Revelations and Results by fenriswolf

Rating: PG13
Genres: Drama, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 28/05/2004
Last Updated: 28/05/2004
Status: Completed

It's seventh year, and Hermione has a boyfriend from Ravenclaw, putting a strain on the
trio. All is not as it seems, as Harry discovers to his horror. What happens when he discovers that
something is hurting the girl he secretly loves? Originally posted on FictionAlley, reworked and
expanded.




1. Chapter One
--------------

Revelations and Results By FenrisWolf

~~~~~

AUTHOR’S NOTES: Some of you may recognize this from FictionAlley. It was one of my first
attempts, so when I decided to post it here, I reworked and fleshed it out a bit, adding a bit to
their motivations and development. For those who have seen it before, I hope you like the changes.
For everyone else, enjoy!

~~~~~

Harry made his way down the stairs to the common room, stifling a yawn. Another nightmare had
woken him out of a sound sleep, but at least the telltale signs of a Voldemort-related dream were
absent; no screams, no maniacal laughter, and best of all, no sanity-wrenching pain stabbing
through his head from that accursed scar.

On the downside, the subject of the nightmare was one that was occurring far too often of late;
Hermione, slipping away, becoming fainter, unable to hear him calling out to her as he tried to
tell her—

His reverie was interrupted when he realized that the room he thought empty did in fact have a
lone occupant. He supposed he could be forgiven his assumption, though; there wasn’t a single
candle lit, and even the embers in the fireplace provided scant illumination. However, it took very
little light for Harry to recognize the vague outlines of the pert nose, soft cheek, and bushy hair
of the something-more-than-friend who’d been haunting his dreams. “Hermione? Why are you sitting in
the dark?”

It was hard to tell, but her shoulders seemed to stiffen at the sound of his voice. “Go away,
Harry.”

He frowned; this had been going on too long, and his patience was beginning to wear thin. Ever
since she started dating Mark Petersen from Ravenclaw, Hermione had been holding him and Ron at a
distance, and he was getting tired of it. Not only that, but her behavior had changed in other,
more disturbing ways. She was less confident in class, certainly less outgoing with her Housemates.
Even Lavender and Parvati had noticed it, and had gone so far as to ask Harry if he and Hermione
had had a fight. He’d been planning on having a talk with her during the next Hogsmeade weekend,
when he could haul her off to the Shrieking Shack if he had to, but this might be even better.

He cleared his throat and approached her. “I’m not going away, Hermione. I don’t know what’s
happened between us, but I miss my friend…I miss the trio.” He sighed a little as she stayed
silent. “Look, I know that your—” he choked on the word ‘boyfriend’ “—that *Mark* is going to
come first with you, but that doesn’t mean we have to stop being friends.”

“Things change, Harry. People grow apart.”

“Not us,” he objected. “You’re my best friend, that’s never going to change.” He laid a hand
above her elbow and she flinched and hissed. What the devil--? *“Lumos!”*

Hermione gasped and turned away, but not before he saw the bruise swelling one cheek. White-hot
rage erupted in his mind as he shoved up her sleeve to reveal the bruises there, some fresh, others
far older. “That bastard,” he snarled. “I am going to *kill* him…”

She grew frightened at the look on his face. “Harry, no, you mustn’t! It was my fault…” That was
the wrong thing to say, and the sound of self-condemnation in her voice just made him more furious.
He’d grown up in an abusive home; once Dumbledore finally recognized the signs, he’d arranged
counseling for Harry. He knew the signs all too well, and the idea of someone hurting her, hurting
*his* Hermione, was pushing him dangerously close to the edge.

“Your fault? *Your* fault!?! Hermione, how the devil can you *say* such a thing? That
sonofabitch uses you as a punching bag and you defend him?” Suddenly he noticed how his anger was
making her cringe; he forced his temper under control to keep from upsetting her further. He knelt
in front of her, lowering his profile so that he was no longer looming over her in a threatening
manner, and gently took one of her hands in his. “Shhh, it’s all right, Hermione, I’m sorry I
shouted, but try and believe me when I tell you that there is nothing you could have done to
justify…this…there is *no way* this is your fault!”

“But it was,” she said miserably, staring at her hand resting within his. “Mark loves me so
much, he doesn’t like to hear me talking about other boys. So when he was complaining about how
much time I spent studying, and I said you and Ron never minded, that set him off. He just cares so
much about me, Harry. He’s always sorry after it happens; he even does the healing charms so
nothing shows. He’s coming around later to make sure I’m all right.” She finally looked up at him,
trying to gauge his reaction. “Please, Harry, don’t be mad at me…”

If it hadn’t been for his years of experience with the Dursleys, Harry would never have been
able to hide the rage that was coursing through him. As it was, her last question, which made it
clear she’d been convinced he would blame her for what happened, almost broke his resolve. Instead
he moved slowly so as not to alarm her and carefully sat next to her, trying hard not to jar her
bruises. “I’m not mad at you, Hermione, I’m mad at myself for not realizing sooner what was
happening. My best friend was being hurt and I didn’t even notice.”

He put an arm around her shoulders to give her a gentle hug; she started to relax against him,
but then she gasped in pain. He stared at her; she’d gone deathly pale. “Hermione? What is it? What
else is wrong?”

She tried to speak, but was clearly having a hard time catching her breath. Harry’s stomach
knotted as he realized her injuries went beyond the bruises he could see. Quickly he cast a
diagnostic charm, and paled himself at the sullen red showing around her abdomen, indicating the
trauma of internal injuries. “That’s it, I’m taking you to see Poppy.”

“Harry, no,” she protested, her voice thready with pain. “If you do that, the whole school will
know. I’d rather--”

“*Somnus*,” he cast, sending her to sleep. He knew she would be mad at him later, but he
wasn’t taking any chances. Left untreated, her injuries ran the risk of being more than painful;
they could even be life-threatening. “*Mobillocorpus*.” Hermione floated off the couch and
drifted beside him as he worked his way across the room.

He was just about to pass out of the Gryffindor common room when the Fat Lady’s portrait swung
outward, admitting a tall boy with badly mussed, flaming red hair. No doubt there was a similarly
mussed, blond-haired, blue-eyed Ravenclaw returning to her dorm at this moment, but teasing his
friend about his love life was the last thing on Harry’s mind. “Get out of the way, Ron,” he
snarled.

Ron’s face lit up at the sight of best friend. “Hey, mate! Where are you off to…Hermione!?!
Harry, what happened?” he cried, stumbling as he recognized his friend’s floating body.

“Petersen happened,” Harry said flatly. He nodded as comprehension dawned on Ron’s face. “I came
in and found her sitting in the dark. Seems Mark didn’t like her talking about us all the time. She
didn’t want me to know, but she’s hurt bad. I’ve got to get her to the infirmary.”

“What about Petersen? We can’t let him get way with this!” Ron growled. He also had been missing
the close-knit friendship of the Trio, if not has deeply as Harry, and ever since he’d gotten over
his crush Hermione had become a second sister to him. With five older brothers and one baby sister,
Ron was programmed on a genetic level to defend and protect the women of his family, and the look
on his face did not bode well for Petersen’s long-term health.

“First we get Hermione to Poppy,” Harry insisted. “Then I’m going to go have a…chat…with her
soon-to-be EX-boyfriend.”

“You mean WE are, don’t you, Harry?” Ron objected. “I want a piece of the bastard, too!”

Harry struggled to find a way to explain how he felt to his friend in a way that wouldn’t
mortally offend him. Finally he said, “Ron, if that was Luna floating there, and not Hermione,
would you let *me* help *you*?”

Ron’s eyes widened, as he finally understood what Harry was trying to say. ‘About damned time,’
he thought to himself. “Okay, mate,” he said softly. “But if there’s anything left after you’re
done, I get second call.”

Harry smiled in a way most unGryffindorish; it was the sort of smile that would have had most
people agreeing with the Sorting Hat’s original sentiment that Harry would do well in Slytherin.
“For what it’s worth, you’ve got my word on it, Ron,” he said as he led the way back out through
the portrait hole, Hermione floating at his side, “but I don’t think there’s going to be enough to
go around…”

~~~~~

Mark Petersen strolled down the corridor leading to the Ravenclaw common room, well pleased with
himself and the world. His project with that mousy Gryffindor was going just about according to
plan, and it was only a matter of time before he had her completely broken to heel.

It had amazed him how well it worked the first time he’d played this game; pick a girl who is
bookish, who isn’t popular with the boys, and shower her with attention. Make her feel special,
feel loved. And then destroy her, whittling away bit by bit, until there’s nothing left to play
with. He’d had to transfer from Durmstrang after the last one, but his family’s money had hushed
hers up, especially since they didn’t want her suicide attempt noised about.

He was worried when he first arrived at Hogwarts that rumors about him would have preceded his
arrival, but apparently everyone was too concerned about You-Know-Who to pay attention to an overly
bright boy who liked to play mind games. He’d convinced the Sorting Hat to put him in Ravenclaw
instead of Slytherin, because he knew the hunting would be better there. What he hadn’t hoped for
was Hermione Granger.

He knew who Harry-bloody-Potter was, of course; one couldn’t swing a dead cat in the Wizarding
world without hitting someone praising the Boy-Who-Lived. Which made Granger all the sweeter as a
target; imagine nailing Harry Potter’s girlfriend. Oh, he knew they both denied it, claimed they
were just friends, but anyone with half a brain could tell how things really stood, even if they
couldn’t admit it to themselves. Pathetic, really.

So he’d wooed her, pushing all the buttons he knew how to push, quickly putting her off balance.
He also played Harry and Ron perfectly, being just enough of a jerk around them to make them
dislike him, without giving them anything concrete to tell Hermione. She of course saw it as them
being overprotective, which made her that much more stubborn. Priceless.

He’d had to go slower than he liked, but the end result would be worth it. He could tell Granger
had quite a body under those robes, and he would thoroughly enjoy using it before he dumped her. He
had to be careful, though; she’d had more friends than he thought, and he had to get her completely
hooked on him before he could start the whittling process. Last night had been the first time he’d
really been able to work on her, and he was a little annoyed with himself for getting carried away.
His frustration at being patient meant that he’d been a bit rougher than planned, especially that
bruise on her face; bruises that showed were a sign of carelessness. He knew he should have healed
it as soon as it happened, but it had turned him on so much he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He
really should take care of it, before someone saw—

Suddenly a hand gripped the collar of his robes and spun him around, thrusting him face first
into the corridor wall. The rough surface of the cold granite cut into his cheeks, and he felt the
first touch of fear as a warm wetness trickled down to his chin. What felt like an iron bar pressed
against the back of his neck, pinning him there, and then someone slammed a sledgehammer into his
kidneys, once, twice, three times. He felt his bladder void itself, and then a voice whispered into
his ear. “Hello, Petersen,” the voice said conversationally, as if its owner had not just brutally
assaulted him. “Time for a chat.” He was dragged away from the wall and thrown through the door of
an empty classroom, crashing into several desks before ending up on the floor.

As he staggered to his feet, he heard the door click shut, and felt a silencing charm settle
into place. He spun around and flinched at the sight of the black-haired, green-eyed person who’d
accosted him.

Petersen had always been aware, in a distant sort of way, that his attentions towards Hermione
Granger might lead him into conflict with Harry Potter, but his supreme ego had convinced him that
he could do whatever he wanted to her with Potter none the wiser as to why his best friend had
abandoned him. Now, however, the cat was clearly out of the bag. Despite his pain, he felt his calm
returning. When all was said and done, Potter was still a Gryffindor; all emotion and no brains,
just like his friend Weasley. He waited for the explosion of anger he knew how to manipulate so
well, and became nervous when he saw how cool Harry was staying. Suddenly the Ravenclaw was no
longer so certain he could wrest control of the situation…

Meanwhile, despite his outward appearance, Harry was struggling to remain calm and focused. The
smug bastard had been *humming* as he walked down the corridor, and the impulse to stomp the
insufferable git into so much goo on the soles of his shoes was almost overpowering. Using his wand
would be too easy, and once he started hexing him, Harry knew he wouldn’t be able to stop. Not that
he was worried about anything that happened to Petersen; he just didn’t want to end up in Azkaban
for it.

For the first time Harry felt happy about the sparring lessons he’d taken last summer to defend
himself from Dudley’s attempts to ‘practice’ on him, part of the advice he’d received from his
counselors. He still had to endure his relatives’ home for a month over the summer, but no longer
was he letting them victimize him. Now those lessons were going to provide a fringe benefit. “You
know, Petersen, for a Ravenclaw, you’re about the stupidest thing walking on two legs.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the Ravenclaw blustered.

“No? Well, let’s see if I can jog your memory. Hermione Granger, your ‘girlfriend’, the one
you’ve been using as a punching bag? The girl who happens to be my best friend? Who is thought of
as a sister by every other boy in Gryffindor? Who also happens to be respected and doted on by most
of the teachers at Hogwarts, including Professor Dumbledore? Do you have any idea just how many
people are going to be lining up to mount your head on a pike?” Harry shook his head and stalked
towards his target. “You couldn’t have picked someone more likely to get you killed if you tried,
you git—not that it matters.” He smiled; it wasn’t a very nice smile, and Petersen swallowed.

“You see, Mark—you don’t mind if I call you Mark, do you—we’re going to come to an understanding
right now.” His fist slammed into Petersen’s gut, doubling him over. “You’re not Hermione’s
boyfriend anymore,” he continued, chopping a short punch to his face, splitting his cheek. “You’re
never going to go near her again,” he added, throwing two more jabs, one to the mouth, the other to
the nose. “In fact, you’re never going to look at her again, because you’re dropping out of
Hogwarts,” he said, hammering another blow to the kidneys. “You’re going to be gone within 24
hours, I don’t care if you have to crawl; because if you aren’t, Mark, this will seem like a pillow
fight compared to what I’ll do to you.” The last punch landed well below the belt and left Petersen
retching on the floor.

Harry crouched down and gripped Petersen’s hair, giving his head a shake. He waited until the
other boy’s rapidly swelling eyes focused on him and said, still in that calm, conversational tone,
“Now in case I haven’t made myself clear, let me put it to you this way: I haven’t been at
Hermione’s side through thick and thin for the last seven years, facing trolls, basilisks, and
Voldemort himself to keep her safe, just so a little pissant like you could waltz in and hurt her.
You’ll be off Hogwarts’ grounds before another day has passed, or by Merlin, you’ll be under them.
Do we understand each other?”

~~~~~

Harry stepped out of the classroom and paused at the sight of Professor Dumbledore standing
before him, a worried expression on his face. “It’s all right, Professor, I didn’t kill
him—much.”

Dumbledore sighed inwardly, regretting yet again the strained relationship he had with the young
man before him. The loss of Harry’s godfather and his subsequent revelations of how much he’d kept
from Harry had shattered the trust the boy had held in him, and while their relationship had been
rebuilt, it would never be as warm as it once was. Harry had become far more self-reliant, driving
himself to prepare for his eventual confrontation with Tom Riddle. And while most of the time the
professor felt that such independence was a good thing, sometimes it led to unfortunate
results…

He cleared his throat and frowned slightly. “Harry, while I appreciate how upset Miss Granger’s
situation must make you feel, you cannot go about cursing those weaker than you. Your powers are
still too unpredictable at this point in your training—“

“I didn’t curse him,” Harry interrupted.

“What?” the headmaster asked, surprised. “I’m sorry, Harry, but I thought you said you had
chastised Mr. Petersen for his actions.”

Harry snorted at the professor’s oblique phrasing. “I said I didn’t kill him, and I didn’t. I
may be, what did Snape say, a ‘loose cannon’—“

“*Professor* Snape, Harry,” Dumbledore corrected for the hundredth time.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Yes, sir. The professor might think I’m a loose cannon, but I’m not
stupid. If I’d used magic, I would have killed the wank—um, Petersen. So I stuck with Muggle
methods.” He smirked at the puzzled expression on the headmaster’s face. “I beat the crap out of
him,” he clarified.

The headmaster restrained a sigh of relief and smiled. When he’d been summoned to the infirmary
by a frantic Madam Pomfrey and received her report on Hermione’s injuries, he’d been terribly
afraid he would arrive to find Harry standing over a corpse. “I’m very glad to hear, that, Harry;
the young man is deserving of some…chastisement for his actions, but bodies require so much
paperwork.” He eyes twinkled in their trademarked manner.

Harry shrugged. Now that he’d dealt with the git, the eventual fate of Mark Petersen was the
last thing on Harry’s mind. “How’s Hermione, Professor?”

Dumbledore’s twinkle faded. “Her physical injuries will heal quickly, but the damage he did to
her spirit will be another matter. I’m afraid Mr. Petersen is all too adept at manipulating a
person’s insecurities, and Miss Granger, for all her brilliance, is as subject to human frailty as
anyone else.” He paused for a moment, as if debating what to say, and then continued. “Fortunately,
Miss Granger is also a very strong-willed young woman. I believe that given the right…
encouragement… she might be able to quickly put this behind her.”

Harry had to strangle the impulse to go back and make good on his promise about putting Petersen
under Hogwarts’ soil. Instead he asked, “Can I go spend some time with her?”

“Of course, Harry; I cannot imagine anything that would be better for her right now than to have
you by her side.” At that somewhat cryptic remark, he sent Harry on his way, and then stepped into
the classroom, an extremely dark expression on his face. “Mr. Petersen; my, it seems you have had
an accident. How…unfortunate…” His voice faded as the door closed behind him.

~~~~~

Ron glanced up as the curtains around Hermione’s bed parted and his other best friend appeared,
the look of concern warring with one of satisfaction on his face. “How’s she doing, Ron?” he
whispered.

“She’s doing okay, Harry; Madam Pomfrey had to give her a sleeping draught to calm her down, but
once she was asleep she healed her up a treat. You know how good Poppy is, she’s patched you up
often enough.”

Harry smiled briefly. “I know; she keeps threatening to give me my own bed here.” He sat down on
the opposite side of the bed and took her hand gently in his, his eyes darkening with worry. “I
can’t believe how stupid I was, Ron. I should’ve spotted this weeks ago…”

Ron grimaced briefly. He’d wondered how long it would take his friend to start blaming himself
for Hermione’s condition. “Don’t take all the credit, mate,” he whispered back. “You’re not her
only friend, and none of the rest of us noticed anything…”

Harry’s eyes met his, and for an instant the old, tortured Harry shone through. “None of the
rest of you grew up with the Dursleys,” he said quietly as the pain flickered in his gaze before
receding. “Trust me, I know the signs, I just didn’t recognize them.”

Stomping firmly on the anger that always flared when he thought of his best friend’s home life,
Ron decided to derail Harry’s train of thought before it went too far down that path. “Well, maybe,
but at least it’s over now. And you got to deal with the little prick, right?”

A look of hungry pleasure crossed Harry’s face, and Ron felt a flicker of dread at the glimpse
of the side of Harry that he usually kept on a tight leash. “Yeah, I did; it wasn’t nearly enough,
but I got my point across.” He flashed a reassuring smile at his friend and chuckled. “You have the
same expression that Professor Dumbledore had when he found me. I didn’t kill him; I just showed
him a few of the tricks I learned for keeping Duddums in line. He’s not very pretty, but he’ll be
able to leave under his own power.”

Ron smiled and settled back into companionable silence, the two boys sitting like guardians
beside their sleeping friend. The Trio had been strained, but the strain was passing, and they were
together again.

~~~~~

Hermione’s eyes slowly opened, taking in the regrettably familiar sight of the infirmary’s bed
curtains around her. “I wonder what happened this time,’ she thought, stretching. A sharp pain in
her ribs startled her, and she gasped as the memories came flooding back. Mark talking with her,
flirting with her, making her feel special. Mark getting angry, belittling her, manipulating her.
Mark losing his temper and hitting her as she cried out in pain and shame. She sobbed and buried
her face in her hands, weeping furiously.

As she wept, she slowly became aware that someone was perched on the bed next to her, someone’s
hand was gently caressing her brow, and that a voice she almost recognized was making soothing
noises at her. She raised her face from her hands, choking back the tears, and looked up at…
“Harry?”

He smiled slightly and nodded, his eyes filled with concern, and Hermione felt something break
loose in her. She flung her arms around him, weeping inconsolably, and he just held her and rocked
her, letting her cry herself out.

Finally the tears slowed and, feeling self-conscious, Hermione disengaged her arms from around
Harry and tried to sit up straight in the bed. Her eyes were swollen, her nose was stuffed up, and
she was sure her complexion had gone all blotchy. She hated how she looked when she lost control
like that, and hated even more that Harry had seen her that way. “I’m so sor-“ she started to say,
but he sealed her lips with a finger.

“Hermione, I don’t want to hear the word ‘sorry’ cross your lips for the rest of the term, if
not longer. Nothing that happened was your fault, nothing! If anyone is to blame, it’s me. Yes,
me!” he insisted when she tried to shake her head. “I let that bastard hurt you, Hermione. I should
have known something was wrong, I should never have let him pull us apart. I should’ve been there
for you from the beginning, instead of waiting until it was almost too late.”

“I thought he loved me,” she whispered so softly he could barely hear her. “I guess I just
wanted to hear…someone…say it to me…I should’ve known better….”

Harry felt like a knife was twisting in his gut. “Ron and I both love you, Hermione,” he said
softly. “So do your other friends at school, and the professors, and your parents. You have lots of
people who love you.”

“It’s not the same, Harry,” she mumbled into his arms. “I know they love me, and I know Ron
does, even if he is a pain sometimes. And I know that you love me too, Harry, but you’re not in
love with me. That’s why he was…that’s why I let him…”

Harry held her close and rocked her in his arms, offering his silent support while at the same
time mentally castigating himself. It had taken him far too long to recognize what it was he felt,
but once he had it became clear to him that he’d loved Hermione for years, and not as a brother or
as a friend, but as someone who hoped for so much more.

He’d struggled for ages to find a way to tell her his feelings; despite his vaunted bravery he’d
never found the courage to say what he felt. He’d wanted to tell her after their fifth year, when
she helped him deal with the loss of Sirius. He’d wanted to tell her during their sixth year, when
she was upset from hers and Ron’s disastrous attempts at dating. And when she became involved with
Mark, and had seemed so happy while at the same time drifting away from him, he’d thought he’d lost
his chance forever. Now that chance was back, but he was still afraid of her reaction. Afraid, but
not enough to stay quiet, not when she needed to hear it so badly, not when faced with the
knowledge that keeping this secret could deny her what she might need to heal. “Hermione?”

“Yes, Harry?”

“I…I love you.”

She tensed for a moment, and then relaxed. She’d hoped to hear those words from him for so long,
had dreamed about it in those moments when she managed to forget the chasm that yawned between
mousy, bookworm, Plain Jane Granger and Harry Potter, who was so much more than just The Boy Who
Lived. It had been hard, but she had accepted her role as the best friend of the lonely boy she’d
first met on the Hogwarts Express. As famous as he was (and she admitted, as good looking), there
would always be girls who would want to be close to him, but none would share the friendship they
had, and that would have to be enough.

“Hermione? Did…did you hear what I said?” Harry asked, concerned as she drifted in her thoughts.
He glanced down and then locked his gaze with hers as she refocused her attention on him. “I love
you,” he repeated, his voice strangely earnest.

Hermione sighed and felt the wound in her heart tear a bit more. There was no way he could know
how much his words hurt, and no way she could tell him. He was trying to comfort her; she wouldn’t
let him know he was doing just the opposite. “I know, Harry; I told you I knew that. I love you,
too,” she replied, patting his hand.

“Hermione, you don’t understand…I’m not very good at this…I don’t just love you. I’m *in*
love with you, Hermione.” Her eyes widened as his words, his expression, finally registered. He
couldn’t be saying…could he?

“I’ve been in love with you for a long time,” he continued as her heart began to race. “I was
just too stupid to realize it. I almost went insane when you went to the Yule Ball with Viktor
Krum, and those few dates you had with Ron just about killed me. Then you started going out with
Petersen and I thought I’d missed my chance to tell you.”

He felt her shifting next to him, and realized how uncomfortable he must have been making her
feel. “I know you don’t feel the same way about me, and that’s okay. I just thought…if you knew…you
might not feel so bad about Petersen…you’d know that someday the right guy will come along…”

“Harry?”

“Yes, Hermione?”

“Just shut up and kiss me.”

Ron smiled and pulled the curtains closed, giving his two best friends some privacy. He’d
stepped away for a few minutes and had missed her awakening, and the two had been so wrapped up in
each other they hadn’t noticed his return. And for the moment, that was as it should be. What she
needed to heal, she had, and he went to give the rest of their friends the good news. “It’s about
ruddy time,” he whispered to himself as he left the infirmary.

~~~~~

It was two weeks after Mark Petersen’s expulsion, and the whole school was agog over the news
that Harry Potter and Hermione Granger were now a Couple, with a capital C. A few of the girls who
had been thinking they might have a shot at the Boy Who Lived were furious, but most of them,
including all the girls in the Gryffindor dorms, were happy for them both. The smiling, glowing
girl on Harry’s arm was quite a bit different than everyone was used to seeing, and a number of the
boys were kicking themselves for not noticing before just how pretty Hermione really was.

One of the more interesting side effects of their public declaration was the number of wagers
that suddenly were seen being settled all over the school. Wagers between students, pools within
houses, and even some of the teachers and staff seemed to be involved. A Ravenclaw even reported
seeing a very sour-looking Professor Snape handing over a stack of Galleons to an equally cheerful
Professor McGonagall.

As for what had happened with Mark Petersen, there were rumors, but with the exception of their
closest friends no one knew what had really happened. The most accurate guesses had Harry and Mark
getting into a fight over something he’d said (or, some whispered, done) to Hermione, with Harry
emerging as the victor. The same rumors had Petersen expelled for trying to use an Unforgivable
Curse on Harry, which even Harry’s worst enemies thought was an incredibly stupid move for anyone
to try against the Boy Who Lived.

The one real fly in the ointment was, as usual, Draco Malfoy. His stock had fallen quite a bit
since his father’s conviction as a Death Eater and subsequent sentencing to Azkaban, but he
apparently was determined to make up for it by being even more insufferable than ever. Even most of
the Slytherins refused to have anything to do with him, not that it made him any more cautious. His
whole purpose for existing had been reduced to finding ways to get under Harry’s skin, and his new
relationship with Hermione seemed to be tailor made.

BIG mistake. Huge.

~~~~~

“My, my, don’t you two look…cute,” the voice drawled, and Harry sighed. He felt Hermione shift,
and exerted a little extra pressure to keep her next to him.

“Don’t even start, Malfoy. We’re not in the mood for your mouth, so go be an annoying git
somewhere else.” He felt his girlfriend poke him in the ribs for his language, but right then he
didn’t really care. He wanted to nip off any confrontation with Draco before it started, and if it
took a bit of crudity to pull it off, sobeit.

Unfortunately Draco was being even thicker than usual, and took the dangerous glint in Harry’s
eyes as a sign he was scoring points in his little game, and not as the warning it was. “Really,
Potter, I just wanted to congratulate you. Everyone’s been saying you two belonged together for
years, and here it’s finally happened.” He looked Hermione over in a way that had caused other
girls to slap his face more than once, making her flush and Harry blood boil. “Yes, I’d say,
congratulations are *definitely* in order,” he smirked, and then decided to drive the knife
home. “Too bad you have to make do with a Ravenclaw’s leavings, but beggars can’t be--”

*Pop.*

The albino ferret squealed indignantly as it rose into the air. Harry gaped at his girlfriend,
who was calmly levitating the Transfigured Malfoy through the air with her wand. “Really, Draco,”
she scolded, “you should know by now that I won’t let you get Harry into trouble by goading him
about me. And now that he’s not just my best friend but my boyfriend, I have an even better reason
to look out for him.”

Hermione ignored the furious chittering of her victim and mused, “Now what to do with you; I
wonder if Pansy Parkinson would like a new pet… No?” she asked as the ferret shrieked in horror.
“Oh well, it was just an idea.” She flicked her wand and muttered, materializing what looked like
an oversized hamster ball around the angry little mustelid. Hermione lowered the sphere to the
floor, and then sent it scooting with her toe. “Run along now, Draco; maybe Professor McGonagall
will change you back to your odious self before Pansy finds you.”

Harry watched, mouth gaping, as the plastic-enclosed ferret skittered down the hall, and then
collapsed into laughter. After a moment Hermione joined him, and the just held onto each other as
tears of mirth ran down their cheeks. Finally they regained their composure, and Harry pulled her
into a tight hug. “Oh, Merlin, that was…just about the…funniest thing I’ve ever seen!” he gasped,
still chuckling.

“I’ve been wanting to do that ever since fourth year,” Hermione admitted, happy in Harry’s arms.
“It’ll only last for about fifteen minutes, then he’ll change back, none the worse for wear.” She
paused and frowned. “Of course, I’m not sure his clothes will show back up…ewww, a naked Draco,
that’s a nasty thought.”

That almost set Harry off again, and he held her at arm’s length, just so he could look at her
face admiringly. “The most brilliant, most beautiful witch at Hogwarts, and she’s my girlfriend,”
he marveled as she blushed. “Have I told you today just how much I love you, Miss Granger?”

She smiled up at him, her eyes shining. “Why no, I don’t believe you have, Mister Potter.”

“Well, then, let me correct that oversight; I love you, Hermione.”

“And I love you, Harry.”

And all was right with the world.

*~Fin~*