A/N: Well, that certainly was shorter than expected. But I liked it. I like it a lot better than my other beginning. You see Harry admitting his faults, instead of bearing others. I liked that part of the story. I think I did a good job of readdressing the similar plot. Make of note of that, similar, not the same. A lot will change within my OCs but the rest will basically be the same. But because of the change within the OCs the plot will adapt along with it. Not much, you will still recognize the same material, I just have to rewrite it.
J. K. Rowlings owns what you recognize as hers, and probably a few other things. I own the rest.
I liked beginning with a quote. I think I will start to include one every chapter. I know that J. K. Rowlings doesn't use them, but I like using them. A few I may reuse on top of other ones within the story. Quotes express in a few words what I may try to convey in a couple thousand.
And for those of you who were counting, the last chapter had five thousand six-hundred thirty-three, 5633. I thought that was pretty good, consider I'm going to go for better plot action and relations between characters. I know it is the shortest chapter I've ever done, but what are you going to do about it besides give suggestions. I am always open for those.
Chapter Two:
Calming Memorial
"Denial ain't just a river in Egypt." Mark Twain
Harry sat, alone, unmoving in his room. Despite his current state of physical being, he was deep in thought. Deep in thought over the coming memorial service; deep in thought over the several thick books on curses and hexes that he wanted to use that coming year; but must of all, he was deep in thought over his coming talk with Hermione. And once again, since he had sent that letter, his heart skipped a beat.
Every little thought began to remind him of Hermione. His reading turned into habits she went through as she read a book. His habits turned into her scolding him. His being scolded by his uncle turned into Hermione's care for his safety. Funny how life's little twists turn.
Shaking his head, he turned back to the book in his lap. Seating in the comfy chair that Dumbledore had conjured, Harry began to read more and more about the art of conjuring. It amazed him at the power needed to conjure some of the objects. The book used Arthimancy to aid in explaining the explanations, and he found a book on that to help him, but then he needed a book to explain that book, and all of this occurred after he had finished his homework for the summer.
Dumbledore had charmed the bookshelves within Harry's new room to allow him to find every book on a topic, down to his littlest details he needed. How Dumbledore was able to do such powerful magic astounded Harry. He had not found a book pertaining to the topic, but knew that one had to exist.
But at the moment, that did not matter. He currently was studying the fine aspects of conjuring, with a book of Arthimancy next to him so he could understand the charts within the book. Surprisingly some of Arthimancy was beginning to sink in, allowing him to further indulge on the conjuring, and another art included in the book: enchanting.
Enchanting was something that had peaked Harry's interest. No matter how wordy or complicated the book became, he was still able to understand what was being explained and how to do it. He began to wish he would be able to return to school so he could attempt a few of the simpler procedures to enchant an object. He had spent the better part of an afternoon reading about conjuring and enchanting when an owl came with a letter.
Reluctantly standing up, Harry untied the letter and the brown bird flew off. Only a few simple words were written on the paper, and a small old brass ring was tied to it.
This will take you to my home; from there you will go to the memorial service. It is tomorrow at ten, this is set to go off at nine a.m.
Albus
Harry could only smile at this. Dumbledore came by every now and then to simply talk to him. Harry was able to discuss his thoughts and ideas for the upcoming year, mainly working on enchanting. The book said it was able to empower a piece of clothing or object with certain magical properties. Harry wanted to attempt to make a bracelet that would protect Ron and… Hermione…
His thoughts stopped at Hermione once more, and he caught himself day dreaming about her again. He found himself doing that often. And now, his greatest wish in the world was not to have a normal life, but to protect Hermione. He smiled at the thought, whatever it was. And off in the distance, he thought he could hear an evil laugh, combined with a painful scream. The scream did not trouble him, the laughter did.
Voldemort was planning something, something big enough to make his scar hurt slightly. He had not told Dumbledore of this yet, and figured on telling him when they meet once more at the memorial service. He also wanted to meet the contact of his, a man, Harry was told, would interest him. Dumbledore seemed to have more to himself than the entire Wizarding world knew.
Looking back down at the book, he knew he could not concentrate longer on it. He let out a sigh of relief, relief from what he was not sure, but he definitely relieved about something. Maybe it was because his mind could not take any more information for the day. Or maybe because he finally was going to get something off his chest, talking to someone other than Dumbledore. Like Hermione.
And once more, Harry felt his heart flutter. At least now he knew the reason behind it. At the beginning of the summer, the only explanation he had was indigestion. But now, he could not explain the feelings. He had nothing to compare it too.
Harry signed once and turned to look toward the window. It was only a matter of several long hours until he would be able to talk to her about the previous year. Over the last few days, he had figured out the reason for the problems he had the previous year. It was a stretch, albeit, but he figured that it was Voldemort's attacks upon his mind and control him slightly that made him so angry. But now, that was all over, now the anger was gone, replaced by… by… by what, he could not say, but it certainly calmed him, especially when he was around Hermione or thought of her.
Placing the book back in the shelf, Harry laid down on his bed. He had not had a nightmare, or a dream, during the last few nights. The calmness was beginning to get to him slightly, but he was not going to complain. After two years of such dreams, he was glad for the calm. He began to think of all the other times that he had to go through with the dreams as he prepared for bed. It was late, though and once again, he welcomed the quiet sleep.
* * * * *
Harry awoke to the morning sun slowly crawling over his face. A smile grew on his face as he put on his glasses and looked at the clock. He still had a few hours before Dumbledore's portkey would activate. As he got out of bed, an extra hitch joined his step. He felt a growing anticipation in his heart, as well as that ever familiar, but now growing, flutter.
He showered and fixed breakfast for his relatives. He had not talked to them in some time, and figured his aunt had forgotten what she had originally told him. But today, it did not matter. His godfather, his friend, would be getting what a hero deserved. Not only would some closure come to him, he would find even more by talking to Hermione about the Prophecy. This seemed to spark his interest the most, for whatever reason he could not think of.
Harry sat back on his bed, playing with the small brass ring. It fumbled through his fingers a few times as he waited. He once again had a dreamless night. Voldemort had not tried to pry anymore into Harry's mind anymore, which he was thankful for. The quiet allowed him to gather his thoughts. It also had allowed him to set his mind on something.
He was going to try and pull away this year, away from anyone who could get hurt because of him. After telling Hermione of the Prophecy, he was going to draw back, and try to stay out the way. It was the only way he could protect her and everyone else for that matter. He did not want anyone else to die because of his mistakes or his failures. No more.
He felt the familiar tug of the portkey pull him as it activated. He would think more about it later; at this moment, he needed to mentally prepare himself from the memorial service. He soon found himself in seated in a comfortable chair.
"Well, hello," a voice greeted him. Harry looked up from the expensive Persian rug to see a man not unlike Dumbledore sitting across from him. The man had the same long silver beard that could have been tucked into his belt as Dumbledore did, and like Dumbledore's was, completely silver, closer to white than anything else. Unlike Dumbledore, the man did not wear glasses and held no twinkle behind his eyes. On the contrary, this man's blue eyes seemed darker and filled with pain almost. Harry could not help but feel like he had seen the man before somewhere.
"Hello, sir," Harry said, unsure of who he was speaking to.
"My brother should be here any moment now," the man said, steepling in fingers. He glared at Harry from around them. Harry took this time to look around the room he was in.
The windows behind the man's chair lighted the room, giving an even eerie look to the man sitting before Harry. What light that was coming in allowed Harry to see the massive bookshelves lined with literally thousands of books. A smile crept along his face as he looked excitedly around the room. He simply was amazed at how many books and how much he knew Hermione would die happy in this place. The flutter came back again, but was gone as soon as he looked the man once more.
The man still held a piercing look in his eyes. "Who is your brother?" Harry asked, shifting slightly underneath the gaze.
"I'm right here Harry," a kind voice said. Harry turned toward a set of now open doors to see Dumbledore walking into the room. "I'm sorry if my brother has been a little rude to you. Aberforth doesn't leave the house much." Dumbledore smiled at Harry for a moment before continuing. "Shall I show you to your room?"
"My room?" Harry asked, puzzled slightly.
"Yes, I figured you would have like to stay here for the remainder of the summer," Dumbledore said with a smile, but it quickly retreated. "Grimmauld Place is no longer safe, I'm afraid. Only recently have we found out that the Malfoys know where it is Harry. Someone has once again betrayed the Order and Voldemort has taken control over it." Harry felt his body go numb at the news. He had been expecting to return there, with Moony for some closure over it all, but now it seemed like the pain was just going to tear him up inside.
"I think there is someone here who could help you," Dumbledore said, slowly retreating from the room. "Aberforth, watch over him for a moment." Harry looked at the man sitting before him. Aberforth did not speak or even blink as Dumbledore left. Sitting in the silence, Harry stood up and walked toward one of the bookshelves, trying to move his mind away from anything other than Sirius's death.
"Finally you let your guard down now have you?" Harry's hand shot up to his scar as he collapsed on the floor. "I owe you Potter, for what you did to me."
* * * * *
"Welcome back Potter." Harry turned around, regaining his senses as Voldemort stood before a concrete building. He was again was in the concentration camp, but in a different part this time. Harry began to cough more and more as he tried to breath. "Doesn't death smell wonderful?"
"Why?" Harry asked, trying to control his coughing fits.
"Watch." Harry felt Voldemort's hand on his head, lifting it toward a line of men and women, chained together. At the front were his parents, then Cedric, countless people he couldn't recognize, then Sirius, more people he had never known, and finally Hermione. That didn't scare him as much as what they were being forced to walk to: a furnace. "Wonderful isn't?"
"No," he whispered as he watched his parent being pushed in. First his father was thrown in, then his mother. Cedric went next, falling in. "No, God, please don't do this." Harry covered his ears as the screams came from the furnace.
"Yes, and God doesn't exist here," Voldemort laughed.
"No," Harry whispered, standing and running forward. The line began to get closer to Hermione; Sirius was gone in a blink of an eye before Harry was able to go ten feet. "No." Another five were gone as he ran closer. "No, no more." Hermione was coming closer to the furnace, and still had not noticed him. "No Hermione!" Harry said, lunging the finally few feet. Hermione turned to look at Harry once more. "I can't lose you too!"
"Wake up Harry," she begged in a monotone voice. "Wake up! Wake UP!"
* * * * *
"Harry, please, wake," a feminine voice pleaded with him. A comforting touch was upon his shoulders as he slowly opened his eyes.
"Hermione?" He asked hoarsely as he stared into her hazel eyes. His one hand over his scar prevented him from seeing her completely but when he tried to move his hand, he felt her comforting one replace his over his scar. He could see her now though; it brought a smile to his pain-struck face.
Her hair was tied back in a pony tail and Harry could not help but look her over. Her body was tanned now, from a summer in France no doubt. She had changed for the better and he knew every guy in Hogwarts would want a date with her.
A slight pang of something hit his heart for a moment before disappearing all together. Whatever it was did not last long. Not with Hermione's caring look in her eyes.
She smiled at him, tossing back a piece of his hair. Tears were slowly coming down from her eyes. "You had me so worried," she said, pulling him off the floor and into a hug. He wrapped his arms around as he began to look around. Dumbledore stood over him, concern in his old eyes.
"What happened?" Dumbledore asked as Hermione held him tighter.
"Voldemort," Harry said, and for the first time, he was in a room with people that did not flinch at the name. "He tried to get me again, and he succeeded. I was in the same place." Dumbledore's face turned sullen at this.
"Where were you Harry?" Hermione asked, pulling back slightly. He saw the confusion upon her face and gave her a meek smile.
"Hell," Harry said, bring her close once more. It was sheer torture to know she was going to die, and feel the powerlessness that he had in whatever realm Voldemort had taken him. "I was in Hell."
"How did it happen this time?" Dumbledore asked, kneeling down in front of Harry.
"A furnace, sir," Harry said, looking at Hermione as her sob quieted down. "But this time, I didn't see just the same three. I saw my parents as well and countless others. The three were the only others I recognized as well, sir. "
"Who?" Hermione asked, pulling back from Harry.
"Cedric, Sirius, and…" Harry's voice trailed off at this point. He stared deeply into her eyes for a moment or too. "You, Hermione, you were the last one." At this point, tears slowly rolled down Harry's face as she began to take in everything. "I keep seeing you going to die and…and…" His voice trailed off once more. "And I can't take that Hermione. Not you." It was Hermione's turn to attempt to comfort Harry.
"I'm here, Harry," she said. Harry could hear her trying to keep her own tears back. "I'm here." He felt her gentle hands on his back as he pulled her closer, just to confirm her own words.
"I shall leave you two alone for a moment," Dumbledore said, standing up. Harry barely registered the fact the Dumbledore walked to his brother and helped the older man out of the room.
"I can't lose another member of my family," Harry whispered into her hair. "I can't lose you."
""I'm not going to leave you, Harry," she whispered back, the shock evident in her paused words. "I'm here now. I'll always be here." They sat in silence for a while, neither speaking nor moving.
"I need to tell you something," Harry said, summoning all of his Gryffindor courage. He felt her thumb lightly touch his cheek as he looked into her eyes.
"I'm here," she whispered, smiling slightly.
"Can we move to the chairs?" Harry asked. She giggled once covering her mouth, trying to hide it. Harry could only smile at this.
"Sure, Harry," Hermione said, as Harry stood up from the floor. She held a hand up. Smiling Harry helped her off the floor and led her over to the chairs in the center of the room.
"I found something out at the end of last year," Harry said, not making eye contact with her. She had already taken a seat across from him, and taken a hold of his hands. "It was right after Sirius's death."
"Oh, Harry." Hermione said. Harry felt her squeeze tighter, giving him some more strength. "I'm so sorry."
"Dumbledore told me the reason behind Voldemort's attack upon my parents." He removed one hand and wiped away a few tears from his face. "There was a Prophecy made right before my birth." He placed the hand back over hers.
"The one we tried to get from the Ministry," Hermione whispered. Harry looked up at her and smiled.
"Yeah," he said through his tears. "It was destroyed, but that was just a copy of the prophecy. I met the man who heard it and recorded it in a Pensive."
"Who recorded it?" Hermione asked as he paused to gain his bearings.
"Dumbledore did," Harry said, his face growing cold. This began to bring back the memories of their conversation from the previous year. "He had me listen to it after we had a heated conversation." He looked up at Hermione at this point, seeing the confusion on her face. "I'd rather not talk about that, but the Prophecy itself." She nodded and he turned his gaze back to the floor. "It is one of the few thing has been engraved in my mind.
"THE ONE WITH THE POWER TO VANQUISH THE DARK LORD APPROACHES….BORN TO THOSE WHO HAVE THRICE DEFIED HIM, BORN AS THE SEVENTH MONTH DIES…AND THE DARK LORD WILL MARK HIM AS HIS EQUAL, BUT HE WILL HAVE THE POWER THE DARK LORD KNOWS NOT… AND EITHER MUST DIE AT THE HAND OF THE OTHER FOR NEITH CAN LIVE WHILE THE OTHER SURVIVES….THE ONE WITH THE POWER TO VANQUISH THE DARK LORD WILL BE BORN AS THE SEVENTH MONTH DIES…."
Harry waited for it all to sink it, letting the memory of the conversation with Dumbledore fully flow back into his mind. His anger, his rage, and most of all his guilt. Two arms around his neck, hugging him tightly snapped him out of his daze.
"Hermione?" Harry opened his eyes to see her hugging onto him like it was the most important thing in the world. Her shoulders were wreaked with sobs. He moved his arms around her and drew her into the seat with him.
"Why does everything have to happen to you?" Hermione asked through her sobs.
"Maybe because my heart can take it?" Harry offered, recalling the conversation he had with Dumbledore during the summer. The one that started all of this fiasco.
"But it shouldn't have to," Hermione said, staring at him. "You are too kind and too gentle to have to go through this."
"Most of the world doesn't know me like you do, Hermione," Harry whispered. "Heck, even Ron forgets that at times."
"He should remember that too, Harry," Hermione said, wiping a tear from her eye. "You have risked your neck for both of us countless times, and not once did you ever complain or worry about yourself. You shouldn't have to do that."
"I shouldn't have to, but I don't mind," Harry said, smiling as he brought her closer, positioning her head on his shoulder. "One of the few things in life that brings me pleasure is knowing you are safe." Although her tears had stopped, Harry could see the pooling in her eyes as she pulled back to stare at him.
"What?" Hermione asked after a moment or two of speechlessness.
"I said I enjoy looking out for you," Harry said smiling at her. She began to blush and turned back to Harry's shoulder. "There is something else, `Mione." She looked up at him once more. "In order for all of this to end, either I have to kill or be killed." At this, Hermione began to break down in tears. He could only attempt to comfort her as she cried her troubles out. They sat in relative silence for a few moments, before the sound of a door slamming open.
"Grandpa!" A man's voice ringed through the halls. Hermione cringed into Harry's chest further as the man burst through the doors to the room that they were in. He came running into the room, only to stop suddenly a few feet in. "Sorry." He said sheepishly. Harry turned to get a good look, and nearly dropped Hermione off his lap.
A man with dark unkempt hair stood before him. Deep blue eyes or at least that was what Harry thought them to be, stared back at him through a set of rim glasses. In every photo that Harry had ever seen of his father, the man before him came remarkable close to being a doppelganger for his father.
"Sorry about that," the man said, taking a step forward into the dim light. Harry's heart dropped from whatever step it was on.
The young man's hair was nothing like James's. A dark blue, like the depths of the ocean was onto of the man's head, majority of it kept back by a red bandana with golden designs on it. He had a set of gloves that covered his hands, but the one on his right hand went all the way up to his elbow, with the one on the left ending at the wrist. Other than those to things, he looked like a carbon copy of his father.
"I'm looking for Albus Dumbledore," the man said not making eye contact. "Do you happen to know where he would be at this moment?"
"Serge, my boy, how good to see you again." Dumbledore said, with joy as he walked into the room. The young man walked over to Dumbledore and embraced him. "What news brings you here?" He said as they took a step back from each other.
"Terrible, I'm afraid, but it seems like it must wait," Serge said, giving Dumbledore a look. "I don't think that all of the parties involved are ready for it." Dumbledore just nodded once before turned and walking over to Harry and Hermione.
"I hope that you two have discussed what has needed to be discussed." He gave them both a knowing look. "You both need to get ready for the service. Hermione please show Harry his room. You both may take the next hour or so to freshen up and prepare for the service." They both nodded and Hermione stood up from Harry's lap. He stood up almost immediately, wiping away a few stray tears. Picking up her hand, he began to walk of the room with her by his side.
"Do you know where you're going?" Hermione asked, looking at him through redden eyes. He could only smile at her. "Come on." She then dragged across what looked like simple hallway, completely different than the library which he was in moments before. She led him over to a staircase as he tried to take in how simple the house seemed to be.
"Dumbledore lives here?" Harry asked as she stopped trying to force him.
"He told me that despite the amount of money he has, he likes to live comfortably," Hermione said with a smile. "He told me that as he gave me a tour of his house." They both walked up the stairs slowly. Harry could not get over how perfect it was to hold her like he did when she was crying.
"So which one is my room?" Harry asked as she led him down the hallway.
"This one," she stopped at a door at the end of the hallway. "He pointed it out to me, but wouldn't let me see it until you came."
"Well, let's have a look," Harry said, opening the door. "Ladies first." He held the door open for her. She blushed as she walked past him.
"I'm not a lady," Hermione said, not making eye contact. He could see the red tinge on her cheeks and could not help but continue.
"Well if you a man that I'm really in trouble," Harry thought out loud, getting a playful slap on the arm from her. "No, you're definitely are a lady." She blushed again. Harry stepped into the room, finally getting a good look of it.
"Amazing," Hermione said from the center of the room. Truthfully Harry had not even looked at the room yet as he enter. His eyes were locked upon Hermione, who stood spinning in the center.
"I'd have to agree," Harry said as he entered. She looked over at him and blushed once more. He could not help but blush as well. Whatever had come over him, sure felt good in his heart.
Harry looked around the room, trying to keep his mind off of Hermione. The room was covered in books, and two comfortable chairs rest near a table. The strangest part was though the coloring of the room. The rest house felt dull and empty, but the light walls, what little there was, seemed to brighten the room.
"My god, it's beautiful," Hermione whispered as Harry walked over. Before he could say anything she glared at him, but the red tinge to her cheeks betrayed it. "I was talking about the room."
"I know you were," Harry smiled at her. "I was just going to say I don't think I'd be able to drag you out of this house even if you were dead."
"And what do you mean by that?" Hermione said, turning and giving him her stern look.
"Look at this place, `Mione," Harry said, raising his hands and spinning around. "I don't happen to like reading half as much as you do, and yet I get the feeling I could sit in one of those chairs all day." He shook his head and walked over to her.
"Sorry about that Harry," Hermione whispered looking around the room once more. "It's just that, you're right. I would love to spend the rest of the summer here."
"Why don't you?" Harry asked. Her head moved quickly to give him a questioning look. "Professor Dumbledore told me that I would be staying here for the remainder of the summer. I could use someone to talk to…" His voice began to trail off and he found the floor increasingly interesting.
"I would love to Harry," Hermione said promptly. He raised his gaze, bearing a large smile on his face. "You are going to have to excuse me now, we have to get ready."
"Alright," Harry said, looking around the room. "Where exactly is the bathroom?" Harry asked, noticing the two doors on opposite sides of the main entrance to the room. Hermione just began to blush as she walked over to one.
"This door leads to a bathroom connected to another room. Dumbledore told me that I could use that one to change," Hermione said. Harry could only join her in blushing.
"Then by all means," Harry said, walking over to the door on the left. "Ladies first." He held the door open for her. "I'll wait to shower. You can go first, `Mione."
"Why are you calling me that?" Hermione asked placing her hands on her hips. "No one has ever called me that before."
"Sorry, it just came out naturally," Harry said, running a hand through his hair. He felt his face grow hot "I'll stop if you-"
"No," Hermione said with such a force it surprised them both. "I mean-no, I like it Harry. But I don't think I'd like it half as much if someone else called me it." She was blushing along with Harry now.
"Alright, it'll be our secret," Harry whispered furtively. She could only place a hand over her mouth, trying to hold back the laughter. He placed his hands upon her shoulders and guided her through the rest of the way to the door.
Once Hermione was out of his room, Harry turned and looked away from the door. Whatever he was just doing did not go along with his plan. He was supposed to draw away from her, not….whatever it was that he was doing. But this, this emotion felt so right, so wonderful. He never this at all last year, or something even close in the previous four. `Screw the plan, maybe something better could come. She's safe now, and happy. The two things in life that he wanted for her.' He thought as he walked over to the other door in the room.
Opening it up, he found only a black set of robes with a note tied to it and a Muggle black suit. Removing the robes from the closet, he walked to the bed and laid them across as took off the note.
Members of the family always wear black
The note was written by Dumbledore and the robes must've been placed there. Smiling Harry turned to hear the shower running, and knowing full well the wrath of Hermione Granger, walked over to one of the various bookshelves and removed a book. And to his luck, or surprise, it was on enchanting. Sitting back in the chair, his mind relaxed.
But as his mind relaxed, memories of why he was here returned. Sirius was gone, because of him. If he had listened to Hermione, then Sirius would be alive at the moment. Tears slowly began to fall down his eyes. If he only had listened to her. Why hadn't he listened to her?
"Harry?" Hermione's voice called followed by a few knocks upon the door. She stuck her head of the door, and looked around the room until she found. "Oh Harry." She came rushing over to him, hugging him tightly. It did not fall upon either of them that she was wearing only a bathrobe.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "If I'd had listened to you, then he'd be alive right now. I'm so sorry Sirius."
"Harry, it's alright," Hermione said, as he wrapped his arms protectively around her.
"I can't lose you too because of my foolish mistakes," Harry whispered as he drew her onto his lap. "I don't want to be alone."
"You aren't alone." She said, forcing him to look at her. "You'll never be alone. I'll always be there for you, when you need it Harry, I'll give you strength." She gently kissed his forehead.
"Thank you, `Mione," Harry whispered as she wiped the tears from his face. "Thank you." She smiled at him as she stood up, suddenly aware how close they were.
"I'm going to finish getting ready," she said not making eye contact. "You should take a shower."
"Alright," Harry said, wiping one final tear from his eyes. "Thank you for being there for me." He smiled as the flutter in his heart grew into a steady flapping. She walked to the door, looking at him once more. He raised his eyes and caught hers, causing her to blush. He felt his face turning red too as she exited through bathroom door.
Harry waited a few more minutes before walking into the bathroom, not before grabbing the appropriate clothing. He felt embarrassed enough, clinging to Hermione like that, and did not need walking around nude to add to it. He quickly showered and dressed in the suit Dumbledore had left for him.
He walked back to his room and sat in the chair once more picking up the book he was reading before. Harry had just started reading about an amulet, supposedly enchanted to take a person to other worlds, when there was a knock on his door.
"Harry? Can I come in?" Hermione asked. Hopping up from his seat, Harry quickly opened the door.
"Sure," Harry said with a smile. She stood in a black dress that reached her knees, but showed off her figure nicely. Her usually tousled hair was held back by a simple, yet elegant braid and she wore a veil underneath a black hat giving her a mysterious look. She wore a black set of robes open at the moment. "Wow." Harry stood a few seconds speechless. Harry could only stare at how beautiful she looked.
"I don't look that bad do I?" Hermione asked shifting under his gaze.
"You look like a goddess," Harry whispered before feeling his face turn red. She began to blush too. "Uh…come in," he held the door open for her further.
"Thanks," she said, walking into the room. "You haven't put on your robes yet?"
"Nope," Harry said, walking back to his chair. "I figured I'd wait until Dumbledore told me it's about time to go."
"Are you ready?" She asked, giving him a caring look. "I mean mentally?" He took a deep breath and released it.
"Honestly," he said, looking up at her. "I really don't know. A part of me says he isn't gone, but the rational part says he is dead. I just can't help but think that maybe if I was more like you I'd wouldn't be anywhere that I am now." She turned to give him a bewildered look.
"Me," Hermione said in a small voice. "You want to be like me?" Harry could only smile at how cute she looked at the moment.
"Yes, `Mione," Harry said, looking back down at the floor. "If I had seen it more analytical like you do, I would still have my godfather. Hell, if I saw life like you do I'd be better at my schoolwork, my spells, just about everything. I can't help but admire how you can sit and finish your homework in one go, instead of your mind wandering. In some sense, you're my hero."
"W-w-what?" Hermione stuttered, sitting down on the bed.
"Your calmness, your cool-headedness, your intellect," Harry said, counting these off on his fingers. "Your caring and kindness. I wish I have what you obviously have in abundance."
"I'm your hero?" She asked pointed at herself.
"And usually on a good day, you pick things up pretty quickly," Harry chuckled. "But seriously, `Mione, if I had a bit more of your attributes than maybe Sirius would still be alive now." He looked back down at the floor at this. He looked back up to see Hermione silently crying into her hands. He immediately rushed to her side, kneeling in front of her. "What's wrong?"
"How did I ever get a friend like you?" Hermione sobbed. "I'm just a bookworm."
"You're not a bookworm, Hermione," Harry said, raising her chin. "You are a caring, loving, gentle, beautiful young woman. One that sees the Boy-Who-Lived for what he really is, a growing young man searching of some normalcy in his life. I have never thanked you before for helping, and now that I am, I don't think I'll ever stop.
"You bring out the good in everyone around Hermione," Harry said, wiping a tear from her cheek.
"With problem the exception of Ron," Hermione scoffed.
"No, at times you do even bring out the best in him," Harry said with a smile. It turned larger as he spoke again. "I know that without a doubt that you've made such a large improvement to my life. Before the Troll incident, I would've been swamped by Hogwarts, but then you came into my life, I found someone who would help because they saw the scared little boy inside and did not care about the Boy-Who-Lived. You helped that scared little boy, and I thank you for that." Harry stood up and sat on the bed, letting her lean into his shoulder.
A little girl's laughter and giggled pulled them out of the private moment as the little came giggling into the room. She dove underneath the bed.
"What the-" Harry started.
"Mister Potter, is there anyone in there with you?" Harry heard Serge's voice from the other side of the door.
"Sssh," the little girl said, sticking her blonde head of hair out from under the bed. She quickly went back under, giggling.
"May I come in?" Serge asked. Harry looked over at Hermione, who still seemed to be regaining her sense.
"Yeah," Harry said, pulling Hermione closer to him. She did not object, but rather seemed to relax under the touch.
"Thanks," Serge said, coming in with a grey suit on. His hair was still held back by the red bandana, and the dark blue was even more present in the light room. He did not wear his glasses like he had when Harry first saw him. The gloves he wore earlier were replaced by "Did a small blonde coming running in here?" Harry heard the giggles from underneath the bed and nodded. Serge just smiled at him. "No, you sure?" Harry nodded once more, beginning to grin as well. "Do you mind if I check around?" Without waiting for an answer, he walked over to the door to the right.
"Is she in here?" He opened it dramatically and stomped his foot as he did so. "No, guess I'll have to check somewhere else." More giggles. Serge moved toward the bathroom and pulled the same stunt, this time the giggles were louder. "Well, I'll have to look somewhere else." He then made a big act of walking to the door, opening then slamming it shut.
"Is he gone?" The little said, poking her head out from under the bed. "Darn." She pouted as Serge walked over to her and lifted her into the air.
"You're getting big for this," he grunted as he lifted her.
"No too big I hope," she smiled brightly. Serge just laughed and looked at Hermione and Harry.
"Everything okay?" Harry looked once at Hermione, who held a small smile on her face but did not move from his shoulder. He saw her mouth the words "thank you" before sighing deeply.
"Yeah," Harry said, looking Serge in the eye. "I just finally said something that should've been said a long time ago."
"Good, don't want any lover's tiffs now do we?" Serge said with a twinkle in his eyes. Immediately, Hermione and Harry jumped apart. Harry felt his face turn bright red, but couldn't bring himself to say anything.
"We are not dating," Hermione said her face just as red.
"Okay," he said. Serge gave her a questioning look before dropping the subject. "This is my daughter, Grace." The young girl hid her face in the crotch of her father's neck. "Don't mind her, she's a little shy."
"How old is she?" Hermione asked, standing up.
"Turning eleven this November," he said with pride, putting her down. "She'll be entering Hogwarts this year."
"Hi," Grace said from behind Serge.
"Well," Serge said, looking up with a proud smile. "She was excited earlier today when talking to Grandpa Al." Grace blushed at this, but only hid further behind her father. "I'm supposed to tell you two to head to the library to meet with Grandpa." He picked Grace back up with ease, not before making sure his right glove was in place. "You've got about five minutes, so if you need to finish anything hurry up." With this he walked out of the door, not bothering to even give them a look back or close the door.
"Are you okay?" Harry asked, standing up and putting a hand on Hermione's shoulder. She turned to look at him.
"Thank you, Harry," she said, kissing him on the check. "You have no idea how much it means to me."
"You friendship means a lot to me too," Harry whispered, placing his forehead against hers. The flutter in his heart began to grow, and grow and grow…
"Mister Potter, Miss Granger, down here now," Serge's voice came yelling from the bottom of the steps.
"Guess we better be going," Hermione whispered, not moving.
"Yeah, guess we better go," Harry whispered back. They stood there for a few moments.
"Hey, I wasn't planning on yelling up the stairs at two love struck teenagers until my daughter hit puberty!" Serge yelled again.
"We are just friends," Harry and Hermione both yelled, their faces bright red. They looked at each other for a moment before turning away. Now the flutter in grew to a constant flapping.
"I'll-uh-meet you downstairs," Hermione said, not making eye contact.
"Tell them not to worry, I'll be right down," Harry said looking back to his robes. Walking over to them, he could hear Hermione leave the room. He suddenly felt the flutter begin to lie down, but it speed up as Harry recalled everything that happened over the course of the day. It now seemed like a constant hum in his chest.
"God, why are you so cruel?" Harry said aloud to no one. "You are torturing me, placing me in this position? I wish I had someone to talk to about this." His voice spoke with force but it was nothing more than a whisper.
Slipping on his robes, Harry made sure his wand was within reach. Although he would be unprepared with spells and such, he knew a great deal more than the year before. Dumbledore had already explained that he would be training for the remainder of the summer. He was also told he would be trained in several different areas. Looking over the room, he decided he would work his hardest this year, let nothing get in the way of his training and his knowledge.
He quickly hurried down the stairs to see Dumbledore and Serge talking to each other. Dumbledore wore a completely white set of rubes. Hermione was over by the doors to the library. She held her hands over her shoulder, rubbing them gently. He walked down the stairs and slowly walked toward her.
"You okay?" Harry asked as he approached. She gave a smile him, blushing slightly.
"I'm fine, Harry," Hermione said, getting her arms wrapped around her. "Just nervous I guess."
"About what?" Harry asked leaning against the table. He turned to looked at her, smiling slightly. "For me this is some closure I guess. I found a book a few days ago, talking about services and such." She looked over at him, a shocked look plastered over her face. "What? I read things other than Quidditch Through the Ages." Harry said with a laugh.
"What did it say?" Hermione asked, once she lost the look and started to smile a bit.
"Well, a memorial service, in the Wizarding world, is nothing more than a simple gathering of friends and family, to talk about what you knew about the man and/or woman," Harry said looking at the floor. "I wish someone would've told me about this. I'd have liked to see the Pensive of my parents." He looked over and smiled at him, knowing the small puddles were forming in his eyes. "There is still so much that I didn't know about them. Everything I've learn is stored here," he placed his hand over his heart, "and I can find it anytime I want, but I want to know more." My father couldn't have been the man that Snape showed him to be."
"How to live your life, Harry," Hermione said, placing her hand over his, "you didn't learn from the Dursleys." She spat the name and he could only smile. "You learned it from here. The friendships, everything, you've learned from your parents. They live on in you Harry. Burning brightly in whatever you do in life."
"Well put Miss Granger," Serge said, now with Grace in his arms. She wore a black dress and Harry couldn't help but see those pale blue eyes somewhere else. "If you two are down?"
"Give them their time, Serge," Dumbledore said chuckling. "Harry has been through a tough time, and needs to hear such things every now and then from people who care about him. Hermione is the perfect example, of someone who's care simply radiates from them." Hermione began to blush at this. Harry mouthed a "thank you" to her giving the hand on his chest a gentle squeeze as it receded. "We best be going." He swiftly removed a brown scarf from within his robes. "The service will begin rather soon. Everyone take a hold of it. Gracy, you made hold onto your father."
"One moment," Serge said, switching hand in which his held Grace. "Okay." He reached out and grabbed the scarf with his right hand. Harry did the same and felt Hermione's hand next to his. He looked over at her, noticing the blush in her face.
"Five, four, three, two, one," Dumbledore counted off. Harry felt the tug as he was pulled to wherever they were going. Within moments, Harry had his feet planted firmly on the ground. Looking around he found himself outside a house that looked recently built. A sense of warmth and familiarity surged over him as he took in the simple, yet elegant home.
The two-level stone house was surrounded with flowers. Looking around, the house looked settled within several trees and was near a lake. He stood letting his memories flow as he tried to decipher the origin of this house.
"Harry?" He looked over at Hermione as she began to follow Dumbledore and Serge. He quickly ran over to her, picking up her hand as she went. "This place is beautiful."
"I know," Harry whispered back, looking back the house and then turning to Hermione. "I feel like I could stay here the rest of my life."
"You just might, Harry," Dumbledore said mysteriously, causing both Harry and Hermione to look at the old man. They now stood several feet beyond the back of the house and they had stopped there.
Before them was a tall, black obelisk, looming overhead. A ring of chairs was placed within the shade of obelisk, almost directly to the left of it. Harry's eyes began to travel over the obelisk taking it all in. It stood no more than ten feet, just to Harry seemed to reach the sky.
"We can't be…." His voice trailed off as he read the small inscription on the bottom of the obelisk. His eyes began to fill up with tears.
"In Loving Memory of James and Lily Potter." Hermione read, clinging to Harry as he fell to the ground.
"We're here," Harry whispered to her. "The place where my parents died. Godric's Hollow."
"It'll be alright Harry," she whispered back. She wiped a tear off his face as her own started to fall. "Everything will be alright."
"Little dark, don't you think?" Serge whispered to Dumbledore. Harry turned to look at them, holding onto Hermione at the same time. "I meant the obelisk. Everything I heard from them, spoke of joy and happiness. That," he pointed toward the obelisk, "just is too gaudy."
"Can we," Harry looked back, taking in the words. "Can we change it to a fountain or something? I don't think I could stand seeing this ever again."
"Your mother did have a fountain in her garden," Dumbledore said, scratching his beard. "If you'd like we could-" Harry cut him off, standing up quickly.
"Please, that just brings back too many dark memories," Harry said, looking once more at the obelisk. The night his parents died, the ten years he spent in a cupboard below the stairs, ten years of being alone and empty, ten years of not being loved. Tears began to fall down his face even more. He felt himself falling to his knees once more.
"I'm here Harry," Hermione whispered to him. He felt her place his head on her shoulder as he began to cry. Cry for his parents, for Sirius, but mostly for himself. His entire life, and this was the first time, he let himself open up and feel sad or alone. But as Hermione held him close those emotions he had just found were gone, faster than they came.
"Thank you," Harry whispered through his tears. Lifting his head up, he stared into her honey eyes. He saw that emotion that fluttered in his heart radiate from her eyes. Whatever it was, made him feel alive and well.
"Let's move over to the chairs," Hermione said, wiping a tear from Harry's cheek. He nodded but did not move.
"Alright," he only responded. He looked back at the obelisk for a moment or two, not sure what to do. Slowly, he stood up, pulling Hermione with him. He could not lose the warmth she gave him, the one that chased away the loneliness. Moving one arm from her shoulder, he moved it toward her waist and slowly began to walk toward the chairs.
Hermione made no noise or comment as he did this. Looking at her slightly before they sat down, she just wore a smile on her face and stared at him. "It's okay," she whispered as they sat with their backs to the obelisk.
"Thank you," he whispered back. He removed his hand and placed his elbows on his knees, leaning into his palms. Harry let out a sigh and more memories returned of his haunting childhood. He felt a hand rubbing circular motions into his back, easing the memories away, and looked over at Hermione.
"You better?" she asked, not stopping his small massage.
"If you keep doing that I will be," Harry said, trying to smile, but the rush of memories turned it into more of a frown as he tried to forget them. "Why won't they leave me alone?" He thought aloud.
"Harry, what are you talking about?" Hermione said, getting him to look at her. He sighed once more before looking at the ground in front of him.
"My childhood," he whispered. "I just want it to go away and never let me think about it again."
"You don't have to go back there Harry," Hermione said. "I'll make sure of it." She said softly, Harry turned to look at her, confused.
"You say something?" Harry asked as she turned red. She shook her head but continued to rub his back. Feeling her long nails run across his back, he could not help but feel like he was in ecstasy.
"And here are the rest of the people." Dumbledore's voice said. He felt Hermione turn to look, but she did not stop the calming massage. As long as he knew she was there, the memories seemed to withdraw.
"Don't mind if I sit here?" Serge said, taking a seat on the other side of Hermione. Harry looked over at the man and shrugged his shoulders. His mind was gone as long as Hermione worked her magic fingers.
"Go ahead," Hermione's sweet voice rang out. The flutter within Harry's heart began to grow and grow as he tried to discern why he thought Hermione's voice was sweet. "You okay now, Harry?" He sat back up, but she moved her hand toward his shoulder instead of removing it completely.
"Yes," he said, leaning over to kiss her forehead. "I just need someone to help me through times like these."
"Anytime," Hermione said with a proud smile on her face. She moved her hand from his shoulder to his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I'll always be there for you."
Harry finally turned to look back at the coming sea of red. Looked like just about every Weasley had shown up, all of them were dressed in grey, but Ron wore black for some reason. With Ron nearly charging their way, a scowl on his face, Harry felt slightly worried. For whatever reason, the glare did not. He stared back for a moment before Dumbledore stopped them from moving any further.
"Please, start sitting to the left of the young lady," Dumbledore said, motioning to Grace who had taken a spot next to her father.
Harry watched as one by one, the Weasleys sat down, with Mister and Mrs. Weasley being the first to take a seat. Fred and George were next, both outfitted in dragon-scale suits like they had been at King's Cross. Ginny sat next to them and sent a sympathizing look over to Harry. Bill and Charlie forced Ron to take a seat between them. Ron glared at Hermione and Harry for a moment before Mister Weasley leaned over to talk to him. Ron face turned somber, but kept his piercing glare on them both. And once again, Percy was the only Weasley missing.
Lupin and Tonks took a seat next to Charlie. Both of them were dressed in black, and it still puzzled Harry why he and Hermione were as well. Lupin gave him a smile and a look, meaning they would be talking later. Tonks smiled at them as well, but kept close to Lupin, which surprised Harry. Mad-eye Moody sat next to Lupin. Both men were sullen faced, and talked to each other quietly. Moody's magical eye concentrated itself almost only on Harry. Professor McGonagall was next and sat next to the old Auror. For the first time, Harry saw a sweet smile sent his way. On that comforted him slightly. Hagrid sat next to her, and the chair enlarged itself to fit the gentle giant immediately. His face still looked bruised but had improved since the previous year.
"Sorry I'm late," a man in a black suit said as he ran up. His hair was tied back in a ponytail and looked remarkably like Sirius, except his hair was a remarkably dull purple. Harry shook his head trying to negate the memories in his head. A gentle squeeze on his hand from Hermione drew him away from though.
"Quite alright, Guile," Dumbledore said with a smile. "Please take a seat next to Rubeus." The man nodded once and walked over to the seat. "Looks like everyone is here. We shall begin then." Dumbledore walked over and took the final seat next to Harry.
"For those that are wondering why we are here," Dumbledore began as he sat, "we are here to discuss the memory of Sirius Black. Today is most importantly a day of remembrance and acceptance. So to big, I would like to introduce you to the man to my right, Doctor Guile Jonathon Moody." The man stood up from his seat looking around the faces.
"Good afternoon," he said with smile. "It begin with, I'd like you to know my history. My mother met a man she fell deeply in love with during her seventh year. They consecrated their love that year and hence I am standing before you. My mother was Alastor Moody's sister, Alice. My father was Sirius Black." Harry looked over at him astounded. Sirius had a son? Looking toward Lupin, Harry could see the same confusion on the man's face. The only person other than Dumbledore that wasn't confused was Moody.
"From the looks of things, he never told you," Guile sighed looking down at the ground. "I guess I should've expected this. I was told my father wasn't ashamed of me, but rather that he never knew I existed. My mother never told him that he was a father and married another later in her life. It seemed to be a family secret, and only recently was I told about my father's plight. I'm here to find out more about the man that you all knew and cared about; otherwise, I guess, you wouldn't be here today." He sat back down and leaned back, masking any feelings he may have had.
"Any questions you may have you may ask at the end," Dumbledore said from his seat. "Hagrid, please continue."
Harry sat back, taking in the stories of Sirius's exploits with the Marauders as Hagrid and McGonagall spoke. Moody spoke of Sirius's Auror training and his reasons for never finishing. Harry felt glued to his seat taking in whatever was told about Sirius. He only wished to hear more about is parents as the Lupin began to talk about life outside of Hogwarts. Tonks did not speak but rather held a sadden look in her eyes. Lupin's arm stayed linked with hers as he spoke.
The Weasleys skipped directly to Mister Weasley. He spoke as the representative it seemed like of the family. He spoke of the efforts that Sirius went through to save his family members and protect them. He also spoke of the events of at the Ministry of Magic, only a few weeks early. Harry closed his eyes, trying to forget it as Mister Weasley spoke. And once more, he felt Hermione gently squeeze his hand. She seemed to know when he needed it and had not let go of it as of yet.
"Ah, well, looks like my turn," Serge said, standing up from his seat. "My name is Serge James Thornton. Although I have no direct relationship to Sirius Black, I knew him. For those of you that don't know, but I've spent a good part of my life in Azkaban as well." He waited for a moment or two before continuing. "I had a cell close by to his. Prison time is slow time, and apparently, he also wasn't affected by the Dementors either. So we sometimes sang songs and such especially around Christmas." The man's eyes filled up with a joyous twinkle in them. " Still haven't gotten over everything that went on in there," his mood turned downcast for a moment or two before livening back up. "Anyway, we started to talk about what happened to each other. He told me about knowing James and Lily Potter, and Remus Lupin. I told him about my own family, my grandfather, Albus Dumbledore and several others.
"Who else?" Mister Weasley asked. Serge could only smile like a Dumbledore could.
"My Aunt Minerva McGonagall," Serge said with a smile before continuing. "Back to the story, we talked about it and I knew of his escape plan." He stood and talked for over an hour about the plan, relaying everything said between him and Sirius. Harry could not believe that all of this had happened. "I helped him go through it and waited around for another year before I was released. Thanks to testimony finally allowed into the court, I was free. And here I am." He said with a smile. Harry saw Grace tug on Serge's coat tail once, getting his attention. He looked down at her and smiled. "Now for the reason I was placed behind bars."
"I do hope you all know a man by the name of Lucius Malfoy," Serge's normally smiling face turned into a scowl. "I met his wife two years after I graduated. We met in a bar, and let's just say one thing led to another and I was thrown into Azkaban because of it. Narcissa Malfoy is in fact related to Sirius, his cousin. And this little angel her," Serge turned and lifted Grace off of her seat, "this is the joyous offspring of two people who loved each other." Grace began to blush at this. He gave her a kiss on the forehead and with that, he sat down, placing Grace back in her seat as well.
"Thank you Serge," Dumbledore said from his chair. "Harry would you like to add anything?" He nodded once, standing from his chair.
"Thank you," Harry said, a lump forming in his throat. "Thank you for coming here. You have no idea how important it was to have this, seeing familiar faces and new ones," he looked toward Guile who just nodded. "I'd don't think I'll ever be over it. No one should go like he did," Harry looked down at the ground, silent cursing Lestrange. "Hearing friends and family talk about him today, I think has given me some closure. Enough to move on in my life. In time I hope everything should get better.
"No one could replace my father, no one. I never knew him, but he hasn't left my side since the day he left this place. My mother hasn't left since the moment I was born. No one could replace them, and I never knew them, but they are one-in-a-million. Sirius was the closest thing I have ever had to a father. He died protecting me, something he promised he would do if he had to. I wish he never had to because he brought something into this world that we all could use right now, happiness. When I was with him, I never saw him happier, but that doesn't mean he wasn't. I may not like it, and many of you may not like it, but he is the happiest he had been all his life. Heaven is pure happiness, where dreams do come true. He is back with my parents-" Harry looked over to Lupin. Lupin seemed to understand what was to come. He was given the nod of approval "-and when the time comes, the Marauders will back. The true Marauders. James Potter, Lily Potter, Sirius Black, and Remus Lupin. They were best friends, and often that is what may keep people going sometimes. The idea that friends are forever is something I am willing to take to my death." He looked at Hermione smiling at her and then at Ron giving him the same smile, only to be scowled in return.
"When they are gone and you remain, if you remember them, talk about them, and love them, then they will never die. History turns to legend. Legend turns to myths. And myths are forgotten. But friendship - true friendship - can never be forgotten or lost. It will never die. Truth is none of us die as long as we are loved. Sirius was loved, by his friends, his family, and by me. What he has done for my life, and the lives of so many others, I will never forget. I hope you won't either. Thank you for coming here, and thank you for listening." Harry sat back down, trying to relax. Everything he had felt, everything he had kept inside for so long he had finally let out. Upon sitting down, Hermione picked his hand up and squeezed it gently. He felt some of his courage return, thankful for a friend like her.
His heart began to flutter, and looking back, it was constantly fluttering at this point. Like a snitch that had not been caught, his heart seemed to by flying around at the moment. Just being near Hermione began to send chills down his back. What was thing wonderful, enticing, captivating emotion? Harry had never felt anything like it, before this summer and now, now he did not think he could go another day without it.
"There is one more order of business for today," Dumbledore said with a smile as he stood from his chair. "Young Harry has asked for a slight change in scenery. I feel somewhat obligated to do so." Turning around he raised his wand, pointing it at the obelisk "Vices fons." He moved his wand in a diamond motion as he spoke. A white light enveloped the dark obelisk.
As the white light cleared, Harry looked on in wonder. A white marble fountain stood in the place of the obelisk. Carved at the top of it was a man and woman, the woman reading to the man as he looked up to her lovingly. Water flowed down underneath them. Around the center was a large dog, almost chasing its tail. A stag was reared up its back legs as a wolf walked aside it. The center pole at which the centerpiece was atop of was decorated with engravings of flowers and vines. Four small concrete angels were along the brim of the fountain's lowest level. The angels poured the water into the fountain even as it was coming down from the top.
"A more appropriate memorial for the Marauders, don't you think?" Dumbledore turned to look at everyone. For a while everyone sat in silence.
"I think its brilliant," Lupin said, standing up. "They would've loved it. I love it." Tonks stood up as well, wrapping her arms him. She pulled him into a hug, comforting the tired man. Harry knew that he and Lupin had to sit down and discuss everything that had happen, even if they could not return to Grimmauld Place.
"What do you think Harry?" Hermione turned toward him. He looked back at her and smiled, tears welling in his eyes.
"They're gone," Harry whispered surprised at his own feelings. The pain was gone, gone from him. He could not see the memories anymore. Whether it was because of the fountain or Hermione, he did not care. They were gone for the moment. An entire day of those painful memories of living without food, clothes, and love, and for now they were gone. All that was left was this feeling of happiness. "Not forever, but they're gone."
"That's great," Hermione said to him, smiling widely. Harry could only respond the same as he stared into the fountain. She slipped her hand into his once more and squeezed it gently. He found it was now quite commonplace to have her hand there.
"Thank you," Harry said, looking directly into her eyes. She gave him a puzzled look as he continued. "You know you're the only reason that I got through this all, right?" She nodded, blushing a bit.
"Why are you always saying things like that?" Hermione asked softly. Harry sat back in his chair, a little shocked by the question. He began to mentally chastise himself for keep doing things like this.
"I don't know," Harry said, looking back at her. "If you don't like it I'll stop-"
"No," Hermione said looking up from the ground. "I mean no, I don't mind." She gave him a smile, one the made him grin, cheek to cheek. Harry looked away from her for a moment, to see Ron coming toward them, glaring almost.
"Harry, Hermione, can I talk to you two for a moment?" He asked with a force tone.
"Sure," Hermione responded. Harry removed his hand from Hermione's and stared at Ron for a moment.
"Somewhere else?" He asked, looking around at everyone else. "It's kind of private."
"Alright," Harry rose from his seat, looking over at Dumbledore. He caught the old man's eyes for a minute. "We're going to look around for a little bit." Dumbledore nodded and went back to a conversation with McGonagall and Serge. Before Harry left, he noticed a shocked look on McGonagall's face and a sadden one on Dumbledore's. But at the moment, his mind was going of the possible reasons that Ron had wanted to talk to them. And most of them pointed toward his jealousy of Harry.