A/N: I deeply, deeply, deeply apologize for making this chapter so late. I was sidetracked a couple of times, obviously, but I also couldn't make it turn out right. I actually wrote three quarters of this a few months ago. I'm still not satisfied with it, but I decided to post for the heck of it. You folks have been wonderful with your reviews and constructive criticism, and I don't want to disappoint (knock on wood). This is not the end, but it's very close. Maybe a chapter or two more, and we're actually finished. I don't know when the next update will be, but I'll try to get it written soon. Thanks for sticking with me.
Happy Holidays, everyone!
-Lauren
* * *
You're sure there's a cure
And you have finally found it
You think one drink
will shrink you 'til
you're underground and living down
But it's not going to stop
It's not going to stop
It's not going to stop ...
~ Wise Up, performed by Aimee Mann
* * *
Harry had never truly understood the expression "his heart stopped" until that moment. A numbing, paralyzing sensation was creeping up from his stomach, tracking across his chest and windpipe. His hands began to sweat. He licked his lips briefly, but they were as dry as if he had rubbed them with sandpaper. He seemed to have no control of his limbs, which, to his surprise, began backing away from Hermione slowly.
He wanted to scream at himself. Why was he doing this? Why was he backing away from the most important person in his life? She had done so much for him - sacrificed her bravery to tell him what he had wanted so deeply. Couldn't he do the same for her?
He loved her, no doubt. The potion hadn't concocted his love for her. Was that enough, though, knowing that he loved her like he loved no other? Could he, possibly, faithfully, unwaveringly, confess his truest, most secret feelings? His emotions had been scattered when he was just a child, swept under a rug, burrowed deeply inside him. It was so incredibly hard to let go of what he thought his feelings were. The travesty he had lived with his entire life haunted him endlessly.
Harry realized too suddenly that it must be terrible to be Hermione, watching him struggle internally, not understanding why. She was bright and quick to grasp concepts, ceaselessly loyal; but, even Hermione, his brilliant Hermione, would be devastatingly insulted. She would leave. She would leave and never think about it again. Push it behind her as if it had never meant anything to her. As if it had never meant anything to him.
And suddenly she was there, staring at him. He didn't think he had ever seen her quite like this, washed in an almost silvery light. He wanted to comfort her, but found he didn't know how.
Her agony and mortification was almost tangible.
"Harry, you have to believe me … I never … I never wanted us to be put in this position." Hermione lowered her eyes, wiping them discreetly with the sleeve of her robes. " But … oh Harry … do you feel anything? Anything at all?"
Despite his struggles, Harry held her gaze. Surprisingly, there was something there that Harry would never have suspected. She spoke of wishing her feelings away, never wanting such a relationship to occur, but her eyes told a different story.
Harry felt overwhelmed as the reality crashed into him.
She loved him.
Wholly, entirely, without hesitation, she loved him.
And then it was clear.
He loved her.
Wholly, entirely, without hesitation, he loved her.
To Harry's complete amazement, Hermione was still standing bravely. Her eyes looked deep into his. The thought that she could see and read his emotions was suddenly not that strange to him. Mustering up as much willpower as he could, Harry took a step towards her. He heard her breath catch.
"Harry! HARRY! HERMIONE!"
Harry and Hermione whipped around as though stung; angry, embarrassed … disappointed. That kindled feeling was new to Harry. Had he wanted to gather her in his arms so desperately?
Ron was running towards them, a look of triumph on his face. He seemed oblivious, as always, that he just disrupted, perhaps, the most important moment in Harry's life.
"I did it!" Ron cried, skidding to a stop. He drew in his breath in rapid gasps. "I was going … going back to the common room and she was just standing there … we talked for a bit … and Harry! Harry! I kissed her!"
Harry managed a grin, but judging by the way his jaw muscles were twitching, he knew it probably looked more like a painful grimace. "That's … that's just great, Ron."
Hermione, on the other hand, looked cool and composed as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened. "Ron, who did you kiss?"
"Luna!"
Hermione did not hide her surprise. "Luna Lovegood?" She looked at Harry curiously. Immediately her face blushed and she turned back to Ron, who looked like he was doing a jig on the spot.
"Yeah," said Ron enthusiastically, "it was fantastic. I dunno, one minute we were just talking, and the next she was all over me!"
He grinned, looking back and forth between Harry and Hermione. "You've really missed out, trust me …" His eyes became unfocused and he stared at the wall, smiling dazedly. Hermione restlessly shifted her feet and her eyes flickered to Harry once more becoming settled on her hands. Awkward silence followed.
Ron, for once in his life, suddenly sensed something was wrong. He looked between Harry and Hermione curiously.
"I'll just be going now," he said, unsure.
"Me too," Hermione blurted out quickly. "Can't miss the next Transfiguration deadline!"
"Hermione, wait -"
Harry seemed to be at a loss for words as Hermione sprinted down the corridor at breakneck speed, and Ron strode off, looking back over his shoulder as though apologizing for what he had done.
* * *
"I want to know what's going on."
Harry paced across the room, angry and upset. He cast a dark look upon Ginny, who was sitting on one of the common room armchairs, then kicked at the carpet. Thankfully, the room was mostly empty, save a few fellow Gryffindors who were playing a covert game of Exploding Snap in the adjacent corner.
"And I really don't want any lies, or sidestepping of the truth, or anything like that," he told her viciously. "Got it?"
Ginny nodded. "Okay."
Harry wasn't trying to act rude or tactless, but this whole ordeal had gotten out of hand, and he had a feeling Ginny knew something that he didn't.
"You're the only one I could talk to," said Harry, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes tiredly. "Hermione is the problem and Ron is off somewhere with Luna Lovegood, snogging her face off."
Ginny's lips twitched at the latter comment, but she didn't say anything. Harry sat down across from her on another chair, brought his face to his hands, and tried to calm himself.
"Do you know anything that I don't? Anything?"
"Quite a lot, actually," said Ginny, smiling. "You two must be going out of your minds. I was wondering when you would ask me."
"So you know what's happening?"
"Naturally."
Harry closed his eyes.
"It started with that Care of Magical Creatures class of yours, I think. Or maybe before that," Ginny mused. "I wasn't there, of course, but what I heard was this: you two went into the cave, snogged, and came out." She shrugged. "I was surprised, and I wondered how anyone would know that. You're not the kind to brag about that sort of thing, and, well, Hermione ... she seemed too out of whack for a while to be able to tell anyone anything. She never even told me, not once, not even when I asked her about it."
Harry frowned. "Okay. Go on."
Ginny picked absentmindedly at her armchair. "That was when I saw Malfoy with Colin's camera. I followed him to the Quidditch pitch. He had just tucked the camera inside his robes when I saw him pick something off the ground."
Something clicked in Harry's memory. "My cloak."
"Yes. Of course, I knew what it was right away - I grew up listening to stories of Invisibility Cloaks. I was just about to tell him off when, out of nowhere, Hermione comes barreling towards him." She grinned. "You've never seen such a funny sight. Malfoy screamed and Hermione pulled out her wand. I think she was going to hex him to hell if he hadn't gathered his wits together and ran. When I got to Hermione, she was fuming and mumbling about eavesdroppers and private business. Of course, how could I just leave this alone? I put two and two together, fed Hermione a small lie about how Malfoy stole my favorite quill, and ran after him with her. Well, you know the rest."
Harry thought about this, trying to remember. Yes ... it made sense. Ginny had appeared by Hermione's side, Malfoy began talking ... inter-house rivalry was his words ... and then, he had given Harry back his cloak. Was that a reason to run into him, perhaps? Did he know about Ron's nightly escapades?
Ginny was watching Harry silently. Finally, she said, "I have a question for you, Harry. How did your cloak get on the pitch?"
"It was Ron," said Harry.
"Ron?"
"Yeah." He grinned. It all seemed rather funny now. "He was sneaking off to see Luna Lovegood."
Ginny punched her fist into the air. "Aha! I knew it! He denied seeing her, but I knew he was! Oh, I'm going to laugh so hard when I see his face ... Fred and George will have a field day when they hear about this ..."
Harry coughed.
"Oh. Yeah. Sorry, Harry." Ginny sat up straighter in her armchair. "Anyway, we talked for a bit, remember? I excused myself as quickly as I could, claiming to go to bed, doubled back as soon as you three stopped your griping about Hogsmeade, and followed Malfoy. I cornered him, raised my wand, and threatened him with my Bat-Bogey Hex when he didn't tell me what was going on."
"What did he tell you?"
"He almost didn't tell me anything," said Ginny, biting her fingernail as she thought. "Then he admitted what he had done. It actually didn't take much persuasion at all - I think, at first, he wanted me to help him." Shaking her head, she said, "He told me that he used your Invisibility Cloak to follow you and Hermione into the cave. And while you were snogging, took a few snapshots with Colin's camera."
"Why?" asked Harry, baffled.
Ginny smiled grimly. "It was a stupid bet that the professors had going around."
"The professors were betting on me?"
"And Hermione," added Ginny. "At least that's what Malfoy said. And you know he's a oily son of a -"
"Ginny!" interrupted Harry urgently. "Was it for money?"
"Oh yeah. It was something like fifty galleons that you two would get together - or kiss - before seventh year. Malfoy wanted the money, so he got some proof." She shrugged. "A wanker if I ever knew one."
Harry stood up and began pacing again.
Ginny looked pityingly at him. "Dumbledore put a stop to it, though."
A thought raced across Harry's mind. "Does everyone know?"
Ginny looked confused. "About what? Dumbledore stopping the bet?"
Harry shook his head. "The fairies!"
Her expression clouded over. She looked utterly perplexed. "Harry, I have no idea -"
"Malfoy didn't mention anything ... strange ... while he was in the cave?"
"No," said Ginny. She looked scared for Harry's sanity. "Just you and Hermione."
Harry closed his eyes. He had forgotten. Of course - no one would know about the fairies. They didn't even think they existed. Except for Dumbledore - and maybe Hagrid. Maybe.
"Anyway," said Ginny, glancing at Harry worriedly, "Malfoy was furious that Dumbledore stopped the bet. Who knows why. He's rich enough ..."
Harry's head was beginning to hurt. "What happened?"
"Well, remember my 'accident' with the exploding salamander?" She smiled smugly. "It wasn't really an accident. I found out what Malfoy had done with the pictures. Turns out that bloody Moaning Myrtle has a soft spot for you, Harry. Fancies you. Imagine." She scoffed. "Malfoy ran into her and sold her the pictures. Seems Myrtle had a good share of gold in that toilet of hers. Stole it from a fellow peer back in her time, I heard."
"Wait." Harry felt both humiliated and disgusted. "Myrtle bought the photos from Malfoy?"
Ginny shrugged. "I dunno what her motivation was, but I suspect she thought she would get you to the girl's loo someday. With that kind of power, she could blackmail you."
"Okay, now that's just mad."
"I know," said Ginny; her voice sounded highly amused. "But you'd be surprised what some girls will do for a picture of you."
Harry frowned. "What are you talking about?"
Ginny peered at him sadly. "Oh, you poor, sad, naive little boy. Please don't tell me you don't know?"
"Know what? Ginny, what are you on about?"
"Harry Potter United? The Worshippers of Harry Potter? Harry Potter's Personal Sex Slaves?" Ginny deadpanned questioningly. At the look on his face, she said laughingly, "Okay, so I was making the last one up - but really. Harry, you're famous. Good-looking. Kind. Girls would kill just to spend one day with you."
Harry felt dizzy. He felt himself go pale.
Ginny waved her hands in front of his face. "Alright there, Harry?"
"Yeah," he said dryly. "It's just ..."
"A shock?" Ginny offered.
"Well, I was going to go for creepy, bizarre, and disturbing, but that works too." Harry rubbed his forehead. "I had no idea I was that ... obsessed over."
Ginny looked bemused, as though Harry had sprouted a second face. "You're Harry Potter, Harry."
"Well, I know that ..."
Ginny tutted and shook her head, reminding Harry very much of Hermione.
Harry's heart stopped; ironically, at the same time, his pulse quickened.
Hermione.
"I need to go," said Harry quickly. He spun around and sprinted out of the common room. He heard Ginny yelling after him, but he paid her no heed.
He needed to see her, to tell her how he really felt. It was no longer a matter of self-pride, or fear, or the prospect of humiliation. Hermione had laid out her feelings, placed her heart on her sleeve, and despite everything, told him of her hidden feelings - Harry knew that she deserved his honesty. She deserved everything from him.
"Where are you, Hermione?" he muttered under his breath.
Without knowing why, five minutes later, Harry found himself bursting into the library. Madame Pince shrieked and dropped her books as Harry ran past her. She began reprimanding him, but her anger went unnoticed as Harry tore around a tottering bookshelf. He rounded another corner, skidded, panted, and nearly collapsed onto Hermione, who promptly screamed.
"Harry!" she hissed, sounding as terrified as she looked, "What - what are you doing here?"
Harry gasped and fell over the back of a nearby chair. "I'm ... tired ... of ... running ..."
Hermione snapped, "That's not funny, Harry. Leave me alone." She turned back to her work, shaking.
Immediately, he sat up and said, "Hermione, listen, we need to -"
"Talk, I know," said Hermione. Her voice was shrill. She looked like a deer caught in headlights; her eyes were wide, her mouth was a strict straight line, and her cheeks were pale.
"Listen," she said quickly, sounding scared out of her wits. "Everything I said, just forget about it. I - I wasn't feeling right. My head - I couldn't think!" Her hands clutched a book so tightly the pages were beginning to rip. She stared at the book and dropped it on the table.
"I just wanted to -" Harry began earnestly.
"You don't have to say anything!" Hermione trilled. "Nothing! I understand! I don't need any pity!" She jabbed at the book. "Besides, it'll be over soon." She giggled rather hysterically. "No worries!"
Harry froze. "What?"
Hermione turned away. "I found a cure."
Harry stared stupidly at her hunched shoulders. "What?"
"A cure, Harry, for the potion - Dumbledore gave me the book -"
"What are you thinking?" Harry interrupted, feeling suddenly mutinous towards his headmaster. "How can you cure ..." He stumbled uncertainly. " ... what you feel?"
"But I don't feel -" she started desperately.
"Who are you trying to kid?" Harry said angrily. "I'm the only person here, Hermione! I heard what you said!"
"I didn't know what I was saying!" she retorted, taking a step closer to him in her temper.
Harry glared at her. "You knew."
Hermione's eyes flashed. "Why are you continuing this? What are you trying to do? Humiliate me even more? Because if that's what you're aiming for, it's working!"
Without another word, she spun around and stormed away from him. Harry chased after her. Exasperated, he yelled after her, "Why would I humiliate you, Hermione? Is that a habit of mine?"
She pushed open the doors of the library and walked down the corridor, her book tucked tightly under her arm. He wasn't sure where she was going, but he was hell-bent on following her. She was half-walking, half-jogging without any signs of stopping, and Harry was begin to lose his breath again.
"Hermione! Wait up!" he cried.
"Leave me alone, Harry!" she snapped. "You've done enough!"
"Are you just going to run around in circles until I leave?" he shouted after her. "It's rather childish if you ask me! I just wanted to talk, you know?" He panted out breaths, but Hermione didn't seem to be stopping. "You're not the only one feeling confused right now! There are other people involved in this!"
Hermione slowed.
"I'm angry too, Hermione, but it's no reason to shut me out!" He slowed down as well. "Did you know what happened? Malfoy took pictures of us, sold them to Moaning Myrtle, and all the while, the professors were placing bets on us! Of course, Dumbledore put a stop to it, because of the fairies -"
Harry could tell by the way Hermione's shoulders slumped that she was defeated. She stopped completely and turned around. "That's not funny at all, Harry."
"I know," he said, "that's why I'm telling you, so you understand what's going on. This isn't a joke, Hermione, you have to believe me."
"So," Hermione started, her voice shrill. "So, our professors had a conspiracy going against us? Is that what you're saying? Harry, you're making absolutely no sense!" She backed away from him, glaring. "I don't want to see you right now, okay? Respect that!"
"Why are you doing this?" snapped Harry. "I'm ready to hear what you have to say. I'm ready to sit down and have a mature conversation. Isn't that what you want?"
Hermione suddenly looked very lost.
She took a deep breath and closed her eyes tightly. "You've made me feel both guilty and insane in one go, Harry. Congratulations. Ron would be proud."
She turned around.
Without warning, Harry tore the book out of her hands, opened it up, and began to tear out the pages. Hermione stared at him in horror a moment before shrieking in rage and hurling herself at him. Harry held the tattered book out of her reach, while Hermione attacked him furiously with every ounce of strength she had. Harry took it all without a sound.
Tears were stained on her cheeks when she backed away. Her chest was heaving.
"Have you even heard my say?" Harry asked her gently. "I say that this ..."
He tore off the cover.
" ... book ..."
He ripped the pages out.
" ... is a ..."
He threw it on the floor.
" ... load of ..."
He ground it into the cement.
" ... rubbish."
Harry looked in triumph at the broken, bedraggled tome, then turned back to Hermione.
"You're infuriating," said Hermione quietly.
"And persistent," added Harry. He took a step towards her, grasped her hand, and held it tightly. "Please, Hermione, why are you denying what you said?"
Hermione blanched. "What do you think, Harry?" she whispered. "I'm afraid."
"Afraid of what?" he asked, bringing his face close to hers.
"Think really hard, Harry," she said, barely breathing the sentence. "If you realized, out of nowhere, that you had these ... feelings ... towards your best friend ... what would you do? If you realized that you were the reason that the stupid potion worked so well in the first place, that those bleeding fairies were right and you were wrong ... how would that make you feel?"
"Cliché?" provided Harry softly.
He was overjoyed when she managed a watery smile. "I suppose, yes."
Harry tucked a loose wisp of hair behind her ear. He inched closer to her; his heartbeat was frantic.
Hermione looked at the tattered remains of the book. "He was right all along."
"Who was?"
"Dumbledore," said Hermione. She shook her head. "He gave me a choice - the book. He knew I could concoct the potion ..." She stared at Harry. " ... but, he also knew that I wouldn't."
"Or that I wouldn't let you."
Hermione shivered. Her eyes searched his own. "Why is that?"
"I think you know."
Against her will, tears began to form in Hermione's eyes. "I hope I'm not wrong," she said quietly.
Harry leaned in close. "You're never wrong."
Hermione's breath caught as his lips brushed her own. She gulped down a sob and pressed herself up against him. She felt stiff, awkward, and scared at first, but after the initial shock, Hermione just let herself go. It felt rather like a dream - a perfect autumn morning sprinkled with colorful leaves, full to bursting with lush green wisteria. A sunrise in the earliest of morning, before the moon had time to hide away, and the smell of lilac and rose still hovered from the night before. She felt ... free. Awake. She had never felt this way before. It was as though she had been born again in a fresh skin. As though she had shed her coat and received a new one in turn.
Gasping for breath, Hermione pulled away. Harry opened his mouth to speak and she launched herself against him once more in a desperate embrace. She felt the nerves throughout her body tingling; she felt her heart beating frantically; she felt, with utmost desire, the sensation that could only be described as longing.
* * *
"Our most difficult challenge," said the old woman. Her wrinkled face was drawn up into a weathered smile.
The middle-aged woman watched the two children. "They are so young."
The little girl laughed. "Age is of no importance, if you remember, sister." The old woman nodded in agreement.
"Albus has said many times how old they seem to be, despite their age," the old woman added.
Her two sisters bowed their heads in acknowledgement.
"Perhaps we were slightly overwhelming," said the middle-aged woman. "Their denial was strong."
"I agree," said the little girl.
The old woman was silent as she regarded them. "Have you any thoughts, Metagenês?"
The little girl shook her head solemnly.
"Shall we wake them?"
* * *
"Harry ..." Someone shook his shoulder. "Oy, mate, are you alright?"
Harry opened his eyes. Ron's worried, slightly pale face was looking down at him. Harry blinked and reached for his glasses. He found them on a bedside table and put them on. He recognized the pale white of the hospital wing immediately.
Ron handed him a glass of water. "How are you feeling, Harry?"
How was he feeling? Why would Ron ask him such a ridiculous question?
"What are you talking about?" he asked. Just a minute ago, he had been happily kissing Hermione. Now ...
Ron looked confused. "Don't you remember?"
"No." Harry offered nothing more.
"You must've knocked your head harder than I thought," said Ron, grinning.
"What?" Harry sputtered. Even to his own ears he sounded hysterical. "Listen, Ron, this isn't funny. What am I doing in the hospital wing? I was just ..." Harry paused. Mentally, he battled out whether to tell Ron about himself and Hermione. Out of sheer frustration, Harry looked around the room. His eyes widened. Hermione was asleep on the bed next to his, looking pale.
"Hermione ..." he started.
Ron looked at Harry strangely. "She was knocked out, too, when they found you in the cave. Madame Pomfrey said you'd ran into a stalactite, but no one really knows." Ron furrowed his eyebrows, thinking. "Dumbledore has been down to visit you a few times when you started having these funny dreams. You'd talk and try to sleepwalk. It was really weird."
Harry shook his head. "I never got knocked out in the cave, Ron. Don't you remember? The fairies in the cave gave Hermione and me a love potion. Malfoy took pictures of us kissing and sold them to Moaning Myrtle ..." Ron raised his eyebrows, but Harry continued on determinedly, "You stole my Invisibility Cloak to see Luna Lovegood. Don't you remember any of this? Is this ringing any bells?"
Harry had never heard such an awkward silence in his life.
"There's only one explanation for this," Ron deadpanned. "That scar of yours really has addled your brain. You're mental."
Harry mouthed like a fish out of water while Ron laughed.
"But it's true!" exclaimed Harry furiously.
"Why would I steal your Invisibility Cloak to see Loony Lovegood?" asked Ron, bewildered. His face suddenly contorted. "Argh, mate, why would you even think that? Gross!"
"But -"
"You were dreaming, Harry." He looked over at Hermione and said, "You really snogged Hermione? What was it like?"
Harry gritted his teeth and flung himself backwards onto his bed. What had happened? How could it have been all a dream? It was impossible. The whole thing had been so real.
Suddenly, Harry heard the rustling of sheets. He turned over. Hermione was wide awake, looking mystified. She spotted him and frowned. Ron immediately made his way over to her.
"Water?" he asked. Hermione took it gratefully.
"So, how's Lala Land? I heard from Harry you were there too."
Hermione looked as confused as Harry felt. "What is going on here? Why am I in the hospital wing?"
Ron sighed heavily. "How many times do I have to repeat this? You were knocked out by a stalactite, to make a long story short."
Hermione looked insulted. She repeated disbelievingly, "I ran into a stalactite."
"Basically, yeah." Ron shrugged. He looked thoughtful. "Or maybe it was that `non-alcoholic' firewhiskey that Dean and Seamus brought back from Hogsmeade …"
Hermione looked at Harry.
"But, the fairies -" she started lamely.
"Not this again," said Ron, sounding exasperated. "Yeah, I've already heard. Malfoy had a camera and took pictures of you and Harry snogging your arses off in the fairy cave." He laughed at his own saying and took a swig of water himself.
Harry and Hermione flushed red. Hermione looked at Harry with her eyes wide and questioning.
He wasn't crazy. Hermione remembered as well.
There was sudden noise from the next room. Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked towards the door.
"Time's up, time's up!" screeched Madame Pomfrey as she scurried into the room. Behind her was Albus Dumbledore, blue eyes twinkling. "Shoo! Get back to class, the lot of you!" Harry found this an odd statement, as only Ron was there. Madame Pomfrey's eyes scanned the room as though scouting out invisible people, then, apparently satisfied, pulled up a chair.
Ron left quietly, but not before shooting Madame Pomfrey a look as sour as old milk.
"Drink this," said Madame Pomfrey, holding up a glass filled with a sickening rust-colored liquid. "It'll cure your dizziness and headache right away."
Harry took the glass, pinched his nose, and gulped it down. He choked.
"Drink up, boy!" said Madame Pomfrey, smacking his back. She handed Hermione a glass. "And you too, Miss Granger! I want you up and ready to go to class by this afternoon!"
Harry caught Dumbledore's eye and felt a surge of anger. What was the old man playing at? What had happened over the past few days that no one seemed to remember but himself and Hermione? Was it never real? Did they just dream everything up?
"Poppy," said Dumbledore gently, "may I have some time alone with Mr. Potter and Miss Granger?"
She huffed, looking ruffled, but did not seem keen on disallowing the headmaster privilege. She nodded and swept from the room.
Dumbledore sat down and faced them.
"What's going on?" asked Harry sharply.
"You found out," Dumbledore said simply.
Harry just stared at him. Hermione looked baffled.
"We found out?" she repeated. Suddenly, her eyes lit up. "Oh!"
Dumbledore smiled at her. Hermione's expression, however, changed to a frown. She looked rather insulted. "Professor, I don't know about what Harry thinks, but I think it was quite overdoing it - on the fairies' part, that is - to put us under such a complicated enchantment without warning. I mean to say, isn't there a law prohibiting the usage of magic on unsuspecting victims? I'm sure I read it somewhere in the Decree of Conventional Witchcraft and Wizardry, and even magical creatures have to abide by Wizarding laws - wouldn't you agree, Harry?"
Hermione said this all very heatedly and very fast, and turned to Harry, glaring at him as if daring him to disagree
with her. Harry, however, was clinging hopelessly to the dregs of a step that he'd somehow missed in Hermione's
thinking process. Hermione looked very frustrated with him. Dumbledore looked amused.
"Miss Granger," he said gently, "you must remain calm. I am sure this has come as a shock to you, but I must beg of you to keep a level head."
"Keep a level head?" repeated Hermione in a disbelieving tone of voice. "I have been insulted, injured, frightened for my life, but never, never have I had my rights been swept out from under me! Professor Dumbledore, I demand to know under what orders the fairies were acting. As a fellow human being and a citizen of this Wizarding society, I have a right to know why Moerae fairies were tampering with my head and my emotions!"
The only other person that dared speak to Dumbledore in such a way was Harry, and he was impressed despite himself.
Hermione turned to Harry and said, white-lipped, "Don't you see, Harry? We were essentially being controlled! We didn't even know what was happening in the real world!"
"Hang on," said Harry. "Are you saying that the fairies knocked us out, jumped into our heads, and created a fantasy world?"
She nodded.
"And they were controlling us?"
Nod.
"And they had in mind that you and I - we were -"
Nod.
"And they watched everything we did?"
Nod.
Harry's mouth opened in horror. "That's - that's just twisted!"
"Oh, I know," said Hermione, struggling heartily with would-be calm. She glared at Dumbledore. "It's simply nauseous."
Dumbledore smiled at them both. "It wasn't just for fun, you know. They had a jolly good time, of course, playing matchmaker, but it was for the best. Your fate was prophesized, Harry, as well as Hermione's. All fairies are assigned to ensure that fate is, well, fate. It's why fairies exist."
Harry frowned. "But fairies don't just knock people out whenever they have to assign fate, do they? I mean, there'd be unconscious people all over the world."
The fact that Hermione was confused did not help matters, as Harry felt himself becoming stupider by the minute without her explanations.
Dumbledore laughed loudly. "Yours was a special case."
"What do you mean?" asked Hermione curiously.
He laughed again.
"No where would be the fun in answering that? You had an extremely special case and it was vital to have it work out properly. I might even venture to say it was a matter of life and death."
Hermione looked skeptical. "How special could it possibly be?"
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.
* * *
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