Fred
continued. “Well, I take that back. Mum confuses us all the time,” he smiled broadly. “However,
after such a mental error as that, I’ll have to revise the wager I make with my dear brother
concerning your O.W.L. scores.”

“Wager? O.W.L.’s? Where’s Harry? I am sure Fred owes me ten galleons by now!” George chirped as
he sauntered into the room. Harry exchanged a quick glance with Ron that ended the conversation
that never began.

“Right, later,” Ron agreed. “So come on, open the letter,” he persisted. Harry pulled it from
his pocket, opened the seal, and began to read.

“Well, no surprise there,” Ron said, moving to look over his shoulder. “Always knew you’d do
better than me. I can’t complain too much though, I passed 5 of them! After Fred and George’s
three, mom’s likely to buy *me* the Firebolt next!” Ron beamed while both Fred and George
threw their hands over is hearts in a melodramatic display of betrayal.

Harry examined the parchment and was happily surprised. He had taken both a written and
practical examination in each course, with the exception of History. To this day, Harry was quite
convinced there was nothing practical about that subject. In his opinion, he had done quite well.
It was no surprise to anyone that he received an “Outstanding” in Defense Against the Dark Arts. He
also received “O’s” in Charms, which surprised him, and in Care of Magical Creatures, which didn’t
surprise him at all. His face light up even more to see that he had even earned the “Outstanding”
that Professor McGonagall preferred for her N.E.W.T. class. He let out an audible chuckle for the
“E” he had managed in the written portion of Divination. However, his practical score demonstrated
exactly what he knew of Divination, nothing. It was the first exam he noticed he had failed. It
wasn’t the last.

Not surprising in the least, he also failed History of Magic and managed only an “acceptable” in
Practical Astronomy. None of these scores truly shocked Harry given the distractions that occurred
while he was taking both exams. He had fallen asleep in History and was startled awake by the
vision of Sirius being tortured by Voldemort, and the scene at Hagrid’s hut had distracted everyone
during the practical portion of the Astronomy exam. He glanced further down the scroll to his
potions score, and the toothy grin he had sported for the last thirty minutes began to fade.

He remembered McGonagall’s decree that Snape accepted no one in his N.E.W.T. classes with less
than “Outstanding,” and apparently, “Exceeding Expectations,” which is what Harry did, was not
enough for Professor Snape. Technically, he didn’t exceed his expectations. He managed an “O” in
the theoretical portion, but only “acceptable” in the practical. He was quite sure, the average of
which, would keep him from continuing his study of Potions.

Ordinarily, this would’ve sent Harry’s elation to the point of spontaneous combustion. However,
without enduring another two years of Snape, he couldn’t become an Auror. It appeared as though
that dream wasn’t going to become a reality after all. Harry couldn’t think of anything else he’d
like to do after leaving Hogwarts than seeking out dark wizards for the Ministry of Magic. He
slumped into a chair, and for the first time in what seemed like eons, the smile vanished from his
face.

“What’s wrong, Harry?” Ron said quietly.

“Er- nothing” Harry said quickly, trying to stuff his results back into the envelope. He had
hoped Ron hadn’t seen the Potions score. It wasn’t that he would’ve understood Harry’s reaction,
but Harry felt like a failure at the moment and didn’t want anyone to know it. As he tried to stuff
his scores back into the envelope, he was not the only one to notice another piece of
parchment.

“Hey, what’s that?” Ron said, stuffing a muffin into his mouth. His reaction led Harry to
believe, and quite correctly it turned out, that no one else had gotten an additional letter. He
opened it only far enough to glance at the handwriting. Recognizing the unmistakable penmanship of
Albus Dumbledore, he decided to read the letter outside. Luckily, Fred and George began heckling
Ron over his “D” in History of Magic and Harry was afforded the opportunity to quietly slip out
onto the patio.

As he discreetly walked outside, he thought to himself, “This isn’t so bad; not only have I
exceeded what Snape thought I could do, but I’ll *never* have to see him in class again!” Even
missing out on being an Auror couldn’t keep him from smiling over that. However, as his smiles had
become over the summer, it wasn’t meant to last. As he unrolled the additional parchment and read
the letter, he flopped onto a chaise lounge, crestfallen.

*Harry,*

*Upon your return to Hogwarts, please see me concerning your future course schedule. I have
spoken to Professor Snape about your study of potions. He will allow you into his N.E.W.T. class
under the pretense that you are continuing your “Remedial Potions” course. Both courses are
necessary for your continued success.*

*Sincerely,*

*Albus* *Dumbledore*

“*What?*” He not only had to take Potions, but Remedial Potions as well? In thirty seconds,
he’d gone from no Snape to double-Snape! Why Remedial Potions?

Then it hit him. It wasn’t “*Remedial Potions*” at all. That was the story they told the
students when Snape was teaching Harry Occlumency. Locked in a dungeon alone with Severus Snape
breaking into your most intimate thoughts was nearly the closest thing to Hell Harry had ever
experienced at Hogwarts. Now, he seemed destined to return to it. *Why?* It didn’t work last
year, so why would he become a successful Occlumens now?

Harry crumpled the letter in his hand as he pulsed with anger he’d not felt since the end of
last year.

“Harry, what did it say?” said a soft voice that lodged Harry’s heart uncomfortably in his
throat. He turned to look at Hermione, and the wooded trail flooded back to him. He couldn’t move.
He could scarcely breathe. That didn’t make him feel any better. *Get a hold of yourself Potter,
what is the matter with you?*

“Er… It was just… I…,” he faltered, unable to continue looking at her. Aside from the strange
occurrences over the last 24 hours, he was sure she had outmatched him in O.W.L. scores and really
didn’t feel like comparing results right now.

“It was what?” she probed, her brow ruffling.

Harry couldn’t speak, and he couldn’t come up with anything to say even if he could charm his
own vocal chords into action. He was angry with Dumbledore and confused about nearly everything
else. He dejectedly handed the letter to Hermione and she read it quietly.

“Well, Harry, you had to expect this didn’t you?” Hermione said as an all-too-familiar
assertion. Apparently seeing right thought Remedial Potions as well, she said, “You *must*
study Occlumency again.”

“*Why?*” Harry demanded. “I hated it last year! I never got it right anyway. I’ve not had
*any* dreams like I did last year. Why do I have to be locked up for hours at a time with
*Snape*?” He snapped, getting to his feet.

“Harry, you have to protect yourself… and,” she trailed off.

“And *what?*” Harry demanded, growing even angrier. Regardless of what had occurred between
them recently, she was still his best friend, and he could read her thoughts. He knew what she was
going to say, yet he insisted on hearing her say it. “*And what?!”* he repeated, growing
louder.

“…and to protect everyone else,” she added at a whisper.

Harry knew what she meant. That familiar empty guilt returned to him. Had he done what Snape
told him and practiced Occlumency as Hermione kept badgering, he would’ve blocked the images of
Sirius’ fictionalized torture. He wouldn’t have overreacted, rushing off to the Ministry of Magic.
In short, Sirius would be alive. In his head, Harry knew there was enough blame to go around
concerning his godfather, but it didn’t stop his heart from feeling the brunt of the guilt
nonetheless.

He opened his mouth to let Hermione have it, but he couldn’t muster the energy or willpower to
do so. Instead, he snapped his letter out of her hand and stormed off toward the woods. He could
hear Hermione’s faint pleading behind him as he charged off, but he refused to return. He needed
time alone.

He found himself drawn to the very spot on the wooded trail that he and Hermione had occupied
nearly an hour before. He glanced at the trees and closed his eyes as the wind blew across his
face. Why had be baited her like that? He knew what she was going to say, and what’s more, he knew
she was right. Yet, he made her say it anyway. He sat on a fallen tree trunk and his thoughts
returned to Hermione. A million images of her flashed through his mind; the first time he saw her,
the first time she chastised him for breaking the rules, her smile, her laugh. He realized he had
stopped thinking about Snape completely.

He had no memory of Hogwarts without Hermione. Even for the weeks that Ron refused to speak to
him during their fourth year, Hermione was a mainstay. She was loyal, she was brilliant, and she
was a wonderful friend. He couldn’t stop himself from thinking about her. The mere thought of her
seemed to vanish his anger as quickly as Snape vanished his potions. He didn’t care, though. He
only cared that he couldn’t get the images of her out of his head. And that voice, that damned
annoying one that he’d quietly been trying to squash since dinner the night before; that same voice
that kept posing that same unnerving question, *“What’s going on?”*

*Nothing…nothing is going on. She’s my best friend, that’s all.*

*Right, and* *Vernon* *Dursley is up for Humanitarian of the Year.*

*Shut it.*

*If you are only ‘best friends,’ then explain why your stomach flops every time you think
about her.*

*It does not!*

*Look, Harry. You might as well just admit it. You’d rather she be more than your best
friend.*

*You’re mad!*

*Yeah? You’re the one having an argument with yourself in the middle of the forest.*

*I am not in love with Hermione Granger.*

*Funny, I didn’t say you were in love. Those were your words. Thanks for proving my
point.*

*Sod off.*

*Temper, temper Harry. The truth hurts.*

*Okay, let’s for sole sake of argument, say I am in love with her. It doesn’t matter. She is
not in love with me. It will go away.*

*Only one problem with that theory Potter, if that were truly the case, why didn’t she slug
you an hour ago when you were a hair’s breath away from kissing her?*

Even Harry’s thoughts were silent in attempting to answer this question.

*Uh huh, exactly my point.* *You are in love with each other and too stubborn to admit
it.*

*You’re mental.*

*I’ll again remind you that you are the one carrying on a conversation with yourself. Let me
ask you one last thing. Would it be so bad if you did admit it? All you need is love!*

*Great! Now, I’ve got the Beatles stuck in my head. Thanks.*

Harry couldn’t decide which was worse. Having a conversation with the voice in his head, or the
fact his gut knew the voice was right. His stomach did flop every time he thought of her. What’s
more, he was thinking of her differently than before. Rather than worrying about getting caught
sneaking around, or dreading her latest lecture for leaving homework until the last minute; he was
thinking about her hair.

He was thinking of the way the sun illuminated the natural caramel highlights she possessed or
the way she would absent-mindedly twist a strand between he thumb and forefinger when she was lost
in thought. He was thinking about her chocolate eyes. He thought of how they glimmered when she
smiled, how one glance from her suddenly had the ability to make his knees weaken. He was thinking
about the fruity scent of her perfume; how he was entranced by its essence, intoxicated by its
ability to drive his thoughts to nothing but Hermione. He dropped his head into his hands and
groaned aloud.

*I’m* not *supposed to be thinking about how my best friend smells!*

Giving into the voice, before he had to listen to it again, he conceded, “Okay, maybe, just
maybe, I am in love with her. Is that really so bad?” He finally allowed himself to think, for just
a moment, what things might be like if she loved him in return. A grin broke across his face and he
began to think of the few people that did love him.

He thought first of Ron. It was a bit odd to talk about Ron with the word love associated with
it, but it was the truth. He was his best friend, his confidant, and his right hand in more
adventures than he cared to count.

*Adventures that nearly killed him.*

His thoughts drifted to Sirius. Of all the things that happened last year, of all the guilt, of
all the sadness, he was never far from the thought that he knew Sirius loved him. He loved him in a
way only a parent can. Not that he had much experience with that.

His parents loved him as well. Not that he could remember any of that, but he knew his mother
and father gave their lives to save his. He could imagine no greater love than that. Although the
concept still felt foreign to him. He’d lived his entire life (as he could remember it) being
shunned, starved, and stuffed in a cupboard under a staircase. The whole concept of love was still
something he thought was reserved for others. The images of his lost family scrolled across his
mind. He thought of his father, his mother, and Sirius. He wished he could talk to any of them
about the new feelings he was experiencing. Unfortunately, Voldemort….

Voldemort.

A hollow of despair started to open in the pit of his stomach. A sudden realization crashed into
him with more force than the Whomping Willow. He gasped for air as he sat on the trunk. How could
he be so incredibly thick?

The three people that cared for him most in his life, before Ron and Hermione, were all dead.
They were all killed by Voldemort himself or agents of his power. Ron and Hermione, helping Harry
fight the Dark Lord, had been injured or nearly killed themselves.

Dumbledore’s voice broke the silence of the forest in his mind: “Neither can live while the
other survives.” The prophecy…

Harry thought of the danger he had put his friends in time and again since learning he was a
wizard. The perpetual visions of Hermione in his head changed. He seemed to wince harder with each
passing memory. He saw Hermione caught in devil’s snare. He saw her lying petrified and seemingly
lifeless in the hospital wing. He thought of her falling, helpless, by the lakeside in the face of
a swarm of approaching Dementors. He watched her bobbing unconsciously underwater during the
Triwizard Tournament. Please, please, he thought to himself. Please make the images stop. He didn’t
want to see what he knew was coming next.

He saw the spell flash off her chest. He saw her crumple to the floor while he ran to her side.
He remembered being unable to wake her, and believing she, like Cedric, was dead; knowing it
would’ve been his fault and feeling completely helpless to save her. The pit in his stomach grew
deeper and darker as the final realization hit him in full measure.

He *can’t* be in love with Hermione. Moreover, she *can’t* be in love him. She would
end up dead. Anyone he loved this much always did, and it was always through a connection to
Voldemort. Voldemort didn’t care whom he killed. Cedric’s death taught him that. Unlike Cedric, he
wasn’t helpless to save Hermione.

He knew what he had to do. The only way to keep her safe was to keep her at a safe distance from
him; but that wouldn’t be enough. Sirius was chosen because *he* loved Harry. If there was any
chance Hermione loved him, he would have to change that. It was the only way to keep her alive.

He pulled his face from his hands and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath and stood up. He
gave a final glance at the rustled leaves on the forest floor, marking where he had nearly betrayed
his feelings to her; feelings he didn’t even know existed until then. He thanked Hedwig in his mind
that he didn’t kiss her. He could still convince Hermione that he doesn’t love her. He had a
feeling that that would make it much easier to dissuade *her* from falling in love with
him.

It was the only way to keep her alive. It was the only way to keep Voldemort from taking the one
thing on Earth he now realized he couldn’t live without… Hermione.



3. The Best Laid Plans...
-------------------------

**DISCLAIMER: If I owned any of these characters I’d be living a lot larger than I am right
now…however I do enjoy my “beemer.”**

**Bamaslamma29**-I’m thinking about upping the rating…you might get your wish yet. I wrote
this on a “pg” site originally and am only working to revise it as I post it here…there may be some
room for improvement in that aspect as well.

**Midknight**-thanks for the praise, I think you’ll be impressed by the end that not a bit of
this is “corny.” I don’t’ really do corny too well. We’re only getting started, this becomes a bit
more action/adventure/suspense plot twisting before long.

**Ficaddict** **(aka Hpffmysterious**) HELLO!!! So glad to see a friendly face! When I
started posting on FAlley they told me to put it here too. Such a great compliment, I’m blushing!
Hope you like the updated and enhanced version!

**Temporary Insanity**-thanks so much for adding me to your list!!! I hope you enjoy the next
chapters as much as those past. I really don’t feel this gets too fluffy-although I understand your
problem with going into sugar-shock, I’ve had the same experience. This is actually the first fic I
ever wrote. When I’m done with it’s sequel I already have a post-Hogwarts h/h in my head that will
be angst – I’ll try my hand at it then!

**Dean771**-good call! Thanks for letting me know. I’m writing the sequel right now and must
have had my brain in that realm when I posted this story…I’ve fixed that – thanks for the help!

**Airam** – I’m glad you’re getting attached. The story starts quite slow in hindsight, but
I’ve already planted several seeds that make for great plot twists and cliffhangers later…I hope
you’ll come along for the ride!

**Michelline** – one word…MUWHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

**ShawnPickett**-Sometimes our boy ain’t the brightest bulb in the pack – what can I say.
He’ll figure it out sooner or later…it would be a sorry h/h fic if he didn’t, right!

**Afiz**-Thanks for coming over, Astronomy Tower is taking forever to post chapter 2…My betas
already have chapter 3 (obviously) I imagine I’ll tweak this even a bit more before I post it
there, but I’m rather happy with this chapter right now or I wouldn’t be putting it up on
portkey.

**Perenelle**, **Lord Belial** (as in the Balial Clan from the William Wallace days of
Scotland???_Sorry it’s the history teacher in me), **Ravenclaw** **Chrissie** – THANKS!

**Kyo**- I don’t think I’ve laughed that hard at a review in a long time. What a totally
unguarded compliment. Thanks for the support, I’ll drop you an owl when new chapters go up.

**Sethro** **72** – Thanks! I think each chapter really builds on the next. By the end
I’ll have weaved about 20 different plot twists together and have had our boy and Voldemort
showdown again. I think this fic is a bit like wine, it gets better with age J

**Madisyn** – The betas and I must’ve missed that. I’ll try to be more careful in future
chapters. Thanks for the suggestion.

Okay! So now that I’ve replied to the replies (I like for you to know that I’m reading each and
every one).On with the show!!!

**Chapter 3 – The Best Laid Plans…**

The following days stretched into weeks or months. Harry couldn’t determine which. It seemed
like every hour lasted three times as long. He honestly had no idea how much time had truly passed.
All he knew is that this felt like the darkest time he’d spent yet. So bad in fact, he almost
wished he was back at the Dursley’s until the time came to return to Hogwarts. At least there he
wouldn’t have to keep up this charade. He wouldn’t have to pretend his eyes were helplessly
following her whenever she entered the room. He wouldn’t have to convince himself he didn’t love
the way she walked, the way she spoke, or the way that caramel strand of hair always seemed to fall
from her plait and cascade down the right side of her face.

At least at the Dursley’s he wouldn’t have to be deliberately curt with her to convince her not
to fall in love with him, although he felt completely arrogant at the thought she even could fall
for him. This part of the plan was the pinnacle of his despair, intentionally hurting Hermione
without being able to tell her why. He thought about it of course; telling her. He waged a constant
battle in his own head. One voice reminded him how much he loved her and told him to give up this
stupid game. The other voice snapped him back to reality.

He wanted to talk to Ron, but in the bustle that was the Weasley home, there was hardly a time
when he could get him alone. On the times he did, he rarely figured out how to phrase it before
they were interrupted by someone else. So he plodded along with “the plan.” It was an infernal plan
he couldn’t stand but it was the only plan that would ensure she was safe from Voldemort.

He always returned to that thought in the end.

His time with her consisted of short, one-word responses, cold unfeeling looks, and reasons to
avoid being in her presence. He was so tired. He was utterly depressed, but he appeared to be
successful. Within this time, Hermione’s demeanor had changed. Her quiet tone of voice and timid
demeanor around him had given way to a sort of “Super-Hermione” reminiscent of the one they had
first met…only this one seemed to dislike him even more.

Harry didn’t care, at least he didn’t admit it that he did. His plan was working. She obviously
wasn’t falling in love with him. She was averting his stare, snapping at him regularly, and had
stopped acting the least bit concerned over anything having to do with him. Yet the war in Harry’s
head raged on.

Where he seemed to hash this matter out inside his own mind, Hermione had suddenly taken to
journaling, or writing, or something. She had received an owl shortly after their encounter at the
wooded trail and began writing what seemed like rolls of parchment afterward. The owl made weekly
trips and returned to its master laden with a letter the size of a bolt of fabric. Harry knew the
owl’s destination. She was writing to her mother, she had to be. Who else could she pour her heart
out to like that, who else could she ask for “boy” advice.

Harry was jealous. He wished he could talk to his father or Sirius the way she could talk to her
mom.

“Harry, I think it’s time we had a little chat.” Mrs. Weasley’s voice broke into his musings
while he sat on the back patio. “I tried to be discreet earlier, but this calls for drastic
measures.” Harry looked at her with a furrowed brow. He knew what she wanted to discuss.

“I really don’t want to talk about it Mrs. Weasley,” he preempted.

“Harry, you must. I’ve seen what’s been going on between you and Hermione this summer and you
have to understand it’s perfectly natural to be scared!” She said warmly.

Scared? Could Mrs. Weasley have figured out what he was so worried about? After all, she is a
member of the Order, she knows about the prophesy-it should be obvious to anyone with the
information why he’s pushing her away. He felt a glimmer of hope that he could finally talk about
this with someone. But it didn’t last.

“Harry, girls *are* scary. They are very difficult to figure out sometimes and they act
totally irrational. I’ve been watching you and I know you’re angry about how distant she’s been
toward you.” Harry suddenly realized Mrs. Weasley didn’t have a clue. She was only distant because
he was pushing her away. And his plan was succeeding! Or so he thought…

“Harry, I might be overstepping my bounds here, but that’s what girls do. Sometimes when they
realize they’ve fallen for someone they get scared too. That’s why she’s been so curt with you, I’m
sure of it,” she added, trying to look hopeful for Harry.

Harry thought back to their relationship over the past few weeks. It had become distant and
cold. There was little warmth between them at all. Harry, Ron and Hermione had spent more time
together this summer than ever before. He and Ron played interminable games of chess and Quidditch
and they talked about (nearly) everything. He and Hermione were becoming strangers. But, even
through this, his feelings for her had grown. Every action he took he did for her. Every word
(distant, short, or otherwise) was done for her benefit. She was all he thought of. Hermione
consumed every ounce of energy Harry possessed. Judging from the persistent ache in his chest, he
loved her more now than he did on that trail.

“Harry, she loves you, it’s so obvious. Almost as obvious as how much you love her,” Mrs.
Weasley said bluntly. Harry snapped his head to her and saw her face break into a grin. What was
she thinking? This was nothing to be happy about! He had worked so hard, so tirelessly to ensure
the statement she just made would never become reality. Apparently, he’d not been successful at
all. She was still a target.

Think Harry, what else can I do? Then it hit him.

He had felt a presence just behind the door in the kitchen as Mrs. Weasley spoke. Hermione had
been in the kitchen helping clean the dishes and he suddenly realized the kitchen had fallen
silent. Hermione was listening just beyond the door.

This was his opportunity.

“Mrs. Weasley, you’re wrong. I don’t know how Hermione feels about me, but I can tell you with
complete certainty I am not in love with her.”

Now was time to seal the deal…

“I mean it’s Hermione, she’s stubborn, impressed with herself, and she’s got bushy hair and big
teeth.” The words burned in his throat, they were all lies. “How could I be in love with that?”

Mrs. Weasley looked shocked. She didn’t respond to him at all. She merely got up from her chair,
ominously silent, and returned to the kitchen leaving Harry alone once more. He felt the knot rise
in his throat and his vision began to blur with the tears he nearly failed to hold back. He sat
there as the sun set, trying not to blink; trying desperately to keep the tears from streaming down
his face. He couldn’t have sat there more than five minutes before he was joined by Ron.

“Oy, mate,” he said with concern, flopping into the empty chair next to Harry. “Do you know
what’s the matter with Hermione? She’s seems madder than Filch on Valentine’s Day,” he smiled
weakly.

“No,” Harry lied. “I haven’t really spoken to her today.”

“Yeah, I noticed.” Harry shot him a tempered glare. “Did I miss something? You and Hermione have
been acting rather strange lately. The tension between you two is louder than an unpotted
mandrake.”

Harry was mildly impressed that Ron had even noticed. He felt the same tension between them,
hell-he’d deliberately caused it, but Ron was not known to be the most observant of sorts. Hermione
still reminded Ron, on a regular basis that he had failed to realize she was a girl until just
prior to the Yule Ball.

Lately, Harry’s thoughts had been so consumed with Hermione, he really hadn’t stopped to notice
if Ron cottoning on. If Harry hadn’t felt so miserable about what he’d done to Hermione, he
would’ve taken this opportunity to have that conversation with Ron. As it was, he really didn’t
feel like talking.

“You didn’t miss anything Ron; I’ve just had a lot on my mind.” It was not exactly a lie. He did
have a lot on his mind. But, he was perfectly content to let Ron believe, as everyone else did,
that he was thinking about Sirius.

“You know Harry, I’m not really sure what to say about all that,” he offered, quietly getting to
his feet. “I just want you to know I’m here when you’re ready to talk.” With that said Ron left
Harry in the uneasy peace he’d created for himself.

After the house became quiet he decided to retire for the night. He was exhausted.

He was horrible.

He hated himself for what he’d done and the war raged in his head again. But (his voice winning)
it *had* to be done.

*I won’t let her fall in love with me*.

As these thoughts passed through his mind he climbed the staircase to Ron’s room. He felt worse
than he ever had in his life. She was his best friend. He and Ron knew her better than anyone. He
and Ron knew her hopes, her dreams, and the greatest desires of her heart. They also knew her fears
and insecurities. He’d betrayed that friendship. He’d betrayed that knowledge. He deliberately used
the one thing he knew was the key to her insecurity; her appearance.

Harry thought she was purely insane to allow her looks to dictate her self confidence. She was
beautiful. He still felt his heart tumbling about in his chest every time he remembered the
realization Krum’s date to the Yule Ball was Hermione. His breath, along with everyone else’s in
the Great Hall, had been completely taken. After that night, he never saw her as “plain” Hermione
again. Although he knew that was how she saw herself.

If that guilt wasn’t enough, he found himself passing the landing leading to Ginny’s room and
the tears returned to his eyes. The lights were off and she was in bed, but she wasn’t asleep.

He could hear her…crying.

The voice returned…”Go in that room and tell her you’re sorry. Tell her you didn’t mean it…tell
her the truth!” He gazed toward the door. His only desire was to burst into that room, take her in
his arms and tell her everything was going to be alright. He wanted to hold her, he wanted to wipe
every tear off her cheeks and tell her the truth. He wanted to finish what they started on the
wooded trail.

Fighting the voice this time was nearly as difficult as fighting the fake Made-Eye Moody’s
Imperious curse in class. The thought of holding her, being with her, kissing her, was the warmest
and happiest thought he’d had in ages.

But he couldn’t.

The logical voice in his head (who coincidentally sounded eerily like Hermione herself) rose
once more repeating the same lyrics it had sung for weeks. He had to protect her. What good would
it do to give in to those desires now if it only ended in her death? He could stop that from
happening. He could keep her alive.

Harry had already resigned himself to fighting Voldemort again and fulfilling The Prophesy (for
better or worse) but, Voldemort was *not* getting Hermione. He was going to make sure of
that.

Still staring at Ginny’s door, his feet begrudgingly carried him up the staircase and he went to
bed.

***

The following few days seemed to pass uneventfully. Much to Harry’s surprise, things had seemed
to level off between he and Hermione. On certain occasions they almost seemed close to normal. With
one noted exception; there was a lot less laughter between the two of them. Their conversation was
civil, but still contained an unmistakable awkward air. She continued pouring her heart out via owl
to someone Harry believed to be her mother. The letters seemed to be a bit shorter now.

Maybe the worst had passed.

July 31 brought a new experience for Harry; a birthday party. The Weasley’s had thrown him a
birthday bash (his first ever) and they spent the day enjoying each other’s company. Mrs. Weasley
even baked Harry a cake, which unfortunately no one was able to eat.

She had committed the cardinal mistake and allowed Fred and George to decorate the cake for her
while she finished cooking the meal. Harry had seen the candles Fred and George got their
inspiration from. Dudley had them on his cake nearly every year. Aunt Petunia used the relighting
birthday candles to ensure Dudley could make at least 6-7 wishes before actually setting the cake
on fire.

Fred and George decided to diversify their party product line and Harry became the guinea pig
for the now (at least in the Weasley house) famous “Bonfire Blasting Birthday Candles.” Harry had
successfully blown out his candles (after making his wish of course) and was thrown backward, at
least three feet, when they didn’t relight, so much as exploded in his face!

Harry was only thankful that they’d not completed development of their deluxe variety yet. They
carried on for hours about how the deluxe candles would betray the birthday boy/girl’s wish to
everyone in the room by writing the exact wish in the air with enchanted sparklers. Harry’s stomach
lurched every time he thought of the words “I wish to kiss Hermione and tell her that I love her”
floating around the Weasley’s kitchen.

All in all, Harry enjoyed his party and the gifts everyone gave him, but he endured the day
without the one birthday gift he truly wanted…Hermione.

***

As August dawned, excitement among the trio grew over their impeding return to Hogwarts. For as
much as Harry loved the Weasley’s, and was thankful for his shortest summer at Privet Drive yet,
Hogwarts was his home and he couldn’t wait to get back to his four poster and the privacy of the
crimson curtains hanging from it. Prior to returning to school they made their annual trek to
Diagon Alley for supplies.

Diagon Alley was alive with activity. Witches and wizards of every variety strolled through the
streets purchasing their wares. It was no question as to the trio’s first stop.

Weazley’s Wizard Weezes was everything Harry imagined it would be. Harry had been dying to see
the return on his Triwizard investment. Not surprisingly, Fred and George did *not*
disappoint.

The shop was abuzz with activity…literally. As he entered the shop, Ron ducked out of the path
of 4 swarming bumblebees informing new customers of the daily special.

*Hogwartzzz* *zztudentzzz get zzzpecial dizzzzcounts today in the “Arguzzz Filch is our
zzzero” dedication aisle.*

Laughter seemed to come from every corner as witches and wizards (mostly Hogwarts students)
tested new products and purchased the tried-and-true varieties. The walls of the shop were a sort
of visual monument to some of the, now legendary, tales of their escapades at Hogwarts. Various
moving photos showed the Weasley Whiz-Bang fireworks that disrupted instruction for days. One
picture showed the swamp spell they had particularly enjoyed watching Filch’s reaction to. As a
testament to its brilliant design, Hogwarts still maintained a bit of it in greenhouse four. Harry
and Ron noticed the most famous of all the memorabilia at the same time. Sharing beaming smiles,
they both gazed at the wall behind the counter. It displayed Fred and George’s old broomsticks,
shackles still hanging from one, as a tribute to their celebrated departure.

For a fleeting moment Harry wondered how they had gotten so many photos of their Hogwarts
handiwork, then he saw him…Colin Creevy.

“You keep up the good work Colin! This year is the same as last. One galleon for every picture
we can turn into productive advertising” Fred said, slapping him on the back.

George noticed Harry grinning wildly at them both.

“Look who we have here!! The proprietor of Weasley Wizard Weezes!” George howled rushing over to
grab Harry by the arm and ushered him toward the front. All the shoppers were now clearly fixed on
the scene at the front and Fred continued.

“We would like to thank our dear financier, Harry Potter, for getting us off the ground. As a
token of our esteem, we would like to present you with the ‘Proprietor’s Pack’ free of charge.” He
shouted making sure everyone could see him hand Harry the box.

“An assortment of our finest products!” George continued, “All available to any Hogwarts student
for a discounted price!” They both slapped Harry on the back and then trailed off to help more
customers, Fred shoving a box into Ron’s hand as he went. Harry quickly averted his eyes from Mrs.
Weasley and tried to wipe the grin from his face.

He’d given Ron permission to tell Mrs. Weasley where the twins had gotten the money to start the
shop, but he knew she was still unhappy with him. However, given the living they had begun to earn,
even Mrs. Weasley didn’t protest any longer. They had made more money in six months than Mr.
Weasley earned in three years. She still would’ve preferred a more “dignified” profession for them
both, but couldn’t fault the fact they were wildly successful and generally quite savvy in the art
of business.

The Weasley’s stayed together for a while but it wasn’t long before Harry, Hermione, Ron, and
Ginny set off alone. They did more wandering than actual shopping. Ron, Harry, and Ginny spent at
least an hour in Quality Quidditch Supplies. Hermione had vanished during that time and the trio
assumed she had gone off to Flourish and Blots to peruse the new required textbooks.

“I’m starving,” said Ron rubbing his stomach and looking toward the Florean Fortescue’s. “Let’s
get something to eat!” He said, walking off with Ginny following close behind. Harry could’ve used
some lunch, but just as Ron moved toward the café something in a nearby shop window caught his
eye.

“You guys go on without me, I’ll be there in a minute,” he said still staring across the
street.

“Suit yourself Harry,” Ron said pulling Ginny toward the café.

Harry walked over to the store window. He’d not really paid any attention to this store before.
He’d heard Mrs. Weasley talk about it from time to time. It was a jewelry store that Mr. Weasley
couldn’t really afford. The tinkling of a bell rang out as Harry entered the store and began to
peer around at the brightly lit glass cases. Color and light seemed to radiate from everywhere.
He’d seen Aunt Petunia’s jewels a million times (likely every one of them she owned whenever
someone important was coming over) but these seemed different. They sparkled almost as though they
were lit from the inside. Streams of color came from every corner of the shop.

“Are you looking for someone special dear?” The shop keeper asked politely.

“Er-Excuse me?” Harry said confused.

“I asked if you were looking for something special,” the kind looking witch added with a smile.
Harry thought he might need Madam Pomfrey to check his ears upon returning to Hogwarts. That sort
of thing seemed to be happening to him more often these days. As he stood staring at the shop
keeper, the familiar look of surprise began to cross her face and her eyes made the obligatory
glance to his forehead.

“Yes, I’m Harry Potter,” he added dully. He never got used to this part. “I’m really just
looking around,” he added, “I’ve never been in here before.”

“Of course you haven’t,” she smiled. “I rarely see a boy from Hogwarts until they’re at least in
their sixth year.” Harry gave a weak smile.

“So, who’s the lucky girl?” The witch prompted. Harry’s shocked expression didn’t seem to have
any affect on the shop keeper. “Oh come now, you’re no different than every other boy that’s graced
my door,” she added.

*That’s what you think.*

“All of you trying to look nonchalant about shopping for the girl you’ve fallen for. I think
it’s just darling. Now, what… might I… show…” she never finished the sentence before she gasped and
ran off to the back room. Harry, thoroughly confused by her behavior continued to walk around the
store.

He saw beautiful necklaces, earrings, and hair clips, but he wasn’t going to buy anything. After
all, he couldn’t tell her how he felt, why would he spend galleons on jewelry he could never give
her?

*I don’t even know why I’m in here.*

“I believe this might interest you Mr. Potter,” she returned with a burgundy velvet box. She was
positively beaming as she opened it for him.

*I’ll bet you’re smiling. If you know who I am you, no doubt, know about my Gringott’s account
and there’s nothing like a good commission to…*

Even his thoughts were interrupted by what he saw in the small box. Snuggled inside was a
beautiful ring set in sparkling gold. It had a dragon wrapped around a brilliantly cut red
stone.

“Is that…” Harry started to inquire

“A Hungarian Horntail…yes it is! It’s wrapped around an enchanted ruby. You know, during the
middle ages even muggles believed rubies to be sources of power and love.” Harry stood amazed,
staring at the dazzling stone.

“But why is it changing color? I thought rubies only came in red?” Harry asked.

“Muggle rubies only come in red, dear. This is an enchanted ruby. It changes color with the
disposition of its intended recipient,” Harry looked at her with a hint of confusion.

“It changes color with your girlfriend’s mood,” she added shortly, clearly unimpressed by the
famous Harry Potter’s knowledge of jewelry.

“But, how does it do that? How does it even know I like a girl, let alone who?” Harry asked,
confident she couldn’t answer that question.

“Dear boy, even wizards can’t hide the fact they’re in love! I saw it in you the second you
walked into my shop. It’s what draws most of you boys in here,” she added smiling. “And anyway –
how it works is a trade secret. When someone buys one it completes the spell and attaches itself to
the dearest love of the purchaser.”

Harry was about to tell her the spell was for naught. He *wasn’t* in love with anyone, but
a sickeningly familiar voice interrupted him before he could rebuff the shopkeeper.

“I can’t wait to see who that might be,” said a cold drawling voice from the corner. Harry
hadn’t really noticed anyone else in the shop as he had walked around the glass cases. How
unfortunate for him this entire conversation had just taken place in front of Draco Malfoy.

“So, Potter, in love are you? I certainly hope she has enough sense to see you for what you
really are,” Malfoy added, glaring at him.

“Yeah, well whatever that may be, at least it’s not the son of Voldemort’s right hand man!”
Harry snapped, sending the poor shopkeeper nearly into hysterics at the sound of the Dark Lord’s
name. Forgetting himself for the moment, Harry turned to her and slid the money across the table.
“Thank you for all your help, I’ll take it.”

When he turned back around he saw the unmistakable figures of Crabbe and Goyle entering the shop
behind Malfoy.

“Go ahead Draco, you can say something now – your courage just arrived,” Harry said coolly.

“I’ll bet it’s Granger,” Malfoy snipped, laughter erupting from his lips.

“What?” Harry said, temper rising.

“Granger…It’s perfectly fitting. Who else could you fall in love with but a mudblood?” Malfoy
said, his eyes flashing. Harry was at the boiling point and could hardly contain the rage he felt
erupting inside him.

He strolled smoothly to the three of them and said, “Listen up Malfoy, and I’ll use small words
your girlfriends can understand. Stay away from Hermione Granger.”

“Or what Potter?” Malfoy interrupted. “I’d like to see…”

“How’s your father Malfoy? Been to Azkaban lately for a family visit?” Harry cut him off in a
tone of voice that was intended to remind Malfoy that Harry had a large hand in putting his father
in the dreaded wizard prison. Before Malfoy could string together a response Harry added, “Next
time you see him, tell him I said hello.”

With that he strode toward the door.

Harry was in heaven! Not only had he gotten the most beautiful ring for Hermione, but he had
single-handedly taken on Malfoy and his “bodyguards” and clearly ended up on the winning side. He
wasn’t even sure what had given him the courage to bait Malfoy the way he did, but he wasn’t
arguing. He strode out of the door only half paying attention to the activity on the street and
crashed…right into Hermione.

“Harry!” she barked, glaring up from the ground where she had fallen. “You have *got* to
start watching where you’re going!”

“Hermione, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying a bit of attention,” he added grasping her arm and
helping her to her feet. They both started to pick up the things she had dropped when Hermione
noticed the velvet box in his hand and quickly glanced up at the store he had just left.

“Harry, what’s in the box?” she asked quietly. Harry was mortified. He may’ve bought the ring
for her, but he never intended to give it to her. It was going to be something he kept for himself,
a secret between his head and heart. He had no intention of telling anyone about it, or how much
he’d spent, not even Ron. He could hear Ron’s astonished voice in his head.

*Are you mental Harry? You spend* that *much money on a stupid ring and you’re not even
going to give it to her?*

He shoved the small box into his robes and said, “Er-nothing.” Looking around for any way to
change the subject…quickly…he continued to help her pick up her things.

“Hermione, you sure have been going through a lot of parchment. Your mum must think you never
left for the summer!” He chuckled.

“Whoever said I’ve been writing to my mum?” Hermione said managing to look directly into Harry’s
piercing green eyes. Realizing he hadn’t replied, yet stood in dumb-struck silence, she scrambled
for something else to say, “I’ve just had a lot on my mind lately.”

“Yeah, me too,” Harry said looking squarely back into her face. It seemed obvious to both of
them that there was a lot more hiding behind the last statement they had just made. It had been so
long since he really looked at her, now he found he couldn’t take his eyes off her at all. Feeling
the moment return to that familiar awkwardness, he changed the subject again, “Come on, let me
apologize properly, I’ll buy you an ice cream.”

It was the first true smile he’d seen Hermione flash his way in ages.

“*And* you’ll carry my things,” she said insistently.

“And I’ll carry your things,” Harry mimicked, laughing.

They sat on a bench outside the café eating ice cream and talking. It was just like old times.
They awkward tension seemed to have vanished completely and Harry couldn’t remember how long it had
been since he felt this good.

He told her about Malfoy (leaving out any part that could betray his secret) and what he said to
him before literally running into Hermione.

“I wonder what he was doing in there?” Hermione thought out loud.

“Probably buying something for Crabbe and Goyle,” Harry said through a mouthful of ice
cream.

“What were *you* doing in there?” Hermione asked at a near whisper.

Harry, choked a bit on the marshmallow he was eating, “I, um..just… never been in there
before…thought I’d check it out,” he added, trying to look as casual as possible.

“Well, what did you buy?” she added growing a bit more insistent.

“Who are you writing to?” Harry asked, mimicking her tone of voice.

They both started at each other for what seemed like an hour, waiting for the other one to
answer, both sporting bright eyes and sly grins.

“There you are!” Ron barked.

“We’ve been looking everywhere for both of you,” Ginny hissed. “We should’ve known we’d find you
together.”

***

Harry stared at the ceiling of Ron’s room that night. He’d had a great day. He thought about the
short time he spent with Hermione over and over again. He replayed every word she said, every look
she gave him. His stomach leapt every time he pictured her smiling up at him.

Ron’s snores ensured he was fast asleep and Harry snuck the velvet box out from under his
pillow. He hadn’t looked at the ring since he bought it. He opened the box to see the jewel
sparkling in dazzling red. His face broke into an uncontrollable smile as he read the inside of the
box that indicated red as the color for “love.” His heart leapt.

Hermione *did* love him and here was the proof.

He gazed at the stone, its brilliant light streaming a red glow onto his face.

Ron stirred and Harry snapped the box closed. Not wanting to put it away just yet, he quietly
headed down the stairs to sort out his thoughts. Although, as far as he was concerned, there was
nothing left to think about. He was tired of fighting the voice in his head. Mrs. Weasley knew, the
shop keeper knew, after their encounter on the trail Hermione had to know. It’s about time he quit
hiding behind some ridiculous prophesy.

*What will come will come. I can’t live like this anymore. I have to tell her how I
feel*.

He found himself standing at the landing to Ginny’s room where he’d been so many times before.
His heart was racing. The light was on, she was awake. He could tell her now. He walked quietly
toward the room, his legs had turned to gelatin, and his face seemed to be on fire. The voice in
his head was rejoicing that he finally came to his senses.

“Hermione, aren’t you done writing that letter yet?” Ginny’s voice trailed sleepily out of the
room. Harry stopped dead in his tracks. He couldn’t do this with Ginny in the room! This was
personal and private and he needed to be able to talk to Hermione alone. He backed away from the
door, now praying she wouldn’t notice him standing right outside. A thought came to his mind and he
broke into a wide smile.

*Tomorrow we leave for Hogwarts. I’m starting this year out right*. *I’m going to tell
her tomorrow on the train!*

With that he swept upstairs, stuffed his hand under the pillow, velvet box clutched firmly in
his grip, and closed his eyes with a smile.



4. A Surprising Journey Home
----------------------------

A/N: Insert standard disclaimer here J I am not JK Rowling, I own none of this.

Just wanted to mention a few things, I read all of your reviews! If anyone has occasion to want
to chat my AOL is NCST8Grads and my Yahoo is VicariousLeigh1002. If I’m online, feel free to say
hi! I am updating here as I submit the chapters on FA-so you might be a bit quicker to read it here
as it takes a little more time to get through FAs mods.

I hope you enjoy the next installment and I hope to have chapter 5 up within a week.

On with the show!!!

Chapter 4 – A Surprising Journey Home

The next morning was bustling with the activity of four students trying to get packed, fed,
ready, and transported to Kings Cross by the eleven o’clock train to Hogwarts. On more than one
occasion Ginny had reduced herself to screaming at Ron to get out of the bathroom so she could
finish packing.

“Ronald Weasley! What in the name of Merlin’s beard could be taking you so long?” Ginny bellowed
from outside the locked door.

“Excuse me, oh ye who shall spend no less than 45 minutes fixing thy *hair*,” Ron’s muffled
voice resounded from behind the door.

“I promise if you don’t get out of there *right now* Ron…” Ginny continued, now resigned to
pounding on the door.

“Can’t you just use some charm or something to get your hair to do that twisty thing that takes
so long? I thought you were a *witch* Ginny!” He scoffed, still secure behind the locked
door.

Ginny let out a growl that reverberated with pure frustration.

“It amazes me you’re intelligent enough to remember to *breathe* Ron! I am a witch…a
*witch who is not at Hogwarts and therefore can’t **use** magic!”* The last part of her
tirade spilled from her mouth with such speed and resonance it was nearly impossible to understand
what she had said at all.

Harry chuckled quietly from the security of Ron’s room. He had narrowly dodged Ginny’s last
outburst as she was clamoring to separate her freshly laundered robes from Hermione’s. While he was
quite content Ron had been the target of the final meltdown, he was secretly concerned. Fred and
George once commented on the ferocity of Ginny’s bat bogey hexes, and Ministry reprimand or not, he
couldn’t help but think if Ron didn’t comply with her demands soon he would likely be boarding the
train as some smaller, chirpier, and likely furrier version of himself.

Harry finished packing his trunk and waited for Ron to emerge from the bathroom. He was quite
well-assured that the smell of Mrs. Weasley’s muffins, now floating up the stairs, would get Ron
out of the bathroom much faster than any tirade Ginny could produce. He wasn’t wrong.

They padded down the stairs together, Harry secretly playing with the velvet box now hidden
securely in his jacket pocket. They arrived in the kitchen to find Hermione and Mrs. Weasley
chatting in the kitchen with Arthur Weasley.

They were discussing the trip to King’s Cross Station. Apparently, Mr. Weasley had arranged for
a car from the Ministry of Magic, not neglecting to remind Ron and Harry why they couldn’t use the
Ford Angela.

“I *would* take you in the Angela if it wasn’t running around the forbidden forest at
Hogwarts…I just can’t remember how that came to be…Ron? Harry? Perhaps you remember?” He added
spryly.

“I remember the howler from mum,” Ron said loud enough for only Harry to hear. The two of them
chuckled softly over their bacon and Harry looked up to see Hermione smiling brightly. If she
didn’t hear Ron’s comment, by the look on her face she knew exactly what he’d said. Harry tried to
keep his mind on breakfast, but he quickly chanced another glance across the table. Hermione was
dressed in a pair of faded jeans and well-fitting white sweater. She had her hair pulled up in a
clasp and swirling tendrils cascaded across the nape of her neck like a mysterious mocha waterfall.
If she was wearing any make-up at all, Harry didn’t notice. What he did notice was the sheen of her
lips, undoubtedly enhanced by that fruity muggle lip gloss he’d heard Hermione and Ginny rave
about.

Merlin, how he’d like strawberries with his toast.

*Maybe it’s not strawberry at all. Perhaps it’s peach, or raspberry. Maybe it’s…*

“Harry! I asked if these were yours or not?” Mrs. Weasley demanded holding up a worn pair of
socks.

Harry was abruptly drawn from his thoughts and prayed there was no way the color in his cheeks
could betray the intent of his ruminations.

“Oh, yeah, sorry. I figured I would give those to Dobby,” he said smiling and taking the socks
from Mrs. Weasley. She turned on a heel to return to the laundry and without even thinking, Harry
got up to follow her. There was something he wanted to rectify before he left the Burrow.

“Mrs. Weasley?” Harry said quietly entering the laundry room behind her.

“Yes dear, what is it?” she replied without looking away from the wash.

“I just wanted to thank you for letting me stay here so long this summer. I have really enjoyed
it,” He said sincerely, although still avoiding the real reason he came to speak with her. “Listen.
There’s something else,” he turned quietly to close the door behind him. “Everything you said…well,
it’s true,” he stammered.

Mrs. Weasley finally turned to look at him and the first smile he’d seen from her in weeks
crossed her face.

“I’m sorry if I did or said anything to make you upset with me…you’re…well, you’re the closest
thing to a mother I’ve ever had…and I…” He never finished the sentence. Mrs. Weasley had grabbed
him and pulled him into a near bone-crushing hug. When she finally let him go, and Harry could
catch his breath, he noticed tears in her eyes.

“Harry, you know you are a part of our family. If you ever need anything, you just send me an
owl!” she said smiling.

“Okay.” Harry smiled and turned to the door.

“Oh, and Harry,” she continued, “It’s about time.”

Harry returned to Ron’s room to get his trunk feeling happier than he had in weeks.

***

“Car is here!” Mr. Weasley’s voice bellowed up the stairs. The house was soon filled with the
trampling footsteps and the clunking of luggage being pulled down the staircase. Pig appeared to be
near cardiac arrest his excitement was so great. Hedwig looked statuesque, no doubt trying to
impress upon Pig how he should be acting. Crookshanks hopped after one last gnome in the backyard
and darted off toward the car.

They had less people to transport to King’s Cross this term and Harry figured that was why this
car seemed to be smaller than those they had used in the past. He was the last one to complain. He
had the distinct pleasure of being crammed in the backseat next to Hermione. While they all carried
on in their usual manner, he never once neglected to remember, or relish in the fact, the only way
to travel comfortably was to have Hermione squashed against him with his arm around her. If he had
the opportunity, he would’ve ridden all the way to Hogwarts like this.

The dull pain in his ribcage didn’t even bother him. He knew the velvet box he had hidden in his
jacket pocket was causing it.

*I’m telling her on the train.*

*Are you going to give her that audaciously expensive trinket in your pocket?*

*I might.*

*You might cause her to have a stroke!*

*What do you mean?*

*I mean, you idiot, you bought a ring! In most western civilized cultures women see rings as a
sign of engagement!*

*Gods, I hadn’t thought of that!*

*That’s why you need Hermione to help you with virtually every subject at Hogwarts. You’re not
the brightest wizard that ever rode a broomstick.*

*Sod off.*

*Careful Harry, you’re talking to yourself again.*

Approaching schizophrenia or not, he hadn’t been this happy since that first day at the Burrow.
He’d conceded the battle in his head and felt much lighter the second he did so. Though he suddenly
did have second thoughts about giving her the ring, for once in his life, he was going to forget
logic and do something to make him happy. He was going to tell her how he felt.

The group commenced with the required parting ritual and soon was off to find a vacant
compartment on the Hogwarts Express. As they had arrived a bit early, it didn’t take much time.
Ron, Ginny, Harry, and Hermione flopped into the cushioned seats and began to make themselves
comfortable for the long journey.

Harry continued the same silent ritual he’d started the night before. He must’ve told Hermione
how he felt 439 ways since last night. Each time he planned his speech a little differently. Each
time he edited and re-edited his sentiments to find the perfect words. Somewhere in the back of his
head he knew, when the time came, he’d most likely end up sounding like Grawp.

Now he needed to devise a plan to get her alone. He certainly was not doing this in front of Ron
and Ginny.

They had been traveling nearly an hour when the opportunity seemed to present itself. Ginny had
already left to find some of her friends and Harry’s heart lurched into his throat as soon as Ron
began to speak.

“Where *is* that blasted witch with the snack trolley?” Ron scoffed.

“Ron! You just had breakfast!” Hermione said flabbergasted.

“I’m a growing boy Hermione! I need sustenance. I need chocolate frogs!” Ron said brightly. “I’m
going to find the woman and speed her up a bit.” As he turned to slide the door open Harry realized
the time had come. They were about to be alone in the compartment. He couldn’t think, he couldn’t
breathe; his heart was pounding.

It took him a moment to realize the jolt to his system, in part, came from the train as it
lurched forward unexpectedly.

“Ah!” Hermione screamed as she flopped off the seat sprawling books everywhere. A familiar
looking piece of parchment landed at Ron’s feet.

“Oh, what have we *here*?” Ron said playfully. “This wouldn’t be one of the 4,000 letters
you got over the summer would it?”

“Ronald Weasley you give that back now!” Hermione hissed. She jumped off the floor and tried to
snatch it from Ron’s hand. However, Ron had always been the tallest of the three and Hermione stood
no chance of getting that letter back until Ron was done tormenting her. To Hermione’s obvious
shock, he started to unroll the parchment.

“Ron, don’t you *dare*!” She screamed, still jumping at his hand. Harry didn’t move to help
Hermione in the slightest. He was dying to know what she’d been writing about all summer.

“Dear Hermione…” Ron began.

“NO! Stop it now!” Hermione yelped hysterically. Ron assuaged her a bit by appearing to read the
letter only to himself. But his expression changed as he skimmed down to the bottom.

“Hermione! I can’t believe you’re *still* writing to this git!” Harry thought *he*
fell onto the floor this time.

*She hasn’t been writing to her mom.* *Who’s she been pouring her heart out to for all
these weeks?*

“Krum? Vicky?” He scoffed.

“Don’t call him Vicky!” Hermione retorted finally snatching the letter out of his hand and
dropping back into the seat. Harry was in enough shock to not notice the concerned glance Hermione
shot him while stuffing the letter back into her bag. Harry only knew one thing; he had to get out
of that compartment now.

“Excuse me,” he said sliding the door open and quickly leaving the room.

He was completely deflated. It all suddenly made sense to him. It made a terrible, sickening
sense to him, but this was a far more logical conclusion than any he’d come up with thus far.
Anytime the situation between them had gotten tense she ran off to write another novel. He felt
sure if he’d had the ring then it would’ve glowed purple, the color of guilt.

Last night when he saw the ring glowing brilliant red, she’d been writing to him!

*She doesn’t love me at all! She loves Krum!*

*Well, honestly Harry, you don’t think she’d show up all decked out for the Yule Ball for
someone she didn’t like. He’s handsome, he’s famous, and he’s a World Cup Quidditch player!*

*She doesn’t even like Quidditch.*

*Yeah, well she likes him. Seriously, Harry! You’re her* best friend*. How’s she supposed
to know that after one flying lesson at the Burrow you’re suddenly madly in love with her. Get real
Potter!*

*Shut it. Besides, it wasn’t sudden.*

*Wasn’t sudden? One minute you’re her friend, the next you’re daydreaming about the highlights
in her hair and how she smells. We’re not even going to discuss your foray into the flavor of her
lip gloss this morning. What were you thinking?*

*I don’t know what I was thinking.*

*Obviously.*

How could he be so thick? He found a quiet spot in the baggage car and slid down the wall trying
to make sense of his own emotions. Truth be told, that annoyed voice in his head was right. His
change of heart *would* seem sudden to anyone; anyone but Harry.

Harry smiled inwardly as he thought about Hermione over the years. From her unnerving
interference during first year, through her unyielding faith and loyalty last year, he’d always
loved her. Well, maybe not always. Before the troll, he was pretty sure it was unadulterated
disregard. But after that, when Harry allowed himself to see her for whom she really was, and more
importantly, when Hermione allowed people to see her true self; that’s when everything changed.

That was five years ago.

She was the only one with the power to calm him, the power to ground him. She was the only one
that he never had to explain himself to. She was the only one, next to Ron, who really knew him.
The only one with whom he could just be Harry. Not Harry, the-boy-who-lived, not Harry,
the-slayer-of-the-basilisk, not Harry, the -Triwizard champion; with Hermione he could be himself.
That’s what he loved the most, and he had always loved that.

He’d always had feelings for Hermione.

He’d just refused to acknowledge them.

It would’ve made everything so complicated. First and foremost, she was a girl! Admittedly, as
if Cho didn’t prove this in vivid color, he had no idea what to do around a girl. He could deal
with being a mindless git in front of Cho, but to embarrass himself in front of Hermione would be
torturous. How could he sit at the breakfast table with her every morning after a disaster like
that? Second, and this was most important, he didn’t want to lose her as a friend. He’d always held
her friendship in greater esteem than any supposed romance. His friendship with her worked. A
romance might not, and then what?

*Maybe it’s not such a bad thing she loves Krum. I should thank Ron for reading that letter
before I had a chance to open my mouth and screw this up.*

He spent the next half an hour in silence among the trunks of the baggage car, grateful to have
been undisturbed.

***

“Are you okay Harry?” Ron asked as Harry returned to the compartment.

“Fine, I just needed to use the loo,” Harry lied, avoiding Hermione’s eyes. He was still welling
with emotion. Regardless of the time he’d spent alone, he was in dire need of an emotional
release.

He couldn’t have picked a better opportunity.

The door to their compartment slid open and the unmistakable voice of Draco Malfoy sneered.
“Well, look at this! Mudbloods and those who *love* them.” He was looking directly at
Harry.

“Go away Malfoy, and take your girlfriends with you,” Harry said, getting to his feet. He
wrapped his hand around the wand he had concealed in his pocket and continued, “I apparently didn’t
make myself clear at Diagon Alley.” He pulled out his wand to make the point, his own confidence
and courage still seeming to take everyone by surprise.

“Think you can scare me Potter? You are already dead! You…” Harry’s voice was joined by both Ron
and Hermione as they sent various hexes darting at Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle.

Luckily, Harry and Ron had fast reflexes.

Among their shouting, they never heard what Malfoy said. But it was obvious within milliseconds,
he had learned the shield charm and sent each of their hexes careening directly back at them. Ron
lunged into the seat, dodging an errant curse. Harry threw Hermione to the train floor just before
the other two hexes hit the window, shattering glass all over them.

Still covering Hermione with his own body he asked at a near whisper, “Are you okay?” She was
trembling but Harry had successfully kept her from sporting the donkey ears he had intended for
Malfoy.

“Yes,” she said breathlessly. “Thank you,” she added, looking gratefully into his eyes. He
helped her to her feet and pulled her directly behind him. He held her there with her wrist
clutched in his left hand, and turned to face Malfoy again. He, Crabbe, and Goyle were completely
beside themselves laughing.

“You think I’d be unprepared Potter? I’m not about to let you all hex us again now that you
don’t have those great identical blokes around to help you out anymore!” He laughed
triumphantly.

Harry didn’t get the chance to respond. He spun to shield Hermione again as a flash of light
erupted from the train corridor. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle crumpled to a heap at the compartment
door.

“No, but he does have us you worthless git.”

Neville Longbottom was kicking the three of them out of the way and waltzed into the compartment
accompanied by Ginny, Luna Lovegood, Seamus Finnigan, and Dean Thomas.

“Been dying to try out my new wand,” Neville added grinning wildly at Harry, Ron, and
Hermione.



5. Revelations
--------------

**Chapter 5 – Revelations**

Harry stood, staring at Neville and the other members of the D.A., until Hermione broke his
trance.

“Harry?” Hermione’s voice was almost at a whisper. “I think you can let go of me now,” she added
uncomfortably. Harry, forgetting he still had his arms wrapped around her, stepped back
suddenly.

“Sorry,” he said embarrassedly.

“Don’t apologize, Harry. Thankfully your reflexes are faster than mine,” she said gratefully. He
returned a weak smile and turned to greet his friends.

They spent the rest of the ride to Hogwarts eating, laughing, playing exploding snap and
exchanging stories of their summer vacation. Even with the thought of Hermione and Krum lingering
in his mind, he had to admit he finally felt like things were “back to normal.” His anger ebbed
away and he enjoyed the time with his friends he had missed so much.

The sun had set by the time the Hogwarts Express steamed into Hogsmeade station. The group found
their way to the carriages and climbed aboard. The sight of the thestrals sent a dull ache through
Harry’s chest. He watched them from his carriage seat, cantering along as they traversed the
grounds to the castle. He never ceased to think of his godfather as the carriage bumped along the
trail. Shortly before arriving, he was drawn from his thoughts by a strange sensation. Hermione had
grasped his hand in hers. Startled, he raised his eyes to Hermione’s.

They didn’t need to say anything to each other.

She knew where he had gone. The look on her face warmed him even in the cool night air. She
flashed a compassionate smile, squeezed his hand, and let it go as the carriage pulled to a
stop.

***

“I hate this! Why does that blasted hat have to take so long?” Ron moaned as the trio sat at the
Gryffindor house table waiting for the remaining first years to be sorted.

“Ron, does your entire existence revolve around food?” Hermione quipped. “I promise there are
third world nations that don’t take in as much sustenance as you do,” she added dryly.

“Yeah, well they would if there were hundreds of house elves *slaving* for them the way
they do for us,” Ron said throwing Harry a triumphant smile. Ron always seemed to take special
pleasure in pushing Hermione’s buttons.

“*Oh*! Ron you are just ….just…awful!” She exclaimed.

Harry couldn’t resist sniggering over Ron’s expression. He never knew Ron had so many teeth. Ron
didn’t need to respond to Hermione’s exasperation verbally, seemingly on cue, the welcoming feast
appeared on the table. He merely sunk his fork into a boiled potato and stuffed it into his mouth;
the toothy grin never fading from his face.

“*Ugh!”* Hermione guffawed as she spooned beef stew onto her plate.

*She’s cute when she’s angry.*

***

After alleviating the gnawing in his stomach, Harry snapped his eyes to the head table. He
hadn’t given a single thought to who would be replacing Delores Umbridge as the Defense Against the
Dark Arts teacher. Apparently, Hagrid had been waiting for the opportunity to catch his eye. He
waved so ostentatiously he knocked Professor McGonagall’s pumpkin juice clear into an unsuspecting
group of Hufflepuff first years. Harry raised his hand with a smirk and continued scanning his eyes
down the table. Harry recognized all the teachers, Flitwick, Sprout, Pomphrey…Snape. Not seeing a
new teacher among them Harry suddenly had a terrifying thought.

*Snape* *finally got the Defense Against the Dark Arts job.*

*“What!”* Ron exclaimed as he sprayed mince meat pie across the table.

Apparently, Harry hadn’t “thought” that at all.

“Snape? How do you know that?” Ron said nearly breaking his neck to gaze at the head table.

“Harry, don’t be ridiculous,” Hermione said calmly. “There’s an empty chair at the end of the
table. Dumbledore would *not* give Professor Snape that job now. Not after turning him down
for so many years.”

*Dumbledore.*

Harry suddenly remembered he had to meet with the headmaster concerning his “remedial potions”
class. It’s funny how someone can go from “starving” to “total loss of appetite” in a matter of
minutes.

He glanced up at Dumbledore who was engaged in vibrant conversation with Professor Sprout. As
Harry hesitated, looking at him, Dumbledore seemed to pause and turn his eyes so Harry was in the
periphery of his vision. Dumbledore smiled and returned to his conversation.

“Oh! I’m stuffed. I don’t think I could eat another bite,” Ron yawned.

“Me too,” Hermione agreed. She put her fork down and shoved a half eaten plate of Yorkshire
pudding toward the center of the table.

“Are you going to finish that?” Ron inquired.

“Oh! For the love of Merlin, Ron!” she scoffed.

“It’s not for me,” Ron said rather unconvincingly. “It’s for...for Harry! Look he’s barely
touched a thing.”

“I would say that depends on your point of view. In comparison to your four servings, I suppose
my second helping does seem a bit scant,” Harry replied.

This was always the time of the evening Harry began to muse over the ingredients of their
supper. It seemed the whole Great Hall would fall into a deafening drowsiness simultaneously. He
reminded himself to ask Dobby if the house elves were spiking the pumpkin juice with a mild
sleeping draught.

Harry was drifting enough to barely hear the obligatory start of term notices. Honestly, it was
nothing he couldn’t catch up on by checking the number of new scathing threats posted to Filch’s
door. He managed to draw his eyes to Dumbledore’s as the Headmaster dismissed the students to their
houses.

Suddenly, he was wide awake.

As Harry already knew what was coming, he decided to get it over and done with quickly. He bid
Ron and Hermione farewell and begrudgingly stayed behind after the students filed out of the Great
Hall.

“Harry, I trust you had an enjoyable summer,” Dumbledore said with a smile. “Please go to my
office. I’ll be there momentarily.” Harry nodded and walked out of the room. When he reached the
enormous stone phoenix marking the entrance to Dumbledore’s office he realized he didn’t know the
password.

“Lemon Drop.” Nothing.

“Fizzing Whizbee,” Nope.

Harry furrowed his brow in concentration. He thought back to Dumbledore’s decree that the
Ministry could remove him as Headmaster so long as they didn’t take him off the…”Chocolate Frog”
..cards.

The giant stone statuary turned slowly exposing a spiral staircase behind it. Harry climbed the
stairs and entered Dumbledore’s office. This office always seemed to make him want to whisper. The
clocks quietly tapped out an entrancing rhythm, portraits of former headmasters snored as they
slept, and the coo of a magnificent bird warmed Harry’s heart.

“Hello Fawkes.” Harry smiled broadly walking over to his perch. Fawkes seemed to smile back and
cocked his head to the side. Harry stroked his brilliant plumage, looking at him fondly, until he
realized Dumbledore had arrived.

“If I didn’t know better, I would say Fawkes has missed your company, Harry,” Dumbledore said
warmly. Although Fawkes had a special place in Harry’s heart, he didn’t mind going for long periods
without seeing him. Fawkes only seemed to appear when Harry was in trouble. Wishing to dispense
with the torture post-haste, Harry sat down in the chair across from Dumbledore’s desk.

“I suppose you know why you are here,” Dumbledore began. “I spoke at length with Professor
Snape. He will be expecting you in his potions class and you need to continue your study of
Occlumency.”

“But why does he have to teach me? Can’t you do it?” Harry pleaded. “I honestly don’t see why I
need to do it at all. I haven’t had any of the dreams I have had before. Nothing’s been going on,”
Harry added matter-of-factly.

“Harry, prior to last term, Voldemort didn’t know you were seeing through him. Now that he knows
he wouldn’t be so foolish as to use a means you would recognize. The power of a true Legilimens
lies in being able to read someone’s emotions so well as to essentially read their thoughts – and
control their actions - without the victim being any the wiser,” Dumbledore explained. “That is the
reason I cannot teach you. The threat still remains. Harry, I cannot place enough stress on the
importance of your study of Occlumency.” Harry sat quietly, feeling utterly defeated, but not
having the energy, or the willpower, to argue.

“We will continue the lessons in the same manner as last year. I will have frequent contact with
Professor Snape to check on your progress,” Dumbledore added, noticing Harry had still not raised
his eyes to his.

“Harry, I sense something else is troubling you.”

For being the most powerful wizard in the world it didn’t take a lot of insight to see that. Nor
did it take a great deal of intuition to see that Harry was lying.

“No sir. The welcoming feast always seems to make me crave my four-poster bed. That’s all,”
Harry said flatly.

He wasn’t entirely untruthful. He *was* looking forward to his warm bed. He hoped the house
elves had continued their habit of placing warming pans between the sheets. But the thought of the
house elves brought his mind back to Hermione…and Krum.

“Well, if you have nothing else to share, I won’t keep you from your rest Harry,” Dumbledore
said looking past him. “Besides, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher has just arrived and
I need some time to catch her up before she is to begin her lessons.” Dumbledore smiled. “If it’s
all right with you, I think she can handle instructing the D.A. this year so you can be left to
your own studies.”

Rife with curiosity Harry spun in his chair to see who was going to try their hand with that
embattled position this year.

“Hi’ya Harry!” came a familiar voice.

“Tonks!” Harry exclaimed.

***

“No way!” Ron exclaimed stuffing a forkful of scrambled eggs into his mouth.

By the time Harry had returned from Dumbledore’s office, the effects of the welcoming feast had
set in and Ron was unconscious and sprawled across his four-poster bed. Harry, having no energy
left to tell the story, had flopped onto his bed deciding to hold his news until morning.

“Tonks?” Hermione said with a bit of concern.

“What?” Ron retorted.

“Well…I don’t know…that job. It’s just cursed or something. I just don’t want to see anything
bad happen to her.” Hermione shrugged her shoulders.

She had a point. The Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers never seemed to last more than one
year. One had died and one was committed to St. Mungo’s. Lupin had resigned when word got out that
he was a werewolf, Mad-Eye Moody spent the better part of eight months locked in a trunk, and
Umbridge (thankfully) had been driven out of Hogwarts after the Ministry finally awoke from the
delusion Voldemort was still dead.

“Well,” Harry said trying to sound optimistic. “Maybe she’ll break the curse. Somebody has to.
Besides, she’s supposed to be a fantastic Auror. With any luck she’ll actually teach us something
we need to know.”

“About that Harry,” Ron asked suspiciously. “Did Dumbledore mention how in the name of Merlin he
got Snape to agree to teach us Potions? I thought any chance of my becoming an Auror disapparated
with my O.W.L. results.”

“Not really, but he is the Headmaster. I guess he just told him. I can’t imagine Snape being
very pleased with it though. I doubt he wants to see us any more than we want to see him,” Harry
answered dejectedly. The thought of impending Occlumency lessons invaded his conscious.

“Why do I have a feeling we’ll think his disposition last year was charming compared to what it
will be now?” Ron sighed.

The trio exchanged a defeated glance and returned to their breakfast.

Harry’s attention was drawn to the end of the next table as Peeves began pelting unsuspecting
first year students with pancakes.

“Firsty-first years!” he shouted cackling loudly. “Little Sarah syrup-head! Ravenclaws should be
smart enough to duck!” he chirped spinning wildly around and zipping toward the ceiling. He darted
out of the open window as a formidable flock of owls descended from the rafters.

“Mail’s here,” Harry said flatly. Knowing he would have no mail to open, he returned to his
scrambled eggs. Ron surveyed the owls as well. Not seeing Errol, he continued on with the
conversation. Hermione was still looking up.

“So, Harry. Who do you think will fill the spots on the team this…” a letter flopped onto
Hermione’s plate knocking a muffin onto the table. She quickly scuttled it out of sight and seemed
to act as though it never happened.

“Hermione,” Ron probed. “It’s not like we didn’t see it. Who’s it from?”

“Er, no one,” she answered quickly putting the muffin back on her plate.

“It’s from Vicky!” Ron said, cluing in.

“Ron! I told you not to call him Vicky! And besides, you have a lot of nerve being so obnoxious
about it all. Weren’t you the one clamoring for his autograph?” Hermione said hotly.

“Do you two mind?” Harry interrupted. He was more annoyed by Hermione’s letter than the fact Ron
and she were gearing up for another row. Knowing Harry could become quite temperamental himself,
Ron thought better of biting back at Hermione’s last comment. He let out a short hard breath and
said, “Well, you might as well read it, it’s not like weren’t not going to ask you about it
anyway.”

The letter was obviously burning a hole in Hermione’s cloak and she pulled it out a bit too
quickly to convince Harry and Ron she wasn’t interested in reading it. She unrolled the parchment
and Harry watched her eyes scan the letter.

“Oh my heavens,” she gasped.

“What?” Harry and Ron said simultaneously. Inwardly, Harry was hoping Krum had impaled himself
on his own Firebolt.

“He’s moving to London.” Hermione’s expression seemed to fall somewhere between shock and
surprise. “He’s gotten a job working for the Ministry of Magic in the Department of Magical Games
and Sports.” She continued to paraphrase the letter. Looking up at their confused expressions she
stammered. “Well, it makes sense. He *is* a World Cup Quidditch player. I’m sure Ludo Bagman
is just beside himself to get him to come to England.”

“Hermione? You don’t think for one second Krum is coming to England for Ludo Bagman do you?” Ron
said matter-of-factly.

“Well, why else would he…” she began.

“Oh, come off it Hermione! For being so incredibly clever, you are about as thick as Goyle when
it comes to things like this.” Ron rolled his eyes and looked to Harry for support.

”Things like what?” Hermione demanded.

“He’s in love with you,” Harry said quietly without looking up from his breakfast.

“Thank you, mate! Exactly my point,” Ron said triumphantly as he poured himself another glass of
pumpkin juice.

“In love with me? Harry you can’t be serious! That is just the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever
heard. He can’t be moving half way around the world just for me!” Hermione retorted with her eyes
seeming to burn through the top of his head.

Harry looked into her eyes and nearly surprising himself replied, “That’s what I would do.”
Realizing her expression had gone from consternation to befuddlement he added, “If I was in love
with you, that is.”

***

The first week of classes seemed to get off to a good start. Much to their surprise Potions was
not as bad as they imagined. Harry and Ron expected Snape to be in rare form but curiously he
seemed to ignore them both. However, he couldn’t ignore Harry for long.

It was Monday, and that meant “remedial potions.”

Shortly after eating, what felt like his last meal, Harry bid farewell to his two best friends
and set off for the dungeon. It seemed colder, danker, and darker than it had been last year. Harry
reasoned that the climate reflected his mood quite well.

Snape’s office door was cracked open as the appointed time arrived. Harry knocked quietly and
pushed the door open with an ominous creak. Dumbledore’s pensieve was sitting on the desk, already
awash with silver fog. Harry sat looking at the dance of light for a moment. He remembered what he
saw the last time he choose to peek at Snape’s most guarded memories. He saw Sirius, Lupin,
Pettigrew, and his father humiliating Snape before a group of onlookers. He remembered his mother
trying to rescue his ungrateful Potions master, only to be called a mudblood in front of everyone.
Harry nearly wished he could see those memories again, just to see Sirius and his parents.

The door slammed shut and Harry’s heart leapt through his chest.

“Sit down, Potter,” Professor Snape said coldly.

“I imagine you are as pleased to be here as I am to have you. This is certainly not how I’m
choosing to spend my time, teaching Occlumency to someone who is far too arrogant to put forth one
iota of effort to learn it.” Harry stared directly into Snape’s eyes, temper rising.

“This will likely prove to be a gargantuan waste of time, just as it was last year,” Snape
added, undoubtedly seeing Harry’s face reddening.

Harry carried a raw, gnawing pang of guilt concerning Sirius death. Regardless of what
Dumbledore said in the aftermath, Harry felt, and Snape obviously recognized it, that if he had
given Occlumency its due attention, things may’ve been different. Sirius might still be alive. But
at the same time, things were very different last year. While his scar still tingled regularly
(something he honestly didn’t notice anymore as it was such a constancy since Voldemort’s return)
he hadn’t experienced anything remotely close to what he went through the previous term. Feeling
that was important he opened his mouth to speak.

“But, Professor…” He began.

“Silence! I don’t have any desire to hear your childish whining. I have been ordered to proceed
and so have you. So, get up and let’s begin. The sooner we start the sooner you can get out of my
office,” Snape barked, quickly ending the conversation.

Harry stood up and took out his wand but was in no frame of mind to be learning anything from
Snape. He had absolutely no idea how this man could teach him anything.

He hated him, he hated Krum, and right now he hated Dumbledore as well.

Snape didn’t give Harry any warning.

“Legilimens!”

Harry stammered backwards as disjointed memories flashed across his mind. He was back on Privet
Drive being held up as a punching bag for Dudley…a grade school girl was pointing at his oversized
clothes and giggling…Cho was storming out of Madam Puddifoot’s Café…

“Potter!” Snape bellowed. “You are not concentrating! You’ve not made the slightest effort to
block my attempts!” he finished.

“You didn’t exactly give me time to prepare!” Harry shouted back.

“Watch your tone Potter!”

He had some nerve, Harry thought, when *his* tone was filled with far more indignation than
Harry’s had been.

“You must rid yourself of emotion and repel my intrusions with your mind! I’m not wasting my
time if you won’t take this seriously!” he snapped.

“Like last year?” Harry hissed. “You didn’t waste your time helping me last year, why should
this be any different!” he shouted, staring directly into Snape’s eyes. Harry did not want to be
there and half hoped that his outburst would induce Snape to throw him out of his office.
Unfortunately, that was not the result Harry received. Snape merely looked at him, obviously
holding back, and with great effort said, “prepare yourself Potter,” in a seemingly controlled
rage.

He was playing with a spider in the cupboard under the stairs…He was tied to a headstone,
watching Voldemort rise from the cauldron…He was walking with Hermione on the wooded trail…He was
playing quidditch in Ron’s backyard… He was edging closer to her in the forest, he was holding her
in his arms, he could almost smell the sweet scent of her hair, he could nearly hear their breath
mingle together, then it hit him…not Hedwig this time…Snape!

He could see this too.

“Ouch!” Snape gasped. He wand hand was bleeding slightly and he snapped his gaze from his hand
to Harry’s eyes. Harry noticed he was standing fixed to the spot where they began and felt quite
impressed with himself that he had repelled Snape’s advances without falling into the desk as he
had done last year. He felt even more satisfaction at the fact Snape was bleeding. But, his
moderately improved mood didn’t last long.

“Interesting Potter,” Snape said, wiping the blood from his hand and standing upright. He
flashed a vicious smile.

“You and Granger? Judging from your demeanor in class, you haven’t told her that you are in love
with her,” Snape said silkily. “How humiliating that would be if it ever slipped out. Maybe these
lessons will be more interesting than I thought.”



6. A Return to the Dungeon
--------------------------

**Chapter 6 – A Return to the Dungeon**

Harry stormed back to the Gryffindor common room, fuming over his return to the dungeon. He
wanted to be mad at Snape. In actuality, he was furious with himself. He had been through
Occlumency lessons before. He knew what Snape was capable of. Last year he had conjured a stinging
hex to keep Snape from seeing him kiss Cho. Tonight that thought hadn’t even occurred to him until
it was too late. Harry enjoyed reliving the moment on the wooded trail so completely, he forgot
Snape was sharing it with him.

“Flabberghast,” Harry muttered.

“Well, someone’s in a foul mood this evening,” the fat lady replied, swinging open to reveal the
passage to the common room. With a seething glare, Harry climbed through the portrait hole and into
the commotion. Groups of students were huddled together, engaged in various activities. Ron and
Hermione must have been there for a while; they had managed to commandeer prime seats in front of
the fire. Hermione seemed to be memorizing the Standard Book of Spells, Grade 6, by Goshawk, while
Ron was surveying his newest book, Quidditch Keeping Charisma, clearly trying to learn a few new
moves. Neither of them noticed Harry enter the room.

Harry gave a great deal of thought to heading straight for his four-poster before he was
spotted. However, he thought the flurry of questions that would follow (after thinking he’d been
with Snape for hours) would be more difficult to navigate than it already was. How would he answer
their questions without betraying himself to Hermione?

“Hey mate!” Ron chirped.

“Hi,” Harry said in the calmest voice he could muster. He flopped down on the floor in front of
Hermione’s chair and laid his head back, closing his eyes.

“Harry?” Hermione asked, her legs draped over the sidearm of the squashy chair, looking up from
her book. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m just really tired,” he said, speaking only a half truth. He was exhausted, but
there was more troubling him than that.

“How’d it go?” Ron asked secretively.

*Great! I got to spend some fabulous quality time with someone even Satan wouldn’t claim as
his own. We talked, we laughed, and he intruded on my memories and saw me desperately wanting to
kiss our best friend. That’s information I was dying to share with him. How was your
evening?*

“I’d really rather not talk about it Ron,” Harry said keeping his eyes pressed shut. Suddenly,
he felt a strange sensation on his forehead. He was abruptly reminded that Occlumency lessons
tended to leave him more vulnerable to Voldemort. But, no…this wasn’t the same tingling he normally
felt...it was different.

He snapped open his eyes and stared toward the ceiling. He found himself looking, although
upside down, into Hermione’s eyes. She was running her hand through his hair, occasionally letting
her fingers drag across his scar.

“Harry, perhaps you should turn in for the night. You look completely worn out,” she said with
concern. She was right, but nothing in the world could convince Harry to move right now; not as
long as her fingers were causing his scalp to tingle like that. He closed his eyes again and let
the tension rise through the top of his head.

*How does she do that?*

*Do what?*

*Make me feel better with one simple, innocuous touch.*

*Just imagine if it wasn’t innocu-*

*Stop it! I refuse to think of her like that!*

*Harry, how long will it take you to figure out you can’t fool me…I’m YOU!*

***

The next several days passed without incident. While Fridays were normally something to look
forward to, double potions put quite an effective damper on Harry’s mood. He hadn’t seen Snape
since Monday night, now he had to see him for nearly two hours. Harry merely poked at his eggs and
bacon, having completely lost his appetite. A flock of owls startled him from his thoughts.

“Oh, no mail today, Hermione?” Ron teased.

“Shut up, Ron,” Hermione growled. She gave a quick glance at Harry and returned to her
muffin.

Ron started humming a little tune that sounded much like “Hermione and Vicky sitting in a
tree…”

“Honestly Ron!” Hermione hissed. “You are acting so childish! Victor is *not* in love with
me!”

“Yeah? Prove it,” Ron challenged. Harry’s ears perked up.

“What in the world are you talking about?” Hermione asked, looking stunned.

“Write one of your novels to him and ask,” he suggested.

“I will not!” Hermione gasped.

“Of course you won’t! You know it’s true,” Ron added, winking at Harry across the table.

“You should wink the eye I *can’t* see Ron,” Hermione chided. She gave them both a
thoughtful look, as they looked back, and said, “all right! Have it your way. I’ll prove you’re
completely nutters! I’ll write to him and tell him how utterly ridiculous I think both you and your
silly theory are. I’m sure his reply will be a bit longer in coming, the amount of laughter that
will induce is bound to make someone think Harry jinxed him with his textbook Rectasempra curse!”
She scoffed, grabbing her books and gliding out of the Great Hall.

Harry looked at Ron, spirits a bit lifted from Hermione’s compliment. Ron shrugged his shoulders
and quipped, “I don’t really care one way or another.” He smiled. “I just live to set her off!”
They both laughed heartily and gathered their books for class.

“Well, well...who would’ve thought we’d be seeing Potter in potions anymore? Of course I heard
you had to take *remedial* potions, just to get into this class.” Malfoy’s drawling voice
floated across the students gathered at the door. A hand grabbed Harry’s arm and he snapped his
head to see Hermione looking up at him.

“Ignore him Harry, he’s not worth it.”

“Oh, look his little *girlfriend* is here to defend him!” Malfoy said with a knowing glance
at Harry. Before either had the chance to reply a cold and silky voice interrupted.

“Come now, Malfoy. Who in their right mind would fall for Potter?” Snape responded, opening the
door. Hermione was still clutching Harry’s arm and let it go only after Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle
had entered the dungeon classroom.

Potions went just as Harry had expected. Snape began by describing how much more difficult
N.E.W.T. level potions would be and how he was sure several students achievement (shooting obvious
stares at Ron and Harry) would be purely miserable. He indicated the ferocity of some potions they
would brew and insinuated the use of human guinea pigs (looking solely at Harry now) for some of
the more dangerous mixtures. As the end of the class drew near, Harry began to feel a modicum of
relief. He had only lost 10 points for Gryffindor and managed to get his potion within three shades
of the orange hue Snape required before having the contents of his cauldron vanish with the swish
of the potion master’s wand. But still, there were only minutes left.

He almost escaped unscathed.

Hermione brought her vial up to Snape’s desk and gave a consoling look to Harry as she passed
his empty cauldron.

“Don’t worry, Ms. Granger, I’m sure you’ll find some way to cheat your boyfriend through this
course,” Snape said, flashing a vicious smile toward Harry. Harry’s heart leapt into his
throat.

*Please, please don’t tell her*. He was nearly panicked.

“Sir, Harry and I are not dating. We’re just friends,” Hermione said softly, half amazed he’d
let her get the whole sentence out without silencing her.

Harry met Snape’s eyes again. He felt himself shaking his head in a vain attempt to beg Snape
keep his secret.

“Be that as it may Ms. Granger, I’m sure Potter would… *love you…* to help him,” he said
coolly. He surveyed her vial and raised his eyes to Harry’s. Harry’s face was on fire. Although
Snape had been cryptic, Harry felt the collective eyes of the entire classroom boring into his
back. Confused, Hermione turned to walk back to her desk.

He could feel her looking at him as she swept passed but all he could hear was the incessant
sniggering of Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle.

***

If the trio thought they had endured mountains of homework last year, it was nothing compared to
the assignments thrust upon them from their N.E.W.T. level courses. When combined with Quidditch
practice, Harry and Ron rarely had anytime to do anything aside from eat, sleep, and study (the
last seeming to overshadow the importance of the first-even for Ron). Hermione, having structured
her life around classes anyway, at least seemed to be handling the pressure with a bit more
success.

Harry’s Occlumency lessons had continued. After his first lesson, and the potions class that
ensued, Harry redoubled his resolve and finally began to put forth the effort necessary to
progress. Unfortunately for him, he still hadn’t found the key. While he managed to block Snape
from the most significant memories, Harry didn’t feel he was making much real progress. He knew he
was supposed to clear his mind of emotion but he didn’t know how to do so.

Assistance came from an unlikely source.

By October, Tonks had finished assessing the students’ prowess through a battery of former
lessons. The classes had reviewed a great deal of the skills they learned over the past six years.
It didn’t pass without notice that the majority of skills they reviewed were those Professor Lupin
taught them during their third year. It was commonly accepted that Lupin was the only Defense
teacher they had ever had that truly taught them “defense” against the dark arts.

That was true only if you didn’t include Harry instructing the D.A.

Defense Against the Dark Arts was one of the few bright spots in Harry’s course schedule. Not
only did he excel in the subject, but he swelled with pride as the members of the D.A. clearly
outperformed every other student; a fact that didn’t escape Tonks’ attention either.

“I’m not entirely sure who signed that jinxed paper of Hermione’s last year Harry, but I’m quite
sure Mundugus would give me great odds on picking them out,” Tonks whispered in his ear as she
passed his table. Harry tried to control a beaming smile without much success.

“Well, now that I know where you are in this course, I can decide where to take you,” Tonks
said, stepping back to the front of the class. “N.E.W.T. Defense Against the Dark Arts will be a
bit different than your classes in the past. Skills at this level lie more in your head than your
wand,” she added fluidly.

Harry was moderately surprised that Tonks seemed so comfortable as a teacher.

Tonks stepped away from the desk and began walking about the room. “Aurors need to use their
minds more effectively than….oh!” Tonks tripped over a loose stone in the floor. As she crashed to
the floor Harry suppressed a giggle…*There* was the Tonks he knew.

She clamored back to her feet. “Er…uh...more effectively than their bodies.” She brushed a wisp
of her vibrant purple hair out of her face and continued. “In order to do that, we are going to
start working on some techniques to help you clear your mind and gain control of your thoughts as
well as your spells.” Tonks seemed to be staring at Harry.

“You may find these techniques a bit strange. I actually learned them from a muggle. We will be
studying visualization and yoga.” There was a murmur among the students. The muggle-borns were
divided between girlish excitement and eye-rolling. The pure-blood wizards simply looked
confused.

“We will do guided visualization first. Everyone please put your wands away and find a
comfortable place to settle in,” Tonks said kindly. “Go on, you can go anywhere in the room.
Whatever strikes your fancy,” she added. As she passed Harry she continued, “find your happy
place!” she winked at Harry and mouthed, “I always wanted to say that!”

Harry smiled broadly and settled into his chair giving some thought to his “happy place.”

“Close your eyes,” Tonks said quietly. Harry gave a glance to Hermione, who not surprisingly,
had already done what the instructor told her to. He captured her face in his mind and closed his
eyes with a smile.

*The breeze caught her hair, tossing it lazily across her face. She raised her hand to brush
it from her eyes and beamed at Harry. He took her hand in his and without saying a word they began
to meander with no apparent destination in mind. They were walking along a sun-drenched beach. The
waves lapped happily at the white glistening sand. Hermione was carrying a pair of sandals in her
hand and wore a gauzy white sundress that left little to Harry’s imagination. They stopped. He
looked into her chocolate brown eyes and lowered his head. Before he had the chance to kiss her,
they were bowled over by another force; a smaller one. Harry looked up from where he’d fallen on
the beach.*

*A little boy, with brown hair and striking green eyes was calling their attention to a
seagull chasing after his bologna sandwich. Harry could feel Hermione’s chest hitching as she
laughed at the boy’s indignation. The child stormed off, shouting at the circling menace, and
Harry, gladly, returned his attention to her.*

*She tried to pull herself up but Harry playfully held her down with his left hand; the same
hand that sparkled with the golden flicker of an irrefutable wedding band. His eyes were drawn to
it. It shimmered with gold and platinum and was inscribed with runes Harry couldn’t read. Noticing
what had caught his attention, Hermione grasped his hand in hers. It was similarly adorned. Her
wide smile turned to surprised shock an unusually large wave, hailing the return of the tide,
rolled into them. Again, she tried to leap off the beach, but was firmly held in place by
Harry.*

*He surveyed his wife, now soaked from the unrelenting surf, and took in the sight of her. The
white sundress had been thrown up above her knees. While it still covered all the essential areas,
it was now a translucent sheath, clinging to her every curve. The sunlight seemed to bore directly
through the drenched fabric. He could make out every inch of the lacy bra covering her breasts. He
could see the intricate detail of her knickers. When he returned his stare to her face, she had
stopped smiling; and so had he.*

*Left hands still clasped together, he lowered his head to hers, while letting his right hand
move under the sodden fabric covering her thighs. No longer able to stop the force driving him, he
crushed his lips to hers as her right hand grasped the back of his neck. Unaware of anything else,
they opened their mouths and feasted on the taste of each other. The quiet moan that escaped her
throat warmed him like a phoenix song and their wave of passion was matched only by the rhythmic
crashing of the ocean’s waves.*

“Harry, Harry!” He opened his eyes and realized the silly grin permeating every feature of his
face. Tonks was gently shaking his shoulder. “You must’ve found it,” she said with a wry smile.
Harry reddened. He was suddenly very grateful Hogwarts had been so accommodating in requiring the
students wear loose fitting robes.

*Remind me to thank Dumbledore.*

*Oh, Harry. Remind Dumbledore, dear. And please stop watching so many of your Aunt Petunia’s
old girlie movies. Honestly, you are completely devoid of orginality?*

*Hey! It’s my ‘happy place!’*

*It certainly is.*

He wasn’t sure how long the Defense class lasted after that. Tonks led the class through an
exercise where they visualized themselves in various peaceful situations. She conjured music and
sounds and dimmed the candlelight to help them clear their thoughts and relax their bodies.

Ron certainly took the activity seriously. Harry heard him snoring across the room. As they
left, Harry felt better than he had in days. He actually felt like he had slept. Strangely enough,
he also felt stronger even though the class didn’t have them “doing magic.”

“That was so interesting!” Hermione chirped as they walked to the Great Hall for dinner.

*You have no idea.*

“I feel so much better! I haven’t given any thought to my History of Magic essay in at least an
hour!”

“Oh, call Rita Skeeter! There’s a scoop. ‘Hermione Granger goes sixty minutes without thinking
of homework,’” Ron scoffed with a yawn.

“Ouch!” he barked as Hermione slapped him in the back of the head.

***

Harry thought a lot about Tonks’ lesson in the coming days. He finally felt like he had a way to
begin clearing his mind. At night, behind the privacy of his scarlet curtains, he led himself
through his own visualization exercises until he fell into a peaceful sleep.

Monday evening would be the test.

“Come in Potter,” Snape said silkily, without turning from the green jar he was replacing on the
shelf in his office. “Let’s dispense with the pleasantries and begin,” Snape added; not that he had
any intention of being pleasant.

Harry took his place across from Snape’s desk and grasped his wand. He watched Snape pull a
silvery strand from his temple and swirl it into the pensieve on the desk.

Snape gave his usual warning to, “prepare yourself, Potter.” For once, Harry actually felt as
though he had done just that.

“Legilimens!”

A few varied memories floated across Harry’s mind. But none of the memories seemed to have any
true form. Rather than watching episodes of events passed, Harry saw only glimpses of people and
places. He didn’t seem to feel any significant emotions associated with any of the images. Even the
faces of his parents, Sirius, and Hermione didn’t stir the odd calm that seemed to reside firmly in
his chest. Then it was gone.

“It’s about time,” Snape said coolly. Harry opened his eyes and for the briefest moment he
thought Snape’s face reflected something he’d never seen before…a smile. They continued in the same
manner for the next hour until Snape informed Harry they were finished. Harry returned to the
common room having made a firm commitment to continue his nightly ritual until he could block Snape
all together.

A few lessons later he surprised himself by doing one better than that.

“Legilimens!”

Nothing. Snape lowered his wand and for a moment seemed speechless.

“You’ve figured out how to close your mind, but you’ve not figured out how to repel my
advances,” Snape said matter-of-factly. “It’s still not enough.”

Harry couldn’t help but notice, Snape had not called him “Potter” yet. As a matter of fact, this
was as close as Snape had ever come to being civil to Harry.

“Professor?” Harry asked quietly. Snape merely looked at him. “How do I do that?” he inquired in
the most unobtrusive voice he could muster.

“You’ll never be strong enough if I tell you how. You must find your own way,” Snape said
calmly. Harry was astounded. He had managed nearly 45 minutes without a scathing verbal attack.
“Again,” Snape added flatly.

“Legilimens!”

Harry thought about what Snape said last year. His mind could be more powerful than his wand. He
thought back to Tonks techniques and visualized himself breaking into Snape’s memories. He gripped
his wind tightly and screwed up his face with effort.

Suddenly, saw his own memories dance across his mind again. He saw his mother and father’s face.
He saw Sirius’ broad smile and contagious laugh. He fought harder, he didn’t want to see his
memories; he wanted to see Snape’s. He gripped his wand even tighter. His mother came clearly into
his vision. She was smiling at him. He was filled with the same breathless excitement that he so
often felt with Hermione. She was so close to him his heart was pounding. He fought the urge to
reach out for her. Then he saw his father. Lily turned with a bright smile and charged toward
James, jumping into his arms as he spun her around and kissed her deeply. Harry’s happiness turned
to combination of all-consuming emptiness and controlled rage.

What was going on?

Then it hit him. He had no memory of his parents at Hogwarts. He *was* seeing Snape’s
memories. What’s more he was feeling what Snape felt, and with a shocking realization Harry snapped
open his eyes.

His wand was pointed directly at Snape’s chest. He was leaning over, supporting himself on his
desk. As Harry stood, staring at the scene before him in total disbelief, he couldn’t help what
came out of his mouth. “So *that’s* why you hated my father so much.”

That was the worst mistake he could’ve made.

“Get out!” Snape straightened up returning to his typical acidic tone-of-voice. “Get out now!”
Much to Harry’s surprise, he desperately wanted to stay. He couldn’t even explain why.

“Professor Sn…” he pleaded.

“*Out!*” Snape barked, throwing a jar in Harry’s direction. Harry hesitated and then
decided it better to comply and swept from the room in disbelief. Almost everything about Snape
suddenly made sense…almost everything.

***

“Oh Harry!” Hermione gasped disbelievingly. “I don’t know which is more surprising! Your
progress in Occlumency, or what you saw in Snape’s memory!” she added while absent-mindedly chewing
on a piece of toast.

“Snape and your mum?” Ron said, staring blankly at Harry. “Thankfully, your mum had good taste.
You’d be awful ugly if they had gotten married!”

“Ron! What an awful thing to say!” Hermione snapped, nearly choking on a grapefruit.

“Well, it’s true! Can you imagine the product of that relationship! Harry’d be the poster boy
for birth control!” Harry nearly sprayed Ron with pumpkin juice. Even he couldn’t contain his
laughter over that comment.

“Ugh!” Hermione huffed. She opened her mouth to reply but was quickly distracted by a flock of
owls pouring in from the rafters.

“Oh, I feel lucky today mate!” Ron said, flashing his bright blue eyes toward Harry. “I believe
today is the day I am officially deemed more clever than Hermione.”

“What are you blubbering about Ron?” Hermione scoffed.

“Oh, nothing! Don’t look up now Hermione, there’s Vicky’s owl!” Ron said pointing toward a tawny
barn owl swooping down to the table. Hermione was poised to snap at Ron over his incessant use of
the nickname “Vicky,” but ended up speechless as the owl dropped a letter onto the table beside her
plate.

“So, read it!’ Ron insisted. Harry was watching the scene intently. He didn’t dare get involved,
but was brimming with an insatiable curiosity over the scroll of parchment lying on the table.

Hermione was in a rather complex predicament. The look on her face telegraphed her indecision to
both Ron and Harry. She had taken up Ron’s challenge to prove Victor Krum was not in love with her.
Presumably, here lies the answer. She was either going to be right (which is what she was used to)
or embarrassed.

Ron had seemed to wait long enough and lunged for the letter. Harry got there first.

“Ron, it’s Hermione’s letter,” he said quietly, the letter grasped in his hand. “Let her read
it.”

“Thank you Harry. At least you’re a gentleman about this,” Hermione quipped throwing a glare in
Ron’s direction. Not wishing to make Ron look like a prat, Harry glanced up at Hermione and added,
“Let her read it…aloud.”

The breadth of Ron’s smile seemed to be inversely proportional to the slits that became
Hermione’s eyes.

“Fine! I’ll prove it to you both!” She snarled, snapping the letter from Harry’s hand. She
unrolled the scrolled and desperately tried to skim it before reading it aloud.

*Dear Hermione,*

*I’m all settled in* *London* *and am enjoying my position in Mr. Bagman’s
department. There’s always ample opportunity to discuss Quidditch and scout new talent! I received
your last letter. I’m not sure how to respond. Your silly* (Hermione said with great stress)
*friend Ron thinks I’m in love with you does he? I remember him being the one with red hair. The
one you said was not* (she lowered her voice to a near whisper, reading quickly) *that
successful in his coursework.*

“What did you tell him?” Ron hissed. She merely glanced at him with a knowing expression. “Well,
excuse me if I’m not as brilliant as Hermione *Bookworm* Granger!” he said crossing his arms
hotly.

“Ron,” Harry said quietly, trying to return her attention to the letter. He was desperate to
hear if she’s ever mentioned him to Krum. Hermione, grateful for a change in subject, even if it
was back to Krum’s letter, continued on reading.

*Well, I must say, I’ve never been very brave Hermione. I understand the houses at Hogwarts
and what you explained Gryffindors are supposed to be about. Maybe it’s because you are placed in
this house that I feel the confidence to say this…* (Ron suddenly looked up, a clear expression
of victory beginning to cross his face)*...your friend Ron is right.*

“*Ah ha!*” Ron leapt up from the table.

“Hear ye, all Hogwarts students! I am smarter than Hermione Granger!” he yelled triumphantly. He
finished his victory speech by dancing around in circles attracting the attention of nearly
everyone in the room. Hermione ignored his conspicuous victory dance and continued to read the
letter quietly in shocked disbelief.

*I did move to* *London* *to be closer to you. You are all I think about day and
night. I can’t get you out of my mind. I wouldn’t dare write these words except that I believe you
feel the same way*

She trailed off and read the rest of the letter in silence. When she finished, she looked up at
Harry. Suddenly, taking great interest in his bacon, he looked away.

This was just like being back on the Hogwarts Express. Krum *was* in love with her. He
admitted it. More annoying to Harry, Krum said the things Harry wanted to say, and it clearly had
made an impression on Hermione. She gathered her things, rolled up the letter, and left the Great
Hall.

Harry suddenly lost his appetite entirely.

*She loves him. She has to. All she ever did was write feet of parchment to him and she’s done
that since the day they parted at the end of fourth year.*

He knew, during the Triwizard Tournament, that Hermione was profoundly important to Krum. She
had been chosen as the “bait” in the second task because she was the one thing Krum loved most
dearly. She’d visited him and written to him religiously since that time. Additionally, she was so
secretive and defensive about Krum. She was acting the same way Harry acted with regard to her, and
he knew he was in love. He knew she must be too. The shocked look on her face left little doubt in
Harry’s mind.

He suddenly thought of Snape and remembered how he felt as he saw Lily turn from his gaze and
rush off to his father’s embrace. Looking up at the head table his eyes fell upon the Potions
master.

*Never thought I’d have anything in common with him.*

“I’m going to class,” Harry said at a near whisper.

Ron never heard him leave. By this point, he had taken his victory dance onto the bench and was
being egged on by Seamus and Dean.

As Harry absentmindedly walked out of the Great Hall, he collided with Albus Dumbledore.

“Oh! Sorry sir, I…” Harry stammered.

“Harry!” Dumbledore said brightly. “I have spoken to Professor Snape.” He looked over his
half-moon glasses at Harry. “He has described your progress, and I must say Harry, I am proud of
how you’ve grown. I’m nearly convinced at this point; Voldemort will have to resort to other
measures to achieve his ends.” Dumbledore smiled warmly then seemed to clue into the look on
Harry’s face.

“Is everything all right Harry?” he inquired with concern.

“I’m fine sir. Thank you. I need to go to class.” Harry walked off without so much as a
smile.

When the time came for Defense Against the Dark Arts to begin, Tonks was no where to be found.
The class sat for several minutes looking to each other for information or guidance. Hermione was
noticeably preoccupied.

When Tonks finally appeared, she seemed frazzled and stumbled down the stairs into the
classroom. Harry sprung to help her up and saw the current copy of the Daily Prophet lying at her
feet. He picked it up and couldn’t ignore the cold eyes staring back at him. “*Azkaban Security
Breach: Death Eaters Captured in Department of Mysteries Escape*.” Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix
Lestranges’ photos were nearly as distracting as the headline itself. Harry instantly looked to
Tonks for an explanation.

“We’ll talk after class,” she said quietly. Harry returned to his seat and couldn’t recount a
single thing that had been done in class. All he saw was the final battle between Bellatrix and
Sirius, playing over and over in his mind.

Harry, Ron and Hermione found various ways to stay behind after class. When the remaining
students had left they approached Tonks.

“What happened?” Harry asked quickly.

“We’re not exactly sure. But, we do know this much. The Ministry of Magic appointed the new
prison guards after the dementors defected. The upper echelon of the Ministry appointed the guards
for these two personally.” She pointed at the pictures of Malfoy and Lestrange. “Yet they are the
only two that escaped. The Order has been up all night investigating this as best we can. One thing
is completely certain at this point.” Tonks looked more serious than Harry had ever seen her.
“Someone inside the Ministry is working for Voldemort.”

“Bloody hell,” Ron whispered.

Hermione gasped as a worried look settled in her eyes.

*I’ll bet you’re worried. Too bad it’s for the safety of Victor Krum.*



7. A Cold Cliff and a Warm Fire
-------------------------------



**Chapter 7- A Cold Cliff and a Warm Fire**

Interestingly enough, the breakout didn't seem to consume a great deal of the students'
conversation. They seemed only moderately interested when twelve Death Eaters escaped during the
previous year. Having only two get out this time probably looked like an improvement. There was,
however, one obvious exception to this phenomenon.

“Get out of the way, Malfoy,” Harry said exasperatedly as the trio was leaving the Great
Hall.

“What's the matter Potter?” Malfoy rebuffed. “Scared that my dad will finish what he
started?” He sneered. “Or, perhaps you're scared for your precious little mudblood?” he added,
glaring over toward Hermione. Harry wasn't sure which of them actually got to Malfoy first, but
almost instantly he and Ron felt Hermione tugging on the back of their robes, trying to peel them
off Malfoy - who was now pressed firmly against the wall. Ron had his wand out and Harry's
fingers were wrapped securely around Draco's throat.

“It's not worth it! Get off of him, both of you!” Hermione hissed. “I refuse to allow any
Gryffindor to lose house points over the likes of Draco Malfoy!” she said successfully pulling them
back. As always, they knew Hermione was right; not that they would admit to being wrong.

“Thanks mudblood! Nice to know you have a leash on your pets!” Malfoy said, smiling.

“Don't be too impressed with yourself *Ferret*! If I actually cared what you thought,
I'd let Harry braid your vocal chords,” Hermione retorted, pulling Ron and Harry down the hall.
Their encounter was soon behind them and Harry's spirits rose. It was time for Tonks'
class.

He almost felt guilty thinking it, but he enjoyed Tonks' class even more than Lupin's.
Although they were both outstanding, he really put Tonks' lessons to good use. Since beginning
his evening ritual behind his four poster hangings, he slept better, slept longer, had few -if any-
dreams he could remember. He also seemed to get through much of the anger that haunted him for the
past two years. Plus, he seemed to have mastered Occlumency. He was even calmer during the day. His
visualizations had helped him deal with his feelings for Hermione and the battle in his head ended
weeks ago. If there was an O.W.L. to be had in guided visualization, he certainly felt he'd
earned an “Outstanding.” He was especially interested in today's lesson. Tonks was introducing
something new.

“Good afternoon class!” Tonks said, waving her arm and knocking Ron's books to the
floor.

“Good afternoon Professor Tonks,” The class replied happily.

“Well, today we are going to move into the next N.E.W.T. skill for the Defense Against the Dark
Arts…telekinesis.” She looked at the perplexed faces before her and continued. “Even muggles are
familiar with telekinesis. Most don't believe it's possible. Those who do think it's
just that some muggles have the ability to use different parts of their brains than ordinary
muggles. They are not entirely incorrect. Telekinesis is the magical ability to move objects with
your mind. Not unlike your first-year `wingardium leviosa' charm, just without the wands or the
words.” The class looked entirely disbelieving now.

“Professor,” Hermione began. “How are we supposed to levitate things without using wands or
spells?”

“With your mind, Ms. Granger. This is a skill that anyone wishing to become an Auror must
master. There will be times, in search of dark wizards and witches, where you may be unable to
speak or use your wand. Without learning telekinesis you'll be rendered vulnerable; and
vulnerable Aurors end up dead,” she said flatly. “Now the time we've spent on techniques to
clear your mind, such as guided visualization and such, are vital to your success.”

Tonks continued explaining the finer points of telekinesis and its uses. The class took a bit of
notes and then tried their hand at the practical application of the skill. Harry smirked as he
thought what the Hogwarts High Inquisitor would've thought of Tonks' lesson. To the
passer-by it appeared as though the whole class was merely staring, catatonic, at the small pillows
set on each of their tables. Umbridge would've surely sacked Tonks over this.

And Harry would've gladly paid half the galleons in his Gringotts vault to see her try.

***

Christmas break was quickly approaching and the sign up sheet was as slim as ever for those
staying behind at the castle over the holiday. For the first time in years, Harry was going to be
there alone. Ron and his family had managed enough money to take a real vacation and Harry, while
obviously invited, chose to stay behind. It was a bit too much of a family moment for him, and
although Harry was considered part of the Weasley's, he wasn't one. Besides, a little
solitude would suit him well. Or would it?

As he passed the message board he saw Hermione writing her name on the parchment.

“Hermione? Are you staying over for the holidays?” Harry asked disbelievingly.

“Yes actually. My parents joined a charity medical trip to Zimbabwe and will be abroad for the
holidays. But it's okay. I am desperate to get caught up on my homework. I'm afraid
I've not been doing quite as well this term as before,” she said, obviously embarrassed.

“Well, it's been a lot harder this term than in the past,” Harry conceded.

Looking directly into his eyes, Hermione replied. “Yes, it's been much harder.” There was an
awkward silence which Hermione broke quickly. “Don't you have quidditch practice?” she
asked.

“Don't you have Arithmancy?” Harry replied. They laughed quietly, smiled, and went their
separate ways.

Harry spent the next few hours flying around the Quidditch pitch. He ran himself through several
drills and practiced a new dive he'd somehow managed to miss in Quidditch Throughout the Ages.
It was a bit more difficult than the dives he'd perfected thus far. It involved an inverse
escape only feet from the ground that would allow a seeker to pilfer the snitch from directly
underneath a challenger. Ron had come late to practice and caught up with Harry afterward.

“Hi`ya Harry,” Ron said, changing out of his Quidditch robes. “I'm really impressed with
that new dive of yours, but I'm also pretty sure there will be a Harry sized hole in the pitch
if you sneeze at the wrong time.” Ron sniggered. Harry just smiled.

“Did you know Hermione was staying at Hogwarts for the holidays?” Harry said while running a
comb through his hair.

“She was,” Ron said with distaste.

“What do you mean?” Harry asked.

“Well, I ran into her before coming to practice. She had gotten a letter from *Vicky* and
he asked her to visit him in London for Christmas,” Ron sneered.

“And she's going?” Harry yelped, temper rising. He hadn't admitted it to himself
consciously, but he was truly looking forward to a nearly deserted castle and Christmas with
Hermione. He finished changing his robes and stormed back to the castle, Ron looking on
quizzically. By the time he reached the common room it was all he could do to not scream
“flabberghast” at the unsuspecting fat lady. And while fuming anger was not unknown to Harry, this
was the first time it was shared by someone else.

Harry and Ron stepped through the portrait hole to a crowded Gryffindor common room. They
quickly received cautionary stares from Seamus and Dean. Ginny crossed the room quickly and stopped
in front of Ron and Harry.

“Do yourself a favor and don't talk to Hermione. She didn't to too well on an arithmancy
test and is one step short of hexing the whole room.” Ginny pleaded. Unfortunately, Hermione saw
Ginny standing with them both and figured out what they were doing.

“What are you three on about over there?” Hermione hissed. “Oh, Ginny just *can't wait*
to tell everyone that I failed a test!”

“Hermione, don't take it out on me, I'm just trying to help,” Ginny said softly as she
walked off.

“Hermione-” Ron started.

“Don't! Don't even start Ronald Weasley! I don't want to hear any of your snide
remarks today!” Hermione snapped before he could even get the sentence out. The room had quieted a
bit to watch the show, and Harry had finally reached the boiling point.

“You don't even know what he was going to say Hermione!” Harry shouted. For a split-second
she sat motionless, shocked that Harry even got involved.

“It's all right mate,” Ron said quietly to Harry, seeming to beg Harry not to escalate this
any further.

“What is that supposed to mean Harry?” Hermione barked. “I don't know what he's going to
say…like I don't know anything, like I'm stupid or something?” She roared.

“Hermione, Harry didn't say-” But Harry cut Ron off this time.

“Well, you sure couldn't figure out Vicky was in love with you. It's obvious you
don't have a clue what any guy is thinking!” Harry blasted. Hermione was on the verge of tears
and the common room continued to turn their attention to the shouting match in the far corner.

“He was thousands of miles away! How was I supposed to know Victor was in love with me?” She
screamed, and before Harry could stop himself he barked right back…

“That's no excuse! I'm standing right in front of you and you sure haven't figured
out that *I'm* in love with you!”

It wasn't until he realized the common room had fallen deafeningly silent and eyes bored
into him from all directions that Harry understood what he had just said. Hermione stood in shock,
mouth opening and closing, obviously searching for words that weren't coming. Harry turned to
Ron who was shaking his head equally dumbfounded as Hermione. Ginny had her hand clasped over her
mouth trying to hide a smile, eyes seeming to water. Harry suddenly felt like a circus animal on
display. He had to get out of there. With one motion he spun and opened the common room door and
swept out. As the door closed behind him he heard only Hermione's voice calling his name.

***

Without thinking about what he was doing, or where he was going, Harry set off on his Firebolt.
He found a spot overlooking the lake, Hogwarts a distant speck across the cold water, and set down.
It was quiet, it was cold, and it was secluded. That seemed to fit Harry's mood perfectly. He
had no idea how long he sat thinking about what had just happened.

He had totally lost control, he let everything slip. He didn't just tell Hermione he was in
love with her; he *shouted* it to the entire Gryffindor common room! Short of the time during
his second year when everyone thought he was the Heir of Slytherin - he had never wanted to run
away from Hogwarts more in his life.

“You never cease to amaze me Harry,” drifted the soft voice of Albus Dumbledore. Harry nearly
fell off the cliff he was perched upon and jumped up to see the headmaster looking kindly toward
him.

“Your father used to come to this exact spot every time he was having problems with your mother.
Not unlike Ms. Granger, your mother was a bit…strong-willed I should say.” He finished with a
wink.

“How did you know I was here? Do you know what happened?” Harry asked; his heart pounding.
Dumbledore merely lowered his head and peered at Harry over his half-moon glasses with a knowing
stare. Harry, remembering who he was talking to, flopped back down on his perch and gazed over the
lake.

“Harry. What I haven't known is why you've not done this sooner,” Dumbledore asked,
sitting on a rock outcropping beside him. Harry couldn't believe his ears.

“You of all people should know why I've not said anything!” Harry scoffed incredulously.
“It's not safe! She's not safe,” he added, feeling the need to explain the obvious.

“I should've thought you would've learned more from Professor Trelawney,” Dumbledore
said quietly. Harry merely stared at him.

“Sir, I'm talking about Professor Trelawney. About the prophecy, and everything that's
happened so far. Everyone, *everyone*, I have ever loved has ended up dead. That will
*not* happen to Hermione!” Harry cried. He was simmering.

“Harry, I'm not talking about the prophecy, I'm talking about divination. You and Mr.
Weasley learned well enough that you could simply make up predictions and have an equal chance at
being correct. You are no more adept at telling the future now than you were last year,” Dumbledore
added. “You don't know what the future holds.”

“I know I have to face him again. *You* told me that. I know I have to kill him or be
killed. I know that he has no qualms over killing anyone or anything in order to get to me.
It's just a matter of time. How can I let her in, just to watch her die; or worse, have her
watch me die?” Harry said calming a bit.

“Harry, when your parents got married, and when they became pregnant with you, they knew about
the prophecy. They had to make a choice. They could choose to hide away, and live in fear, or they
could merely choose to *live*,” Dumbledore said softly. “They were everything that Gryffindor
embodied. They chose to live their life, and to love you, as completely as possible, for as long as
possible. They chose to deal with Voldemort on their terms, not his,” he continued. “I see that you
have to make the same choice.”

Harry looked up at Dumbledore grateful to finally be able to talk about this with someone. He
noticed Dumbledore, so different from last year, never seemed to take his gaze from Harry's
eyes.

“But,” Harry added at a near whisper, “I'm…I'm scared sir.”

“Of course you are Harry. I'd be concerned if you weren't. But you're also not
thinking of the entire prophecy.”

“What do you mean?” Harry inquired.

“Harry, the prophecy indicated that a child would be born in the end of the summer…with powers
the Dark Lord knows not. By now you should surely know what that power is.” Dumbledore said
flatly.

A perplexed look crossed Harry's face as he thought about the past several years. “Love?” he
asked. “That's not really a power Professor.”

“You're wrong Harry. Love is more powerful than any spell or incantation. It has been your
sole protection for the majority of your life. Spells, incantations, even people do not last, but
love does - your mother is the perfect example of that. Your love for Sirius is what helped you
defeat Voldemort last year,” Dumbledore said matter-of-factly.

“*You* defeated Voldemort last year - I would've been dead if not for you,” Harry said
gratefully.

“And my love for you helped me accomplish that task,” Dumbledore said, finally looking away from
Harry.

“I do love Hermione, more than anything. I've never felt like this before. And maybe if I
thought I was strong enough to defeat him myself I would…I don't know…I would…” Harry trailed
off.

“Harry, do you realize how strong you've become?” Dumbledore asked. “More importantly, do
you not realize that over the last six years, Ms. Granger is in large portion responsible for your
growth as a wizard?”

Harry thought about the last few years and his encounters with Voldemort. She had gotten him
through Snape's enchantment to reach the stone. She had brewed the polyjuice potion and solved
much of the mystery surrounding the basilisk. She had used the time turner and led him through that
bizarre night ending in Sirius and Buckbeak's escape. She'd worked tirelessly with him
during the Triwizard Tournament to help him through the tasks. She organized the D.A. and got him
to teach their friends - without their help he never would've made it past the 12 Death Eaters
they faced together. While he only ever seemed to face Voldemort alone, he never would've
gotten nearly that far without her.

Dumbledore realized the progression Harry was going through in his head and as Harry raised his
eyes to the Headmaster's a warm smile spread over Dumbledore's face.

“Harry, you need Hermione. You always have,” he said simply. “You've progressed so quickly
this year, and all your progress can be attributed to Ms. Granger.”

Harry thought about that for a bit. He had mastered Occlumency for the sole reason of keeping
Snape away from his memories of Hermione, he stood up to Malfoy and tried dangerous Quidditch
maneuvers all because he had felt stronger all year. Could his love for Hermione, and the unspoken
hope she loved him, be the strength he had felt since the summer?

“It seems to me, you have a choice to make Harry. You can continue as you have done, or you can
choose to live and face Voldemort on your terms,” Dumbledore said getting up. “I would ask that you
remain here only briefly. I don't like for my students to be so far from the grounds after
dark.” And with a smile, Dumbledore was gone. Harry had no idea how long he had mulled over their
conversation in his head. But the arrival of Fawkes, some time later, seemed to be a rather strong
indication Dumbledore wanted him back in the safety of the castle. He climbed on his Firebolt and
flew back to the castle, Fawkes at his side.

It must've been sometime past midnight as he climbed the stairs to the common room. His only
desire was to open the door and see it deserted. He truly wished he could pull out a Lockhart
memory charm on those who witnessed his outburst. He took a deep breath and with a pounding heart
said, “Flabberghast.”

The obvious giggling of the Fat Lady did not make him feel any better as the portrait hole swung
open. Thankfully, he had gotten his wish. The common room was completely empty. He heaved a sigh of
relief and walked in. He wasn't quite ready to tempt whether Ron, Dean, Neville, and Seamus
were all asleep and walked to the fire, flopping into his favorite squashy chair. He let out a sigh
of relief…one breath too soon as it turned out.

“I've been really worried about you,” Hermione's soft voice floated across the room.
Harry leapt up from him chair and spun to see her sitting in a dim corner of the room near the
window.

“Listen…Hermione…about tonight…I er- I.” Harry stammered.

“Why didn't you tell me?” she asked, getting to her feet. “Why did you go so far to act like
you *didn't* love me?” she demanded -seeming to have apparated across the room.

“It's not that easy Hermione, there are things about me you don't know,” he
explained.

“Only because you won't tell me!” Hermione rebuffed.

“Well, it doesn't matter. None of it does. You're in love with Victor anyway,” Harry
began.

“What?! Oh! For being such a great wizard, you haven't got any common sense Harry. I am not
in love with Victor. I never have been.” She looked into Harry's emerald eyes. He couldn't
take it and looked away almost immediately.

“I failed my Arithmancy test because of you,” she said quietly.

“What?” Hermione-” Harry began to argue.

“That's not what I meant,” she said waving her hand to calm him. “The major question
involved a scenario in a forest and I couldn't stop thinking about that morning at the Burrow.
I couldn't concentrate, I never answered the question.”

Harry snapped his eyes to hers. Before he could respond she added, “I'm in love with you
Harry. I've known it for months. I've just been too scared to say anything.” She turned,
face reddened, from him and walked to the other side of the fireplace.

“Hermione,” Harry began quietly. “Please think logically about this for a minute, please,” Harry
implored. “Think back to the time you've spent with me. You've nearly been eaten by Fluffy,
entangled in devil's snare, petrified! You've been attacked by hundreds of Dementors,
almost drowned, and nearly…nearly…killed,” he said at a whisper. Noticing she had turned to face
him he continued, “I'm not safe Hermione. You're not safe around me.”

“Isn't that my choice to make?” she asked, looking somewhat put off. “Harry, in each of
those situations, you were there, you saved me!”

“I can't promise you that I'll be able to save you again,” Harry interrupted. “Hermione
you just don't know what I'm up against,” Harry said, looking back into her chocolate brown
eyes. She stepped toward him and took his hands in her's; they were still freezing from the
time he spent on the cliff.

“Harry, I have been miserable since this summer. All I've wanted to do is be with you and I
haven't been able to do that. I can't live like this. I don't care if you can't
save me the next time; my life is meaningless without you in it. I'd rather have only one night
like this than a thousand of the ones past.” She was still moving closer.

She looked up into Harry's striking green eyes and he felt himself melt. He couldn't, or
wouldn't, fight this any longer.

He felt her hands softly touch his hips. He slid his right hand around the nape of her neck and
drew her closer. Every sense he had seemed to be in overdrive. All he could hear was the softness
of her breath, all he could feel was the smoothness of her skin, and all he could smell was the
intoxicating essence of her perfume. He closed his eyes and pulled her closer. There was a sudden
dance of light behind his eyes, his legs seemed to turn to gelatin and he was clearly surprised he
hadn't collapsed to the floor. He wrapped his left hand around her waist and finished what they
started on the trail.

He could've stayed forever trapped in this embrace… locked in this moment… lost in this
kiss.

***

Harry was surprised when he woke the next morning to find it wasn't morning at all. It was
sometime along in the early afternoon and the dormitory was completely deserted. The Christmas
holidays had begun and his roommates had managed to pack and leave for their respective vacations
without stirring Harry from the deepest sleep he had experienced yet. He lie awake, in his
four-poster, fondly reliving the events of the night past in. Even the dull tingling in his scar,
which happened so frequently he rarely noticed at all, could keep him from smiling. He reached to
his bedside table to get his glasses and noticed a piece of parchment had been placed underneath
them. He put on his glasses and unrolled the note, not surprisingly it was from Ron.

*Hi Harry,*

*I* *was going* *to wake you to say goodbye but I* *did**n't think*
*you would want to be woken from* *the dead sleep you were* *in**, so I left you
this note instead. I haven't gotten your Christmas gift yet, I'm going to bring something
back for you from our trip - I still wish you'd come with us! Anyway, I'll expect Hedwig
with all the details of what happened last night, and I mean ALL of them.*

*Happy Christmas,*

*Ron*

From the tone of the letter Harry wondered if Ron had some idea of what happened between him and
Hermione last night. His toothy grin vanished quickly with the thought that Ron might've been
hiding out under his invisibility cloak. But the smile reappeared as he imagined Ron trying
desperately to get past the locking charm Harry had put on his trunk. Friends or not, the
invisibility cloak and the Marauder's Map had to be safeguarded when he wasn't there.
Feeling better than he thought he ever had, he jumped up to tell Ron all the details he cared to
share.

*Hi Ron!*

*I should probably apologize for not having been honest with you to begin with. I had a lot of
time to think about what was really important and came back to the* *castle. Hermione*
*was waiting for me in the common room and we worked things out. I'm not quite sure what to
do now - I've never* *really* *had a “girlfriend” before. Anyway, I hope you have a
good holiday with your family - tell your mum I might take her up on her offer, she'll know
what I'm talking about.*

*Happy Christmas!*

*Harry*

He wasn't quite sure why he left out certain details.

*Yes, you are. You're not stupid* *Harry;* *you saw how he looked at her during
the Yule Ball too.*

*He was just being protective.*

*Oh, Hang it Harry. You're afraid of the competition.*

*I am not.*

He certainly wasn't going to tell him how his night ended, but he didn't feel right
telling him about Dumbledore either. There was no way he could explain their conversation without
telling him about the prophecy and he just wasn't ready to do that yet. It wasn't the first
time he had kept certain information close to his chest, he never betrayed Neville's secret -
even when Neville didn't know Harry knew about his parents - and he still hadn't told
anyone that his wand and Voldemort's were brothers. As he sat thinking about these secrets, the
thought of the prophecy returned to him.

Since the summer he had been struggling with the notion of telling Hermione. Now everything had
changed. He didn't see how he could be honest with her without telling her his destiny. That
seemed more important to him now than anything. If she was going to decide to be with him, it was
necessary that she know the truth. He had no idea how he was going to breach that subject.
Beginning the conversation in his head, about fourteen times, he absent-mindedly got dressed and
headed for the common room.

As expected, the common room was deserted. He could smell turkey wafting from the Great Hall and
realized it was time for lunch. He decided to send Hedwig to Ron before heading downstairs to eat.
As he climbed the stairs to the Owlery he continued to start and re-start the conversation in his
head.

How was he going to tell her? How *do* you tell the girl you love that you're destined
to kill, or be killed, by the most evil wizard of the age? The cold blast of air as he opened the
Owlery door shook him from his thoughts.

The Owlery seemed a bit deserted as well. Most of the students took their owls with them for the
holidays. However, the floor was just as littered with straw and droppings as usual. Harry peered
through the rafters in search of Hedwig. Another owl found him first.

“Pig! Go away!” Harry said waving his arms at the seemingly psychotic miniature owl buzzing
about his head. He was not the least bit surprised Ron hadn't taken him on vacation with the
family. The various rodent carcasses strewn about the floor drew Harry to the opinion that Hedwig
was likely out hunting. He stuffed the letter to Ron in his pocket and headed for lunch.

The Great Hall was decorated exquisitely for the holidays. Today was Christmas Eve and each of
the twelve enormous trees seemed to glow with dancing candlelight. The ceiling reflected not only
Harry's mood but the brilliant sunshine dancing off the snow drifts outside. If it was possible
for Harry's heart to lighten anymore, he looked down the Gryffindor table to see Hermione
pouring a glass of pumpkin juice. She seemed to feel him looking at her and snapped her head in his
direction, unfortunately for her she also forgot to stop pouring.

“Here,” Harry said trying to hold back his chuckles. “Let me help you with that.” He took the
towel that magically appeared on the table and began sopping up the spilled juice.

“You're finally awake,” Hermione said smiling.

“Yeah,” He replied, sitting down on the bench next to her. He glanced around quickly to see if
any of the Great Hall's sparse inhabitants were looking, and seeing that the coast was clear
leaned over and gave her a warm kiss on the cheek. “Best I've slept in months.”

Hermione blushed as her eyes darted around the room. “So did you just wake up?” she asked in the
calmest voice she could muster.

“No actually, Ron left me a note and I wrote a reply but Hedwig wasn't in the Owlery. She
must be off…what?” He stopped seeing a concerned look on Hermione's face.

“Oh, I really hope you don't mind, but I had to…well, I needed to…” she stammered.

“What?” Harry pressed.

“Oh, okay. I had to send a letter to…well, you know, and explain things to him a bit. When I
went into the Owlery Hedwig just about nipped me to death. She seemed desperate for a task so I let
her take the letter to London. I guess she's been a bit bored, not having as much to do this…”
she trailed off looking up at Harry disbelieving what she just said.

“It's okay Hermione. She *has* been bored to tears this year. I haven't had too
many letters to send since Sirius is gone. I don't mind that you used her. Pig is up there,
I'll use him to send Ron's letter.” Hermione reciprocated his smile, clearly relieved Harry
wasn't angry that she sent Hedwig to Victor Krum.

“So what did you tell him?” Harry asked nonchalantly.

“Well, just that, I was flattered by what he said and that I hoped I hadn't led him to
believe anything, but that I just didn't feel that way about him,” She said flatly.

“Wow, you said it like that?” Harry asked looking stunned. “You didn't mention me did
you?”

“Of course not Harry, I just said that there was someone else I felt that way about and hoped we
could still be friends,” She said grabbing another muffin. “What?”

“Well, it's just a bit harsh isn't it? I mean the guy does love you,” Harry said,
suddenly feeling sorry for Krum, and hoping Hedwig wouldn't return plucked of all her
feathers.

“I tried to write it as nicely as I could,” Hermione said looking concerned. Obviously wishing
to change the subject she added, “So what are we going to do today?”

They both smiled at each other.

Harry and Hermione spent the day with each other doing absolutely nothing it seemed. They walked
around the lake at least four times, talking and holding hands. They stopped occasionally to rest
and spend a bit more time engaged in more personal activities. In between conversations, and
kisses, Harry continued to mull over how to tell her about the prophecy. He never seemed to come up
with exactly the right words. They ate a quiet dinner together, secluded at the end of the deserted
house table, and decided to spend the rest of the day in front of the common room fire, doing
exactly what they'd done all day…nothing. Harry thought even his guided visualization routine
didn't relax him nearly as much as this day had. But the time had come.

“Hermione, you were right last night,” Harry said using the best introduction he had devised all
day.

“Right about what?” She said looking up at him, the warm glow of the fire on her face.

“I haven't told you everything about me, but I think it's important to be totally honest
if you are to make an informed decision,” Harry said gazing off into the fire.

“Decision about what?” Hermione said, now looking perplexed.

“About me…about us,” He answered looking away.

“Harry, I think it's pretty clear that I've already decided that,” she said with a
smile.

“Hermione, I'm being serious. What I'm about to tell you I've not told anyone. The
only people who know are Professor Dumbledore and members of the Order.” An obvious look of concern
was beginning to cross Hermione's face.

Harry took a deep breath, half disbelieving he was about to tell her any of this, “Last year,”
He began. “Do you remember all of the orbs on the shelves in the department of mysteries?” He
looked at her, shifting a bit along the floor.

“Of course I do,” she said, still holding his gaze.

“They are records of prophesies made by seers. The only people who can remove them from the
shelves are the people the predictions are made about. That's why I was lured there. Only
Voldemort or I could take it.” Hermione quickly clued into the meaning of what Harry said.

“Someone made a prediction about you and Voldemort?” Hermione said in shock.

“Yes. He knew about the prophecy but didn't know all of it. That's why he wanted it last
year. He wanted to hear it in its entirety,” Harry continued.

“But I thought Neville broke it?” Hermione asked with a furrowed brow.

“He did, and it was too loud in the room to hear what it said.” Seeming to answer her question
before she could ask it, he continued, “but, I know what it said. The prophecy was made to
Dumbledore, and after it was all over, he told me the whole thing,” Harry said looking down at her
hands, held firmly in his. She squeezed his hands, drawing his attention back to her face.

“What did it say?” Hermione asked cautiously.

He felt it would be easier to just tell her all at once, so he drew a large breath and began to
talk. “It foretold of a child to be born in the end of the summer to parents who had defeated
Voldemort three times. It said this child would have powers he did not realize, he would mark him
as his equal, and that the child would be the only person that could bring about Voldemort's
demise.” Hermione's eyes had grown wider with every word Harry spoke.

“Oh my, your scar!” she said softly, seeming to understand.

“That's not all,” Harry shifted uncomfortably, grasped her hands even tighter and looked
into her eyes. “It also said that neither of us can live while the other survives.”

Hermione stared at him with her mouth gaping. “What does that mean?” She added, not seeming to
want to believe what her unqualified logic was telling her.

“Hermione,” Harry said with a knowing stare. They both knew she was cleverer than any other
witch when it came to deciphering riddles.

“You don't believe that rubbish do you? Please, some loon with a crystal ball predicts your
fate as a murderer and you buy the whole story?” She scoffed.

“Hermione…”

“Next you'll be telling me that nutcase Trelawney is the one who predicted the whole thing!”
Harry averted his eyes. That was enough of an affirmation for her. “Harry! For the love of
Merlin!”

“Hermione, this wasn't some silly tea leaf reading in the North Tower. This was a genuine
prophecy. Dumbledore believes it, the Order believes it. Hell, Mr. Weasley nearly died protecting
it!” Hermione's tough demeanor was cracking with every point Harry made. When he finished she
stared at him, not wanting to believe any of it, but oddly resigned to the truth.

“Oh, Harry.” Her eyes seemed to be glistening. He knew from the look on her face that she
understood what it meant. He let go of her hands and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into
a warm embrace. They sat speechless, motionless, watching the fire crackle and pop. Harry kissed
her forehead, holding her tighter, as he realized the slight quivering coming from her shoulders
was her best effort at fighting back tears. Somewhere in the distance a clock struck midnight.

“Oh!” Harry said jumping up and leaving Hermione by the fire. He raced up the spiral staircase
to his dormitory hearing her shout something about Cinderella as he climbed out of view.

It was Christmas and he had a gift to give her. He darted for his four-poster and reached for
the velvet box that has resided under his pillow since the day he bought it. He raced back
downstairs to see her now standing by the fire completely confused.

“Harry Potter! What in the world has gotten into you?” she said curtly.

“Well, its Christmas and I have something I've been dying…” Hermione shot him a horrified
look, “well…something that I've really wanted to give you.” He pulled the box from behind his
back and handed it to Hermione.

“This is what you bought at Diagon Alley!” Hermione gasped. “It *was* for me!” She gave him
a quick look and unsnapped the box. Harry's smile grew as wide as Hermione's eyes.

“Harry!” she gasped. “It's absolutely beautiful!”

He explained excitedly. “It's an enchanted ruby, it changes color with your mood. And the
setting is a…”

“Hungarian horntail,” she finished, looking up at him with misty eyes. “I don't know what to
say,” she added quietly.

“That's the beauty of it,” Harry smiled. “You don't have to.” He pointed to the inset in
the box top that described the stone's brilliant red hue as the color indicating love. He took
it out of the box and slid it onto her finger - holding her hand to look at the finished product.
Then they looked up at each other and she moved in to thank him properly.

It had only been twenty-four hours since he stood in this very spot, kissing Hermione for the
first time, but he thought it was a sensation he would never get used to, or tired of. His heart
was pounding, his face was flushed, his breath grew more rapid…and suddenly it was all replaced by
another familiar sensation…pain.

A searing pain shot through his forehead. It felt like someone was piercing a white hot blade
through his skull. It was excruciating and Harry fell to his knees, dragging Hermione down with
him. His stomach lurched, his eyes were watering and he saw only white spots. As he stay crouched
on his hands and knees, a distant question passed through his mind. Where was Hermione, and why
wasn't she trying to help him?

He blinked several times and looked up, searching the range of his vision for Hermione. She was
right in front of him, writhing on the floor, gasping for air. As the pain began to subside (nearly
as quickly as it came) he crawled to her side.

“Hermione, I'm sorry…I didn't mean to pull you…” he stopped. He realized with a horror
he didn't quite understand that she was lying on the floor clutching her forehead. She was as
pale as Sir Nicolas and her eyes were watering.

“Hermione, are you okay?” he asked, nearly panicked, pushing the residual pain out of his mind.
“Hermione, please answer me,” he said, the panic rising in his voice.

“Oh, Harry,” she said, still short of breath. “Does it always hurt that much?”

Harry was stunned. He sat hovering over her, mouth gaping open - at a total loss for words. She
continued to rub her forehead and he helped her to a sitting position. Harry was speechless.
Hermione however found one last sentence that took his breath away.

“What is he so thrilled about?”



8. Professor Potter
-------------------



**Hi everyone!** **I j****ust wanted to put a bit of a personal note at the front of this
chapter. I really appreciate all the fabulous reviews I'****ve gotten.** **I also
appreciate the comments and** **suggestions as they relate to the story. I'm incorporating a
few of them as I go along. This story is actually just the first step in a VASTLY larger
undertaking. I submit to FA and Pk at the same time but obviously this is instantaneous whereas FA
takes a little longer. But, I don't mind giving my fellow shipmates on the HMS Pumpkin Pie a
bit more of a head start!**

**I wanted to thank those of you that recommended my fic in the h/h section. The review that
was attached nearly made me cry. I think you might be going a bit far to compare me to JK but,
I'll take whatever ego-strokes I can get. I've put an exorbitant amount of time into this
adventure. Not that I regret a second of it.**

**I also wanted to thank my betas here as well. Every time I edit-and re-edit and add scenes
and add more scenes, it just gets better and better. What you're reading here is far improved
over the original version and I have my fantastic betas to thank for that.**

**The last chapter was among my more favorite chapters to write. The “Common Room Row” as part
of that chapter was initially entitled, is still among my favorite scenes. I'm glad it got such
a great response from you all.**

**I coded this story as romance/action/adventure. Although I understand it's more angst
than action/adventure-it really isn't when you look at it as part of the greater work. The last
chapter was the turning point from angst and onto action/adventure. That will continue right
through the sequel (with additional fluffiness thrown in here and there).**

**I hope you continue to enjoy reading the updates as much as I've continued to write them.
I've had to force myself not to post the second I finish and give my betas a chance to hack it
up for me. Trust me when I say it's a far better read after they've done their “worst” to
it.**

**Thanks again, and happy reading !**

**Vicarious Leigh**

**Chapter 8 - Professor Potter**

Harry couldn't decide what frightened him more; the fact Hermione seemed to have shared the
pain in his scar, or the fact she was right about Voldemort. He was thrilled about something,
ecstatic even. But how could Hermione know that?

He refocused his attention on her, propped uneasily against the squashy chair, clearly shaking
as if suffering from hypothermia. As his eyes met hers, he realized her thoughts were truly
reflecting his own. The pain that was visible in her eyes only moments before had been replaced by
unmitigated panic.

“Harry?” her voice quaking noticeably. “How do I know that? How do I know he's happy?
What's going on?” Her voice was steadily growing more frightened.

“I don't know,” Harry replied, still shocked at what had just happened. He moved closer to
her and curled his arms around her quivering body. She burst into tears almost immediately; not
tears of sadness or pain, but the kind of tears associated with the feeling of fear and
helplessness. Her tears brought Harry to some modicum of reality and he pulled her closer.

This is what he feared most, this is what he fought so hard against - Hermione in pain. He made
a conscious decision, while clutching her in his arms, that he would keep this from happening
again, but not by avoiding her - it was too late for that - by trusting Dumbledore's assertion
that love is more powerful than even the darkest wizards.

He spoke so quietly it was a miracle any sound came from his throat. “It's going to be okay
Hermione. I promise you that. I'll keep you safe no matter what it takes.” She nuzzled her head
in closer to his chest as he kissed the top of her head.

They sat on the floor for nearly an hour, clutching each other and not speaking a word. They
both seemed to stare into the fire, searching for some logic to explain what had happened. Harry
spoke first.

“Hermione, I don't want you to be alone tonight.” She looked into his eyes, wiping a stray
tear from hers.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“It's getting late. I think you need to get some sleep, but I don't want you in your
dormitory all alone, not tonight…not after,” Harry trailed off, seeming to not want to remind her
what happened. However, his request seemed to bring Hermione back to the categorical logic that had
failed her over the past hour.

“Well, I'm surely not sleeping on the common room floor.” She smiled. This was clearly her
best attempt at lightening the mood.

“Listen,” Harry said, shifting a bit. “Let me take you up to my dormitory. You can sleep in my
bed and I'll take Ron's.” He was clearly concerned that Hermione might think his intentions
were something other than purely protective in nature.

“Harry.” The tone of her voice seeming to answer him before the words, she put her finger to his
lips to stop the rebuttal clearly preparing to erupt from them. “It's really very sweet and I
thank you for it, but I'll be fine. I just need to get some sleep and clear my head so I can
think logically about this.” She interrupted his reply again. “*And*, I surely will not be
able to clear my head if you are sleeping next to me,” she added, sheepishly.

“But, Hermione,” he began.

“You *can*, however, walk me to my staircase, and say goodnight,” she said with finality.
She got up from the floor and extended her hand to help Harry up. Harry had witnessed far too many
arguments between Hermione and Ron to know once she made up her mind she'd gladly drink
bobotuber puss before conceding defeat. He put his arm around her shoulders and walked to her
staircase.

Her hand fell into his as she gave him a warm kiss on the cheek. “Good night, Harry Potter,” she
said warmly while ascending the first two stairs backwards, still holding his hand.

“Good night,” he replied, looking into her deep brown eyes, stained pink from her tears. He
wanted to say more. He wanted to change her mind, but she glided up the stairs and out of sight,
holding his hand until it would extend no further. “Happy Christmas,” he said softly, still looking
to the place where he saw her last.

Harry was exhausted. He fell into his four-poster bed, fully dressed, and stared upside-down out
of the window for a few minutes. He couldn't make sense of what happened. He had experienced
pain in is scar plenty of times before. A dull pain remained with him nearly every day since
Voldemort's return. He had been around his friends when it happened. He had been alone. He had
been sleeping and awake. He had even been in close proximity to his friends, but no one had ever
*felt* what he felt. No one ever *experienced* what it was like.

*It had to be because I was kissing her*. *Maybe it's just a coincidence*.

Truth be told he had no idea how it happened, but he knew this was the first time in a long time
he had trouble clearing his thoughts before finally falling asleep.

***

It was a strange sensation.

His chest seemed to be quaking.

A low chatter rumbled in his ears.

A weight seemed to sit firmly on his chest.

He had stirred awake but hadn't yet opened his eyes. He suddenly realized what had woken him
and without opening his eyes, said with some disdain, “Good morning Crookshanks.”

Crookshanks rubbed his whiskers against Harry's face and spun in circles, whipping his
bottlebrush tail under Harry's nose. Harry pushed Hermione's ginger cat off his chest and
reached for his glasses. Rather than feeling the cold wood of the side table his hand slammed into
something warm, dry, and rather squishy.

“OOOhh!” came an excited voice, “Harry Potter tickles Dobby!” Harry snapped his eyes opened and
found himself staring in the large green eyes of the oddest looking house elf Hogwarts had ever
seen.

“Dobby! You've got to stop sneaking up on people like that!” Harry huffed, flopping back
down on his bed.

“Dobby wanted to give Harry Potter a gift, sir,” he said extending his hand. He had apparently
tried to knit a pair of mittens, although they looked a bit more like placemats.

“Oh, er- thanks Dobby. I have your gift too.” Harry had actually remembered to wrap Dobby's
gift this year. It was a mismatched pair of socks that Harry was quite sure matched nothing in
anyone's wardrobe. Needless to say, Dobby promised to wear them everyday.

*BAM! BAM! BAM!*

Harry jerked his head toward the window, heart leaping into his throat.

“Winky!” Dobby exclaimed. “Winky has startled Harry Potter sir. Dobby is sorry sir.” Winky was
slamming her head into the frosty window appearing to try and launch herself out of Gryffindor
tower.

“Hi Winky,” Harry said cautiously. When she didn't answer, he looked at Dobby
questioningly.

“Winky is much better sir. Winky does not drown in butterbeer any longer sir. But Winky is still
missing her master Mr. Crouch.” Winky gave a small squeak. “I's telling Winky if she is not
happy at Hogwarts she should be taking the job sir, but Winky will not.” Dobby explained.

“Job? What job?” Harry thought, feeling a dreadful sensation that Hermione's efforts in
S.P.E.W. had finally fallen on listening ears - dreadful only in that Hermione would be absolutely
impossible to live with if S.P.E.W. had succeeded in freeing a single elf.

“Mr. Bagman sir. Mr. Bagman wants Winky to serve his family sir, but Winky will not leave
Hogwarts. She is not liking it here. She likes to serve families sir, but Winky will not go.” Harry
merely looked at Winky, now desperately trying to unhook the window lock. Harry noticed Hedwig
gliding past the window and into the Owlery. She even appeared to have all her feathers!

*Vicky must have taken the news better than expected*.

The thought pleased Harry to no end, but he still felt a bit sorry for Krum. Notwithstanding, it
was Christmas and Harry thought the sight of a fully winged Hedwig was likely the best gift
he'd get this year. Feeling considerably more Christmas cheer, his thoughts returned to the
pile of presents at the foot of the bed.

There was a package from Dumbledore, a large box from Mrs. Weasley (who even appeared to have
knitted the ribbon this year) a card from the Dursleys, and another box, emitting a strange odor,
from Hagrid. Harry remembered that Ron was bringing him something from his vacation and looked
around for a sign of Hermione's gift.

“Is Harry Potter looking for Ms. Hermy's gift sir?” Dobby asked, green eyes glowing.

“Well, I was just,” Harry said, trying not to seem greedy.

“Ms. Hermy is not feeling good sir. Ms. Hermy did not sleep sir,” Dobby added.

“What do you mean Dobby?” Harry asked, his expression quickly turning serious.

“Dobby is the only elf that cleans Ms. Hermy's tower sir. Ms. Hermy still hides clothes sir.
But Ms. Hermy did not sleep last night sir. Dobby thinks Ms. Hermy is angry with Harry Potter sir.
She talked all night about Harry Potter, sir. She calls Harry Potter's name when her eyes are
closed.”

That was all Harry needed to hear.

It was a good thing Harry hadn't gone to the trouble of changing into his pajamas that night
before. He jumped out of bed, leaving the pair of house elves in the room and ran down to the
common room to find Hermione. Finding the common room as deserted as it had been for the holidays
he headed for the Great Hall.

If it was possible, Harry's hair was even more disheveled than usual. It almost appeared as
though it had been hexed to stand completely on end. His clothes were wrinkled and he was still
fighting back a yawn when he saw Hermione sitting at the far end of the Gryffindor house table. She
seemed to be propping her head up with her left hand and aimlessly stabbing a fork at her eggs with
the right.

“Hermione, are you okay?” Harry asked, settling down across the table from her. Not that he
would ever say it to her, but she looked terrible. Her hair was tousled, her face seemed drained of
color and her eyes were entirely bloodshot.

She startled at his arrival and picked her head up. She flashed an entirely forced smile and
said, “Oh! I'm great, Harry. Happy Christmas!” with far too much enthusiasm.

“Hermione,” Harry started.

“Eggs?” she interrupted, heaping a pile of eggs onto his plate. Obviously searching to change
the subject she added. “I have a gift for you.” She pulled out a thin square package wrapped in
brown paper. Harry did not take his eyes off her as he reached for it.

“Hermione,” he tried again.

“Open it. I've been so excited to give it to you since the summer,” Hermione interrupted
again.

“Summer?” Harry said, now looking at the package.

“Yes, Mrs. Weasley helped me get it for you. She said she thought it w..w..would make a
n..n..nice gift.” She unsuccessfully fought back a yawn. Filled with curiosity he untied the bow
and unwrapped the package.

“I hope it means as much to you as this does to me,” Hermione said quietly, playing with the
ring Harry had given her. He was looking at the back of a picture frame and turned it over to see
the subject framed under the glass.

“Sirius,” he said quietly. He stared at the picture of his godfather and himself. “How?” he said
incredulously.

“Last Christmas when we were all at Grimmauld Place together, Mrs. Weasley had a camera and
managed to snap this picture of the both of you when you weren't paying attention,” Hermione
said smiling.

Harry remembered that Christmas only too well. For all the pain and isolation he endured,
self-imposed or not, this photograph managed to capture an exchange between Harry and Sirius that
he barely remembered. After Ginny brought him to his senses, Harry had joined everyone in the
kitchen. Sirius has been preparing part of the meal. However, the culinary arts were not among his
greatest of talents. After sneaking a bite of his braised beef, Ron had scrunched his nose in
disapproval.

*“I saw that Weasley!” Sirius warned.*

*“What? I didn't do anything!” Ron scoffed.*

*“Right you didn't. Keep it up.” He winked at Harry. “I can still hear the snap of that
leg. I'm sure I can make it a matched set.” Molly Weasley spun around and Ron's mouth
dropped open in shock.*

*Harry, knowing full well Sirius had an exceptionally dry sense of humor, lost his composure
at the sight of Ron's reaction. It wasn't long before Sirius joined him, laughing
heartily.*

*“Oh, very funny!” Ron rolled his eyes and stalked into the adjacent room. His hasty exit only
encouraged the laughter between Sirius and his godson. Harry never noticed the flash from Ms
Weasley's camera.*

“I don't know what to say,” Harry whispered.

“That's the beauty of it,” Hermione echoed their prior conversation. “You don't have
to.” They smiled at each other and spent the rest of the day doing what they'd done
yesterday…nothing.

As he washed up for dinner, he thought back on the afternoon, momentarily forgetting the
ever-present worry that had plagued him since the previous night.

***

“The lake is so beautiful in the winter, don't you think?” Hermione asked as she gazed
across the glistening waters.

“I've seen one thing more breathtaking than the lake.” Harry had never removed his gaze from
Hermione's face. He studied the twisting threads of breath that escaped her lips in the crisp
afternoon air. The woods encircling the lake were alive with the sounds of small forest animals
digging for a warm spot to rest. Owl wings snapped through the crisp air and their hooting
ricocheted off the imposing stone walls of Hogwarts. It was the loudest silence he'd ever
heard.

She turned to face him. “You aren't turning all mushy on me, are you?”

“Perhaps. Is it too much to think the Boy-Who-Lived might be reduced to incoherent babbling at
the sight of a beautiful girl?”

Hermione spun around to look behind her. “Who is she? I'll hex her into next week!” Harry
smirked at her jesting and grabbed her around the waist.

“Everyone is a comedian!” he joked. She looked over her shoulder at him.

“I love to see you smile. Mark my words; you have a long and arduous road ahead of you. The
shock is bound to break Lockhart's memory charm when you unseat him in *Witch
Weekly's* Most Charming Smile contest.” She gave him an equally broad smile.

“You make me smile, more than anyone ever has. I don't think I've known true happiness
until now.” His face was more serious than any he'd cared to show her. While he was sure the
wind was completely still, he could nearly see a shudder climbing her spinal column as their eyes
met. She held his gaze for a moment and drew a breath to speak.

“I love you, Harry. I always have. I always will.”

He replied to her declaration simply, without use of flowery vocabulary or inspired poetry. He
responded as any other 16 year-old boy would do. He turned her in his arms, lowered his head, and
pressed his lips to hers. She lazily slid her arms over his shoulders and let them rest, crossed
over each other. The sounds of the winter woodlands were replaced with the quiet rhythm of their
breathing. The sounds of his gloved hands moving along her woolen robes accompanied an occasional
urgent gasp as they deepened their kiss and melted against each other, forgetting the near bitter
chill in the air.

“I love you,” he said quietly placing his forehead against hers as they broke from their
embrace.

They stood for a while, foreheads together, quietly contemplating the abrupt change their lives
had seen. Whether she thought of the future or the past, Harry didn't ask. He didn't care.
He was living for the moment. He refused to think of what could be, and thought only of what
was.

She pulled back, a strange smirk on her face, and walked toward the castle silently. As he
turned to follow she ducked behind a large tree.

“Hermione?” he inquired.

*Splat!*

A hastily-formed snowball caught him squarely in the chest and Hermione darted off toward the
castle.

“Oh! Ms. Granger! You have been warned! All is fair in love and *war*!” she screeched as
Harry took off after her, snowballs multiplying in the air around her. For once, she forgot about
books, tests, notes, dreams, and dark wizards. She engaged in a valiant effort and, although
tragically defeated, didn't seem to mind when the victor of the battle claimed her as his
prisoner.

After pummeling her into a drifting snow bank, he threw her over his shoulder and raced off for
the warmth of the common room.

“Harry! How very Cro-Magnon of you!”

“Well, what more could you expect from me in this situation?”

“What situation,” she said wryly as he carried her toward the castle. “Having, said beautiful
girl, declare her affection?”

“No. It's nearly time for the feast!”

Hermione's exasperated guffaws harmonized with Harry's laughter as she pummeled her
fists into his back as they entered the warmth of Hogwarts.

***

They enjoyed a Christmas feast with the exceptionally small number of students who stayed
behind. They all sat together at the customary table with the Hogwarts faculty, listening to
stories and drinking eggnog. Harry noticed Snape and McGonagall were conspicuously missing from the
table festivities. He wondered if the Order had some urgent calling, but the presence of the
Headmaster merely convinced him they had decided to spend the holidays in some other way.

Harry extended the offer of sleeping arrangements to Hermione again. This time he tried
*stating* the offer as opposed to phrasing it as a question. He had an equal amount of success
as the previous night. When he awoke the next morning, he found Hermione working on transfiguration
homework in the common room.

“Hermione, it's the holidays, why are you slaving over homework?” Harry asked.

“Harry, the holidays are over, Ron and everyone else returns today!” Hermione said
matter-of-factly. Suddenly, Harry thought of the last time he saw his fellow Gryffindors. He was
proclaiming his love for Hermione in front of all of them, at about 130 decibels.

“Er-Hermione,” Harry said. “What are we going to tell everyone?” he asked, wishing their
solitude could last forever.

“What's wrong with telling them the truth?” she asked looking up. Her eyes seemingly more
red than brown now. “Because if you think for a minute I'm not showing this ring to every girl
at Hogwarts you are sorely mistaken Potter,” she added beaming at him.

He put his hands on her shoulders, bending over to give her a kiss on the cheek. “All right,
we'll tell people, but only if I get one more day alone with you,” he said rubbing her
shoulders.

She closed her eyes and moaned quietly as he worked a knot out of her neck. “If you promise to
keep doing that I might give you two days,” she said smiling.

“Good, there's one thing I completely insist upon to start our day,” he said quietly as he
took the quill from her hand and closed her textbooks commandingly. She looked at him questioningly
as he pulled her chair from the table.

“What's that?”

“Come with me, you'll see,” Harry said, taking her hand and pulling her towards the
boys' dormitories. They climbed the stairs in silence, Hermione's palm noticeably beginning
to warm. Harry stopped at the door to the deserted room he shared with Ron, Seamus, Dean, and
Neville. With a wry smile, he pushed the door open and ushered her inside.

“Harry,” she said quietly.

“Shhhh,” he replied, drawing her over to his bed and climbing onto the mattress. She followed
willingly, but her face betrayed her insecurity regarding the situation. “Come here,” he said at a
whisper. “We both need this.” With that, he pulled her onto the bed so her back was snuggled firmly
into his stomach and wrapped his fluffy crimson blanket around them both. He wrapped his arm firmly
around her waist and brushed her hair from her neck with his cheek. She turned her face toward his
with an obvious question etched across her features. He answered it.

“Sleep, Hermione. I promise with everything I am, you will be safe. I'm not going anywhere.”
At his words, the corner of her lips curled upward, she sighed, and resigned herself to the
welcoming slumber she had so ardently avoided.

Somewhere in the back of his imagination, Hermione's voice echoed a thought she'd likely
never admit out loud.

*Maybe Harry is smarter than I am.*

***

After a refreshing nap, curled in each other's arms, Harry and Hermione armed themselves
with the Marauders' Map and donned his invisibility cloak for a clandestine trip to Hogsmeade.
Upon their return, the whole of Hogwarts seemed to be alive. All the students had returned,
including Ron, and the quiet silence of the common room was a solemn memory. Quite a few pairs of
eyes made their way to Harry and Hermione as they stepped through the portrait hole together. The
fact they were holding hands was not lost on practically no one…especially…

“Ginny!” Hermione gasped as Ginny charged over and pummeled them both in a group hug.

“I wondered about this all holiday!” she said excitedly. “You have to tell me
*everything*!” she demanded, pulling Hermione away. Harry saw a familiar red head poking out
above everyone else.

Ron watched as Ginny led Hermione away, an unreadable look etched on his face. “No need to ask
about your vacation, eh Harry?” he said quietly.

“Well,” Harry said feeling his cheeks blush. He was intent to avoid the subject and ask about
Ron's holiday when wild squealing erupted from a patch of girls on the other side of the common
room. They were all huddled around the hand Hermione had extended in their direction.

“So, you finally gave it to her did you?” Ron asked.

Harry looked at Ron in utter disbelief. He never told Ron about the ring he'd bought, or for
whom he'd bought it. Seeming to read these thoughts, Ron added in disgust, “Oh, come on Harry!
You can't expect me to grow up with Fred and George and not do a *little* snooping! The
pillow on your bed is hardly a substitute for a good vault at Gringotts.” Harry laughed in spite of
himself, making a point to remember Ron's sneaky side in the future. They sat down in front of
the fire where Harry, in attempt to change the subject, began peppering Ron with questions about
his vacation.

“Well honestly, it went well until a few days ago. Mum and Dad started acting all weird and we
all had to come home on Christmas day. We ended up staying at the Burrow and they went off
somewhere,” Ron said, helping himself to a chocolate frog Dumbledore had given Harry. Harry told
Ron about Snape and McGonagall missing Christmas dinner and their conversation quickly turned to
wild speculation regarding the Order's activities. By the end of the evening, they had
determined that Voldemort must surely be living in the bottom of the lake with the mermaids, ready
to strike at the first sign of spring swimmers.

***

Classes resumed and life returned to normal at Hogwarts. This is to say it turned as normal as
any school of witchcraft and wizardry can. Peeves seemed to take the miniscule numbers of holiday
students as a personal affront and redoubled his efforts of mischief making upon the students'
return. If it was possible Tonks seemed less coordinated than before the holidays. And Professor
Snape, thoroughly convinced they had forgotten how to spell their own names over the break, began
the term with a test.

Harry was sure if he hadn't needed remedial potions before, he was surely going to get it
added to his schedule now. At least Hermione tried to keep up with her studies a bit over the
holidays. Harry had nearly forgotten where he put his books; it had been so long since he laid eyes
on them. Ron and Harry shot each other a disgusted look as Hermione's quill scratched away from
the seat in front of them. As always, she was the girl with all the answers.

Harry merely stared at some of the questions wishing for inspiration to come. More often than
not he found himself picking up his head and staring blankly at Hermione's shining hair. He
studied the way it fell down her back, the way it rested on her shoulder. He watched the way she
would occasionally run her fingers through it. Her mere presence seemed to clear his mind and
answers would float back to him for some of the questions he'd had difficulty with. He was
clearly impressed he had remembered what steamed heart of reidelwort was used for. In fact, he
didn't really remember learning that at all.

*No matter, it sounds good and I'm bound to fail this test anyway*.

He continued to stare at the back of Hermione's head. She had it propped up gently with her
left hand, quill in her right. He felt better about failing this test given the fact Hermione had
stopped writing all together. She must've been just as lost on a question as Harry was. He
noticed how the light bounced off the caramel highlights in her hair, how her shoulders seemed to
float up and down with each breath.

She seemed so peaceful.

The kind of peace he felt on his Firebolt.

He thought about his new dive, racing toward the ground at break-neck speed, the snitch nearly
within his grasp. He was smiling, in fact beaming and laughing…he loved to fly. He loved to dive,
but he wasn't stopping. He wasn't able to pull up. The ground was careening closer and
closer and the handle of his Firebolt would not budge. The snitch darted off just before it
would've smashed into the hard ground of the pitch, but Harry couldn't stop; nor could he
turn.

“*Harry!*” Hermione yelled, throwing her arm out and sending her inkbottle smashing into
the next table. Harry looked at her thoroughly confused. It felt like he had been dreaming, but he
was perfectly awake.

“Ms. Granger.” Snape's silky cold voice began. “How uncharacteristic for our little
know-it-all, if you're going to be disrespectful enough to fall asleep during one of my exams,
you could at least do us the courtesy of dreaming quietly.” Before Hermione could respond, the bell
rang, signaling the end of class. She gathered her books quickly and, face unmistakably crimson,
ran for the door.

Hermione managed to dart out of the dungeon before Harry and Ron could catch up. She disappeared
into a mass of students leaving their lessons and Ron was nearly out of breath trying to keep
up.

“Harry! I really try not to get this much exercise in one day. What in Merlin's name are we
running for?” Ron gasped.

“Hermione, I want to see if she's okay,” Harry said quickly, looking down the next
corridor.

“Harry, she was dreaming about you, how could she not be okay?” Ron scoffed. However, when his
eyes met Harry's he seemed to realize there was more to Hermione's nap than he first
thought. “What's going on?” he said growing more serious.

“I just need to find her,” Harry said shortly, beginning to turn down the corridor, Ron tugging
at his robes.

“Hang on, Harry! You need to tell me what's going on. Did something happen over the holiday
break?” Ron demanded, the smile having faded from his face entirely.

“Not here. Just help me find her and I'll tell you everything, I promise,” Harry said
quietly. “Where do you think she went?” he continued.

“Where else?” Ron said rolling his eyes at Harry's poor grasp of the obvious.

“Library,” they chimed together and set off at a run down the corridor, narrowly escaping the
potted Snarfroot flower Peeves hurled in their direction.

They burst into the library, door slamming against the doorstop and incensing Madam Pince to the
point of talking to herself. She walked off muttering something about “wizards today,” and they
began searching the library tables for Hermione. After two sweeps of the study area they regrouped
to formulate plan “B.”

“Did you see her?” Harry asked breathlessly.

“No, you?” Ron replied. Not waiting for his response Ron continued. “She's got to be
somewhere in here. I checked the sections on transfiguration and potions.”

“I checked dark arts and charms,” Harry added.

“Where could she be?” Ron asked scrunching his face in concentration.

“I know,” Harry said, sweeping off toward a small corner of the library with an engraved wrought
iron sign indicating the books concerning…

“Divination! Harry? Have you gone mad? Hermione's more likely to knit a S.P.E.W. hat out of
Crookshanks fur than look up information on divina…” Ron stopped as he and Harry turned down the
last aisle to see Hermione sitting on the floor flipping through the pages of Spells for the
Subconscious.

Feeling his heart rate steady, Harry walked quietly to where she was sitting and crouched beside
her. “Hermione, are you okay?” he asked.

“I'm fine,” she said shortly, failing to look up from the book in her lap. Harry and Ron
shot a quizzical look toward each other. Either she was about to cry or about to explode. Quite
honestly, Ron looked worried for Harry's safety given his proximity to, what he saw as, a
ticking bomb. She flipped the pages faster, clearly not finding the answer she sought - growing
steadily more agitated. “It's not in here! I can't find it anywhere! I've looked for
hours in here!” she snapped.

“Hermione? You've only been here for ten minutes,” Ron said, trying to reason with her,
however - he was quite sure the Basilisk had nothing on the look she shot him in response to that
comment.

Harry tried to assuage the smoldering fire. He knew what was bothering her. He knew
everything.

“Hermione,” he began, trying to close the book in her lap. “Look at me.” She fought harder to
stare at the pages in front of her. “Look at me,” he said again, this time turning her chin toward
his face. She begrudgingly raised her eyes to his…and exploded.

“I don't know what's going on! I want it to stop! None of these books are helping. This
library is completely useless!” she bellowed over top of Harry and Ron's efforts to get her to
calm down. “Don't you `shush' me Ronald Weasley! You have no idea…” her voice started to
shake “…no idea…” tears started to roll down her cheeks. Harry seized the opportunity in her moment
of weakness to get a word in edgewise.

“Not yet, he doesn't, but I do,” he said quickly. “Hermione I know what's been going on,
I know everything,” he said, lowering his voice. “Come with me, both of you,” he ordered, pulling
Hermione off the floor, and ushering them both out of the library past dozens of peering eyes.

“Will someone *please* tell me what is going on?” Ron demanded, growing more agitated as
they swept down the corridor.

“Not out here,” Harry said curtly, directing them into an available classroom and closing the
door behind them. “Alright Ron, let me tell you what happened over the Christmas holidays.”

As Harry began speaking, Ron was planted in his spot, tapping a foot, with his hands on his hips
- by the time he finished, Ron had slumped into the nearest chair with his head in his hands. He
was speechless. He merely gazed at them both with a gaping mouth and wide eyes. Hermione looked
knowingly at Harry, he'd left out any reference to Trelawney's prophesy - but given
Ron's current condition that bit of information was likely to put him on the express train to
St. Mungo's.

“So how does any of that explain today?” Hermione asked quietly.

“Ron, what is the purpose of steamed heart of reidelwort?” Harry now asked his thoroughly
confused friend.

“*What?*” Ron said dumbfounded.

“*Exactly*. Hermione?” Harry asked, shifting his gaze to her.

“Well, it's used in certain potions to extract phytoplankton from various aquatic tubers,”
Hermione said with her usual confidence. “*What*? You *asked* me?” she barked, growing
annoyed at the quizzical expressions on their faces.

“Ron, do you have any idea what Hermione just said?” Harry charged on.

“I -er- I dunno, something about photographs of tubas?” Ron stammered.

“Precisely! That's about as much as I understood of it too,” Harry continued. Both Ron and
Hermione were looking completely frustrated at this point. “I have no idea what she's talking
about and am nearly sure I wouldn't know a phytoplankton if it walked up and said it's name
was Colin Creevy… but…”

“Question number 14,” Hermione interrupted. Harry gave her a definitive nod. “You answered it,”
she said cuing in.

Ron had enough. “*I promise* *on every member of my family living or dead, if someone
doesn't put this into 25 words or less I'm doing my best impersonation of Peeves with this
chair!*” he roared.

“I was able to answer question 14 on Snape's test because Hermione knows the answer. I was
looking at her, rather than concentrating on my test, and I could see the answer in her head! When
she fell asleep…”

This was going to be the hard part. Hermione didn't know this.

“I saw what you did,” he said pulling a chair up to Hermione and sitting down.

“What did you see?” Ron asked, seeming to want to test Harry on the theory he was espousing.

“Quidditch.”

At the mere sound of the word, Hermione buried her face in her hands and tried to fight back her
own emotions. Based on her reaction, Ron knew Harry must've been right. Harry put his arms
around Hermione and pulled her close.

“It will be alright Hermione,” he said softly, kissing her on the head.

“How will it? I can't sleep at all Harry! Every time I close my eyes I have the same dream -
over and over. It's *always* the same. I always wake up right before you plunge into the
pitch. It's *everywhere* I go, *every time* I sleep!” she said through streaming
tears.

Harry hadn't realized it was a recurring dream.

“You have the same dream *every time* you sleep?” She nodded.

“Does it ever get anymore detailed? Do you ever have strong emotions, aside from fear?” Harry
asked the questions in rapid succession, a pit growing in his stomach. Her reaction was enough of
an answer for him. She burst into tears, refusing to answer the last question. She didn't have
to. Harry knew the answer already. He glanced over at Ron; he was confounded, but focused on
Hermione.

“Hermione, I need you to answer this for me, it's very important.” She raised her
tearstained face to his. “Are you happy I'm about to die in this dream?”

Her sobs became uncontrollable and he held her close. He knew what it meant, but he couldn't
go any further with Ron in the room. He wasn't ready to share the prophecy with him yet, and he
needed to explain his plan to Hermione.

“Ron, will you do me a favor?” Harry asked quietly.

“Anything.” Ron looked back at him, realizing only part of the seriousness of the situation.

“I need to talk to Hermione alone for a minute,” he asked, eyes pleading for Ron not to inquire
further.

Seeming to understand the look on his face he replied, “I'll wait for you both outside.” He
opened the door, peered out quickly, and shut it with a quiet snap.

“Hermione,” he said raising her face to his once again. “I know what's going on. Please just
listen to everything I have to say before you respond.” She quietly nodded her head, fear quickly
growing behind her eyes.

“When Voldemort tried to kill me as a baby, he left this scar. He transferred some of his powers
to me, like being able to speak Parseltongue.” He waved his hand to stop her from interrupting.

“I know you know all that already,” he added, answering her statement before she could make it.
“What you don't know is that he and I forged this connection with each other. It's how he
was able to break into my head last year, and how I managed to see into his when Mr. Weasley was
attacked. You were so completely right last year, Hermione. Occlumency was the most important thing
I needed to do and I didn't do it at all.” He put a finger to her lips to quiet her
response.

“I know. I've mastered it now - but only because of you.” Her face went from understanding
to confusion. “In our first lesson, Snape saw my memory of the wooded trail. I realized then, that
I really needed to concentrate in order to keep him away from my feelings for you. That's why I
worked so hard.”

She finally got a comment in edgewise. “But Harry, you've mastered Occlumency, that means
Voldemort shouldn't be able to get into your head anymore,” she said, not following his
thoughts.

“No, but I think he can get into yours,” Harry said, grasping her hands.

“He has a powerful connection to me. I have a powerful connection to you. The kind of recurring
dreams you're describing are the same kinds of dreams I had last year.” Her face was starting
to break into a horrified comprehension.

“Hermione, is it so illogical to think if he is connected to me, and I am connected to you, that
he might now be connected to you as well?”

Harry had seen Hermione petrified during their second year. Frankly, the look on her face then
was not as disconcerting as the terrified look that was spreading across her face now. Harry's
theory made perfect sense. It made perfect, *logical*, sense. He could see the comprehension
dawning in her eyes. She looked away and began shaking. Her mouth opened and closed, trying to
rebut Harry's entire argument, with no luck whatsoever. She finally squeaked out, “what are we
going to do?”

“Well, that's the easy part,” Harry said calmly. “I'll just have to teach you
Occlumency.”



9. Confessions and Catastrophes
-------------------------------

**A/N: The end of the story is beginning to loom. You are now officially ¾ of the way done.
There will be 12 chapters in total that will carry us through the end of their 6th year
at Hogwarts.**

**Again, I appreciate all the reviews! I’m truly glad you all are enjoying the story.**

**As mentioned by nearly everyone who posts (and the little disclaimer at the bottom) I own
none of this. And –as** **Romulus** **Lupin so aptly pointed out-if I was JK, I’d certainly
be making a bit of money on these. I appreciate the (entirely too kind) comparisons to Ms. Rowling
*bows* however, I assure you I am not her** **J**

**I hope this chapter does not disappoint….I must say it’s one of the “trademark” chapters. On
at least one other site I’m known as either the “Cliffhanger or Kleenex Queen.” (For a sample of a
classic VLeigh tearjerker…read my short posted here “The Next Great Adventure.” For a sample of the
other….read on!**

**Enjoy!!**

**Vicarious Leigh**

**Chapter 9 – Confessions and Catastrophes**

Hermione didn’t seem to look much better at breakfast the following morning. Ron remained more
confused about this situation than anything else, but out of respect for their friendship, he
didn’t ask where the conversation had gone after his departure. The trio sat silently, eating their
breakfast, searching for some impetus for a conversation.

“So, what’s on the schedule today?” Ron asked, looking at both of them timidly.

“Double Defense Against the Dark Arts and Charms,” Hermione muttered, without looking up from
her toast and jam.

“We’ve got Quidditch practice this afternoon as well,” Harry added, trying to encourage the
conversation. Being the oldest and most experienced player on the team, he had been unanimously
elected captain this year.

With the exception of a period last year, Harry had been the seeker for the Gryffindor house
team. Ginny, who had replaced him as seeker, made no secret that she was happy he had returned to
his old position. She had taken over one of the three vacant chaser positions. Andrew Kirke and
Jack Sloper replaced Fred and George after their (now legendary) departure from Hogwarts, and Ron –
who had replaced Oliver Wood-remained the keeper this year. A second and third year student filled
the remaining two chaser positions which had been vacated by the graduation of Katie Bell and
Alicia Spinnet. Overall, their season had progressed well.

Gryffindor was the current Quidditch Cup champion team and Harry had fought hard to maintain
that distinction during the fall term. As it stood now, they were in second place, behind
Ravenclaw, but well within striking distance of claiming the title again.

Both Ron and Harry continued to muse over Quidditch through the end of breakfast. If it was
possible, Harry thought Hermione became less talkative by the end of breakfast than she had been at
the beginning. However, given the fact the conversation revolved entirely around the
broomstick-mounted wizards’ sport, neither Harry nor Ron were surprised Hermione hadn’t spoken.

They sauntered into Tonks’ classroom and walked toward the front. Harry followed Hermione and
sat down at a table with her, while Ron managed to pull up a chair with Neville Longbottom.

It seemed obvious from the supplies set before them that the class was continuing their study of
telekinesis. The same wrought iron stand sat squarely on the table with a small fluffy pillow
perched atop. Harry was excited to begin. He’d actually felt he’d made some progress in this
subject. He’d moved from staring blankly at the pillow to watching it flop onto the table. Others
in his class had made little to no progress at all. Amazingly, of all the students in class,
Neville managed to move the object first. Harry wasn’t sure what shocked Neville more, the 25
points Tonks had awarded Gryffindor house when the pillow fell from the stand, or the fact members
of the D.A. were asking Neville to teach them how to do it. Either way, it warmed Harry’s heart.
Neville had really started coming into his own this year and he was happy to see his confidence
improve.

Outside the doorway, the students were startled by a crash. While most thought it was Peeves on
another rampage, Harry smiled inwardly. He had the feeling class was about to start. Sure enough,
the door swung open and Tonks limped into the classroom.

“Good morning class!” Tonks chirped, brushing off her cloak at the knees. She was sporting a
short and spiky aquamarine hairdo and stumbled toward the front of the class. She had completely
stopped apologizing for her clumsiness last November. By that point, the class had taken to laying
a hand or two on whatever personal belongings were perched on their table as she instructed the
class. This phenomenon was not lost on Tonks, but it didn’t seem to bother her either. She began
the class by teaching them a few new mind-relaxing techniques and then set them off on their
telekinesis practicals.

Harry and Hermione sat, staring blankly, at the small pillow for several minutes. Truth be told,
Harry wasn’t concentrating at all – at least not on the pillow. Tonight was the night he was going
to start Occlumency with Hermione and he wanted to test his ability in Legilimency. While she
stared at the pillow, he was actually focusing all his attention on her.

He caught glimpses of her thoughts and feelings but nothing too strong or connected. He
remembered the assertion that space, time, and eye contact matter in magic. He wasn’t making any
eye contact at all. In fact, he was trying to do this while maintaining the impression he was
focused on the pillow. He broke into an uncontrollable smile as he saw a glimpse of Hermione’s
memory of their first kiss.

“What are you grinning at?” she snipped, glaring at him.

“Er, nothing,” he said, forcing the smile off his face and refocusing his attention on the
pillow.

“You’re not concentrating Harry, how are we supposed to learn any of this if you won’t give it
its due attention? Now, you’re supposed to be chucking this pillow at me and I’m supposed to be
stopping it,” she huffed in that familiar –you’ve-been-neglecting-your-homework tone of voice.
Although she was entirely correct, Harry couldn’t help but feel a little put off. She was
chastising him because she thought *he* was not focusing on the lesson, when he knew beyond a
shadow of a doubt she wasn’t any more focused than he was. Giving this thought a bit more
consideration, he moved his chair to the opposite side of the table.

“What are you doing?” Hermione asked, looking around at some of the students who were peering in
his direction.

“Eye contact,” Harry said nonchalantly.

“What?” she whispered, hovering her head closer to the table.

“Eye contact, I can’t look in your eyes if I’m sitting next to you,” Harry said settling into
his chair.

“Harry!” she whispered indignantly. “This is no time for you to be thinking about…”

“Hermione relax,” he said rolling his eyes and pointing to the pillow on the stand. Hermione
blushed and refocused their eyes on the task at hand. However, with Harry sitting across the table,
that became increasingly more difficult. As they sat, seeming by all appearances to be simply
staring at each other, they continued to sporadically break out in uncontrollable fits of giggles.
It wasn’t until Harry tried thinking of something a bit different that he made his greatest leap
forward.

“Ah!” Hermione yelped as the pillow hit her squarely in the face.

*“Wonderful!”* Tonks yelled from across the classroom. “Try it again Harry!” she said
rushing to the table. Harry gathered his thoughts and tried again.

*Smack.*

The pillow soared toward Hermione’s face again. She ducked out of its way, and it followed her
for a moment, before it careened past her onto the floor behind. Hermione brushed the hair out of
her face and stared at Harry, half in awe of what he’d done, and half wanting to slap him for
hitting her in the face with the pillow.

“Fantastic! 25 more points to Gryffindor!” Harry caught a quick smile from Neville. “Harry, can
you explain to the class how you managed to swat Ms. Granger in the face?” Tonks said
excitedly.

Harry did not miss the glare emanating from the other side of the table.

“I don’t really know,” Harry lied.

In fact, he knew exactly what he had done. He cleared his thoughts and imagined he was the
pillow moving in for a kiss. He was honestly surprised it had worked but was certainly not going to
share his method with the class.

***

Hermione didn’t speak to Harry until dinner time that evening. By then, she had stopped being
incensed over the Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson and obviously started worrying about the
third “class” she would start that night,…Occlumency,… with Harry. One thing was certain;
Occlumency was not a group effort. While he cherished Ron as a friend, he knew all too well from
his experience with Snape that Hermione would have memories she may not want to be shared. That
would be hard enough, even without an audience. It was purely protective in nature, and Harry hoped
his decision wouldn’t come back to haunt him in the end, but he’d made his decision. Occlumency
started tonight, and he was going to have to find some way to throw Ron off the trail. Luckily, his
responsibilities as Quidditch captain gave him a perfect excuse.

“Ron,” Harry started, shooting a momentary glance toward Hermione. “I’m going to go down to the
pitch tonight. I had an idea for a new strategy I want to work out on the board in the dressing
room,” he finished quickly.

“Fabulous! Do you want some help?” Ron offered. Harry was sure this would be his response and he
was prepared for it, but before he got the opportunity…

“Ron! You know you haven’t touched that essay for Professor McGonagall and its due in the
morning! How can you think about Quidditch when you’ve procrastinated yourself into corner with
your homework?” Hermione quipped, mirroring Harry’s glance. Ron simply shifted in his seat and his
shoulders slumped in a begrudging huff.

“I guess I *should* probably work on that tonight. You can tell me about the new strategy
in the morning,” Ron said dejectedly.

Harry couldn’t help but smile. Hermione might have been angry with him since the morning, but
she certainly didn’t miss a thing. They hadn’t discussed studying Occlumency alone, but she
certainly appeared to share his assessment. Ron stalked off to Gryffindor tower and as they left
the Great Hall together she asked him quietly, “so we’ll be going to the dressing room then?” she
asked looking into his face.

“No,” he replied, pulling her into a dim corner of the corridor. “Take this,” he said, pulling
his invisibility cloak out of his bag. “I’ve had it with me all day not knowing when I could get it
to you. I’ll give you about ten minutes, after we get to the common room, before I open the
portrait hole to leave.” She put the cloak into her bag and nodded silently.

Before she knew it the time had come.

“Alright Ron,” Harry said, getting up from the table in the far corner of the common room. “I’m
going to head down to the pitch, I’ll be back in a bit, don’t wait up,” he said, smiling. Ron
slumped his shoulders, jabbing his quill back into the ink well, and waved to Harry as he opened
the portrait hole.

“Where are we going?” Hermione whispered under the cloak.

“The same place we always go to teach each other in private,” he said turning up the staircase
to the seventh floor. They passed the tapestry of Barnabas the Balmy three times and a door
suddenly appeared on the opposite side of the hall.

The Room of Requirement looked entirely different than the last time they had used it. When
Harry led the meetings of the D.A. the room was large and lined with bookcases and cushions. It was
more than adequate size for the members of the D.A. and even offered Harry a whistle when he found
he needed one.

He was sure half their number wouldn’t have fit in this room now. It was rather small and cozy,
with two very large overstuffed chairs situated facing each other. The room was dim and smelled of
lavender and vanilla. Sounds of nature filled the room, and the ceiling appeared to be enchanted
similarly to the Great Hall’s.

“Harry?” Hermione gasped looking around the room. “We *are* going to be studying Occlumency
in here, right?” She looked at him disbelievingly. Harry couldn’t help but think if his lessons had
been done in such an inviting, warm, and calming space he would’ve progressed much faster.

“Of course,” he said shutting the door behind him and taking the cloak from her outstretched
arm. They both walked to the big chairs and sat down.

Harry spent the next thirty minutes telling her everything he knew about Occlumency. He told her
what it felt like for him, how clearing his mind was the most important thing he could do, how he
envisioned himself pressing into Snape’s head. He left out any reference to the pensieve, but
didn’t feel he’d use it even if he had one available. Since the day he met Hermione, she seemed to
know more about him than he did. He answered her questions, tried to put her at ease, and finally
ended the conversation.

“So, are you ready to try it?” he asked cautiously.

“I suppose.” she said, averting her eyes. He reached out at took her hands in his.

“It will be okay Hermione,” he said softly. “I’m here.”

She gave him a weak smile and pulled her hand out of his to retrieve her wand. She sat up on the
edge of the chair and took a deep breath. Harry pulled out his wand and began to think about what
he needed to do. He’d always been on the receiving end of this spell, but he felt pretty confident
he could do what he had to.

“Legilimens!” he spoke firmly, wand pointed at Hermione.

Images raced into through his head. It was her birthday. She was five and the cake exploded. She
was reading her Hogwarts acceptance letter to stunned parents. Harry saw himself lying in the
hospital wing after the Triwizard tournament.

He broke off the spell.

She looked up at him quizzically, breathing rapidly. “Did you see that?” she asked in
disbelief.

“I got glimpses of it,” he said, remembering a near identical conversation with Professor Snape.
“Why did the cake explode?”

Hermione looked away quickly and muttered, “I wanted a dolphin for the swimming pool in the
backyard.” Harry couldn’t help but laugh.

“Let’s try again,” he said smiling. “Try to block me out,” he added. She gave a quick nod and
resituated herself on the edge of the chair.

“Legilimens!”

She was behind a pile of books in the library. She was walking with Harry on the wooded trail.
She was reading her O.W.L. results. She was at the Yule Ball with Viktor Krum.

“Ouch!” Harry yelped. He was rubbing a bit of slime out of his eyes.

“Did I do that?” Hermione gasped.

“Yes,” Harry said flatly. “I’ve never been hit with a conjunctivitis curse before, even if it
was a weak one. There wouldn’t have been anything you didn’t want me to see there?” he said
sarcastically.

“Perhaps.” She smiled. “Besides, it doesn’t matter. I’m in love with you, not Viktor.” Before
Harry could speak she added, “I think it would be helpful for me if you would let me in.” she said
to a rather confused Harry. “I mean, I know what it feels like for you to break into my head, but I
think it would be helpful if you’d let down your guard so I can get into yours.” Harry had the
first glimpse of the trepidation she’d felt all day. However, this was for a good cause. As usual,
Hermione made a fair point. He reluctantly agreed.

Harry was about to make the point that Hermione needed to understand Legilimancy first, when she
demonstrated with surprising clarity, the obvious reach of her textbook learning.

“Legilimens!” Harry shook off the initial disbelief that she was able to perform the spell and
tried to open his mind to her, imagining Snape sitting in her chair. The images were his. Dudley
was effectively using him as a punching bag when he was eight. He stared in awe as he watched Percy
run through the barrier to platform 9 ¾. A flurry of unrelated innocuous memories floated through
his mind. But suddenly, the images shifted, becoming distinctly more ominous.

Voldemort rose from a wildly oversized cauldron. Wormtail lie shaking on the graveyard floor,
clutching his stumped arm. Cedric fell to the ground in a haze of green light. Harry collapsed
under the excruciating pain of the Cruciatus curse

*I have to stop this now!*

“Ouch!” she said, rubbing her wand hand. He had hit her with the same stinging hex he’d
inadvertently used on Snape.

“I’m sorry Hermione,” he said. “I just thought…” she interrupted.

“Oh, Harry.” Her hand was now covering her mouth and her eyes were filled with tears. Harry had
become quite used to his memories of Voldemort’s rebirth, sometimes forgetting that he was the lone
witness to the events of that evening. “Now it makes sense,” she said quietly.

“What makes sense?” he asked.

“Last year…everything…how angry you were at everyone. It just…it makes sense.” She ended in a
whisper.

In a way, Harry was almost glad for what she’d seen. Everyone believed him now, but no one
really understood what it was like. But with Hermione having been able to glimpse a bit of Harry’s
memories – strangely, he didn’t feel so alone anymore.

They spent the next hour or so, bantering back and forth, discussing the images they saw in the
other’s mind. Some memories were serious, some were scary, and some were downright hilarious. They
managed to lose track of time and decided it best to head back to Gryffindor Tower beneath the
safety of the invisibility cloak. As they were preparing to leave, Hermione grasped Harry’s arm and
stopped him from opening the door.

“I have two questions before we go,” she said decidedly. Harry turned around and focused his
attention on her rich chocolate eyes.

“How do I know the dream isn’t real?”

Harry didn’t need any more explanation. Since he’d first shared Hermione’s dream that plunged
Harry into the Quidditch pitch at breakneck speed, he’d given the same question a lot of thought.
He wasn’t entirely sure this answer would be correct, but he had to assuage her fears.

“The dream I had about Sirius wasn’t true. Not all dreams are. I think it’s only in part due to
him, I think the rest comes from you. You’ve always hated watching me dive during a game haven’t
you?” Harry asked, hoping for reassurance.

“Ugh, it completely turns my stomach. I am always afraid you’ll be nothing but a hole in the
pitch,” Hermione said covering her eyes with her hand.

“See,” Harry said raising her chin to meet her eyes. “Besides, I’m on the pitch all the time. If
it were what Voldemort wanted done, it would’ve happened by now. I just hate to think what your
dreams would be like after our first fight.” He laughed, trying to lighten the mood. She smiled and
gave a relieved sigh.

“Okay, then, second question. How *did* you make that pillow hit me this morning?” she said
putting her hands on her hips with indignation.

Harry couldn’t have asked for a better question. He stepped toward her with a smile, wrapped one
arm around her waist, and pulled her into a passionate kiss. His other hand gently played in her
soft hair, sending a visible shiver up her spine. She grasped at the back of his robes as a soft
moan escaped her mouth and explored his. He gently leaned her back against the door jamb and worked
his mouth down the long column of her neck. His warm breath ignited the hours old perfume she’d
dabbed along her throat. The scent completely intoxicated him. Her throat worked against his lips
and her head fell lightly to the side, exposing an alabaster strip of skin along her shoulder.

“Harry…” she moaned, letting her hands play in his unruly hair. He had the sinking feeling she
was going to say something totally logical that made absolute sense. He was not in a state to
listen, even though he knew she’d be right. If this was going to end, it was going to end on his
terms. Afterall, he’d started it.

He dragged his lips back along her neck and fused his mouth firmly over hers before she could
utter another syllable in that deep, rasping voice he’d only just been introduced to. She
reciprocated his passionate embrace. Her tongue danced with his and their bodies pressed fully
against each other.

When he let her go, she gasped for a breath, put her hand just under her throat and began to
speak. Harry stopped her with another short kiss and responded to her comment before she could make
it.

“I just imagined I was the pillow…doing that.”

She regained some of her composure, caught her breath, and responded, “I guess I shouldn’t have
been so angry with you then.” Harry smiled broadly as he wrapped them in his father’s invisibility
cloak. They laughed together and headed for Gryffindor tower.

Harry never had such a pleasant walk under the cloak before. Usually when he, Ron and/or
Hermione were under it together, they bumped into each other and were crammed for space. Not that
the same thing wasn’t happening this evening, but neither Harry nor Hermione seemed to mind. She
had both arms wrapped tightly around him, and walked with her head pressed into his chest. He had
one arm around her back and the other holding the cloak away from their faces. As would be required
under the cloak, they didn’t speak a word as they traversed the halls. They clearly didn’t mind
stopping in a small alcove for Filch to pass by.

Harry stepped out from under the cloak, leaving Hermione underneath, and said “Tiddlywink.” The
fat lady swung open to reveal the portrait hole behind and Harry stepped through to an all but
deserted common room.

Then he experienced the strangest sensation of déjà vu he’d ever had.

“Where *have* you been?” Ron bellowed. He sounded exactly like his mother had the day Ron
and the twins rescued Harry from Privet Drive. Harry opened his mouth to speak and was quickly cut
off. ”Don’t *even* tell me you’ve been down at the pitch! I got bored with this and went to
look for you! Unless you’re the captain of the Slytherin team, you sure weren’t there this evening!
I had to listen to another rendition of ‘Weasley is our King’ the whole way back to the
castle!”

Harry was stuck. His brain was moving but he couldn’t come up with any good excuses. “Well, I
er-well, what it is,” he started

“Wait! Before you dig yourself a deeper hole, I see what Crookshanks is doing. Take it off
Granger!” he bellowed, looking to the exact location where Hermione was hidden, trying to make it
to the girls’ dormitory.

“Stupid cat,” she said as she pulled off the invisibility cloak and handed it to Harry.
Crookshanks threw his bottle brush tail into the air and pranced off happily toward the fire.

“*You both have about 30 seconds to tell me the truth.”* Ron demanded. His face was beet
red and he was pointing his wand directly them both.

If Ron was going for intimidation, he clearly missed the mark. “Oh, please. Put that thing away
before you hex yourself Ron,” Hermione scoffed as she flopped into her favorite squashy chair.
Ron’s eyes darted from his wand to Hermione and back again, clearly trying to determine where his
plan had gone awry. Harry and Hermione exchange an entire conversation in a simple glance and Harry
responded.

“Alright Ron, but you better sit down for this,” Harry said, pointing to the vacant chair by the
fire. Ron complied and sat down cautiously in the chair, still trying his best to glare at them
both. Harry filed in behind him, taking a perch on the arm of the chair Hermione occupied. With one
last glance toward her for courage he began to tell Ron the parts of the story he’d left out
before.

He began the same way he had with Hermione.

“What I’m about to tell you only myself, Dumbledore, the Order, and now Hermione knows about.”
He thought to tell him it needed to remain secret, but decided he didn’t need to do that. It was
Ron. He would trust him with his life.

He took a breath and began his story in the Department of Mysteries. He told Ron the importance
of the orb and why Voldemort had wanted to hear it. Hermione grasped Harry’s hand in hers as he
explained the prophecy to Ron. When he stopped to ensure Ron understood its meaning, he couldn’t
help but notice Hermione had buried her head in the arm of the chair. He squeezed her hand and
continued on. He ended the conversation with his theory of Voldemort’s new connection to Hermione.
Ron shifted uncomfortably as he mentioned the name but soon composed himself as Harry described
their first foray into Occlumency together.

“So, did it work?” Ron asked, eyes wide.

“I don’t think Occlumency is something you learn in one day, but we’ve certainly made a good
start,” Harry replied. He turned to Hermione and added, “But you need to do what I do at night, you
need to practice the relaxation techniques Tonks has been teaching us. It will help you clear your
head at night. It will help stop the dreams.” Hermione looked away, seeming to remember her
recurring nightmare. She nodded gently and looked up at Ron.

“I’m sorry we didn’t tell you everything earlier. It just seemed like so much at one time, we
thought it would be better to…” Ron cut her off.

“Better to leave me in the dark! You know, Harry knows, even my *parents* have known about
this and no one bothers to tell me that my best friend might be murdered tomorrow!” Ron roared.
Hermione winced at the mere thought of it. Harry tried to calm him before he woke the full count of
Gryffindors sleeping above.

“Look, Ron. I know you’re angry and you deserve to be but…” he began.

“But what Harry? I may not be your *girlfriend*, but I’m your best friend and I care about
you too. I have as much a right to know about this as she does!” he said getting to his feet and
stomping off toward the fire. Harry and Hermione exchanged a quick, cautious, glance and silently
agreed to let Ron get it out of his system.

He continued quietly. “Our fourth year was the longest I’ve ever been at Hogwarts without you
Harry. That time I was so angry with you over something so stupid. It could’ve happened then and I
would never have had the chance to say I was sorry,” he said calming considerably.

“Oh, Ron,” Hermione said, cuing in. “Is *that* what this is all about? Listen to me,” she
said, getting to her feet and moving to Ron’s side. “Believe me when I say, Harry could’ve died
fighting that Horntail and he still would’ve died knowing you love him. Even though he was mad he
didn’t go a minute without thinking about you. I know! I was there. And even if you never knew what
he just told you, and it happened tomorrow, he’d still feel the same thing.” Hermione was holding
Ron’s hand now.

Harry was exceptionally grateful Hermione had stepped in. Everything she said was true but it
wasn’t anything Harry could ever have said to Ron comfortably. Ron gave Hermione a gentle hug and
Harry did as best as he could do to cross the room and lighten the mood.

“You - uh…gonna let go anytime soon?” Harry said spryly, glancing between Ron and Hermione, his
face cracking into a grin. Ron raised an eyebrow at him, the look on his face unreadable, and
without breaking eye contact with Harry, gave Hermione a peck on the top of her head.

“Now I will,” he said. There was a noticeable silence that lasted only a fleeting moment. Harry
extended his hand toward Ron’s. He was shocked when Ron grasped it and quickly pulled Harry into a
manly, back slapping embrace. “Alright, so now what do we do about Voldemort.” Ron finished.

Neither Harry nor Hermione missed the fact this was likely the first time Ron ever used his name
without shuddering. They all flopped back into their chairs and spent the next several hours
passing time as only best friends can.

***

Ron had honored, mainly Hermione’s wish, to let them continue Occlumency alone. She’d confided
to Harry that while she didn’t mind telling Ron some important details of her life, she didn’t want
him ringside when she had no editorial control. It was bad enough Harry had learned about some of
her childhood exploits. She didn’t want to give Ron any additional ammunition for the times he was
feeling sporting. Given Harry’s propensity to referee their shouting matches, he could completely
understand her position.

They continued in their classes, Hermione never failing to take note of Harry and Ron’s
redoubled efforts to learn the coursework. Weeks seemed to fly by and exams were beginning to hover
on the horizon.

Harry looked up from the homework planner he’d begrudgingly, albeit clandestinely, decided to
use. His eyes feel upon a sickeningly satisfied Hermione. She silently raised an eyebrow and broke
into a wry grin.

“Oh! Be quiet, Hermione,” Harry said flatly. “I just needed to organize my studies and Quidditch
all in one place.” Her smile grew wider. Harry rolled his eyes and returned to his calendar.

*Wonderful.* *There will be no living with her after this.*

*You’d like that wouldn’t you?*

*Stuff a sock in it.*

“Alright Harry?” Ron said settling down into the chair beside him.

“Fine, if Queen told-you-so over here would leave me alone,” he said grinning. They both smiled
and Ron hovered over Harry’s calendar.

“Oh, thank goodness, Quidditch practice. I’m so tired of writing essays I nearly attacked your
stash of Fred and George’s Skiving Snackboxes,” Ron said smirking.

“Well, it won’t be a long practice. I’ve got another three feet of parchment to write for
McGonagall,” Harry said dejectedly.

“Well, you best get to it before you go off and play or you’ll be up all night.” Hermione’s
voice came from behind The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Six. Both Harry and Ron shot each other a
defiant look but chose not to respond – if only because they knew she was right. The three of them
poured over their books, quills scratching, for the next several hours, until Ginny appeared in the
common room with her broomstick.

“Harry, if you’re going to call a practice don’t you think it would be a good idea to come to
it?” she said bending over his shoulder.

The Quidditch finals were quickly approaching and Gryffindor desperately needed the practice,
even if it was only a brief one. Harry snapped his left arm from under his robes and looked at his
watch. He had booked the pitch for two hours, and their appointed time started in only ten
minutes.

“Bloody hell!” Ron quipped as he slapped his potions text closed and ran upstairs. Harry
followed quickly behind and the both changed into their Quidditch robes in record time. When they
reappeared at the bottom of the stairs, Ginny had already left. They had only five minutes to get
to the pitch before they lost their reservation. Harry stopped abruptly, ran over to give a
bleary-eyed Hermione a peck on the cheek, then clamored through the portrait hole just steps behind
Ron.

***

Flying seemed to take on new meaning for Harry since the summer. It had always cleared his head,
it had always lifted his spirits, but now it seemed to warm his heart as well. He gathered the team
on the pitch and worked out some of his musings in the sand beneath the three hoops. Needless to
say, he was not very happy to look about the spectators’ seats. There were likely a dozen people
scattered about the pitch, watching their practice. Harry had asked McGonagall if he could close
their practices to onlookers, but Ron answered before she had.

*“Are you mad Harry? There are scouts for the Chudley Cannons out there and you want to lock
them out to protect your strategy? You played with Oliver Wood entirely too long.”*

The team must’ve have run through his attack pattern fifteen times before he was satisfied
enough to actually open the chest of balls. Ginny took enormous pleasure at hurling the quaffle
toward her brother. Ron was equally determined to not let his little sister score. Harry lined up
the new beaters on either side of the chasers attack lane and ran them through several dodging
drills. An hour slipped by rapidly and Harry decided to leave the team to their own drills while he
worked on catching the snitch.

He had seen it several times, jetting around the pitch, while he worked with the team, but now
that he was looking for it specifically it seemed much harder to find. He ran through his pattern,
swirling higher and higher above the pitch. He looked up at the castle, Gryffindor tower in plain
view, and his thoughts drifted back to Hermione. He imagined her still hunched over that table,
heading into what had to be her fifth straight hour of studies. He closed his eyes and remembered
their time flying together at the burrow. When he opened them again, he saw the familiar glint of
gold, zipping around the far end of the pitch, about 40 feet below him.

He sat off in a lateral attack pattern, chasing the snitch around the perimeter of the pitch. He
darted in and out of the other players, dodging the occasional bludger as he continued on. Wild
screaming erupted from the far end of the pitch and he made the mistake of looking away from the
snitch toward the commotion.

Ron had broken into his own rendition of “Weasley is our Queen” while taunting his currently
shut-out sister. Ginny did not respond well to his joke and was claiming (not so convincingly) that
she thought his head was the center hoop.

“Well it’s certainly big enough!” He heard her blast from across the pitch - Ron holding his
nose to stop the bleeding. Harry chuckled under his breath and returned to his strategy to relocate
the snitch. It didn’t take long.

He saw it glinting in the fading sunlight, directly beneath him. It was in perfect position to
practice his new dive. He set off toward the fluttering glint of gold. *This* was the part he
loved. He loved the wind in his hair and the adrenaline that came with the breakneck speeds he
posted in his descent.

Most of all, he loved the agility of his broomstick. It seemed to do what he thought, rather
than what he did. It never took more than a touch to turn it from side to side, or pull out of a
near fatal dive. He pressed lower to the handle and reached out for the snitch. It was only about
20 feet from him now, but he’d be there in a matter of milliseconds. He would do it just as he had
before, grab the snitch with his left hand, leaving his stronger right arm available to invert his
position and pull him out from under a would-be competitor. He’d practiced it so many times this
year, he felt as though it were finally ready for a match…the match…the Quidditch Cup.

He felt his left hand close around the snitch. Its wings fluttered against the back of his hand.
He heard the cheers of his teammates over the rush of the wind and broke into an uncontrollable
smile…that quickly vanished.

His Firebolt was not responding at all. He couldn’t have been more than twenty feet from the
ground at this point and was quickly running out of room to complete the maneuver. He abandoned the
attempt to invert and merely tried to pull up all together - nothing. He suddenly realized he’d
seen this scene before and tried even harder to pull the Firebolt horizontal to the ground. He
merely seemed to accelerate instead. His teammates cheers turned to panicked screaming and Ron’s
voice echoed in his head… *“HARRY! PULL UP!”*

Hermione lurched forward in her chair and awoke with a jolt. She leapt from the table clutching
her head with her left hand and holding a heaving stomach with the other. Through watering eyes she
ran for the portrait hole and disappeared down the stairs.



10. In Dreams
-------------



**I didn't want to leave you on that cliff for too long! I'm certainly impressed by the
number of reviews it generated. That's the kind of thing that keeps an author going. Thanks so
much for all the loyal readers out there and I really want to thank those of you who take the time
to review. It means a lot to me.**

**I can't forget the most important part of this joy ride…my betas. Thanks Mel and Bill for
your work on this chapter. It only gets better every time you touch it! Any accolades for my
writing should be accepted by you as well. It wouldn't be this great if not for your
help.**

**Only 2 chapters to post after this one! By the way, I perused the Awards page today and to my
great shock and surprise saw my own name!!!! Thanks to those of you who've given** **The
Next Great Adventure** **a read, and double thanks to those of you crazy enough to nominate me
for an award! What a compliment!**

**Enjoy the update! I hope to have the entire thing posted before I leave for Christmas
vacation.**

**VLeigh**

**Chapter 10 -** **In Dreams**

Harry was acutely aware of every muscle in his body - if only because every one of them was
screaming at him. Even the soft surface he was lying on seemed to shoot pain throughout the whole
of his back. He had no idea where he was or how he had gotten there.

But he knew what happened.

He had slammed into the Quidditch pitch at breakneck speed. He'd lost total control of his
Firebolt and careened head-on into the grassy surface. He didn't remember the crash exactly,
everything just seemed to go black, like it was now. He fought as hard as he could to open his
eyes, but it felt like a heavy blanket was weighing them down. He struggled to against himself,
feeling his eyebrows rise, but his eyelids remained stubbornly lowered. In the end he could manage
only a flutter. He tried to rub them with his hands, but oddly he couldn't move at all. With
all the energy he could muster, he fought to raise his shoulder, his arm…a hand…a finger. Nothing.
Nothing would move. His body seemed to be filled with lead and with all his strength he
couldn't budge any of it.

*Why can't I move?*

*Maybe you're dead.*

*I always thought there was supposed to be bright lights when you die. Everything here is
dark.*

*Maybe you didn't go to the right place.*

*But….*

*Relax. Pain doesn't follow you into death. Clearly, you can't be dead.*

*But why couldn't I pull up? Where am I? Oh, gods! I'm paralyzed aren't I?
Where's Hermione? How am I supposed to protect her if I can't move? This is not supposed to
happen this way!*

*Whoa! Slow down there, Boy-Who-Must-Save-the-World-with-One-Hand-Tied Behind-His-Back.
You're likely to give us a stroke! Why don't you take a page from the “Book of the
Obvious,” open your eyes, and ask!*

He tried to form words with his mouth, fighting determinedly to open his eyes. He tried to call
out for the girl who always had the answers. He needed Hermione. He struggled to call for her but
couldn't seem to formulate the entire word.

“…Mione?” he moaned at a near whisper. He felt a jolt at this side and a weight lift from his
arm. He fought harder to open his eyes but managed only to see light and blurred shapes as his eyes
fluttered open and closed. He realized he didn't need to see what was next to him. The
undeniable scent of Hermione's perfume wafted over him and he realized she had been sleeping,
her hand grasping his with her head laid upon his arm.

Her voice quickly followed.

“Shhh, Harry. Don't try to talk. Everything's going to be okay.” Her voice quivered
noticeably. “I'm here.” He could feel her running her hand through his hair and tightening the
grasp on his motionless hand. Harry fought to speak.

*Why can't I move? Please tell me why I can't move!*

“Please, Harry.” Hermione's voice broke and he felt a tear drop on his cheek. “Madam Pomfrey
immobilized you to help you heal. Please, don't fight it,” she begged, wiping the tear from his
face.

Having answered the two questions that were most important to him, Harry relaxed considerably in
her presence. Even though he'd only been semi-conscious for a few minutes, it seemed much
longer. He was exhausted. She was next to him and that was all he needed to know. He stopped
fighting to open his eyes and fell back asleep - Hermione at his side.

He woke again, feeling only an hour or two had passed, yet everything was different. While he
still felt a dull and throbbing pain coursing through every molecule of his body, he was able to
move. He could open his eyes and see the hospital wing as clearly as could be expected without aid
of his glasses. Gasping at the stinging in his arms, he reached to the bedside table to get his
glasses. He gingerly put them on his face and turned to where Hermione had been camped out at his
beside only a short while before.

She wasn't there.

“Mrs. Weasley?” Harry muttered, looking at the familiar knitted sweater peeking out from behind
the latest copy of “Witch Weekly.” The magazine was snapped shut and Molly Weasley's beaming
face appeared instantly.

“Oh, Harry dear! You're awake!” she said, nearly giddy. “Madam Pomfrey!” she called across
the hospital wing. “He's finally come out of it!” she said, absentmindedly straightening his
sheets. Although Harry was keen to know what he'd come out of, he was more interested to know
where Hermione had gone.

“What happened to Hermione? Where did she go?” Harry asked slowly formulating the words through
a sore throat.

“Harry, she's in her lessons of course,” Mrs. Weasley said smiling.

“But she was just here,” Harry said, rubbing his throat.

“Oh, Harry dear,” Mrs. Weasley said quietly. “You haven't been conscious for five days. I
made her go to her lessons. She was falling terribly behind. We thought it best if we stayed here
with you,” she added concernedly.

Harry suddenly realized there were more people in the hospital wing aside from Mrs. Weasley. On
his other side - interestingly enough the same side Sirius had occupied after Harry's ordeal in
the graveyard - sat Remus Lupin. Mad-Eye Moody stood stoically, peering out of the window, in
typical paranoid fashion, scowling at unsuspecting students through the window. Oddly enough, there
were no other patients in the hospital wing at all.

“Hi, Harry,” Lupin said, sitting forward to meet his eyes with a warm smile. “How are you
feeling?”

“How do you *think* he's feeling Lupin,” Moody growled. “They're still filling in
the Harry Potter sized hole in the pitch and you want to know how he's feeling?” Lupin rolled
his eyes and returned his stare to Harry, awaiting an answer.

“Everything hurts,” Harry whispered.

“Well, I should think so!” Madam Pomfrey glided over with a bottle of blue potion. “I never had
so much business in this infirmary until you came to Hogwarts, Mr. Potter,” she said pouring the
foaming substance into a glass. Seeming to think better of her comment, she looked up at Lupin and
added, “Well…*almost* as much business anyway.” Lupin tried to hide his smile, but it was
obvious Harry's trips to the hospital wing didn't quite equal the number the Maruaders must
have taken.

Feeling this was the dimmest question he'd ever asked; he looked up at Madam Pomfrey, took
the potion from her hand and inquired as to his own condition. “Am I alright?”

“Well, I must say you certainly tested every trick I have in my bag Mr. Potter; twelve broken
bones, two cracked ribs and a punctured lung. It's a wonder you made it from the pitch to this
hospital wing while I could still save you! I had to immobilize you for 4 solid days!” she said in
a huff, turning around to take the potion back to her office, mumbling something about daredevil
Quidditch players the whole way back.

“I think we should let Dumbledore know he's awake,” Lupin said across the bed to Mrs.
Weasley. As she rose from her chair to deliver the message, the hospital wing doors opened
gracefully.

“No need Remus,” Dumbledore said softly. “I came as soon as I heard.” He stopped at the end of
Harry's bed and smiled warmly. “I should say Harry, one more trip to this place and Madam
Pomfrey is going to permanently engrave your name upon the frame of this bed.”

“I heard that!” Madam Pomfrey bellowed from her office. Dumbledore ducked his head and added
quietly, “at least you keep her on her toes!” he whispered.

“I heard that too!” she barked, now standing at her office door tapping her foot. Voldemort may
have feared Dumbledore, but Harry never got the impression that Madam Pomfrey felt the slightest
intimidation. Rather, she spent a good deal of her time dictating to the headmaster what he could
and could not do while in the presence of her patients.

Dumbledore always seemed to have the answers to any perplexing question so Harry thought to give
him a try. “What happened out there?” Harry asked.

“Well, quite honestly, we were hoping you could tell us that,” Dumbledore replied. “How did you
lose control of your broomstick?”

“I don't know. One minute I was flying as usual, practicing the same dive I'd done loads
of times before, the next thing I knew I couldn't move the broom at all. It was like it was
stuck. I couldn't pull it up, I couldn't do anything,” Harry explained. “It was like
someone hexed it,” he added. Lupin and Moody shot each other quick glances and returned their
attention to Harry.

“Was it as unresponsive as the time Professor Quirrell jinxed your broom?” Dumbledore asked.

“Yes,” Harry added flatly. “But I don't understand. Voldemort can't hex my broom on
Hogwarts grounds, there's no way he could get in,” Harry continued.

“No. But his agents surely can,” Mad-Eye grumbled from across the room, still peering out of the
window.

“Death Eaters?” Harry said disbelievingly.

“Well, I think it's clear that one of Voldemort's supporters cursed your Firebolt. The
more important question is who did so?” Dumbledore added thoughtfully.

“Harry, did you see anyone else at the pitch that day?” Mrs. Weasley interjected.

“Just the Gryffindor team, and there were maybe a dozen people in the stands,” Harry
replied.

“Who?” Mad-Eye demanded, taking his glance off the window and rolling his magical eye directly
toward Harry.

“I...I don't know. Ron said there were some scouts for the Chudley Cannons and some others,
but I really didn't pay much attention,” Harry answered.

That apparently *wasn't* the answer Mad-Eye Moody wanted to hear.

“Blast!” he said, slamming his hand down on the window ledge causing a plant to crash to the
floor. He turned toward the door and stormed out, slamming it behind him.

Not giving the slightest start over Moody's outburst, Dumbledore continued, “I think you
need to get your rest, and I'm quite sure we are not the people you are most interested in
seeing.” He finished, nodding toward the door at the other end of the wing.

“Harry!” Hermione gasped, dropping her books and running past the empty beds. Dumbledore, Lupin,
and Mrs. Weasley made a quiet exit together, whispering animatedly, as Hermione charged toward
Harry.

“Ouch!” he squeaked, holding his side as Hermione flopped onto the bed and threw her arms around
him.

She released him nearly as quickly as she'd embraced him, “Oh! I'm *so* sorry
Harry!”

“It's okay.” He chuckled. Madam Pomfrey may have been a wonderful magical healer, but he was
wholly convinced this was the best medicine he could get. He pulled her back into a cautious
embrace and continued. “Thank you, Hermione,” he said, kissing her on the cheek.

She pulled away and looked at him completely befuddled. “Thank you for what?” she said.

“For being here,” Harry said softly. “The only thing I remember between being on the pitch and
right now is the sound of your voice telling me everything was okay.” Hermione looked away, tears
welling in her eyes. For a moment, Harry felt some masculine satisfaction that his words had
brought her to tears until he realized it may not have been him at all.

“Hermione, what's the matter?”

“It was the same dream,” she said quietly. “Only this time, I knew it was real.” Her voice shook
a bit and she looked toward Harry. “I never actually saw you hit the ground in the dream until
then…and…” tears began rolling down her cheeks.

“…and what?” Harry prompted.

“And just like you asked me earlier, I felt really happy about it. I saw you hit the ground and
I thought…I thought you were…” she was crying freely now. “I was thrilled, I thought you…” Harry
knew the end of the sentence and didn't see the need to make her say it. He quickly sat up and
pulled her into the strongest embrace he could stand.

“It's okay Hermione. I'm not dead. It's not going to be that easy for him,” he said
thoughtfully, staring out of the same window across the room that Mad-Eye had been so interested
in.

Harry had a steady stream of guests over the course of the next week. Hermione only left his
side when ordered to by a professor or Madam Pomfrey. It was never lost on Harry that there was
always some member of the Order lurking around. Tonks tried to be clandestine, skulking around
outside the hospital wing doors, but the suit of armor that crashed to the floor was as good an
indication as any that she was there. The entire Gryffindor Quidditch team came by regularly to
check on their captain. Ron beat Harry so badly in wizard chess he actually used his condition to
his advantage to end the game early. In total, he spent two weeks in the hospital wing recovering
from his accident. While he didn't feel one hundred percent when he left, he was certainly
ready to get back to normal life as a student.

It didn't take long.

Ron and Hermione had conveniently forgotten to mention that the students at Hogwarts thought
Harry's accident was purely a result of his own arrogance and daring. While they and the
members of the Order knew the truth, he knew he would sound just as mad as everyone thought he was
last year if he went proclaimed Voldemort or one of his cronies had jinxed the broom. As it was, he
decided to merely ignore the insults and try to focus on what was important. Even with
Hermione's constant insistence to “ignore them,” that task proved a bit more difficult than he
first imagined.

Harry had acquired several new nicknames among the Hogwarts students. Among his least favorites
were, “Pitch-Hole Potter” and “Daredevil Dumb Ass.” As he returned to his lessons he fought the
same gaping stares that had followed him since his declaration that Voldemort had returned. While
he had Hermione and Ron on his side, some insults were harder to ignore than others. Harry returned
to his coursework just in time to join the review sessions for their upcoming exams.

“Well, well, well. It seems our celebrity has finally extracted himself from the hospital wing,”
a cold voice sneered from the back of the dungeon. The door slammed shut as Snape's lesson was
about to begin. “I shudder to think what two weeks lost instruction will do to your performance on
this exam Potter. Perhaps one of my more talented students might help you catch up,” he said coolly
as he shifted his eyes over to Draco Malfoy.

Malfoy merely grinned and pulled out the all too familiar button he had sported during the
Triwizard Tournament. He had gone to the trouble to change its message. Rather than flashing
“Potter Stinks” to the whole of the dungeon, it now fittingly managed to blink, “Potter
Splats.”

***

As much as Harry hated to admit it, Snape was right. Two weeks in the hospital wing had done
near irreparable damage to his study schedule. Not only had Harry lost two weeks of instruction,
his stamina for late night studying had been impacted as well. His homework had piled up and he had
only five days left before the start of exams. He had no idea how he would be able to pass any of
his courses at this late date, but he did know one thing - Malfoy was not going to be a part of
it.

“So Potter! I'll be more than happy to teach you a little remedial potions myself. I'll
bet Crabbe and Goyle here have a better grasp of the uses of raspweed than you do!” Malfoy
sniggered as he trotted up to Harry leaving the dungeon.

Harry opened his mouth with every intention of putting Malfoy in his place, but never got the
chance.

“Crabbe and Goyle would be lucky if they could *spell* raspweed, Malfoy! Harry most
certainly doesn't need you to get up to speed on potions. I'll be handling that myself,”
Hermione declared.

“Oh that's rich; the mudblood teaching the celebrity!” Malfoy sneered. “Of course I forgot
you both are supposed to be some kind of couple now aren't you?” Malfoy quipped.

“You'd think even Potter would have better taste than a half-breed chipmunk like Granger,”
Pansy Parkinson added, gliding up to Malfoy's side.

Harry could feel the heat coming off of Hermione's body. She was ready to explode and
clearly summoning every bit of energy she had to keep from decapitating Parkinson right there in
the corridor. Harry had to step in, but knew he didn't have the strength for a fight, or the
time to devote to the detention Snape would undoubtedly assign him. So he tried another
approach.

He sidled up to Malfoy and Parkinson, standing only inches from them both and spoke at a near
whisper. “You know Pansy,” he reached out and twisted a bit of her hair through his fingers. “At
one point I thought of asking you out on a date,” she shot a puzzled glance at Draco. “But I
wasn't entirely sure I knew enough Parseltongue to maintain a conversation with you for more
than five minutes.” He let her hair go and turned to Draco. “Why don't you take your pet back
down to the dungeon where you both belong.”

He turned on one foot, extending his arm around Hermione's shoulder and led her down the
corridor toward the Great Hall, his robes billowing behind him as they went.

“I'm glad you took care of that mate,” Ron said settling down to the Gryffindor table. “I
was about to beat him into the middle of next week,” he finished, pouring himself a glass of
pumpkin juice.

“I'm flattered by your determined manhood, Ron,” Hermione said, scooping mashed potatoes
onto her plate. “But I think Harry's method had a bit more style.” She broke into a grin which
quickly progressed to a laugh, “I think Pansy Parkinson is still trying to figure out what you said
to her.” In her chuckling she missed the furrowed brow plastered along Ron's face.

“So, will you help me?” Harry asked with a sly grin.

“Well, if you insist. I'll be happy to *try* and figure out…” She was quickly
interrupted by Ron

“Oh, *please*!” Ron interrupted. “Harry, Don't let her fool you, she has already set up
your entire study schedule in that annoying little homework book of yours.” Ron scoffed through a
half chewed pork chop. Hermione may've rolled her eyes at Ron but she quickly followed with a
bright smile toward Harry.

After dinner the trio settled down to a large table in the common room and Hermione pulled out
the very book Ron had mentioned earlier. Harry had spent so much time worrying about how he would
catch up in his studies, he failed to think of the amount of time he would be spending with
Hermione to make it through exams. Suddenly, the prospect of late night cram sessions took on a new
perspective.

They stayed at the table until nearly midnight flipping through books, writing feet of
parchment, and asking the occasional question of each other. Harry and Hermione were stationed
right next to each other. He seemed to live for the times she'd shift on the bench and her leg
would brush against his. On several occasions, she seemed to lean into him as she pondered her
Arithmancy homework, only to pop up again and furiously scratch down the answer.

Hours passed and he'd had nearly enough. His eyes were burning and he was fighting to stay
awake. He laid his head down on the table with a yawn. A moment later, he felt Hermione's
delicate hand rubbing his head, playing with his hair between her fingers. Her gentle touch
traveled down his neck where she began to work out a knot he had developed at the top of his right
shoulder. If his eyes hadn't been closed, they would be rolling back in his head from
pleasure.

Ron's voice shattered his moment.

“I'm with you mate, I'm done,” he said, slapping his book shut and getting up from the
table. Harry's head felt like it was anchored to the table and he had no intention of giving
Hermione a reason to stop. Without raising his head from the table he bid Ron good night and heard
his feet grow quieter as he ascended the spiral stairs to their bedroom.

“Harry?” Hermione's voice echoed quietly in his ear.

“Yeah?” he replied, still unwilling to pick up his head.

“You should probably turn in for the night. You need to pay attention to your health as well as
your studies,” she added concernedly. She stopped rubbing the knot in his neck. Figuring he'd
milked that for all it was worth he finally pulled his head from the table and raised his gaze to
hers.

“Yeah, I might do that. I don't know how much good I'm doing myself. I've read this
same paragraph at least seven times and still can't tell you what it says,” Harry said flipping
the pages of his charms text. Hermione, continuing to keep her eyes fixed on him, said nothing.
Harry returned her gaze and suddenly fell speechless. She was beautiful. She always had been, and
he'd noticed it before. But something was different now, even more different than it had been.
When he looked at her something hurt inside and he didn't know what it was. He had been in love
with her for months, but ever since he heard her voice echo in his subconscious, in the hospital
wing, that love had grown. He couldn't put it into words and he doubted he could even make her
understand. All he knew was that he loved her more now than he had ever had.

He was overcome. He closed the mere twelve inches separating them, wrapped his left arm around
her waist while he pulled her face toward his with his right hand. Their lips met in a quiet,
subtle, seemingly-endless kiss. Harry's scar tingled a bit, but no more noticeably than the
rest of his body.

“What was that for?” Hermione asked quietly after they separated.

“I love you,” Harry said simply. “More than ever…more than anything.” He couldn't maintain
the piercing gaze of her eyes and looked away. She pulled his face back to hers and with a soft
kiss replied, “I love you too…and you need to go to bed.” Harry let out a quiet laugh and rose from
the bench. Obediently, he climbed the stairs to his room and fell asleep before he could even
change his clothes.

***

The following few days were composed of a blur of endless study sessions and coursework.
Harry's endurance and stamina for studying grew each day. After a few had passed, he was ready
to breach, a possibly hostile, subject with Hermione.

“Hermione?” he began quietly, as they studied together in the library. She looked up quizzically
and he decided to continue before she could speak. “I was thinking. It might be a good idea for us
to continue working on Occlumency. I'm still not sure what really happened on the pitch. If
your dreams had anything to do with it, but it might not hurt to continue it.”

He waited for her argument.

It didn't come.

“What about tonight?” she asked him, looking to see that no one was listening. Still shocked by
the lack of dispute Harry nodded and returned to his studies.

***

They pulled off the invisibility cloak and closed the door behind them. Harry's curiosity
was getting the better of him, but he had yet to ask why Hermione was so willing to resume her
study of Occlumency. He found out pretty quickly that he didn't need to ask the question. For
the first 40 minutes of their session, Harry only saw one thing in Hermione's head. It was a
dark room. Dust covered the floor and a rather well built individual was pacing in the shadows in
front of her. He couldn't hear what he was saying and couldn't understand why he
wouldn't show his face either.

The look on his face must've been all the asking that Hermione needed.

“It's a dream I keep having,” she added quietly. “It's the same dream over and over, but
it doesn't seem to have anything to do with you. I can't figure it out. I'm not even
scared in the dream. I feel like the person walking in the shadows is you. I feel connected to
you.” Harry sat quietly, thinking about what she'd said. Why would he be pacing just out of her
sight? Was he looking for someone? Maybe he was waiting for Voldemort? He *couldn't* be
using her as bait?

“Harry? What is it?” He returned his eyes to hers.

“Oh, sorry. Nothing. I was just thinking about your dream. It's odd isn't it?” Harry
said, finally deciding he wasn't getting to the bottom of it anytime soon.

“No more odd than the feeling I just had that you were asking me to marry you while we were
doing this.” Hermione chuckled uncomfortably.

Harry, on the other hand, almost fell out of his chair. Admittedly, his mind had wandered while
he was breaking into Hermione's thoughts. Interestingly enough, that's where it had gone.
However, they were only sixteen and had an entire year left at Hogwarts before heading out on their
own. While he felt nothing in the world was as right as asking Hermione to marry him, he certainly
didn't want to do that now. It was not the right time and he didn't want to scare her by
being too forward. He had to think fast.

“Marry you?” he added with his own uncomfortable laugh. “That would be odd wouldn't it?” As
soon as he finished, he'd wished he hadn't said it at all.

*Oh, way to go Casanova! That will sweep her off her feet!*

*Surely, she can't wa**nt the same thing! We're only* *sixteen* *for
the love of Merlin!*

*Blimey! If only words could define how thick you are Harry!*

Although she tried to hide it, Hermione's face fell. Harry felt his heart break just as it
had when he'd proclaimed, to Mrs. Weasley, that he didn't, and couldn't love Hermione.
He searched for something to say, anything to fix what he had just said. He didn't get the
chance. Hermione stood up and began collecting her things. As he watched her, feeling utterly
wretched, one nagging thought remained.

*S**he must be getting better at this**. How else would she know what I* *was
thinking* *about**?*

*And you blew it off. Or should I say, you just blew it?*

*Is there any way to shut you UP?*

*Seek help, Harry.*

***

They walked together, toward Gryffindor tower, the same way they always had; clutching each
other under the invisibility cloak. The sweet smell of Hermione's hair fixed under his chin
seemed to conscript him into a constant stream of short kisses to the top of her head. It
hadn't passed unnoticed that she had said very little since their final conversation. Before
she left his sight, he wanted assurance that his callous reaction to her earlier observation had
not hurt her. As they continued down the stairs together, he contemplated what to say. Before he
had the opportunity to broach the subject, they were abruptly stopped by the sound of a familiar
voice.

“I just find it completely hysterical how dim the whole lot is!” It was the unmistakable sneer
of Draco Malfoy's voice. “Honestly, Weasley's father works for the bloody Ministry and
*he* still doesn't know!” Raucous laughter broke out as Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy
Parkinson came into view. As they passed, they heard Malfoy's last comment before they swept
down the stairs. “I just hope I'm there to see Potter's face when he finds out!”



11. Lost and Found
------------------



**A/N-Hello my fellow Portkey Pals! You find out in this chapter why I coded this
Action/Adventure. I really feel like the whole FF has led up to the scenes you'll read in this
(and the final) chapter. I appreciate your replies and it continues to amaze me how people enjoy my
writing. This is my first ever FF, and I am consistently impressed by the reception it has
gotten!** **I still can't believe it landed on the H/H recommendations page!**

**There is good news and bad news however...**

**The g****ood news****-this FF is almost over. The next chapter will be the last in
Power. However, I'm well into a sequel already (it'****s already as long as this FF**
**and I've only just gotten our trio on the Hogwarts Express. It's WAY more involved than
this story is. Lots more action, arguments, some fluff of course…and I acquired my moniker as the
“Kleenex Queen” in several updates****.**

**The bad news****…just when you thought you understood my nickname as the “Cliffhanger
Queen”…**

**Read on!!! And Enjoy!!**

**Vicarious Leigh**

**Chapter 11** **-** **Lost and Found**

Harry awoke the next morning feeling as close to prepared for his exams as he could be. He had
worked day and night with Hermione for five solid days and finally felt ready to sit for the tests.
The trio had a quiet breakfast together. Hermione was pouring over her books in a last minute
effort to ensure she had memorized them all properly. While still completely mystified about
whatever Malfoy had been talking about, Harry was compelled to some last minute studying as well.
Ron didn't seem hardly conscious enough to engage in conversation, but before long the impulse
overtook Harry.

“Ron, has your dad said anything about work lately?” Harry asked. Hermione's eyes whipped up
from her textbook and she peered at Ron.

“What do you mean?” Ron said, nibbling on a strip of bacon.

“I don't know. Just wondered if you'd heard anything peculiar?” Harry asked
nonchalantly.

Ron noticed the looks he'd attracted from Harry and Hermione and clued into the larger
story. “What's going on?” Ron asked. With a cursory glance toward Hermione, Harry took a breath
and told Ron the story of what they'd heard the evening before. “I don't know,” Ron said
dejectedly. “Maybe we can find out from Tonks?”

“Maybe we can do that after our exams. It's time to go,” Hermione said getting up from the
table. Ron and Harry followed suit and gathered their books, setting off for the first exam of the
morning.

***

“I'm starving!” Ron whined, as they reentered the Great Hall for lunch.

“Honestly, Ron! You think you would waste away to nothing if you didn't eat a four course
meal every two hours,” Hermione scoffed. She looked up to, Harry expecting to see a smirk or smile
from her comment, but instead saw him staring off to the head table. “Harry?” she inquired,
following his gaze to the table. She quickly saw what he found to be peculiar. Tonks and McGonagall
were engrossed in a conversation joined by Mad-Eye Moody and Remus Lupin. All four were engaged in
an animated discussion they were obviously trying to keep confidential. Moody and Lupin suddenly
swept from the room. Shortly thereafter, Tonks followed behind. Albus Dumbledore was the one person
whose presence was markedly absent.

“Something big is going on,” Harry said quietly.

“Where's Dumbledore?” Hermione whispered.

“Maybe we should send an owl,” Ron proposed.

“Who would we send it to Ron?” Hermione quipped. “Your mum surely will think we're too young
to know what's going on and everyone else is here. The only one who would've told us the
truth was Sir…” She stopped abruptly and looked up to Harry. “Harry, I'm sorry,” she said
looking away with a saddened expression.

He reached across the table and took her hand. “It's okay. You're right anyway. Sirius
*is* the only one who'd tell us the truth.” Looking to change the subject in any direction
from where it had gone he added, “what exams are next?”

“Er-I've got Arithmancy and we all have Defense Against the Dark Arts at four o'clock,”
Hermione answered. Looking at the watch on Harry's wrist, she pulled her hand from his and
began to gather her books. “I imagine the both of you will be studying chapter thirty-four to forty
in the meantime. You were both a little weak on Roshack's theory of defensive maneuvers.” She
rustled through her bag for her favorite quill and upon finding it, looked back to her two best
friends. “I'll see you both at four.”

She smiled and swept from the Great Hall among their well-wishing. Harry and Ron returned to the
common room under the pretext of following Hermione's advice. However, they spent the vast
majority of the time engaged in speculation over the appearance of members of the Order at
Hogwarts. Their conversation became so involved they entirely lost track of time.

“Bloody hell!” Ron exclaimed, looking down at his watch. Its five minutes to four! They had
expected their walking alarm clock to ensure they'd make the exam on time. However, Hermione
had never returned to the common room.

“Oh, she's going to be in a right state if her Arithmancy exam took that long!” Ron mumbled
as they ran out of the portrait hole and down the stairs.

“Even worse, *we'll* get lectured for being late!” Harry added as they moved faster
down the hall. They ran down the corridor, rounded the corner and nearly bowled over a horde of
gathered students. Their Defense Against the Dark Arts classmates were huddled around a piece of
parchment posted on the door. It gave no explanation and served to confuse Harry and Ron even more.
It simply read, “exam canceled.”

*This is getting out-of-hand.*

Harry searched the crowd for Hermione. They needed to regroup in order to make sense out of what
was going on. Hermione was no where to be found.

“Ron, do you see Hermione?” Harry asked, feeling Ron's vantage point might serve them better
as he was at least six inches taller than Harry.

Ron looked around the group and scrunched up his face. “No I don't see her. She must've
gone looking for us back at the common room,” he said giving a knowing glance toward Tonks'
sign. They raced back to Gryffindor tower to find her. They were stopped as they rounded the
corner.

“WHOA! Harry, Ron, we need to talk…now.” Remus Lupin caught them in mid-step and gestured toward
a nearby classroom.

Harry hesitantly followed, still gazing uselessly down the corridor leading toward the Fat Lady.
“What is going on?” Harry asked impatiently. He still wanted to find Hermione, but conceded after
thinking better of it. This way they could get their questions answered and bring her the whole
story when they returned to the common room.

“Harry, we discovered who jinxed your broom. We found the leak in the Ministry of Magic,” Lupin
said quietly.

“What? Who did it? How'd you find out?” Harry stammered, as the door opened behind him.

“You told us,” Mad-Eye Moody added with his typical sunshiny temperament. “When we were talking
in the hospital wing the day you woke up,” he said, peering out of the nearby window.

Harry didn't remember a lot of their conversation other than to say there wasn't much of
one. He told them he hadn't seen anyone at the Quidditch pitch and Mad-Eye left annoyed with
him. “But, I didn't see anyone that day. I told you that,” Harry added confused.

“*You* told me there were Chudley Cannon scouts in the stands,” Mad-Eye grumbled. “It's
not a big surprise who the greatest supporter of the Cannons is, and he's been doing a bit of
scouting on the side.” Mad-Eye grew even more agitated.

“Calm down Moody, we've all told you a hundred times that even the best Aurors make
mistakes. You're entitled to yours,” Lupin said exasperatedly.

“*I'M THE ONE WHO STOOD UP FOR HIM AGAINST ROOKWOOD*!” Moody roared. He was so agitated
Harry leapt backwards a few steps. Harry and Ron gave a pleading look toward Lupin, begging for
answers.

“Ludo Bagman,” Lupin replied with a heavy heart.

“*WHAT!*” Harry and Ron yelled together.

“Ludo...Ludo Bagman?” Ron stuttered. “But, he's the coolest bloke in the Ministry! He
can't be working for Vol..Vold…AH! You-Know-Who!” He finished never having said Voldemort's
name.

“Oh, use your head kid!” Moody growled. “It makes perfect sense! He took longer than the artic
winter to even *start* looking for Bertha Jorkins. He probably knew what happened the whole
time. He accrued a formidable gambling debt and was clearly on the run from the goblins.” Moody
continued to pace. Harry started to feel like he was watching a volley at Wimbledon and looked
away. “Didn't it ever strike you as odd he just showed back up into his job…*AFTER* having
paid the goblins off,” Moody said, seeming to be angrier at himself than anyone else. “I guess he
just *played* dumb better than the rest of us thought.” He slammed the window shut and turned
toward Harry and Ron. “For the love of Merlin, he even tried to recruit Winky to work for him, and
*spy* on you!”

Harry felt the ardent desire to ask where Bagman had gotten the money, then realized he
didn't need to. Moody was right, it did make perfect sense. Voldemort gave Bagman the gold he
needed in exchange for inside information from the Ministry itself.

*That explains why Winky tried to leap out of Gryffindor tower at Christmas. She would
probably be happier as a house-elf pancake than a servant to another sworn ally of
Voldemort's.*

“That must be what Malfoy meant,” Harry muttered to himself. In truth, he wouldn't have been
surprised if Lucius Malfoy bankrolled the entire operation. Ron interrupted his musings with an
important point.

“But, I *looked* in the stands, I never saw Bagman. I would've noticed *him*.” Ron
said quizzically.

“He wasn't there,” Lupin replied confidently. “He never left the Ministry that day. But, the
entire entourage of Cannons scouts were recruited by Bagman and any one of them with sufficient
knowledge of the dark arts could've hexed Harry's Firebolt.” Lupin finished.

*Oh**,* *dear God!*

Harry felt sick. He couldn't catch his breath and leaned over on a table to ensure he
wouldn't fall over. His heart pounded so loudly in his ears he was unable to hear clearly. His
throat constricted and he squeaked out what had brought on his reaction…”Hermione!”

He sprinted out of the classroom, Ron following behind, bellowing wildly.

“Harry! Talk to me! What's going on?”

Harry burst into the common room to find it full of fellow Gryffindors, happily discussing the
end of their exams. Crookshanks hissed at him from a nearby chair as he ran past.

“Ginny!” Harry screamed, finding her sitting with Neville, Seamus, and Dean.

“What? Harry what's wrong?” Ginny asked, reacting to the clear expression of dread on
Harry's face.

“Have you seen Hermione?” Harry said, grabbing her by the arms.

“No. I wanted to talk to you about that. Merc Thompson said she missed her Arithmancy exam.”
Ginny added with concern. “Harry what's going on?” Ginny yelled as he set off toward his
dormitory taking the spiral stairs two at a time.

He threw the door open and dove for the trunk at the foot of his bed. As he struggled to pull it
out, Ron appeared in the doorway behind him, completely breathless.

“Oy, mate! Please tell me what is going on!” Ron said, attempting to catch his breath.

“It's Hermione,” Harry said, unlocking his trunk and opening the lid. “She never made it to
Arithmancy.” He was throwing things out of the trunk wildly searching for something. Ron instantly
shared Harry's desperation.

Hermione would never miss an exam.

“I solemnly swear I'm up to no good,” Harry muttered as he touched his wand to the
Marauder's Map. Ron rushed to his side and they both began to scour the map together.

“Nothing!” Harry snapped in frustration.

“I don't understand,” Ron said with a worried expression. “Where could she be? Why would she
leave Hogwarts grounds?” he said, growing more incensed.

“I don't think she had a choice,” Harry said quietly.

“*What*? Then how…” Ron began.

“Krum,” Harry said, crumpling the map in his hand. “Bagman recruited him. He came to London to
work in *his* department. Don't you remember what Hermione said he was doing for him?”
Harry roared.

“Scouting,” Ron added at a whisper. “What do we do? How can we find her if she's left the
grounds?” Ron said, returning to the harsh reality of the situation.

“Well, he can't apparate or disapparate on the grounds. Unless he used a portkey, which the
Ministry would likely know about, he can't be far,” Harry added with a note of hope. By this
time several members of the D.A. had arrived in the room to determine what the commotion was all
about. “*THINK**,* Harry!” he snapped at himself while pacing the dormitory. Neville
moved forward out of the crowd and extended his hand towards Harry.

“Harry, I found this on my way back to the tower. I don't know if you want to see it but I
think you'd better,” he added, opening his hand. Laying peacefully on his palm was the ring
he'd given to Hermione. The diamond encrusted horntail glistened in the candlelight but the
stone had changed to a color that needed no description.

It was black.

Harry slowly reached for the ring, his heart pounding, and legs quaking nearly to the point of
collapse. Ginny gasped as he took the ring in his hand, she'd seen it too. Harry slumped into a
nearly chair and grasped the ring firmly in his hand. He buried his forehead in his hands and tried
desperately to think of something, anything!

“I wish she could just tell us where she is,” Ron muttered.

Harry's head snapped up. “What did you say?” Harry replied.

“I said, I wish she could just *tell* us where she is,” Ron repeated. Harry sprung from the
chair and walked to his four-poster bed; the ring firmly grasped in his hand.

“Maybe she can,” he said hopefully. “Okay, I need you all to be completely quiet. I have no idea
if this will even work.” Harry settled himself on his bed. He took several deep breaths and closed
his eyes. Only Ron had the slightest inclination what Harry might be trying.

“Legilimens!” Harry shouted. He grasped the ring as firmly as he could, concentrating with every
bit of energy he had to forge some kind of connection. He saw flashes of the same thing he'd
seen before. There was a dark room, there was a man pacing back and forth in the shadows. Hermione
must've been on the floor, as the man seemed to be eight feet tall.

“Tell me where you are…tell me where you are….tell me where you are,” Harry muttered it over and
over, begging Hermione to hear him, to help him. The dark room faded away and her thoughts changed.
There was a street, there were witches as wizards passing nearby shops…he recognized the shops.

“She's in Hogsmeade,” Harry said, opening his eyes to a thoroughly stunned group of D.A.
members. He jumped up from the bed not realizing Crookshanks had hopped into his lap and sent him
careening across the floor. Just as he got up to head for the door he was hit with an
all-too-familiar sensation.

Pain. Excruciating pain.

Harry let out a wail and collapsed to the floor, writhing in pain from his scar. His stomach
lurched, but his physical pain was nothing compared to how he felt in his head. The connection
he'd forged with Hermione had not subsided entirely and he saw, very clearly, what was
happening. The pain returned in full force and he could muster only two words.

“No! Hermione!”

“Crucio!” he heard Krum shout at Hermione. He could hear her screaming in his head. It was even
worse than the echo of his mother's screams. “I loved you! You broke my heart and all for him!”
he blasted. Hermione was crying uncontrollably. She was trying to explain.

“Viktor…Viktor, please! If you loved me you wouldn't do this…please,” she struggled to get
the words out.

“Shut up!” he roared. “You'll never understand how much you hurt me! I moved halfway around
the world for you, and you send me an owl! You sent me *his* owl!” he screamed.

“No!” Harry yelled, feeling another wave of the Cruciatus Curse slamming into Hermione.

He couldn't take it. He'd have done anything to help her, to trade places with her. He
tried as hard as he could to focus on Hermione. He pushed his way into her mind - an unforgiving
and blinding pain began to wash over him. He curled up on the floor, every bone in his body feeling
as though it were on fire. Stabbing pain filled every inch of his body and he heard himself
screaming. He didn't care. In his heart, he knew what he was doing and, if necessary, he'd
do it until it killed him.

Just as quickly as he'd made that decision, the pain was gone.

The D.A. was crowded around Harry, hovering over him. Of all the concerned faces peering down at
him, Neville's was the most formidable. Harry lay on the floor shaking violently, but was
satisfied with the thought that Krum had stopped. He had stopped torturing Hermione when he
couldn't understand how she had thrown off his curse.

“We've got to get to Hogsmeade now,” Harry said, Neville helping him to his feet, “Before he
kills her.”

***

By the time Harry, Ron, and Neville made it to the secret passageway they had acquired some
help. Ginny, Dean, Seamus and Luna had joined them running down the corridor. There were far too
many of them to hide under the invisibility cloak and frankly Harry hadn't given it a second
thought. He actually held out some hope that several professors or students would tag along;
demanding to know where they were going. He had the sinking feeling they were headed into a larger
crisis than anything Krum could manufacture himself. They were going to need a lot of help.
Unfortunately, there was no time to ask.

“How'd you find out about this?” Seamus asked, staring with disbelief into the secret
corridor that wound its way into Hogsmeade.

“Nevermind,” Ginny answered quickly, passing by him and following Harry into the dark passage.
She had obviously heard enough family stories to have determined Fred and George's
Marauder's Map had something to do with Harry's inside intelligence. They all set off in a
flat out run through the dark corridor.

The seven of them burst onto the main street winding through Hogsmeade and Harry felt a sinking
feeling overcome him. He'd not said two words since barreling out of the common room but his
mind hadn't quit talking to him. Secretly, he had been praying with everything he had that
Hermione was actually *in* Hogsmeade. In actuality, he was scared to death; not only for
Hermione, but also that he was reliving last year's events. There was far too much déjà vu
going on in his head to mark it all up to coincidence. Last year, he'd led the same friends
into a trap because he was convinced Sirius was at the Department of Mysteries. Now he was
convinced Hermione was in Hogsmeade - it was all so familiar and he didn't have an answer for
Neville's question.

“So where in Hogsmeade is she?” Neville asked, peering down the street. The seven of them
glanced up and down the street at a loss for where to run next. Witches and wizards were bustling
by peering in store windows and settling down for drinks outside the Three Broomsticks. One older
graying witch actually walked right into Ginny while checking the galleons remaining in her
pouch.

“We're going to have to split up,” Harry said, still systematically searching the passersby
for any sign of Hermione's location. “Neville, Ginny you go to the left, Dean, Seamus, and Luna
go to the right, Ron and I will go this way,” Harry directed, pointing his drawn wand down the
street toward a decaying old building. “Meet back here in ten minutes,” They all nodded quietly and
set off without so much as a word to each other. Those who didn't have their wands drawn,
conspicuously tucked their hands in their pockets, no doubt with their wand at the ready.

“Let's go,” Ron said after watching the others disappear into a bustle of Hogsmeade
residents. Ron took the left side of the street while Harry took the right. They peered into store
windows looking for anything out of the ordinary. By the time they reached the end of the street,
Harry had fallen into a near panic. His scar had never stopped burning dully and he couldn't
stop his mind racing to what Krum might be doing now. Just as he was about to express his
bourgeoning concerns to Ron, he looked toward the one shop they had yet to check - The Hogs Head
Tavern.

He and Ron charged to the window and couldn't see a thing. The Hogs Head was not known for
its cleanliness. Harry thought back to the cloudy glasses they'd been handed when first
organizing the D.A. The bar usually had scattered patrons, all of peculiar origin. That's what
they fully expected to see. However, when Harry and Ron stepped through the door and found the Hogs
Head an even more peculiar place than the last time they visited….it was completely empty.

“Where do you suppose everyone is?” Ron asked quietly.

“I don't know,” Harry replied. It did strike him as incredibly peculiar that even the
proprietor wasn't at his station behind the bar.

The Hogs Head was dim, only a few streams of diffused light broke through the cloudy windows and
laid strips of gray light across the floor. Dust particles swirled in the diffused sunbeams and the
only sound they heard was that of their footsteps on the creaking floor. They continued to scan the
room looking for some revelation, some answer.

“Harry, there's a door over there,” Ron said, pointing to an exceptionally dark corner of
the bar. They silently agreed this was the best idea they had and headed for the door. Even if it
opened to the barman's face, he could possibly give them some information that might lead them
both to Hermione. As Harry pushed open the creaking door, he realized this was exactly what they
were looking for.

A dark staircase wound down to a lower level and both Ron and Harry could hear the exasperated
voice belonging to the famous Bulgarian seeker. They charged down the stairs together and found
themselves in a short hallway with a door cracked open at the far end. They ran down the hallway,
wands extended, but before they could reach it they heard Hermione…screaming again.

Harry and Ron burst through the door simultaneously shouting, “stupify!” at the top of their
lungs. A blinding flash of light exploded from the end of both their wands and landed squarely in
Viktor Krum's chest. He was lifted off his feet and blown backward into a rickety set of
shelves containing a variety of bottles. His body smashed both the shelves and bottles into
oblivion and he fell to the floor unconscious. Ron and Harry whipped around to find Hermione
crumpled on the floor in a dim corner of the room. They charged to her side, Harry gently rolled
her onto her back. Her eyes were rolling back in her head and her entire body was reverberating
violently. Her face was dirtied by the dust covered floor, punctuated only by the tracks down her
cheeks where the dust had been washed away by her tears. Harry wasn't even sure she knew they
were there. He gave a quick glance to Ron and tried to gain her attention.

“Hermione?” he asked desperately. “Hermione, can you hear me? It's Harry.” Remembering what
her words had done for him, he added quietly, “I'm here. Everything's going to be alright.”
Ron gave him a concerned look. She didn't seem to be responding.

“Harry, we have to get her out of here,” Ron added sliding his arm under hers. Harry followed
suit and they pulled Hermione to her feet.

While it seemed a good idea to merely help her walk, they both determined this plan had no
possibility of success. Aside from being essentially unconscious, she was shaking so violently, she
wasn't able to stand under her own power. Her legs simply wouldn't hear of it. As they
folded under her, Harry threw his other arm around the back of her legs and scooped her up,
dropping his wand as he did. Her head rolled off his chest and hung backward over his arm, swinging
helplessly with each step he took. It was all Harry could do to hold back the flood of emotions
threatening to erupt inside him. He wanted to scream, he wanted to cry, and he wanted to kill
Viktor Krum. His heart was breaking to see her like this.

*Hold it together, Harry. She needs you to hold it together. Just get her back to
Hogwarts.*

Ron grabbed Harry's wand from the floor and rushed to hold the door open for him. The
expression on his face let Harry know; he too, was barely holding himself in check. As he carried
her toward the stairs, he felt like he should've been struggling more with Hermione's
weight, but the adrenaline pumping through his veins strengthened him. He easily climbed the spiral
staircase behind Ron. They burst out of the Hogs Head Tavern into the street.

*We're going to make it, Hermione. We're almost there.*

The passageway was only steps beyond and in no time they would have Hermione safe within the
boundaries of Hogwarts. Harry had barely finished this thought when he realized Ron had stopped in
his tracks, and for good reason.

They had only been in the Hogs Head a matter of minutes but the entire scenery of Hogsmeade
reflected a drastic change. It was deserted. The witches and wizards perusing the shop windows only
minutes before were no where to be found. Ron gripped his wand and looked around. “Neville, Ginny!
Over here!” he shouted, spotting his sister and fellow Gryffindor jogging down the street. Dean,
Seamus and Luna must've heard Ron's voice and appeared out of a nearby shop.

“This is spooky Harry,” Dean said as Ginny rushed over to check Hermione cradled in Harry's
arms.

“Hermione?” Ginny's voice trembled as she brushed the hair away from her face. She seemed to
be stirring a bit and Harry couldn't help but notice her body was considerably calmer than it
had been only minutes before. He tore his gaze from Hermione; he couldn't take looking at her
tear-stained face for long. Ginny continued to absently brush her hair away from her face in a
futile attempt to rouse her.

Answering Dean's concern, Harry said, “I know its spooky, and I don't care to find out
why. We have to get her to Madam Pomfrey.” Harry started off toward the passageway. The group
followed behind closely behind, peering in all directions for signs of any danger.

They didn't have to look far. As it always seemed with Harry Potter, danger found him.

They turned the final corner in route to the passageway and came to an abrupt halt. It was now
perfectly clear to Harry where the residents of Hogsmeade had gone. Ginny gasped and Ron let out a
muffled squeak. They all, save Harry, seemed to pull their wands in unison and held their
breath.

They had come face to face with no less than eight Death Eaters.



12. The Power He Knows Not
--------------------------



**A/N: Okay-I've let you all suffer enough!** **4 hours on that cliff is plenty of
time.** **I can say with all certainty there will NOT be a cliffie at the end of this chapter.
However, in an effort to get it to you quickly, I have not sent it to my betas. I went through and
added** **my scenes and edited on my own.** **As a testament to how great my betas are,
you're likely to find more mistakes in this chapter. I hope you are more interested in the
story than the grammar however.**

**So ends** **The Power He Knows Not.** **I hope you all have enjoyed the ride. I truly
appreciate the responses I've gotten from my first outing into writing any sort of fiction. I
really enjoyed putting this together. I'm happy to have the edited and enhanced version out of
the way so I can redouble my efforts on the sequel. It already exists (at least about 85 pages of
it anyway) and is doing very well. It is FAR more involved than this story is�very deep. As a
matter of a fact I'****ve planted multiple** **plot seeds in several of**
**Power's** **chapters�you (hopefully) haven'****t noticed them if I wrote it
well.**

**Thanks again for such a warm reception at Portkey! Thank you for all your encouragement,
comments,****and reviews!**

**Vicarious Leigh**

**Chapter 12** **- The Power He Knows Not**

Ron shot Harry a thoroughly shocked gaze. They seemed to share the same thought. They
weren't nearly as surprised by the appearance of Death Eaters as they were shocked at which
ones they were. Before any of the D.A. could string together an audible sentence a Death Eater
spoke first.

�Oh! He was right!� A cold chuckling came from under the hooded figure. �Your expression is
priceless! I'm sure Draco would've paid every galleon I've given him to see the look on
your face Potter,� Lucius Malfoy finished with a hearty laugh.

�I was quite depressed actually,� added Bellatrix Lestrange. Our Christmas escape from Azkaban
didn't even rate the *Daily Prophet*. �Last year we were front page news,� she scoffed.
Harry shifted Hermione's weight in his arms. She was waking up and he had no idea how to
explain this situation in five words or less.

�Oh, look at the mudblood,� Lestrange continued. �She doesn't look any better than she did
the last time we all met.� She laughed heartily and gave Dolohov a bright smile.

�Harry,� Hermione's voice floated quietly up from his arms. �Put me down.�

He looked into her bloodshot eyes and lowered her feet to the ground. She straightened herself
as best she could, Harry steadying her, and pulled her wand from her robes. Lestrange widened her
eyes and laughed bodily at her efforts to stand tall.

�Oh my! Such a brave little Gryffindor!� she craoked between chuckles. Her laughs were promptly
joined by the other members of her cohort. Harry recognized Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, Lestrange,
Macnair, and Dolohov. The other two struck familiar chords with him but he wasn't sure who they
were.

More importantly, he wasn't sure how they were going to get out. The passageway was just a
few steps away, but they surely couldn't lead eight Death Eaters into the corridors of
Hogwarts. No one knew they had run off to Hogsmeade in the first place, at least he didn't
think anyone knew.

A low hissing began to emanate from the group of Death Eaters encircling the D.A. They were
completely surrounded and pressed closer together. Harry opened his mouth to say something,
anything to buy them some time, but never got the opportunity. Lucius Malfoy raised his wand
directly to Hermione's face and began to hiss the words that purely enraged every cell in
Harry's body.

�Avada Ked�� was all he managed before being leveled by Harry Potter himself. Ron still had
Harry's wand but he'd watched Dudley Dursley long enough to know how to lay someone out and
he was enraged enough to do it. Just as the other Death Eaters moved in to attack Harry, the real
fight began. Surprisingly enough, it had begun from someone standing behind all of them.

A bright red streak of light zipped past Ron's head and blasted Goyle clear off his feet and
away from Harry. The Death Eaters dove for cover while Harry and the rest of the D.A. turned to see
where the spell had come from. None of them could breathe, nor could they speak, they purely
couldn't believe what they were seeing.

�Split up, *NOW!*� Severus Snape was bounding across an overturned trash can and throwing
Ginny out of the way. �I said *NOW!*� he roared, snapping them back to reality. The groups
divided along the same lines their search mission had taken. Harry scrambled up from a dazed Lucius
Malfoy and ran back to Hermione.

�Ron!� he shouted as he took her right arm. Ron charged over and grabbed the left. Hermione,
still fighting to stay on her feet, joined them as they charged off together. They ducked into the
first door they saw and found the scenery quite familiar.

�We just can't get away from this place mate,� Ron said rolling his eyes as he realized they
had run back to the Hogs Head Tavern for cover. He handed Harry his wand and looked for further
instruction.

�Hermione,� Harry said quickly, leading her toward the bar. �I want you to stay here and stay
out of sight. You aren't strong enough to take on�.Malfoy?� he finished in a daze peering at
the floor behind the bar.

Draco Malfoy was sitting on the floor behind the bar rocking back and forth. His face was nearly
as white as his hair and Hermione flopped to the floor beside him.

�Malfoy?� she asked quietly. She looked at Ron and Harry's shocked faces as he didn't
reply. �Draco�Draco! Can you hear me?� she added gasping. His glistening eyes met hers and he spoke
at a near whisper.

�He was going to kill you,� he said softly.

�Tell us something we don't know!� Ron scoffed. �He'd have done it last year if he
didn't need Harry! He'd have killed the lot of us!�

Malfoy snapped his eyes to Ron and stood up. Whatever pretense of remorse, or softness his voice
held before, vanished as he raised himself to his full height. �I don't need to hear it from
*you* Weasley! Your family is not even bright enough to know they escaped a full four months
ago!� Malfoy roared.

Ron opened his mouth to fight back but Hermione stopped him.

�Ron!� she said gathering as much energy as she had. �Malfoy! Stop it. Now is *not* the
time. We can all be insufferably wretched to each other later. Right now we need to figure out how
to get out of here alive!� she finished pulling herself up.

�Oh, and I suppose the little genius *half-breed* is going to fix it all!� Malfoy yelled,
turning on Hermione. Harry crossed the five feet separating them instantly, grabbed Malfoy by the
throat of his robes and thrust him up against the wall.

�I suggest you watch your language Malfoy,� he said quietly. Malfoy was clearly shocked that
Harry had been able to lift him from the floor. �You're either with us or against us and I
don't have time to figure out which one it is.� He dropped him back to his feet. The four of
them stared at each other briefly and Harry took the silence as an opportunity to outline some sort
of plan.

�Hermione, I don't care what happens,� he said, moving to her and taking both her shoulders
in his hands. �You *will stay* behind this counter, no matter what happens to me. *D**o
you understand?*� He finished with a knowing gaze. He was obviously referring to the prophecy
without wanting to expose too much to Malfoy.

Hermione's eyes glazed over and she dejectedly nodded her head. Having used most of the
energy she'd conjured in the first place, her legs faltered and she dropped behind the counter
unceremoniously. Harry caught her half way down and helped her to a comfortable position.

Harry directed Ron and Malfoy to the windows to post watch and returned his stare to
Hermione.

Harry took her hands in his. �Are you all right?� She nodded quietly and looked away. He pulled
her into a strong embrace and held her tightly. He knew what was waiting outside and that his time
was limited before leaping into the unknown. But, he couldn't, or wouldn't, do that without
holding her at least once. He couldn't tell if the small vibrations in her shoulders were the
after-effects of her physical trauma, or the emotional uncertainty of the unknown. He pulled back
from her and turned her chin to toward his.

Hermion's eyes were desperately trying to hold back tears, and had done so rather
successfully until she locked eyes with Harry. �Harry, I'm��

�No.� He silenced her immediately. He wasn't exactly sure if she was going to say she was
sorry, or scared, but he felt it was one or the other�and neither was acceptable to him. While he
would've loved to engage in a heartfelt conversation, he was amazed he'd had this much time
already. He thought to summarize the only truly important thought in his mind and join Ron across
the tavern. �Hermione, I've never understood what love was until I fell for you. It will
destroy me if anything happens to you. If you love me as much as I love you, you will stay hidden
here, no matter the outcome.� Tears streamed down Hermione's face; cutting fresh tracks in the
dirty complexion she'd gained downstairs. He needed her confirmation. He had to know that she
understood the importance of his request. He could only think to phrase it in one way.

�Do you love me?�

She never hesitated in her answer. �More than I ever thought possible, Harry.� He smiled weakly,
squeezed her hand, and leapt up to join the others.

He had crossed only half the tavern floor when the door crashed open. Bellatrix Lestrange and
Lucius Malfoy burst into the room. Draco Malfoy dived behind an upturned table leaving Ron and
Harry standing, wands drawn, in the center of the room.

�Expelliarmus!� Harry and Ron shouted together. Lestrange was blown backwards into a nearby
table. Lucius Malfoy pointed his wand at Harry�

�Petrificus Totalis!� Harry crashed to the floor unable to move or speak, his wand rolled off
toward the window and Ron seemed completely frozen in fear. Never seeming to miss a moment to
increase his own ego, Lucius Malfoy took a few steps forward and hovered over Harry.

�Well, well, well. I hate to say it's not very sporting to kill you when you're unarmed
but I dare say it will secure my place as the Dark Lord's second in command.� Thinking better
of his plan he added, �then again, maybe I'll just bring you to him. I know his greatest desire
is to watch you die himself.� He chuckled. Ron took a few steps forward and raised his wand.

�You'll have to kill me first!� he said in a quiet rage. He was wholly shocked to hear
another voice chime in.

�And me, father.� Draco Malfoy had emerged from behind the table and walked toward Ron with his
wand extended. Lucius Malfoy was, however briefly, at a loss for words. Lestrange got to her feet
behind him.

�I told you Lucius. He has too much of his cousin's blood in him. He's not entirely
unlike his cousin's godson.� She gave a nod in Harry's direction. Draco, being the only one
unfamiliar with the full intricacies of his family tree - and his relation to Sirius Black, shot
Harry a confounded look.

�What difference does it make anymore?� Ron roared. �You killed him last year! He was all Harry
had and you killed him too!� The heat had risen in his face and he was only barely controlling his
rage at this point. Lestrange's cackling laughter didn't make it any easier to control
himself and the situation turned desperate.

�Enough!� Lucius Malfoy had found his voice. �If you'll stand against me here than you are
no son of mine! Say goodbye, all of you!� he shouted, snapping his wand level with Ron and
Draco.

Harry knew what was coming. He was lying flat on the ground totally incapable of speaking or
using his wand, he couldn't protect himself, he couldn't protect Ron or Malfoy, and he
certainly couldn't protect Hermione - still quietly hiding behind the bar. There was no phoenix
song, there was no great rescue by the Order - they were going to die right here.

*With any luck Hermione will survive this.*

In the second that passed while Malfoy was opening his mouth, Harry's entire life flashed
before his eyes. He thought of all the people that were important in his life, alive and dead. His
thoughts went from his parents, to Hermione, Sirius, Ron, the Weasleys, Lupin, Tonks.

*Tonks!*.

�*This is a skill that anyone wishing to become an Auror must master. There will be times, in
search of dark wizards and witches where you may be unable to speak or use your wand.�* Her
voice echoed in his head.

Telekinesis. Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath as he heard Lucius Malfoy shout the
third and final of the unforgivable curses. Green light erupted from the end of his wand and
careened across the room toward Ron and Draco - frozen in disbelief. A crash came at the wall
behind Hermione's hiding place and the large mirror hanging behind the bar flew across the room
and collided with the curse only five feet from Ron's chest.

The mirror exploded and shattered the curse into nearly twenty dim beams of light that exploded
in virtually every corner of the room. Although Harry had managed to deflect the lion's share
of the hex, both Malfoy and Ron were hit with the splintered remnants of the curse and crumpled to
the ground together. For whatever reason, Harry was able to move again and scrambled to his feet,
diving behind an overturned table. Another shot of green light exploded from Bellatrix's wand
and destroyed the table protecting Harry. He looked to Ron lying seemingly lifeless on the floor
and realized, aside from the bar, there was no where else to hide.

He would die before exposing Hermione's position.

�Expelliarmus!� he shouted again, although this time his voice seemed incredibly strong and both
Malfoy and Lestrange were nearly blasted through the tavern wall. He remained for a moment in awe
of his apparent power before the truth was revealed.

�Harry.� Dumbledore's calm voice came from behind him. �I shall have to ensure Professor
Tonks grants you full marks for Telekinesis.� Harry broke into a quiet smile and ran toward Ron. He
was quickly stopped by the Headmaster.

�Stay where you are. This isn't over, Harry.� Dumbledore said turning toward the door
leading to the basement room where they had found Hermione. It opened in slow motion. He suddenly
felt like he was center-screen in some �B� rate muggle horror movie. Every inch of his body
trembled, and a chill as cold as ice slipped down his chest.

Harry did not need to be told who was on the other side of that door.

His scar exploded with pain and he crumpled to his knees, fighting to clear his vision, and
fighting harder to clear his head. He couldn't let Voldemort know who was hidden behind the
bar. He couldn't let his own thoughts give Hermione away. He staggered to his feet behind
Dumbledore and raised his wand.

�I should think you would grow tired of this, Tom,� Dumbledore said softly. For the lack of
color Voldemort's face usually showed, it was clearly turning red now. Harry was quite sure if
anyone else had dared call Voldemort �Tom� there would be an instantaneous Avada Kedavara with
their name on it.

Harry felt himself thrown backwards and out of the line of fire, multi-colored light erupted
from both Dumbledore and Voldemort's wands and the entire tavern filled with the sounds of
breaking glass and exploding furniture. Dumbledore spun his cloak out, catching the spells, and at
one point almost appeared to catch one in his hand only to throw it back at Voldemort himself.

The sound was deafening. Harry was scared beyond words. Dumbledore was exceptionally powerful
and he, according the prophesy, would *not* be the one to defeat the Dark Lord - Harry
would�but how? Before he could muse further on this point he noticed something awry in the
tavern.

It was quiet.

The tavern was a mess. There was neither a table nor a chair that remained in tact. Nearly every
window was broken and glass littered the floor. The pain in Harry's scar had receded and he got
to his feet, looking toward Dumbledore. He was standing in the middle of the room, sunbeams falling
across his midnight blue robes, illuminating the golden detailing of the hem. His long white beard
was encrusted with dust from the tavern fight and he turned with tired eyes to Harry. With
Voldemort gone, Harry dropped his guard and started to speak.

Dumbledore's mouth opened at the same time and his eyes reflected an emotion Harry had not
truly seen in him before�fear. Before Harry could ask what the matter was he heard the excruciating
scream of Hermione Granger. She leapt up from behind the bar and stumbled into the tavern
proper.

�I know Potter is the one!� she yelled, gasping for breath. �Go ahead Potter! Fulfill your
destiny�kill me now!� she screamed. Harry's couldn't catch his own breath. He knew the
all-consuming pain Hermione was feeling right now. He knew she wanted nothing more than for Harry
to raise his wand and end her life. He could almost hear her in his own head, beseeching him to end
this, imploring him to end the pain.

He knew that only because it was exactly what he'd wanted when Voldemort possessed him. He
couldn't speak, he could see the pain in her eyes - she was begging him to kill her. He snapped
his gaze to Dumbledore, pleading for help - only to have his attention refocused on his possessed
girlfriend.

�I'm afraid she's not as adept at throwing off the Imperius curse as you are Potter.�
Hermione's voice said as she began spinning around the room. �I finally gave up trying to
convince you to give into your boyish urges after you returned to Hogwarts. My newest faithful
servant Mr. Krum led me to your dearest love�I no longer needed to try and have you do it for
me.�

Harry could hardly believe his own stupidity. His face must've reflected that.

�Yes, that's right Potter�all those conversations you *thought* you were only having in
your head. I was the one trying to convince you to give in so I could find out who your thoughts
were so hopelessly devoted do!� Harry's anger was threatening to erupt�which is exactly what
Voldemort wanted. He wanted to incense him to the point of killing him through Hermione, and thus
ending her life too. Harry couldn't think - rage filled his body. He was not only enraged at
Voldemort, for violating his thoughts, but also enraged at himself for having been arrogant enough
to believe he, at age 16, could block the most powerful dark wizard of the age.

He'd been played for months.

�Harry,� Dumbledore said quietly, barely audible over Hermione's screams. �You have far more
power in this situation than anyone else. I cannot help you.� Harry was furious. He'd just
watched the most impressive display of magic he'd seen since�well, the last time Voldemort and
Dumbledore squared off, and he's honestly expecting Harry to believe a 16 year-old boy is more
capable? �Remember *all* of the prophecy�remember *your* power.� Dumbledore said with a
nod.

Harry recited the prophecy in his head, concentrating on the final passage. He turned quickly to
Hermione. She was barely standing. Voldemort was ordering Harry to kill him through her voice,
through her body.

�Power? Look at this boy! He has no power. His love for this mudblood has weakened him!�
Hermione yelled, her eyes wildly pleading with Harry to end her torture.

He suddenly knew exactly what had to be done.

He stepped forward quickly and grabbed her around the waist. He pulled her body firmly to his
and wrapped his left arm tightly around her. His thrust her lips to his- his right arm firmly held
the back of her head. Voldemort fought him, through her, and she struggled against him. But Harry
did not let go. Rather, he redoubled his efforts in both body and mind pressing his whole body to
hers.

He engaged in the most passionate kiss he was able to give and pushed one thought into her
mind��I love you, Hermione.�

Hermione's lips broke from his and she let out a blood-curdling scream, eyes rolling back in
her head. Simultaneously, the entire frame of the Hogs Head window exploded out onto the street and
Hermione fell limp in his arms.

It was more than Harry could take.

He let the weight of her pull him to the floor as well and he rocked her slowly, cradling her in
his arms. It was all he could do to not burst into an uncontrollable fits of tears. The woman he
loved was unconscious in his arms. She had been tortured beyond belief and his best friend was
lying lifeless on the floor behind him.

�Harry.� A soft hand lay on his shoulder. �We need to get your friends to Madam Pomfrey. Please
bring Ms. Granger over to the others.� Dumbledore was pointing to where Draco Malfoy and Ron lie on
the floor. Shaking, Harry scooped Hermione into his arms once again and lay her down beside Ron on
the floor. He knelt on the floor and closed his eyes, trying desperately to fight back the tears
that were filling them. He looked up toward Dumbledore, but saw only the swing of his cloak
enveloping them all. When the cloak disappeared on the other side of him they were standing in the
hospital wing, Ron, Hermione, and Malfoy lying peacefully on the infirmary beds. Harry shot a
disbelieving look at Dumbledore and quickly realized the D.A. had been waiting for them.

�Ron!� Ginny shouted, running past Harry toward where he lay. Neville and Dean were slightly
bandaged and chatting in their beds - Luna and Seamus sitting nearby. Professor Snape was standing
by the door and caught Harry's eye. Before either could speak, he turned and left the hospital
wing, apparently having seen what he was waiting for. Madam Pomfrey was already attending to her
new patients.

�Madam Pomfrey?� Harry asked quietly, voice shaking.

�They will all be just fine, Mr. Potter.� she said, answering his question before he could ask
it. With that, he glanced at Dumbledore's warm - but obviously exhausted - smile and walked
over to Hermione's bed. He sat down in the same chair she'd occupied for five days, grasped
her hand firmly, and laid his head down across her arm.

It was the most wonderful and peaceful sound he could've imagined�Hermione's soft,
steady breath and the continuous rise and fall of her chest. Harry listened intently to the faint
echo of her heartbeat and fell asleep - still clutching her hand.

***

Harry was unsure how long he had slept at Hermione's side, only that he didn't sleep
well. Every sound that emanated from her body, every twitch of her hand would wake him, heart
pounding. Every time it was the same. He'd jolt awake expecting to see her stirring, only to
see she was just as unconscious as she had been when Dumbledore brought them back to Hogwarts. It
didn't go without note that each time he laid eyes upon her, she seemed to look a bit better
than she had before.

�Harry.� A voice called in his head.

�Harry, wake up mate.� It was Ron's voice! Harry pulled his head off Hermione's arm and
spun in his chair to see his best friend smiling broadly at him. �How are you?� Ron asked.

�How am I? Never mind that, how are *you?*� Harry said, disbelieving Ron's
question.

�I'm fine. I'm a little sore, but no worse for the wear,� Ron said stuffing a chocolate
frog into his mouth. �You know, before long you're going to be on one of these cards.� Ron said
flipping his card over to see who he'd gotten this time.

Ron looked over to Hermione's bed, an unreadable expression on his face, and without looking
at Harry asked, �how's she doing?�

�Madam Pomfrey says she'll be fine,� Harry said, rubbing his tired eyes and glancing back at
Hermione. �She seems to be resting peacefully though,� he added, trying to sound upbeat. In
actuality, he was screaming for her to wake up. He needed to look in her eyes. He needed to talk to
her. He needed to know for himself that she was alright. Apparently, his thoughts were as
transparent to Ron as Harry in the invisibility cloak.

�Don't worry mate,� he said with an rather convincing chuckle. �You did what you said you
would. You protected her. She's going to be fine.� For the first time, Harry looked at Ron with
a quizzical expression. This was not the first time Harry had noticed a shift in his features, a
break in his voice, or a fleeting attempt at eye contact when they discussed Hermione together.
Things had spun wildly out of control as soon as Ron returned from the Christmas holiday. It
suddenly dawned on Harry that he and Ron might have something to discuss.

Ron looked away quickly and shouted, �Hey, Malfoy! Have one, it'll make you feel better
mate!� Ron said suddenly, tossing a chocolate frog onto Draco Malfoy's bed. His back was turned
to everyone in the room.

�He's playing like he's asleep, but he snores when he's asleep and that's how I
know he's not,� Ron said, smiling.

�I imagine he's got a bit on his mind,� Harry said concernedly.

�Not unlike you,� Ron replied. �So, you want to tell me what happened after the whole mirror
thing�which by the way was very cool.� Ron grinned. Harry, having had little company or
conversation welcomed the chance to talk to someone and began telling the story. In his rather
exhausted emotional state, he felt the other conversation could wait.

He started, full tilt, into a vivid description of everything Ron missed. It was cathartic to be
able to talk about it. He and Ron were so engrossed in their conversation he surprisingly
didn't notice Hermione stirring behind him.

�So anyway, then Dumbledore shows up and calls him *Tom*!� Harry said as Ron choked on a
pumpkin tart. �And then��

�Harry?� Hermione's weak voice stopped the conversation cold. He whipped around in his seat;
totally neglecting Ron perched on his every word, to find Hermione's eyes fluttering.

She was finally waking up.

�I'm here,� he said quickly, grasping her hand in his and giving her a kiss on the forehead.
She fought to open her eyes and turned her head toward Harry's voice. As her eyes opened, a
smile broke across her face.

�Hi,� he said softly, wishing to think of something more profound to say.

�Hi,� she echoed back.

Wishing to stem any concerns she might have he added, �you're going to be fine.�

�I knew that as soon as I heard you in my head, asking where Krum had taken me.� She smiled.
Harry flinched at the name. He was still more inclined to use an unforgivable curse on Krum than
anyone else at the present time. He certainly didn't want to talk about Krum, nor did he want
to tell her everything he *really* wanted to tell her with Ron hanging on their every word. He
kissed the back of her hand and gently laid his forehead on her chest. He felt her hand running
weakly through his hair and heard her voice greet Ron.

�Hi, Ron.� He could tell she was smiling.

�Hi! You�er- want a chocolate frog?� Ron replied uneasily, sending Hermione into a painfully
sore laugh. Harry smiled broadly, picked up his head and continued the rest of the story for
Ron.

***

The next few days passed with Harry spending all of his time in the hospital wing with his
friends. Neville and Dean had left the night they arrived, but Madam Pomfrey required Ron and
Hermione (and Malfoy) to stay a few days longer. She finally excused them from her care the night
of the leaving feast.

Ron, Harry, and Hermione entered the Great Hall together and laid their eyes upon a sight they
had yet to see at Hogwarts. Usually, the Great Hall was decorated with the banners of whichever
house was victorious in claiming the House Cup. Harry had only seen it done differently during his
fourth year when the banners were black as a tribute to Cedric Diggory. This year the hall was
alight with color. Each house had a banners flying from the rafters. It was an odd sight to see
Gryffindor and Slytherin hanging next to each other. Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw banners also swayed
in the breeze wafting through the hall.

�What do you suppose this is about?� Hermione asked, pointing up to the ceiling from the hand
that was warmly surrounded by Harry's

�I don't know. I'm sure Dumbledore will tell us though, lets get a seat, I'm�.� Ron
started.

�Staaaarving,� Harry and Hermione said together in a poor imitation of Ron's voice. They
found a spot at the Gryffindor house table and sat down together. They had only just begun their
speculations when Professor McGonagall tapped her goblet to silence the room.

�Professor Dumbledore would like to say a few parting words,� McGonagall announced, after the
room had fallen silent.

�Another year�gone. We are another year older,� he said, pulling at his grey beard with a smile.
��and another year smarter. We are another year more connected to each other. I have been most
proud to watch the interaction among our students this year,� he continued. �You'll notice the
house decorations are a bit different than in years past. Two years ago, I stood in this very
place, saddened and concerned over the dark events that had taken place during the Triwizard
Tournament.�

Harry looked down at his empty plate and felt Hermione's hand give his leg a supportive
squeeze. He took her hand and raised his eyes to hers with a smile. �I asked our students then to
think of the broader picture and work together to become strong in the fight against evil. I am
happy to say, I've seen the fruits of your cooperation.� Dumbledore raised his arms to all the
house tables and smiled. �The events of the past several days saw members of all houses come
together to fight the forces of Lord Voldemort.� Harry furrowed his eyebrows and looked toward
Hermione. She seemed equally confused. Of the people they remembered in Hogmeade, none of them had
come from Hufflepuff. Ginny seemed to notice their question and whispered across the table.

�Justin Finch-Fletchley saw us entering the passageway and told Snape where we had gone.� With
their question answered, they returned their gaze to Professor Dumbledore.

�Because of that, we will not be awarding the House Cup to any one House, but awarding it
officially, to all of you. Tuck in!� He finished abruptly and the leaving feast appeared onto the
table in its typical fashion. The hall burst with conversation and Harry treated himself to at
least three helpings of everything, feeling as though he'd not eaten in a week. As they were
leaving the Great Hall, he stopped and turned to Hermione.

�I'll catch up with you, I need to talk to Dumbledore for a second,� he said, squeezing her
hand and turning toward his office. He rode the spiraling staircase to the top and walked through
Dumbledore's office door with a quiet knock.

�Come in Harry,� he said, seated comfortably behind his desk.

�I'm sorry, Professor. I don't mean to intrude. I just wanted to ask you something
before we left for home tomorrow,� Harry said, as unobtrusively as he could.

�I'm afraid you will have to return to the Dursley's at least for a brief period Harry.�
Dumbledore preempted. Harry's spirits fell along with his expression. Dumbledore continued,
�You've progressed quite well in higher levels of magic this year, Harry; especially magic that
requires the mind over the body.� Dumbledore offered. �I suggest you continue that practice and see
if your summer doesn't become more interesting than in years' past.� Having heard the
answer he was completely trying to avoid, he thought it best to return to Gryffindor tower before
giving in to the urge to upend the Headmaster's office as he had last year.

�Er- thank you Professor,� he said dejectedly, turning to leave. He stopped abruptly, one
question still lingering in his mind. �Justin told Professor Snape where we had gone, and I figure
Malfoy was just following us. But, how did you know we were at the Hog's Head?� Harry asked
Dumbledore over his shoulder.

Dumbledore lowered his gaze over his half moon glasses and gave Harry a sly grin, �Well, they do
tell me I'm an exceptional wizard.� He smiled. �but beyond that, I have a few�connections�to
the barman at that particular establishment. While he wanted no part of the goings on there, he
thought I might be interested.� Dumbledore smiled and quickly ended any further inquiries. �Enjoy
your evening Harry.� Getting the point, Harry smiled and headed for the common room.

The common room was alive with activity. Friends were forsaking sleep in order to capture a few
more hours with each other before departing for the summer. Harry, Ron and Hermione were no
different. They were camped out, in front of the common room fire, with Ginny, Neville, Dean and
Seamus. They exchanged stories, played exploding snap, and Ron handily beat every one of them in
turn at wizard's chess. Harry savored every minute of the time he had left with Hermione. They
seemed platonically attached at the hip and for most of the evening Hermione and he shared their
favorite squashy chair together. Honestly, they didn't carry on an extensive conversation with
each other at all. They merely enjoyed their company of their friends and each other. Hermione,
still recovering from her ordeal turned in first and Harry walked her to her dormitory stairs.

�Good night, Hermione,� Harry said, as she turned on the first stair to face him.

�Good night, Harry. I'll see you in the morning,� She said smiling. They exchanged a short
kiss and Harry seized the moment to ask her one more question.

�Can we go for a walk tomorrow around the lake, just us?� he said, grasping both her hands.

Hermione smiled and replied, �I wouldn't miss it for the world.� She gave him another quick
kiss, and she disappeared up the stairs.�

�I love you,� Harry whispered to the place on the stairs where he'd seen her last and turned
to see the crowd by the fireplace staring at him. They broke into hysterical laughter as Dean
grabbed Seamus playfully, imitating Harry and said, �Can *we* walk around the lake together?�
Seamus punched Dean in the chest and the laughter increased. Harry felt his face turn red and
called across the room sternly, �Good night, *children*!� He gave a fleeting glace toward,
Ron, who was unconvincingly engaged in Ginny's next chess move and climbed the stairs that
called him to his own four-poster.

***

Morning arrived instantly for Harry. He finished packing and dressed quickly to meet Hermione.
She was already waiting for him in the common room and they swept from the portrait hole together.
They made the first lap of the lake holding hands in silence. Harry didn't really feel the need
to say anything, apparently Hermione didn't either. Just being together was enough for them
both. By the time they'd started the second lap an uncontrollable urge was rising in the pit of
Harry's stomach. They stopped and sat down on a felled tree overlooking the lake.

�Hermione, can I ask you something?� Harry said slowly, staring at an industrious ant struggling
with a leaf.

�Anything,� she replied, following the ant's activity as well.

Harry cleared his throat and took a deep breath. �Do you love me?� he asked, tentatively raising
his eyes to hers. He expected her to be shocked at the question, given the fact he'd asked her
the same one in the Hog's Head, but she looked quite relaxed.

�More than anything,� she said quietly. �It's going to be really hard this summer. I've
gotten a bit used to you,� she said, playfully bumping into his shoulder. He smiled and returned
his eyes to the ant's progress.

�I have something for you,� Harry said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the ring
Neville had returned to him.

�Oh, Harry! I thought it was gone for good,� she said, relieved. �I hope you're not angry
with me, it's all I could think of.�

�What do you mean?� Harry asked puzzled.

�I dropped it on the floor outside the passageway to Hogsmeade. I figured I'd shown it to
enough people someone would put two and two together to realize where I'd gone.� Harry smiled,
Hermione was, as always, ingenious-even under stress.

�No, I'm not angry with you. That was a great idea,� he said smiling. She extended her hand
for him to put it back on. She had extended the hand she'd been wearing the ring on since
Christmas�the right one. She seemed puzzled when he took that hand in his and did not replace the
ring.

�Hermione,� he said clearing his throat. She shot him a quizzical gaze and looked inquiringly at
her hand. Harry was at a complete loss for words. He hadn't planned this at all. He stared at
her, mouth bobbing open and closed.

*Oh, for the love of Merlin! If you're going to do it, do it! This is one of those all or
nothing experiences, Potter. Either charge in and make a bloody idiot of yourself, or stop sitting
there looking like a blasted trout out of water!*

He cleared his throat again and mustered the courage to look her in the eyes.

�I meant what I said in the Hog's Head. I've never really understood what love is, or
what it means until this year. I've spent the majority of my life with people who make it a
point to loathe me, rather than love me. I've never known a parent's love. I've never
been held, that I can remember, by my mother. I never played pick-up Quidditch in the garden with
my father. I lost Sirius before we really got the chance to become as close as I would've
liked. But over the last six years, I've had you and Ron.� Harry found that once he began it
was just best to continue right on.

�I've watched the Weasleys over the years and have realized what family is supposed to be.
I've realized how important love is. I hope I've figured out how to show some of that.
Honestly, not a day goes by that I'm not totally shocked that you haven't come to your
senses.� He laughed a little and Hermione attempted to squeeze in a word edgewise.

�No, please let me finish.� She complied quietly and waited for him to continue. He sat a
moment, mustering the courage, or the words, he wasn't sure which. �I think what I've
discovered about love is exactly how consuming it can be. It has consumed me. My entire existence
changed last Christmas. Everything I had lived for, until then, made no difference any longer. The
prophecy didn't matter, Voldemort didn't matter�nothing mattered in my life but you.�

He looked toward the lake and smiled warmly. �Everyday, I saw sunshine and heard birds sing.
Even if it was miserable outside, I was glowing inside. I had you.� He cut his eyes to hers and
smiled sheepishly. �You'd probably think I was mental if you know how much I watched you. I
think I've memorized every mannerism you have. I love the way you chew on your quill when
you're thinking about something. When you're angry your eyes flash, and you bat your hair
out of your face with your hand.� He moved his hand to sweep an errant strand behind her ear.

�I wish there were better words in my vocabulary to express what I feel. `I love you,' is so
inadequate. I guess that's why I'm rambling.� She smiled at him warmly. She didn't seem
to mind his rambling too much.

His tone grew serious and he returned his gaze to the ant's progress. �Hermione, I've
never been more scared of anything in my life as when I realized you were missing. In that moment,
I saw a life flash before my eyes that didn't have you as a part of it. It lasted for only a
second, but it was torturous nonetheless. I've fallen so hopelessly in love with you, I
can't imagine my life without you, nor can I remember it a mere six months ago.� She looked
away quickly.

*She's the smartest witch at Hogwarts. She knows what's coming. At least get it out
there before she can scoff at you!*

�Hermione, I know this is totally illogical. I know it's crazy. I know we have another year
left at Hogwarts. I know we're only sixteen. I know we've never really dated anyone else.�
He took both her hands in his as he slid off the tree trunk and knelt resolutely in front of her.
�All I know is this. I love you more than my own life. There is nothing I wouldn't give for
you� nothing I wouldn't do. I can't imagine my life without you; not in one week, one
month, or fifty years from now. I don't care about ridiculous prophecies any longer. I
don't care if I die tomorrow, my life is meaningless without you. I don't know how to be
Harry Potter without you.� He looked down at the ring he had been rolling through his fingers and
gently took her left hand in his.

�I know that your unmitigated logic will scream the answer from your head. But I'm not
asking your head. I'm asking your heart.� He squeezed her hand, in a futile attempt to get her
to look at him. �I'm asking you to marry me.�

Silence.

Harry's heart was pounding. He was truly hoping she was not about to break into hysterical
fits of laughter, but the sinking thought he'd just made a total fool of himself compelled him
to look into her eyes. When his gaze met hers, he had his answer.

Tears were streaming down her face and she was sporting the brightest smile he'd seen from
her in weeks. She dove into his arms and kissed him.

�Oh, that's a `yes' then?� Harry said with complete relief.

�Yes!� she was wiping the tears from her cheeks and looking at the ring on her left hand as
thought she'd never seen it before.

Harry watched her eyes and quickly added, �I'll take you to Diagon Alley and we'll
replace the stone with a diamond.� He smiled.

�We'll do nothing of the sort, Harry Potter! This ring is as unique as you are - as
*we* are - and I wouldn't have it any other way.� Hermione scoffed and leaned in for
another kiss. Harry and she sat with the foreheads together for a few minutes, looking at the
glowing red stone. He had never been so happy in his life. All he could think about was how much he
loved her.

�I know,� Hermione said quietly. �I love you too.� Harry separated from her, shocked that
she'd seemed to read his thoughts then broke into abroad smile. �That might come in handy later
on,� he said, laughing and they headed back to Hogwarts.

***

The train ride home was excruciating for them both. They hadn't told anyone about their
engagement, and seemed happy to live in their own secret for a while. The ring was commonplace on
Hermione's hand by now and no one seemed to notice the nuance of it changing hands. With each
mile of passing scenery Harry grew more and more depressed. He could stay like this forever, on
this train forever, his arm wrapped around Hermione, her leaning into him softly. He barely heard a
word his cabin mates said. Several times Hermione elbowed him in the ribs to encourage him to pay a
bit more attention. It only drew his attention to her. It didn't go unnoticed that this was the
first ride on the Hogwarts Express he could remember where Malfoy hadn't shown up at the cabin
door.

It was also the first ride where he truly would've liked to see him.

The train steamed into King's Cross and Harry's heart dropped again. Everyone clamored
to gather their things as the train stopped but Harry and Hermione were frozen in their seat,
wishing hopelessly to stave off their summer separation. Eventually, they followed suit, and walked
in silence off of platform 9



13. Information about the Sequel
--------------------------------



A/N: In reading all your replies I got the impression some people might have missed the A/N
where I indicated there is a sequel. I thought this would be the best way to inform you of the
title and such.

The title is **“The Triumvirate of Resolve.”** I have posted some excerpts from it under my
recommendation page to whet your appetite. I've also tried to answer some of the questions that
have come in through reviews or emails.

I've included that link here.

Thanks for your support, and for the nomination to the readers' choice awards. I'm
humbled.

http://talk.portkey.org/index.php?showtopic=4496&view=findpost&p=76326

Vicarious Leigh



14. Sequel Posted!
------------------



**A heartfelt thanks to everyone who voted for “Power” in the Reader's Choice awards.
I'm humbled, truly I am.**

**The sequel is now being posted on Portkey. Check out the** **Triumvirate of Resolve**
**for the continuation of the “Power” series.**

**VLeigh**