"Can We Still Be Friends?"
Chapter 1: "Comfort's Embrace"
by: Gwendy
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all its characters are the property of author J.K Rowling. This fanfic uses but does not stake claim upon any of the characters so don't sue me!
Warning! This fanfic depicts a Harry/Hermione ship or Harry/Hermione love team so if you're not comfortable with this couple, please discontinue reading.
On the fanfiction: This story is set right after "The Order of the Phoenix"
Additional Note: Haha! Sorry for the wait, guys! But I've finally managed to finish this fic!!! Please visit my Harry/Hermione site, "Quills and Spills" at http://quillsnspills.portkey.org/
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"Number 12 Grimmauld Place..."
Somewhere in the quiet suburbs of London, a young bespectacled boy with messy black hair stood between two worn down houses marked numbers11 and 13. He breathed heavily, clutching his Firebolt as a door appeared in front of him, followed by the walls of what looked like an inflating house. When the whole of the house was now visible, he thoughtlessly began fumbling with his scrawny fingers. He stared up and down the house, unsure of what to do next.
Harry Potter had now grown a few inches taller. His skin never looked healthier. He had also gained some weight but that fact made him more pleasing to the eyes, since only a few months before, he had looked absolutely malnourished. Anyone who knew him could see these changes; everyone but Harry himself.
As he continued to stand on the unkempt grass, his mind whirred with mixed up emotions. Everything that had happened during his previous year in the magical school of Hogwarts had affected him in more ways than one: from his involvement in the Order of the Phoenix, to his first kiss, to his troubles with Umbridge, to his battle with Voldemort and the death of his godfather, Sirius Black. Sirius's death was truly a shock to Harry, that even now he mourned his death as much as he did when he saw Bellatrix Lestrange send his godfather beyond the veil.
Harry shook his head off these sad thoughts and walked slowly towards the scratched black door. He was about to push the doorbell when he remembered what had happened when members of the Order pressed it. His face grimaced as he recalled the raving painting of Sirius's mother. Just the name Sirius made him sullen.
Shaking his head again, he put his sights on the serpent-shaped silver doorknocker. He wouldn't have been here if it hadn't been for the Dursleys. After his only living muggle relatives were threatened by members of the Order, the family had begun treating him decently. He was allowed to eat together with the family but with the air of animosity so intoxicating, he preferred eating after the Dursleys, who now, didn't care what or how much he ate. That could probably account for his weight gain. He was rarely, if ever, ordered to do chores and he was even allowed to watch TV. But for the last week, with the opening of the school year coming fast, Uncle Vernon had begun muttering on how it would be nice to get rid of the filth in his house at last. Then, he would sneer at his nephew and Harry immediately understood what he meant.
That night, Harry's temper had flared up so much that he knew he had to get away from the house before he causes another magical mishap like the incident with Aunt Marge. He had flown over London with his Firebolt, not really caring if the Ministry would send him another warning. But with the return of Voldemort and the departure of the Dementors, Harry knew the Ministry had its hands full.
Harry gripped the doorknocker and rapped it against the wood. He didn't know how hard he did it, but he concluded it must've been, after he heard Mrs. Black's ear-splitting screams echoing the hallway.
"Filth! Scum! Bloody half-human! Dirtying my beloved house! That stupid son of mine should've--"
"Oh dry up! Who in the world could that be?!" muttered a tired, yet annoyed voice. Mrs. Black's shrieks stopped abruptly and Harry knew the curtain to her painting had been drawn down. Then, the door swung open.
"Who--HARRY!" came Remus Lupin's surprised voice as his prematurely wrinkled face brightened at the sight of him. Harry knew Lupin had been coming and going to Grimmauld Place to take care of Buckbeak, the hippogriff whom Sirius had left in his care.
"Oh, Harry! Is that you? You've...you've really grown! You look so much like James now!" Lupin ushered his best friend's son inside and closed the door softly. Almost instantly, his demeanor changed from jovial, to serious.
"Did you know how risky that was!? The others wouldn't be too happy about this...especially Dumbledore. What if the Dementors came after you?! The Death Eaters?! Voldemort himself?! And the Ministry might--"
"I don't care. I'd much rather spend the last days of summer here than back there," Harry said through clenched teeth, tearing his eyes away from Lupin's. The werewolf gazed intensely at the boy before breaking out into a tight smile.
"You really are like your father now," he commented. "James was a real thrill seeker. Anyway," Lupin immediately changed the subject, seeing how mentioning James Potter reminded Harry about the pensieve incident. "I'll go get your things from Privet Drive. You did pack up, right?"
"A long time ago..." muttered a sullen Harry.
"Okay then," and with a loud crack, Lupin disapparated. Harry thought using the Accio charm would've been easier. But then he thought of what the muggles' reaction would be like after seeing a flying trunk and bird cage. The Accio charm was definitely a bad idea.
Harry slowly made his way up the staircase, past the shrunken heads of Grimmauld Place's previous house elves and into the second landing, his footsteps echoing throughout the dilapidated old house. He looked around the dust-covered walls, reminiscing how beautiful it was last Christmas, when everyone had decorated every nook and cranny with bells and hollies...and with Sirius merrily singing carols at the top of his voice...
"So...famous Harry Potter has come back to the Noble House of Black," said a small gruff voice that Harry recognized all too well. "Little brat thinking he can barge in whenever he wants to...just because that criminal traitor son of Kreacher's beloved mistress happe--"
"Get lost, elf!!!"
"Ah, but alas, Kreacher cannot do so, Harry Potter. Harry Potter is not Kreacher's master. Kreacher answers to the only living Black, Bellatrix Lestrange--"
"Bellatrix is gone and you know that!" Harry fumed, his anger rising. "And Sirius--"
"Yes? What about Kreacher's late master?" the elf looked up at Harry with a grin. "That bloody traitor...he got what he deserved, yes, he did. Kreacher celebrates his demi--"
Before Kreacher could finish his mumbling, Harry seized him by the neck and flung him to the wall. The elf, after making a rather hard impact, thudded against the floor. Slowly, he stood up and threw a hateful glance at Harry before scurrying away.
Panting heavily, Harry looked down at his hand. An image of Hermione pointing her wand at him and shouting 'SPEW! SPEW!' appeared in his head, causing a smile to dance on his lips but just as quickly, his smile faded. All his anger was now focused on Kreacher. How he wished that nasty little devil would just go to Bellatrix already...but he was bound to the house unless his master tells him so...and with Sirius gone...
Harry grabbed the silver serpent-shaped knob and threw the door open. A loud squawk greeted him, followed by a strong breeze. The room was dim, lit only by the quarter moon but the hippogriff's huge form was very much visible, its feathers reflecting the moonlight, giving it an almost luminescent look.
"Buckbeak! Shhh! Calm down!" Harry called, as the creature stood to its full height, excitedly flapping its large wings. Harry did a quick bow which was rewarded with Buckbeak doing the same thing. He then proceeded to stroke the hippogriff's head, its golden eyes closing with gratitude at the gesture. A loud crack told Harry that Lupin had arrived at last and sure enough, he appeared a few minutes later, with a bag full of dead rats.
"Knew you'd be here," Lupin commented, putting the bag beside a hungry Buckbeak, who turned his attention to filling his stomach. "I've put your things in the room you and the boys shared last year."
"Where are you going to sleep?" Harry asked as he watched Buckbeak with little interest.
"I wasn't going to stay here long but since you're here--"
"Oh...sorry to be a bother..."
"No, I don't mind at all. I'm not too keen at going home anyway. I'll need to inform the others that you're here and maybe Molly could come pick you up so you can spend the rest of your summer at the Burrow."
Harry gave a quick nod and continued to stare at Buckbeak. He didn't really know what to say to the man who had been his father's friend and who had been his best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. He would've been talking animatedly with him if the circumstances had been different. Silence fell so hard upon them, that Harry wished Lupin would just leave before...
"You know Harry, it's not just you. It's been hard for all of us," Lupin stated calmly, making the young boy wince. "You have to understand that none of this is your fault and that Sirius knew from the beginning the risks involved in--"
"Understand?" Harry's emerald green eyes turned to face Lupin's. "You...all of you tell me to understand..." he said softly, almost in a murmur; but its effect it seems, is greater than when he yells. His voice was deadly serious...deadly calm...almost like a tiger, ready to pounce on its unsuspecting prey...
"...but it is you who don't understand me..." Harry continued in the same low voice. "...everything I've been through...no one...not one of you could ever understand..."
"Sirius was like a brother to me," Lupin replied. "You're not the only one who suffered a loss, Harry. We all did and we're all trying to cope. You should do the same," and with that, he pivoted towards the door.
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9:24 PM. Harry dropped his arm to his side after checking the time. Over an hour has passed since he got there. Lupin, Harry assumed, was probably asleep by now which could account for his not coming back to check up on him. Harry leaned against the heaving body of Buckbeak, resting his head of black streaks on the slumbering hippogriff's smooth wings. Thoughts ran in and out his head, denying him the peaceful oblivion of sleep that he had sought after. He tried not to think of Sirius, but everything in the house reminded him of his godfather. It was then that he regretted coming there.
"I should've gone straight to the Burrow instead..." Harry thought bitterly. "Why didn't I--"
BEEP! BEEP!
The honking of a car horn disrupted Harry's thoughts. He crawled slowly towards the window, so as not to wake his huge friend; but by the time he was able to open it, the car was now empty and the door to Grimmauld Place had been slammed shut. He heard voices from downstairs but it was indistinguishable. Harry crawled back to Buckbeak's side, unsure of what to think. Could they be members of the Order? Or the Weasleys coming to pick him up perhaps? He wouldn't be surprised if they had already gotten an owl from Lupin, stating his whereabouts. But...the Weasleys lost their car years ago. Perhaps Mundungus had found another muggle car to "borrow" and bewitch...or...
"Harry? Are you there?"
Harry's heart jumped to his throat when he heard the voice. He blinked, but did not move from where he was seated.
"I know you're in there! Open up!"
Silence. Harry couldn't utter a word. He didn't really want any company right now.
"You won't open? Fine! Be that way!" the sound of a swishing wand soon followed. "Alohomora!"
There was a tiny click, and the door opened. The figure loomed in the darkness, its features becoming more visible as it walked to the patch of moonlight where Harry and Buckbeak sat. A head of bushy golden brown strands met Harry's vision followed by the twinkle of hazel brown eyes. It was Hermione: one of Harry's two best friends in Hogwarts.
"Harry..." Hermione started, but Harry was quick to turn away. Buckbeak lifted his head and blinked at Hermione, apparently annoyed at how her abrupt appearance disturbed him from his sleep.
"Hi, Buckbeak!" Hermione turned her attention to the hippogriff and bowed. Buckbeak tilted his head for a moment, then bowed back. Hermione reached out to stroke his huge eagle head, running her fingers over his smooth feathers.
"What are you doing here?" Harry gritted through his teeth, a feeling of déjà vu overcoming him. It had been like this last Christmas, when Hermione had unexpectedly showed up, cutting her vacation short just to be there.
"I was about to ask you the same thing," Hermione retorted, settling herself beside Harry and leaning against Buckbeak's folded wing.
Harry stayed silent. He didn't want any conversation because he knew what would be coming if he told her that he got ticked off by Uncle Vernon again and decided to cool off at his godfather's ancestral home. Hermione's chastisements would definitely do him or his temper no good. The part of his mind which so often spoke in her voice, had given him enough reprimands to last a lifetime.
"I got an owl from Lupin," Hermione stated when Harry refused to speak. "My parents and I were going home from dinner when that bird flew through the car window. Mum went totally berserk!" She turned her hazel eyes towards Harry's direction, trying hard to meet his eternally green ones but he wouldn't let her. Letting out a deep sigh, she bent her head down.
"Lupin's entertaining Mum and Dad downstairs," Hermione continued. "Harry...are you okay?"
"I couldn't be happier," Harry muttered under his breath.
"Please don't be sarcastic," Hermione pleaded exasperatedly. "I gave you my number ages ago and yet you never answer my calls. I sent you hundreds of letters but you never write back. Ron's complaining about the same things too."
"Let me guess. You went to the Burrow again, didn't you?" said Harry, picking up a feather on the floor and running his fingers along it.
"So you did read my letters! Why di--"
"You really do love going to the Burrow don't you?" Harry interrupted, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You just love Ron and his family and that little house, don't you? It's just so much fun there, right?" At the corner of his eye, he could see Hermione's flushed face.
"So what if I have fun there? You have fun there too!"
"Why don't you just go and live with the Weasleys then?! I'm sure they're a hundred times more interesting than your mudblood parents!"
It was like a loud thunder had reverberated within the room. The moment those words flew from his mouth, Harry knew he was in deep trouble. He had never used that word before, let alone referring it to Hermione's parents. He himself was a half-muggle but his temper it seemed, had a mind of its own; it almost felt like Voldemort was speaking through him again.
Deeply regretting what he had said, Harry tilted his head towards Hermione. He saw, to his surprise, how much she had changed. Her long golden brown hair was no longer bushy, but fell on soft elegant curls which ran down her shoulders and down her back. The color of her lips were more pronounced, making Harry suspect she wore some sort of lip balm or a light lip stick. She dressed more appealingly now, and as Harry's eyes traveled further down from her face and neck, he turned into a deep shade of red, forcing him to focus his attention back to her face. He couldn't see Hermione's eyes, for her bangs had concealed them.
"H-Hermione...I..."
"You've changed, Harry," Hermione interjected, her voice cracking. "I d-don't think I recognize y-you anymore..."
Harry was at a loss for words. He didn't really know what to do next. This was probably the worst thing he had ever done to Hermione, seeing how her shoulders rocked with sobs. Harry licked his dry lips and swallowed hard. He knew he had to do something to correct his mistake.
Slowly, Harry reached out and tentatively touched Hermione's shoulder but as if his hand were on fire, Hermione was quickly up on her feet and running for the door.
"Hermione! Wait!" Harry stood up and ran after her. He grabbed her arm then pulled her back, so that now, Hermione was face to face with him, his arms gripping both of her shoulders.
"Look. I--" Harry's words hung in the air. His stomach churned. Hermione's brown eyes were red-rimmed and glazed. Her lips quivered as her tears finally made their way down her cheeks. Harry was speechless. He had never made Hermione cry before.
"Hermione, I'm so sorry! I didn't....I didn't mean to say that. I was just--"
"You're not the only one who's sad and angry about Sirius's death, Harry..." Hermione sniffled. "E-Everyone is," she gently wiped her tears away. "You want to know why I'm angry about it?"
Harry simply blinked.
"Because you've become hateful, Harry!" Hermione's voice thundered. "You've become spiteful! You sound like...like V-Voldemort!!"
Those words shocked Harry; but the real shock came when Hermione suddenly threw her arms around him and buried her face on his shoulder.
"Harry..." she sobbed. "Please...come back...I want the old Harry back..."
Almost instinctively, Harry wrapped his arms around Hermione's shoulders. They stood there, in the comfort of each other's embrace. Everything was silent except for Hermione's soft whimpering.
"I'm sorry, Hermione...." Harry thought bitterly, clamping down on his lower lip. "...but I can never come back...not without Sirius..."
A strong and frigid breeze suddenly invaded the room, causing both Harry and Hermione shudder, their embrace tightening.
"Sirius," Harry stared at the open window. He didn't know why Sirius's name was the first thing to come to his mind but after a moment, he thought it silly. Slowly, he turned to face Hermione only to find the tip of her nose touching his. He had never seen her this close up before; he could practically see his reflection in her tear-filled brown eyes. But there was something he didn't see: the Hermione he knew. Where was the snobbish, know-it-all girl who had been his best friend for six years and who was this young lady looking at him as if it were for the first time? Memories bombarded Harry's mind in an instant: when Hermione hugged him before he went to face Voldemort...when she ran into his arms after she was cured from being petrified...their ride on Buckbeak...how beautiful she looked during their Yule Ball...when she kissed him for the first time...those many adventures they shared with Ron...her smart way of making him feel better...everything. But all those thoughts were stopped...by the feel of Hermione's soft lips grazing against his own.
Buckbeak tilted his head from side to side, looking at Harry and Hermione with wide curious eyes. Harry didn't know whether it was he or Hermione who moved first but that thought slipped away from him. He didn't even think he was in Grimmauld Place any more. In fact, for the first time in what seemed like ages, he wasn't thinking at all. Everything felt so surreal. This was definitely nothing like the kiss Harry had shared with Cho Chang. Cho had been the one to make the first move and he had been so nervous and surprised then that he had just stood still and unresponsive. As for Hermione's...
"Hermione, dear! It's time to go!" a woman's voice called from downstairs. Harry's eyes flew open, instantly letting go of Hermione as she did him. They stared wildly at each other, barely believing what had just happened. Had it all been a dream?
Slowly, Hermione backed away, covering her mouth with her hand as she continued to gape at Harry. In a flash, she was out the door, her footsteps pounding on the staircase. Harry stood dumbfounded, his eyes glued to the open door.
"Hermione," said a man's voice. "How's your friend Harry? Is he alright?"
"He's fine Dad. He told me he'll be staying here for the night," came Hermione's quick reply.
"What's wrong dear? Why are your eyes red?"
"Nothing, Mum. Let's go. Thank you so much for entertaining us, Lupin."
"No problem. Uh...have a good trip!" Lupin called. Harry could only assume that Hermione had either pushed or pulled her parents to the door.
The sound of the car engine shook Harry from his reverie. He walked towards the window and stared at the muggle car below. Then, he saw some movement inside. Hermione was looking out from the car window and was staring directly at him. His first impulse was to hide but he couldn't tear his eyes away from hers. Even as the car sped away towards the darkness, he still couldn't bring himself to retreat from his vantage point until Buckbeak gave him a small nudge. He looked at the hippogriff and patted it gently with his hand while Hermione's voice resounded in his head:
"You've changed, Harry..."
"I d-don't think I recognize y-you anymore..."
"Harry...please...come back...I want the old Harry back..."
Harry sighed deeply and stared up at the starlit sky. A lot of things have changed since Sirius's death...and after tonight, Harry was sure he could never return back to his old self. He began to wonder if he could ever face Hermione again or if he could still look at her as his best friend. How about her? Will she still think of him as her best friend and nothing more? Will she even speak to him or at least look at him once they return to Hogwarts?
"Mostly likely not..." a voice that was undeniably Hermione's whispered in Harry's mind, making his stomach do flip flops. Yes, things certainly have changed...and Harry could only hope that it's for the better.
**************************************Author's Notes************************************
Hehe....still with the cliffhangers eh? I like to keep people on the edge of their seats. What do you think? Please send in some reviews, comments, suggestions and stuff to quillsnspills@yahoo.com 'coz I'd be glad to hear from you. This is my first H/Hr fanfic so please be gentle! ^.^ Please visit my Harry/Hermione site at http://quillsnspills.portkey.org/