Snow in July

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Dedication: To my betas, Pen and Fabiana. Pen because she taught me how to properly construct a sentence and offered endless insight and support and for also lending me her GSP skills. And for Fabiana, who helped me fill in the blank spots, literally, as well as giving me her comments and suggestions. You both are the greatest! And, yes, this was the story that I had intended on finishing before Christmas. Obviously that didn’t happen. So, uh…Merry Christmas?

***

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Seventh Year

***

It began innocently; the after dinner trips up to the boy’s dormitories to wallow in the darkness and silence that engulfed the empty room. The first time he’d excused himself from the crowded Gryffindor common room was because he had a headache from the endless studying he and his fellow seventh years had done for the upcoming NEWT’s. That and Ron and Hermione both had dates, much to his chagrin, which would have left him alone anyway. Although he felt a bit awkward around them and their other halves, he’d never deny them this bit of happiness, not after all the horrors he’d faced in his short life.

So he’d trudged slowly up the stone steps, slipped in silently to his shared room and cocooned himself within the confines of his four-poster bed, curtains drawn tightly shut around it. It was here, in the darkness and silence that he was allowed to be himself. He didn’t have to pretend things were alright in his world, didn’t have to put on the brave face that everyone was accustomed to seeing. Voldemort was still out there somewhere, more than likely plotting some sort of heinous scheme to dole out his revenge on the boy who’d eluded him all these years. There were NEWT’s to study for, he was about to leave school and be shoved out on his own after seven years, he was awaiting his acceptance owl to join the Auror division, and he was unfortunately in love with his female best friend.

She had blossomed into a beautiful woman right before his very eyes, and he'd almost missed it. He'd only realized it when he spied her waiting on platform 9 ¾ for him and Ron to board the Hogwarts Express. He had to blink once, then twice and squint his eyes through his glasses, and nudge Ron to look at her before he'd believed it was her. Cho Chang, Harry's crush during fourth year, and every other girl that Harry had found attractive since, were suddenly forgotten, and all he could focus on, or think about from that day, was his best friend.

He hadn’t expected her to remain single forever; she’d even tried dating Ron once, during their summer holiday between fifth and sixth year. That lasted for a whole month before they both realized that it would never work out between them. Since then, quite a few boys had expressed their interest in her and one would have had to be blind to not notice the woman she’d become. He could feel it, burning in his stomach, every time someone else made her laugh, or smile, that rampant jealously that swept over him like the tide. He’d been confused over these new emotions, spent countless nights racking his brain, searching for the answer. Why should he be jealous of anyone that wished to date her? It wasn’t as if he was in love with her.

But he was, and by the time he’d figured out that’s what all the butterflies in his stomach, the sweaty palms, rapid heart beating and the constant desire to be around her were all about, he’d been too late. She’d already begun dating Seamus. He was thankful that she’d told him she was seeing someone before he’d gone spouting off about the two of them giving a relationship a go and making a complete fool out of himself, but it didn’t make it hurt any less whenever he thought about her.

The images of Ron and his girlfriend Luna along with Seamus and Hermione laughing and cuddling together in their little group had burned itself deep into his mind and made him feel a bit lonely and intruderish. It wasn’t as if they’d purposely shut him out when they’d go to Hogsmeade together for their weekend trips, or even something as simple as walking to class, it just seemed a natural thing to do. It was the perfect pairing, two boys and two girls. He would have been the odd man out had he tagged along with them, so he opted to stay behind on Hogsmeade weekends, feigning a headache or some such ailment if they’d inquired as to whether or not he was going with. They didn’t question him when he made his pitiful excuses, although Hermione would send him curious looks that suggested she knew he was lying but couldn’t prove it.

So he had retreated further into himself, not wanting to be seen as some sort of burden or intruder. He spoke when spoken to, smiled when the situation called for such a reaction, and still sat with them at mealtimes and during class. He knew they were confused about his withdrawal, knew they whispered about him when they thought he wasn’t listening. He offered no explanation. He simply climbed the stairs every night to the empty room and sealed himself into the dark, and away from her.

***

“I assume you’ve got a great explanation as to why you’ve been such a wanker lately.”

Harry spun around in surprise, unaware that anyone had entered the room. Ron Weasley smirked slightly at Harry’s shocked expression and leaned one shoulder against the doorframe. The latter’s surprised look faded away only to be replaced with a slight scowl before he returned to his task of staring out the window.

“I have not been a wanker,” he finally muttered in response.

“Right,” Ron shook his head and stepped into the room, mindful of the piles of dirty robes and discarded books scattered over the floor. He had no desire to trip or to squash Trevor, Neville’s pet toad, who was likely hiding somewhere among the mess. Carefully picking his way across the floor, he came to a stop behind his best friend, his height allowing him to glance out the window to see what captured Harry’s attention. What he saw made him stifle a chuckle.

“Pathetic.”

“Thanks. I see I’ve gone from being a wanker to being pathetic,” Harry retorted. “And shouldn’t you be somewhere with Luna? You two seem to have gotten awfully close these last few months.”

“She’s writing her dad,” Ron explained. “Besides, I haven’t spent any time with my best friend in ages,” he pointed out.

“We spend time together,” Harry argued weakly.

“Harry, Quidditch practice and sitting together in class is hardly spending time together. What happened to sneaking out in the middle of the night? Or thinking different ways to make Malfoy’s life miserable? Or pestering Hermione about giving us the answers to Potions?” Ron tore his feeble excuse apart. “You haven’t been to Hogsmeade with us in ages.”

Harry opened his mouth to respond, only to shut it again with a snap.

“You’ve been avoiding us, mate,” Ron said calmly, his eyes daring Harry to deny it.

He sighed heavily, “I didn’t think you’d notice,” he shrugged his shoulders and dropped his own eyes to stare at the floor.

“How could I not?” Ron snorted and crossed over to sit on his bed. “Hermione’s been badgering me about it for weeks.”

“She has?” he glanced up at the red head.

“She has,” Ron nodded and sank down onto the soft mattress, long legs crossed at the ankle. “In fact, she was about to corner you and make you talk to her. Hell, hex you if she had too, the only problem was she wasn’t sure how you’d react if she did.”

Harry grunted.

“So,” Ron went on, raising one eyebrow, “when are you going to tell her?”

“Tell her what?” he was baffled by Ron’s question.

“That you’re in love with her,” Ron said frankly.

“I – I’m not,” he stuttered, rather horrified that Ron knew his secret.

“Right, and Snape really loves us Gryffindors,” Ron grinned. “Besides, you do talk rather loudly in your sleep.”

Harry blushed and then cursed softly, “Bloody hell.” He twisted the hem of his robe between his fingers. “Wait a minute,” he glanced up with a questioning look on his face. “How would you know I talk in my sleep?” his eyes narrowed slightly. “You’re usually in bed before I am.”

Ron flushed and glanced down to his own hands. “Er – well,” he began, “I’ve uh, been borrowing your invisibility cloak,” he admitted with a flushed face.

Harry snorted, quite loudly, at Ron’s confession. “Been sneaking out, have you?” He gave a small smile.

Ron only blushed harder, his face starting to match his fire red hair. He gave Harry a sheepish grin before blinking suddenly and cocked his head to the side. “Don’t change the subject, Harry,” he wagged a finger. “Since you’ve so cleverly evaded my question, I’ll ask you again. When are you going to tell her?”

At that, Harry’s smile faded and his face took on a brooding look, “What’s the point? She’s dating Seamus anyway.”

“Ugh, if you hadn’t gone out of your way to avoid us, you’d have known that they broke up several weeks ago.”

“They did?” Harry jerked his head up in surprise.

Ron nodded, “Time’s running out, Harry. We’re leaving school in a couple weeks,” he reminded him, “and while Hermione is the smartest witch here, I doubt she can read minds.”

“I can’t,” he unconsciously rubbed the scar on his forehead. “Voldemort’s still out there, Ron. I can’t willingly make her a target.”

“What?!” Ron narrowed his eyes. “Harry…”

“I know, I know. You both chose to be my friends,” he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Too right,” Ron nodded.

“But do you understand where I’m coming from?” Harry asked, his eyes begging Ron to understand his predicament. “I’m a bloody walking target because of this!” He pointed to the jagged mark on his forehead before slipping his glasses off and rubbing wearily at his eyes. “He’s still out there,” he said softly. “Waiting, watching, searching for that one thing that will either destroy me or lead me to that final battle with him,” his shoulders sagged slightly. “She’s the one chink in my armor, Ron. If, if anything were to happen to her….” he trailed off. “I won’t let anything happen to her,” his voice was almost a whisper by now.

“And what about Hermione?” Ron asked, his tone a bit harsher than he intended. “How do you know what she wants?” There was a heavy silence in the room as Ron allowed his words to sink in. “Look,” Ron began again, carefully choosing his next words. “I can’t make you do anything and I can’t make you tell her how you feel. I know we’ve gotten into our arguments over the years, but you of all people deserve to be happy. But sometimes, sometimes Harry, you’ve just got to take risks. I mean, look what I would have missed out on if I hadn’t given Luna a chance.”

Harry said nothing, knowing deep down that Ron was actually making sense. “But what if she doesn’t, can’t feel that way about me?” he asked anxiously.

“You’ll never know unless you chance it,” he paused. “What’s it going to take? What are you waiting for?”

He smiled wearily, “For the impossible to happen,” he said softly. “Like when hell freezes over or it snows in July,” he trailed off and let his eyes glance out the window again, coming to rest upon the figure of a bushy haired girl sitting on the shore of the lake.

***

“So, make it snow,” Luna said as if it were the most obvious solution in the world. He’d hunted her down after leaving Harry alone in the dorm room and before Hermione had the chance to start peppering him with questions.

Ron snorted, “Now you’ve just gone off your bloody rocker,” he gave her an exasperated look. “Have you gone daft? His birthday is at the end of July and it’s hotter than bloody Hades then!” He crossed his arms and kicked at the grass underneath his feet.

His girlfriend gave him a look of disinterest before returning her attention back to the copy of The Daily Prophet she held in her hands. “Ugh, what rubbish,” she scowled at the paper before folding it and setting it off to the side. “Dad’s paper is so much more informative, not to mention interesting,” she sighed rather dreamily. “Make it snow,” she repeated herself.

“And how do you bloody propose I do that?” he retorted, wondering if he should direct her to the hospital wing. Perhaps Madam Pomfrey could refer her to someone who specialized in mental health care.

“Have you forgotten that you’re a wizard?” she asked, blinking owlishly at him.

“No,” he grunted.

“Then make it snow,” she slid off the bench they were sitting on and rose to her feet brushing off her robe. “I’ve got to go write Dad again. He said there’s a report that it was raining green Gimblyhairs in the Northeast and I want to know if he’s heard anything more,” she said, giving him a light kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah,” another grunt, “later.” He watched her depart before sighing heavily and glumly staring out over the lake. “’Make it snow’ she says,” he mimicked her and scowled again. “Who the hell ever heard of snow in July?”

***

“Well?” Hermione nearly knocked Ron over as he stepped through the portrait door. “Did you talk to him? Is he alright? Did he tell you what’s wrong?” she asked, her questions flowing into one another until it seemed as though she hadn’t paused to take a breath.

“Whoa,” Ron held up both of his hands to cut her off. “Slow down, Hermione,” he chuckled lightly.

She flushed. “Sorry,” she muttered, nibbling on her lower lip in order to keep her questions to herself, for the mean time.

“To answer your first question, yes, I talked to him,” Ron nodded and made his way over to the empty couch. “Secondly, I think he’s alright and thirdly he didn’t have to tell me what was wrong, I already knew,” he answered a bit smugly and flopped down on the crimson sofa, his hands laced behind his head.

“So? What’s wrong with him? Why’s he been avoiding us?” Hermione launched back into her questioning, not satisfied with Ron’s answers.

He shot her a sly look, “He’ll be fine,” he returned easily. “Just needs a bit of time I expect,” he shrugged.

Her eyebrows knit together in a straight line. “Time?” she inquired. “Time for what?”

Her best friend only shook his head. “If you haven’t figured it out by now, I’m not going to tell you,” he arched his eyebrow at the sight of the scowl that spread across her face. “You’re the smartest witch I know, but you’ve got one flaw.”

“Which is?” her eyes narrowed and her voice took on an icy tone as she awaited his answer.

“You think too much,” he said simply. “You can’t learn everything from books you know.”

Hermione paused, her mouth slightly agape and eyes widened. She wasn’t sure if she should be offended by Ron’s comment or not. All she knew was that for once, Ron Weasley made perfect sense. But that still didn’t explain what was wrong with Harry.

***

If you haven’t figured it out by now, I’m not going to tell you...You think too much, you can’t learn everything from books you know.

Hermione let out an irritated sigh and rolled over, dragging her covers and her pillow with her. She’d been trying for the last several hours to fall asleep only to be on the verge of doing so when Ron’s voice echoed rather loudly in her head. And now here she was, tossing and turning because she simply couldn’t figure out what he meant by his cryptic sentences. She was also slightly put out that he knew but she didn’t and that he refused to share this information with her. Finally she gave up all possibility of sleep, threw the sheets off her face with a huff and stared upwards towards the ceiling.

Exactly what is it that I’m supposed to figure out? Her mind whirled angrily. He’s been avoiding me like the bloody plague ever since....

She froze, her jaw sagging as realization flooded through her system. Ever since I started dating Seamus. Her blood pounded loudly in her ears as she lay there; clutching the covers with both hands until she was sure her knuckles were white from the pressure. Could it be? She wondered, her heart thumping rapidly in her chest, and a smile threatening to spread across her face. Is it possible that he was jealous? And if he was jealous, why would he be? It’s almost as if he had feelings for me other than friendship.

She pulled her lower lip between her teeth and nibbled lightly. That’s just ridiculous, she scoffed. Harry would never think that way about me. After all these years he’s never even given the slightest hint that he thought otherwise.

But he had. She sucked in a deep breath as she let her mind wander over the course of the last two years. A faint smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she remembered how he’d always offered to carry her books, or ask if she needed anything. How he’d blush so sweetly when she caught him staring at her while he was pretending to read. A rush of warmth flowed from the top of her head to her toes.

You once entertained the notion that you and he should be together. What made you give up?

Her breath hitched in her lungs, “I was looking for a sign,” she whispered to the dark and swiped at the tear that was rolling down her cheek. “But I guess I didn’t look hard enough.”

No, you just weren’t looking with your heart.

***

“Blast,” a muffled voice grunted, followed by a solid thunk.

“Ron?” a blurry-eyed Ginny came sweeping down the staircase, one delicate hand over her mouth covering a yawn.

“’Lo, Gin,” he mumbled, his face pressed against an open book and one hand clutching his wand. A few puddles of water surrounded him, and his hair, his robes, and the books scattered across the table were damp.

“What are you doing?” she asked, slightly more awake than before, as she eyed her prone brother carefully, who was sighing rather loudly in frustration. “It’s one o’clock in the morning,” her forehead wrinkled in concern, “and you’re studying!”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” he grunted, never once lifting his head.

“Well, not necessarily a bad thing,” she crossed the room to stand beside him, “but it’s certainly not you.”

Ron managed a lazy shrug.

“Fine then, what class are you studying for? Maybe I can help you,” her eyes swept across the titles. “Weather Manipulation? Decorative Spells? Let it Snow, Let it Snow, Let it Snow?” Ginny slowly read out loud, her eyebrows rising up to meet her hairline. “Ron Weasley, what’s all this?” She was torn between being concerned for his sanity or bursting out in laughter.

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m trying to make it snow,” he replied, lifting his head only to send it crashing back down towards the open book before him. “I’ve been trying for days. Days, Ginny, and all I’ve managed to do was make it sprinkle some bloody rain,” he thumped his head again.

Any control Ginny had over her laughter flew out the window and a snigger escaped her lips. She immediately became contrite when Ron raised his head and glared. “You’re trying to make it snow?” she repeated his words slowly, fighting back the smirk that was growing on her face.

“Yes, snow. You know that fluffy white stuff that falls from the sky? It’s cold, and wet, and perfect for throwing at one’s sister,” he growled in irritation.

“Ugh, no need to get so sarcastic, Ronald, I know what snow is,” Ginny huffed and crossed her arms.

“Sorry,” he muttered, dropped his head once more, and then winced. “Oww, my head hurts,” he whined, sounding very much like a two year old.

“I shouldn’t wonder,” Ginny snipped at him. “Maybe it has something to do with banging your head on the table,” she rolled her eyes. “Perhaps you should stop, that might help,” she lowered herself into a seat beside him. “Er – exactly why are you trying to make it snow?” she inquired. “And do you think it’s wise to try and create snow in the common room?”

“It’s Harry’s birthday present,” he grunted out as he ran both hands through his hair, making it stand up wildly and ignoring her last question.

“Ron,” Ginny stared at him intently, worry etched on her pale face as she watched him. “Harry’s birthday is a long way off,” she began slowly. “How do you know he wants snow for his present?”

“Because Harry’s a dolt,” he snorted out an answer, rubbing his forehead, “and a stubborn prat.”

“Wait, wait, you’ve lost me,” she held up a hand to stop him. She was seriously beginning to wonder if the blow to his head from a rouge bludger during practice had jarred his brain a bit. Or maybe he’d acquired a bottle of Firewhiskey from someplace and had taken one drink too many. Or maybe Luna’s odd personality was rubbing off on him. Either way, he wasn’t making any sense at the moment. “How does snow and Harry being a dolt go together?”

Ron heaved a sigh, “Because he won’t tell her he loves her unless something impossible happens, and I quote, ‘Like when hell freezes over or it snows in July’. As I can’t make hell freeze over, I chose the other option.”

Ginny’s jaw sagged, “Her? You mean, Hermione?”

“Yes, Hermione,” Ron said irritably. “Anyone with two eyes can tell he’s in love with her, well, except Hermione that is,” he paused and eyed his sister with a wary look. “And maybe you,” he arched an eyebrow.

“Please,” she waved a hand in an air of indifference. “I’ve been over Harry for ages,” she sent him a wide grin. “Besides, I always knew that even if I did manage to have a relationship with him, I’d always be second in his life. Hermione was always first.”

“Yeah,” Ron nodded. “I know. Even I knew he’d always be the most important person for her when we tried the whole dating thing.”

“This is really sweet of you, Ron,” Ginny said softly and gave his hand a light squeeze. “But, I have a feeling you’re going to need some help with this one.”

He paused as another thought came to him. “Hey, Gin,” he smiled devilishly at her, “you’re pretty good at Charms, fancy giving me a hand?”

***

The rest of the school term seemed to fly by. The NEWT’s came and went, much to the relief of the seventh years. Despite the constant worry that Voldemort would suddenly attack, Harry slowly incorporated himself back into the lives of his friends, a much easier task to do now that Seamus was out of the picture. But he still kept his feelings regarding Hermione a secret, much to Ron’s annoyance. Finally, he got the news that he’d been waiting for. His application to join the Auror division had been accepted. After leaving school, he would be going to the Auror Recruit Training Center in London.

Hermione, who would be spending a majority of the summer on holiday with her parents in France, would be continuing her education in the study of Magical Laws and Application. She was determined to bring an end to the racist attitudes towards those who were Muggle-born by becoming a lawyer. Ron was ecstatic after being asked to be part of the reserve team for the Chuddley Cannons.

“A pact,” Ron announced one night while the three of them were sprawled out in the Gryffindor common room. “We need to have a pact.”

Harry cracked one eye open from his reclining position on the couch. “What kind of pact?” he asked sleepily and rubbed at his eyes. Hermione marked the page in her book and glanced up at Ron, awaiting his answer.

“That no matter what we do after we leave here, we get together at least once a month.”

Harry and Hermione shared a look. “Sounds alright to me,” Harry grinned. “Hermione?”

She gave a wistful smile and nodded her approval, her eyes lingering on Harry’s reposed figure for a brief moment.

At the lull in their conversation, Ron stretched and let out a jaw-cracking yawn. “I’m knackered,” he announced as he pushed himself off the chair he’d been occupying. “Think I’ll turn in. Good night you two,” he flashed them both a quick grin and strode across the common room floor and up the staircase and left Harry and Hermione, alone, in an empty room, lit only by the dying fire and a few candles.

Harry squirmed uncomfortably in his seat, mentally damning Ron for leaving him alone with the object of his unrequited love. Feelings that he'd always kept a tight lock on were bubbling dangerously close to the surface as the silence engulfed them. His eyes darted around the darkening room, desperate to focus on anything but the girl sitting across from him. Finally, his eyes came to rest on the dying embers glowing orange and white behind the iron grate. As he sat, watching the orange flames lick greedily at the remaining wood in the fireplace, he felt, rather than heard, her sigh.

"Harry?"

He gulped and nervously swung his eyes her way. He’d silently been trying to think of an excuse to leave before he heard her calling him. His heart began racing at the mere sound of her voice, and blood pounded ferociously in his ears.

"Er - yes?" he tried to sound casual, but the words came out in a croak, leaving him to roll his eyes in embarrassment.

She frowned and came closer to where he sat, the fire softening her features, and making the brown of her eyes seem deeper and darker. Her hair, which was still as bushy as it had been when he’d first met her, was tinted in gold as the dying fire cast its remaining light around them. His heart beat wildly, making the heat rush to his face as he desperately tried not to look at her.

"Are you okay?" she asked, worry flitting across her face as she nibbled on her lower lip.

"Fine," he stammered out, hoping she wouldn't notice how nervous he was feeling at the moment.

Unsure if she should believe him, but also afraid that she may be jumping to conclusions when she assumed that Harry had feelings for her other than friendship – after all it could be just wishful thinking triggered by all the years she spent harboring feelings for him she knew would never be returned – Hermione looked into his eyes and told him truthfully, “I’m really glad the Harry I knew is back. I couldn’t have stood graduating from Hogwarts without your friendship,” she paused and smiled slightly. “Please, Harry, don’t ever try to push me away again. You’ve no idea how much I missed you.”

Her last words came out almost as a whispered plea, and he had to strain his ears to catch them. He was pleased to know that she cared and that she’d missed him as much as he missed her. But, he couldn’t help but replay in his mind her words stressing how she liked the ‘Harry she always knew’ and that ‘she couldn’t stand losing his friendship’.

Yeah, she’ll never see you in another light, you idiot. Forget about it, you’ll always just be her ruddy best friend, he told himself with a sinking heart.

Sighing sadly, he tried in vain to give her a small smile. Realizing he wouldn’t be able to do it, he just stared at the ground and said in a low voice, “I’m glad to know that you’re happy,” he swallowed thickly and rose to his feet, faking a yawn. “Have a good night, Hermione.” And then, he went up the stairs to the boys’ dormitories, walking fast.

Hermione could do nothing but stand there in the common room, shocked, wondering silently what the problem with him was.

***

“Well,” Ron said softly, shifting from side to side as he spoke, “this is it.” He stared out over the nearly empty platform and took one last look at the gleaming, scarlet engine of the Hogwarts Express.

“Yeah,” Harry nodded, his eyes following the same path Ron’s did before stopping to rest briefly on Hermione. “Hey,” he nudged her gently, drawing her attention, “have a fun holiday with your parents.”

She nodded mutely, her eyes filling with tears that she refused to let fall. “I will,” she gave a wobbly grin. “Ron?” she turned to face the red head. “Don’t get hit by too many bludgers during practice,” her voice cracked ever so slightly as she launched herself forward and wrapped her arms around his waist, giving him a tight squeeze.

Ron chuckled nervously, “I won’t. Don’t study too much, Hermione,” he patted her awkwardly on the back.

“Me?” she laughed and pulled back, a tear rolling down her cheek. “Study too much? Never.”

Ron grinned and shook his head. “Right then, Harry? Good luck, mate,” he clapped the other boy on the shoulder. “I’ll see you on your birthday.”

Harry nodded, “Good luck to you too, Ron,” he was at a loss for words.

Ron opened his mouth and then closed it promptly with a snap as his blue eyes darted from Harry’s face to Hermione’s now tear-streaked one. “Good luck,” he said again as he grasped his trunk and squared his shoulders. “I’d best go. Mum, dad, and Luna’ll be waiting.”

“Bye, Ron,” Hermione managed to choke out while Harry nodded.

“See you both soon,” the red head dropped them a wink before starting across the platform, his trunk trailing behind him.

Once Ron disappeared from sight, thick silence engulfed them, marred only by Hermione’s sniffles. Finally, she spoke, “I guess I should be off too,” she pushed her hair back from her face and swiped at her eyes once more. “You’ll be alright?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Harry nodded. “I’ll be fine.”

“Alright,” she tentatively stepped forward and gave him a quick hug. “Take care of yourself, Harry.”

“I will,” he whispered, wishing she’d held onto him just a bit longer. “I’ll see you in July, Hermione. If you can make it, that is.”

She only nodded as she didn’t trust herself to speak. Quickly she gathered her belongings and made her way past him, wanting to be out of his sight before she burst into tears. She was halfway across the platform before his voice stopped her.

“H – Hermione?”

“Yes?” she turned to face him, a sudden burst of hope flooding her system.

He shifted nervously before her, his heart beating so loudly in his ears that he could hardly hear himself speak. “I – I just wanted to…” he paused. “I, er, I wanted to say, take care.” He inwardly groaned as his courage fled, leaving him a mere stuttering fool.

“Oh,” her hope came crashing to the ground and her voice was laced with disappointment. “You too, Harry.” With wooden fingers, she grasped the handle of her trunk once more and began to make her way back to the Muggle world.

***

July 31st, The Burrow

***

“Happy birthday, Harry!” Mrs. Weasley gave him a wide smile and a hearty squeeze.

“Thanks, Mrs. Weasley,” Harry croaked, sure that he’d felt several ribs crack in protest to her iron grip. He peered over the top of her head and saw Ron sniggering while Luna looked on with an unknown expression on her face. At the distressed look on his best friend’s face, and the fact that his mother still hadn’t released him, Ron stepped forward.

“Er – mum?” he tapped her on the shoulder. “I think you can let go of Harry now,” he rolled his eyes.

“Oh,” Mrs. Weasley let go of him abruptly and had the grace to look slightly embarrassed. “Sorry about that, dear,” she pat Harry on the arm affectionately.

“S’okay,” Harry grinned and nodded at the older woman.

“And how is the academy?” she inquired. “Arthur said he saw the training department once,” she shuddered. “Are they treating you alright? You’re looking too thin, are they feeding you enough?”

“Erm – well, they treat me the same as anyone else,” Harry shrugged. “And yes, Mrs. Weasley, they feed us enough. Besides, the program is only for six months or so. It’s not bad.”

“Come on, Harry,” Ron waved him into the living room and away from his mother. “If you let her, mum’ll talk your ear off.”

“Ronald!” Mrs. Weasley said sharply, although her eyes were twinkling. “Go on, Harry,” she shooed him out of the kitchen. “I’ve got to finish up in here.”

Harry grinned and followed Ron into the small living room.

“Happy birthday, Harry,” Hermione’s soft voice floated across the room.

He spun around in surprise. “Hermione!” he exclaimed. “I didn’t think you’d be here,” he crossed the room in three long strides and enveloped her in a hug. “I thought you’d still be on holiday with your parents.”

“What kind of best friend would I be to miss your birthday?” she smiled and untangled herself from his arms. “Ron was ever so thoughtful to send me a reminder owl,” she glanced over to where the youngest male Weasley had been only moments before. “Luna? Where did Ron and Ginny go?” she inquired.

Luna blinked, a smirk rather evident on her face, and then giggled.

“Okay,” Harry said slowly, baffled by her reaction, and turned to face Hermione with a puzzled look. “What’s all that about?”

Hermione’s eyebrows had risen dramatically as Luna continued to chortle to herself. Clearing her throat, she shared Harry’s look before turning away so she wouldn’t break out in laughter at Harry’s expression. “I don’t know,” she whispered back. “Do you think she’s sane?”

“I’ve got my doubts,” he winked.

“Oy! Harry,” Ron’s voice caused them both to jump and turn around, “do you mind coming up to my room with me?” he asked, tucking his wand in his pocket.

“Sure,” Harry nodded. “Where were you?” he asked casually as they headed for the staircase, leaving the girls in the living room.

“Ginny asked me to help her with something,” Ron avoided his gaze as they began their climb. Upon hearing their footsteps, the ghoul in the attic decided it was a perfect time to start banging on the pipes and floorboards. Both Harry and Ron shared a chuckle as they entered Ron’s tiny room, still colored brightly in orange tones.

Harry flopped down on the bed, scooping up a Quidditch magazine and began leafing through it. “So, what did you need me up here for?” he asked as he scanned the glossy pages. “Ron?” he asked again when there was no response.

“Huh, would you look at that?” Ron smirked quite noticeably as he came to stand in front of his bedroom window.

“What?” the black-haired boy finally looked up from the magazine and eyed him carefully, his green eyes narrowing ever so slightly behind his round lenses.

“It’s snowing,” Ron shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers and rocked backwards on his heels, acting as if it was a common everyday occurrence that it would be snowing in the middle of summer.

“Excuse me?” Harry blinked; quite sure that Ron had lost his mind. “Care to repeat that again?” he shook his head. “I could have sworn you said it was snowing,” he chuckled lightly.

Blue eyes narrowed and a devilish grin spread across his face. “I did,” he said simply and gestured with a wave of his hand.

With a scowl, Harry launched himself off the bed and peered out the window. What he saw made his jaw go slack and his eyes grow wide. “Bloody hell…but – but how, I mean, it’s – it’s…” he stuttered, unable to comprehend what his eyes were seeing.

Fluffy, white snowflakes were drifting lazily from the sky. Dancing and twirling on the slight breeze, they had already made a thin, white blanket on the green grass. A majority of them had already melted when they hit the ground, turning the bare patches of earth into a muddy, sloppy mess.

Stepping closer to the window, Harry rubbed at his eyes, convinced that his mind was playing tricks on him. “But, it’s the end of July!” he exclaimed, resting his forehead against the cool glass of Ron’s bedroom window. “It’s impossible,” he shook his head.

Behind him, Ron cleared his throat before stepping closer and clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Happy birthday, Harry,” he said with a grin.

Mutely, Harry nodded and then turned to face his best friend. “Did you….” he trailed off, but cocked an eyebrow in question.

“Guilty,” Ron nodded and shrugged his shoulders sheepishly. “And don’t ask me how long it took me to figure out how,” he shook his head and grimaced in memory. “I even had to ask Ginny for help.”

Just then, the door to Ron’s bedroom was flung open, and Hermione and Luna came barging in with Ginny trailing behind with a smile on her face.

“Come on you two!” Hermione grabbed at the two boys and gave their arms a tug. “Let’s go outside,” she urged, her face lit up in a wide smile, and her brown eyes sparkling. “I can’t believe it,” she shook her head. “Whoever would have thought it’d be snowing? And on your birthday, Harry!” she looked out the window at the drifting snow.

“Alright, alright,” Ron chuckled, lightly batting Hermione’s hand off his sleeve only to sling an arm around an equally giddy Luna. “No need to get pushy now,” he winked at Harry, who was busy staring at Hermione.

“Then hurry up,” Hermione rolled her eyes. “Ugh, fine,” she sniffed when Harry made no effort to move. “Then Luna and I will just meet you downstairs.” And with a swish of robes and hair, both girls exited the room and clattered down the stairs.

“Girls,” Ron snorted after they’d left and then cocked his head to the side. “Well, come on, mate. Time to get a move on,” he grinned again and took a step towards the door.

“Hey, Ron?” Harry’s voice stopped him.

“What?”

“Thanks,” Harry said with a slight nod.

***

“What did you wish for?” Hermione turned to look at him, her eyes shinning and her hair lightly sprinkled with snow.

He glanced up towards the sky, catching a grinning Ron and Luna smiling down on them from a window and a wide smile broke out across his own face. He didn’t answer her question right away, but savored the feeling of the soft snow melting on his face. Finally he spoke, “This,” he said simply, gesturing upwards with a wave of his hand at the sky.

Hermione chuckled, “You wished for snow?” she asked in an amused tone and arched an eyebrow.

“No,” he shook his head and turned to look at her through snow streaked glasses, “not just the snow. But being here with Ron, Luna, Ginny, and the rest of the Weasleys,” he edged closer to her. “And you,” his voice dropped almost to a whisper.

“Well I wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else on your birthday,” she held out a hand and watched the tiny, white flakes melt against her skin.

“Actually,” he stared unblinkingly at her, “there’s something else I wished for too.”

“Really?” she turned to look up at him. “What was that?” she asked absently, although she was keenly aware of how close he was.

Harry swallowed thickly, silently praying that he would muck up his words even though his palms were damp with sweat and his heart was thundering loudly in his ears. Sucking in a deep breath, he forced himself to look her directly in the eyes. “You,” he whispered. “I wished for you.”

“Oh,” was the only thing she said before clapping a hand over her mouth and staring back at him with wide eyes.

He felt his heart begin to sink at her rather horrified expression and his stomach gave a sudden lurch. Embarrassed and discouraged, he shuffled his feet and glanced away, not able to look at her anymore. “I’m sorry,” he muttered and rubbed the back of his neck, “I – I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m sorry.” He felt like an idiot and wished that the earth would take pity on him, split wide open and swallow him whole.

Her next words caught him by surprise, “Why?”

He winced. “I’m sorry,” he apologized again. “I – I, it was just a stupid idea I had,” he rushed to explain, hoping she wouldn’t try to hex him and turn him into something unnatural. “I mean, I – I wanted to tell you, but I should have known, should have guessed that you didn’t….”

“No,” she shook her head, her eyes shinning with a thin layer of tears, “not why did you tell me. Why did you wish for me?”

He finally turned to face her, “Do you even have to ask?” he gave a wobbly grin and reached out to sweep an errant snowflake from her cheek. His heart swelled at the look of tenderness she gave him.

“Yes,” she whispered, her legs were slowly turning into jelly as his fingers continued to caress her skin.

“When I was younger,” he began slowly, his eyes taking in every feature of her face, “I wanted so badly to have someone love me, someone who would treat me as a person, rather than a servant. Someone who would accept me for who I was, rather than acting like I was some sort of freak. I used to wish on every falling star that I was lucky enough to see and on every imaginary birthday cake that someone out there cared about me. And one day, I found them, on a train speeding to a world I never thought existed.”

Hermione remained silent as he spoke, but her eyes filled with tears that trailed slowly down her face only to be chased away by Harry’s fingers.

“Hermione,” he breathed, “somewhere along the way, I fell in love with you. You’re the one thing in my life that is never changing. And I – I don’t have one good memory that doesn’t include you in it….” he trailed off.

The smile she gave him could have outshined the sun in its intensity. “It’s about time you said something, Harry Potter,” she covered his hand with hers.

He sucked in a lungful of air and stepped closer to her, his free hand coming up to cup the other side of her face. His heart was pounding madly in his chest and the blood was boiling as it coursed through his veins. “Are you sure?” he asked, his hands shaking ever so slightly. “Are you sure you want to be with me when Voldemort is still out there?”

“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” she pressed a hand to his heart, “except right by your side like I have been for the last seven years.”

It was the feel of her hand resting on his chest that made him come undone. With a grunt, he pulled her closer until they were standing toe to toe with each other; she was looking up at him with wide eyes that were like liquid smoke. He clung to his one remaining shred of sanity before they took that step past the invisible line of friendship. “You can still change your mind,” he rasped out.

“Now why would I want to do that?” she asked, her voice husky, and then smirked as she wrapped her arms around his neck, and stood up on tip-toe to press her lips against his.

He met her halfway; his mouth crashing down on hers, and making her head spin wildly with desire. His hands moved from the sides of her face, down her back, rested for a brief moment on her hips and then began their journey back up. Her lips tasted sweeter than anything he’d ever tasted before, and he was convinced he’d never taste anything like them again. He took a deep breath and felt her mouth open under his. She tasted like sugar and coffee, mixed with spice.

He tore his mouth from hers, and moved on to trail kisses along her jaw and up to her ear. "I love you," he breathed out, making her tremble with his breath. He moved his mouth down to her neck, feeling her pulse beneath his lips.

***

“It’s about bloody time,” Ron grumbled, though his face, sporting a wide grin, belied his words.

Beside him, Ginny sniffed and swiped at her eyes with a sleeve while Luna looked out the window with a dreamy expression etched on her face as she watched the embracing couple below. Finally, Ginny composed herself and flashed her brother a quick smile. “Come on,” she tugged on his robes, “let’s leave them be. I don’t think they’ll care too much if we have some of Harry’s cake without them.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Ron nodded and grasped Luna’s hand in his and pulled her away from the window. “What kind did mum bake this time?” he asked Ginny as they made their way downstairs.

“Pumpkin,” she flipped her hair over her shoulder.

***

“I never thought this would happen,” Hermione whispered as she buried her face in his chest and his arms wrapped themselves tighter around her waist.

Laughter rumbled through him and he bent down to press a kiss to her forehead. “I never thought it would actually snow in July.”

~*~

Author’s Note: I’d originally started this particular story ages ago, after an event that left me wishing for things that could never happen. After awhile, I forgot about it and filed it away in the back of my mind. Every once in awhile I stumbled across it and thought to myself that I ought to finish it, I just never did…until now. I hope you like it, but it’s more than alright if you don’t. In either case, thanks for reading.

For those of you patiently (or impatiently) awaiting chapter eight of Umbra Antitheus, I just want to offer my apologies for not updating in months. I fell into somewhat of a rut in my writing and decided to take a break. Unfortunately said break lasted several months. I just wanted to let you all know I will be finishing it and hopefully will have a new chapter for you all. Until then, thank you all for being so patient with me. It means a lot.

Thanks again to my betas, who keep me on my toes in using correct grammar, punctuation, and spelling. You both have my undying gratitude.