Love Advice From a Hippogriff

"Harry, don't even think about it."

"Aw, why not? It'd be fun!"

"You know I hate flying!" Hermione said sharply, arms crossed resolutely over her chest as she flat-out refused over and over again.

"It's safer than a muggle airplane, Hermione!"

"I'd take a plane with metal wings and upholstered seats over a pony with a lot of feathers any day, Harry Potter! There is no way you'll get me back on that thing!"

"Buckbeak resents that remark."

As if to prove Harry's point the hippogriff fixed Hermione with his sharp stare, and as a result, the young witch scuttled backwards nervously and scowled. Patting the large animal, which nuzzled eagerly against his hand, Harry laughed and wheedled once more

"But you did it before!"

"To save Sirius, Harry!" Hermione cried in exasperation, and immediately regretted it. Harry's face went hard and blank, as though carved from stone, and he dropped his hand from atop Buckbeak's head.

"I'm sorry," she whispered hurriedly as her best friend turned away. Despite the months that had passed since the incident at the Department of Mysteries, he hadn't fully recovered from Sirius' death. With sad eyes she watched as Harry turned and walked towards the lake, a favorite place of contemplation for him, Buckbeak trotting loyally behind and whuffling softly. Feeling it would be useless to follow, Hermione sighed and made her way back up to the school, casting one last look over her shoulder at the lone figure seated at the water's edge.

"Girls are confusing," Harry said simply, not looking up as something heavy flopped to the ground beside him. Concentrating on the blades of grass currently suffering his wrath, he vented to the hippogriff, grumbling "I like her. I really, really do. Hell, it goes beyond like. I think I love Hermione, Buckbeak."

Sympathetic amber eyes surveyed him curiously as Buckbeak stretched out lazily upon the cool grass. Goodness only knew how Harry's mood had switched from grieving over his godfather's death to pining for a girl he was sure he could never have, but a hippogriff's life was rather boring. Therefore, Buckbeak was certain he had nothing better to do, and lay beside Harry supportively.

"I can't tell her this, of course," he continued miserably, "it'll only put her in danger. I can't get close to anyone without putting them at risk. Anyone that I love, and anyone that loves me automatically becomes a target. Voldemort will do anything to get at me, to break me down. I'm surprised Ron and Hermione haven't been hurt yet... been killed..." Glancing at Buckbeak, Harry noticed that he was being held under a piercing stare. It was a stare so scrutinous that he felt it nearly violated his person.

"Of course that's not the only reason I can't tell her!" Harry said incredulously, as if the beast beside him were putting up an argument on the subject. "She's my best friend, Buckbeak, and that's what she's always been... and what she always will be. There's absolutely no way she could feel like I do."

'Are you sure?' said a voice in the back of Harry's head, which he mentally attributed to Buckbeak. Harry glared at him.

"No... I'm not sure," he admitted, "but I don't want to take the chance of asking her, and finding out that she could never think of me that way." Unhappily, he went back to ripping vehemently at innocent blades of grass with slender fingers. Harry opened his mouth to say something more when, to his dismay, Buckbeak simply got up and left.

"Some friend you are!" Harry called after him in the sun's dying light, watching the dark silhouette as it trotted away and disappeared behind Hagrid's hut. Sighing, he lay back, spreadeagled upon the ground and stared up at the sky. He rested both hands behind his head, breathing deeply. The evening air was crisp and clean, rustling leaves on boughs of the ancient trees in the nearby Forbidden Forest as it whispered softly over the castle groun-

"ARGH! BLOODY HELL!"

The large, feathered face had appeared suddenly above Harry, surveying him quizzically with something clenched in its enormous beak. Sitting up, Harry grimaced and squirmed in disgust as Buckbeak dropped the dead ferret in his lap. Gingerly he picked it up, finding the cold, bristly fur unpleasant against his palm, and said sarcastically

"Oh, thanks. What am I supposed to do, win Hermione over with a stiff, smelly dead ferret?"

If hippogriffs could smile, Buckbeak most certainly did.

---

The next afternoon found a thin figure hurtling down the steps and running across the Hogwarts grounds, a scrap of paper clutched in one hand that read 'Behind Hagrid's hut'. Several light raindrops had already made their descent, cutting through the warm air like tiny blades, and spattering the lawn with shimmering liquid crystals.

"Harry!" Hermione said breathlessly, rounding the corner and skidding to a halt at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Worriedly her eyes roved over Harry, making sure he was okay, and then she thrust the note in his face and asked "What's this about?"

Looking nervous, Harry took his hands out from behind his back. Hermione recoiled in mild horror at the proferred ferret, looking up at him like he was crazy. "What...? Harry, are you alright? You're holding a dead... thing!" Harry smiled as though the whole thing were very simple, and said

"Hermione, I love you."

Mouth hanging open slightly, Hermione stared at him, wondering if this was some sort of joke. But Harry continued with scant delay, sounding completely serious

It took conversation with a hippogriff and a very potent deceased ferret for me to get the courage to admit this to you. But I do love you. I understand if you you don't feel the same way, but... this is how I feel."

'There. You said it.'

Harry still wasn't sure if it was his own mind, or Buckbeak talking, but he tossed the ferret over his shoulder and moved towards Hermione, who instantly enveloped him in a suffocating hug. She still wasn't sure of the dead ferret's importance in this situation, but someday she was sure they would laugh about it.

"Oh Harry!" She whispered, burying her face in his chest. Taken aback and having expected her to retreat, Harry patted her awkwardly on the back and smiled. Hermione had accepted, and returned, his feelings for her. With one arm around her, Harry steered her towards Buckbeak and was met with no resistance. They both bowed. Buckbeak, his stomach full of delicious decaying mustelid, inclined his head almost immediately. Gently, Harry lifted Hermione and placed her on the hippogriff's broad back.

He mounted just in front of her, and found that his stomach did a startling somersault of pleasure when she wrapped her arms around his torso fearfully, though with a touch that suggested she trusted him completely. Buckbeak spread his wide, majestic wings and reared on his hind legs just as Harry heard a soft voice in his ear, whispering

"You know, hippogriffs are the symbol of love..."

Buckbeak shot off into the air, rising gracefully towards the rainswept heavens as Harry thought with slight amusement

'Always take love advice from a hippogriff...'