Protection, Possession

LostEboni

Rating: PG13
Genres: Drama, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 05/08/2004
Last Updated: 03/01/2005
Status: in_progress

Basically, 'Mione's in need of protection against the ever growing threat of Voldemort. Who better than to provide that protection than the one and only, Harry Potter? Chapter 8 edited.

Chapters

1. Prologue: The Future In Erised

2. Difficulty and Indecision

1. Prologue: The Future In Erised

A/n: Hi everyone. I know I've been away for a very long time, but I'm back now and ready to work. And I do mean work. See, I have this idea in my head that this story, while minimally good, is sorely lacking. I mean, there's no intrigue, no mystery, nothing to keep you guessing. So, I've decided that there needs to be a few changes. Hopefully, you'll like this just as much as the first version, if not more so. Thanks for being so patient with me. Enjoy! Eboni.

Prologue: The Future in Erised

Night had fallen once again on the gleaming stone towers of Hogwarts. The moon cast its eerie glow into the darkened hallways, splaying wavering shadows over the dreary gray walls.

The hour was late and all sane persons, excluding over-zealous poltergeists and savvy-eyed cats, were all abed and sleeping peacefully. That is, of course, except for one slightly peeved prefect whose duty it was to patrol the upper, more uninhabited floors of Hogwarts, grumbling the entire way even as she found it necessary to look over shoulder from time to time.

This wasn't exactly her idea of a grand ole time, and had it not been for the skittish nature of her prefect partner, she wouldn't have had to do this alone. All alone in the darkest parts of Hogwarts without any protection whatsoever. She winced at the dark turn of her thoughts, and she shook it off, telling herself she was just being silly. Of course she had protection, her wand pocketed safely in her robes should she need it...

Fat load of good it would do if her hands were shaking too badly to use it.

Luckily, she only had four more rooms to go before her shift was over. Let the next idiot search for boogeymen (or boggarts) in the shadows; she had homework still to finish. If ever there was a truer sign of disliking one's job, it was this instance. Otherwise, looking forward to finishing her scroll and a half long assignment from Professor Snape might seem a bit off.

A glint of light caught her eye as she cautiously stuck her torch in the last room. Intrigued, she crept closer... only to yelp in fear and surprise as she leapt away from another body moving around in the room.

Only when her back was against the wall in the corner of the room, hand over her erratically beating heart did she realize she was staring into a mirror, at her own reflection. Calmed significantly, she took a tentative step closer, curious as to why a mirror would be in here of all places, as this floor was likely the most deserted in all the castle. She moved until she was directly infront of it, reached out a hand to touch the cool glass surface.

Amazement and wonder littered her features as she watched things happening on the mirror's surface, activated seemingly by the mere proximity of her hand. It was almost like... like wizard photographs, or like scenes of those moving picture-shows that muggles liked so much... scenes, she noticed, playing from her own life.

She saw great things, her house team winning the Quidditch cup, scoring high on her N.E.W.T.S, graduating at the top her class...

But the last scene stole her breath, stood out from all the rest, and in it...

There she stood in the arms of Harry Potter...

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2. Difficulty and Indecision

A/n: Hi Everybody! Don’t mind me, I’m just running through my chapters, doing some major editing. I’ll be posting them all back on PK as I edit them, and I will tell you now that a lot of what you read will be different from before. However, if any of you would rather read the older version, it’s on ff.net. My username there is Akai-chan. Enjoy! ^-^

Chapter 1: Difficulty and Indecision

Hermione Granger sat in her room, at her desk, staring absently at a blank piece of parchment. She’d been sitting like this for hours now, just staring off into space like her least favorite Divination professor. Honestly, she hadn’t even had such a loss of words when she first got her Hogwarts letter.

And if she weren’t so depressed at the moment, she’d find it rather amusing.

But it wasn’t, and she was, for lack of a better word, stumped on what to do about this entire mess.

She’d woken up this morning, fresh with the idea that writing the git a letter would be the perfect way to bridge their gap of communication and explain her actions.

But, of course, being who she was, she immediately became indignant at the idea of explaining herself. Why should she have to? It was her God-given right to help out a friend in need, and if he couldn’t understand that, he could rot for all she cared.

But… perhaps and explanation is in order.

After the battle in the Department of Mysteries, things seemed to slow down considerably for Hermione. It wasn’t, of course, because she wanted them to. There just wasn’t a whole lot she could do while recovering from the curse she’d taken straight to the chest. She’d been bedridden for a long while, able to do little more than read and eat; thank God for books.

She hadn’t been the only one recovering, though. Ron, who had been attacked by that horrid… brain-creature, was with her as well. He spent most of his time fussing over her, and at the time, she’d thought it was rather sweet.

So sweet, in fact, that when he’d asked her to Hogsmede with him, in his shy and timid, Ron-like way, what could she do but accept?

When Madam Pomfrey had finally deemed her able to leave her bed for more than an hour at a time, they went and had their day in Hogsmede villiage. And looking back on it now, she still thought they had the most marvelous time. Ron had, for once in his life, been the perfect gentleman. He paid for their meal and butterbeers, bought her candy when they went to the local sweet shop, and even gave up going to the Quidditch supply store to go look at books with her. She was so surprised at how sweet he was being!

Ron never behaved that way before. He had always and forever been a selfish, boarish, Quidditch-loving git. Of course, he could be sweet when he wanted to be, and he was always one of the first to defend her honour, but he was who he was.

He continued behaving this way for the entire week afterward, and Hermione was beginning to believe that his attack had really caused some damage. Really, how could she not think such a thing, especially after he asked her to be his girlfriend two weeks before the end of the term?

Then again, how could she not think herself completely mad for accepting?

And that is when everything changed.

Suddenly, the sweet and sensitive Ron from earlier had become a possessive and jealous arsehole. Every time another guy came anywhere near her, he would scream bloody murder. Even when she’d hugged Remus goodbye before he left for Grimmauld again, Ron had accused her of fancying the older man. The idiot even had the nerve to call her a whoring scarlet woman once. At which point, she had hexed him six ways from Sunday and told him he was lucky she missed her actual target, else wise he’d be a sterile mess.

That wasn’t even the worst of it.

It seemed like nothing she ever did was good enough for him. He criticized her every move, her every thought if she were bold enough to share it with him. He even told her that her clothes made her look like a slut, though how school uniforms could achieve this she was not sure.

And so, having had enough of him and his perpetual temper, she had fled the castle for a while. It was no more than a day, really. She hadn’t really needed to diligently attend her classes at that point in the year and had been excused from them all without question. She felt a little guilty for that now, having told them that she wasn’t feeling well, something to do with the lasting affects of Dolohov’s curse and all. It hadn’t been a total lie, but still.

After what seemed like hours of just wandering aimlessly, she found herself at her favorite spot out by the lake. There was a particular weeping willow tree that was rather massive, so much so in fact that it completely masked one’s presense to anyone for quite a distance. And this would be the reason she didn’t even see Harry until she was exactly two meters from the tree’s massive bulk.

He was sitting with his back against the tree’s trunk, looking so forlorn with his legs drawn up against his chest and his arms around his knees, his head resting on his arms.

It hit her then that she had not seen him since the incident and that was almost a month ago. How on earth had she not noticed his absence? He was one of her best friends, probably her only real friend and it was as if she’d been completely ignoring him this entire time. She couldn’t believe that she’d been so caught up with Ron that she had forgotten about Harry.

Her heart broke with every step she took towards him. Each pace forward added another load of guilt to her already heavy shoulders as she took in her friend's almost emaciated and neglected condition.

Harry had always been a small boy. He had been the size of a sparrow in their first year, and the scraggly-ness of his body hadn’t really improved over the years. He had gotten taller of course; it was just the way of puberty. He also had even gained a little muscle from Quidditch, but not much else had changed. It was obvious that the Dursleys had never fed him well, and his condition did improve when he came to Hogwarts during the year but…

Hard on the heels of her overwhelming guilt and sadness came a sudden wave of anger just then. Had no one noticed the condition that Harry was now in? Why hadn't the adults done anything about it? Why hadn’t Dumbledore?

And for that matter, why hadn’t she?

She sighed shakily, swallowing back her tears and knelt in front of her friend, wondering what she could say, what she could do to make things better for him.

Honestly, she wouldn’t be a bit surprised if he told her to go away and hang herself. She felt she deserved it, forgetting about him as she had.

But that didn’t stop her from reaching out, shakily running her hand through his overly messy hair. Slowly, he lifted his head and looked up at her, and she found herself momentarily frozen by the intensely vacant look in his eyes.

Coming to herself after a moment, she gave him a watery smile. “Hello Harry.”

It took him a moment to say anything, and Hermione suspected it had been because he was trying to figure out who she was at first.

“Hermione? What… What’re you doing here?” His voice sounded so weak, raspy from disuse. The sound of it did nothing but tighten the knot in her throat.

“I came to see you, Harry. How are you?” She winced. What an utterly stupid question. Any idiot could see how he was doing, how completely gaunt he looked.

He didn’t answer, though. He, instead, shook his head and looked away across the lake, avoiding her eyes and her question. So she tried again.

“How’ve you been feeling, Harry?”

“I don’t know. I’m not sure how murderers are supposed to feel.”

Hermione stifled a sigh and glanced away, pondering how to respond. Although she was empathetic to his situation and mental state, a tiny bit of her was exasperated at having to go through this again.

Just when he was starting to act like the old Harry, HER Harry, he was on a downward spiral once again. Only this time, instead of becoming surly and rebellious, he had withdrawn from the world. She almost preferred the snarky Harry-at least she could work with anger.

So with that thought in mind, she steeled herself and replied tartly, "I expected more from you Harry."

She was heartened by the tiny flicker of surprise as he turned back to face her. "Wh-what?"

"Is this how you honor Sirius' memory? By starving yourself and hiding away from the world?" She gestured at his thin frame. "Sirius died while helping to save your life. He was a good, noble man who served the Light well. You dishonor him by not stepping up and continuing the fight."

He jerked away from her and stood up then, his reaction one of instantaneous anger and indignation.

“Oh, and I suppose you would know all about losing people you love? Well you’re not always right about me, Hermione, and how dare you assume you know even half of what I’m feeling right now! You know nothing, nothing about dishonor or about what Sirius would have wanted!”

The way he had been glaring down at her then really shook her to the core. She had never seen so much raw emotion in his eyes, at least not directed at her.

But Hermione Granger was not one to be intimidated, especially when her only true friend was in need.

“And you do? If you really thought anything at all about what Sirius was like and who he was, you wouldn’t be here sulking right now, Harry! If you knew anything about him at all, you wouldn’t be calling yourself a murderer because you would realize that Sirius went after you because he loved you! And if you stopped wallowing in self-pity long enough, you might actually realize that you weren’t the one who was holding the bloody wand! It was Bellatrix Lestrange, Harry. And more to the point, it was Voldemort who orchestrated this whole bloody mess! What you’re doing right now is exactly what he wants, Harry, and I will have none of it. I will not sit by and watch you torture yourself!”

She was gasping for air by then, having worked herself into quite a frenzy. She took deep, shaky breaths, trying to calm herself down, cool her anger.

It helped that Harry was silent, though. He had looked completely shocked to hear all the things she’d had to say. And she could identify with his surprise.

She had never really been that vehement about something before. But she had been determined that he understand what he was doing to himself.

After a moment, his entire body sagged, as if all the righteous indignation of before had been sucked from his body.

At the sight of him, again, looking so vulnerable and defeated, her own anger deflated completely.

“Oh Harry…” She closed the distance between them again, and pulled him into a tight hug.

It was definitely going from one extreme to another; one minute they were shouting their heads off, the next she was hugging him fiercely. But that was one of the things you could expect with Harry-complete and total emotional upheaval.

And to this day, it still surprised her that he hugged her back, holding on with desperation, as if he were afraid that if he let go she might leave him alone again. His next words, though, shook the very foundations of her being and brought her guilt back full force.

“How can I not be a murderer, Hermione, it’s the way everyone’s been treating me since we got back. Either they handle me with kid-gloves or they don’t come near me at all. I… I haven’t seen you and Ron this entire time, and I started to think you hated me for what I’d done.”

She wanted to believe so badly that she had heard wrong, that his words were just muffled because his face was pressed to her shoulder. But if nothing else, Hermione had learned that lying to one’s self was complete stupidity. That didn’t, however, assuage the anvil pressure of guilt weighing on her heart.

“Harry, I’m so sorry…” She choked on the rest of her words, her tears finally breaking through to the surface. And she hated it.

She had always hated crying because she thought it made her weak and useless, and doing so at that moment didn’t really make her feel fantastic either. But it couldn’t be helped, and it almost seemed as though Harry was comforting her now instead of the other way around.

And this was, of course, how Ron found them.

Hermione sighed as she thought back on the memory. Not-so-surprisingly, Ron had been livid and had left without a word between them. He had not spoken to either her or Harry since then, and she honestly didn’t think she minded at all.

Their 'relationship' had been on hold since.

And now that she thought about it, why was it so important for Ron to know how she felt? If he couldn’t understand that she needed to be there for Harry, he could bugger off. He, of all people, should have been the first to want to help Harry. Instead, he chose to be jealous and resentful of the boy who was supposed to be his best mate. She couldn’t understand it, and she wasn’t going to make herself try to anymore. Harry was what was most important right now, and that was where her focus would remain.

Before she could dwell on the implications of that particular thought, she was brought from her musings by a knock on her door.

Her mum walked in then, not waiting for her daughter to give permission to enter.

"Hermione, dear, there's someone here to see you. One of your mentors, I believe. He said it was important."

Hermione stood from her desk, her brow furrowed in slight confusion. Why would any of the adults from Hogwarts come to see her without an inquiring notice before-hand?

Almost immediately she began to wonder if things were going well in the Wizarding World. Had there been more attacks? Were Muggles being killed? Was Harry all right?

She almost knocked her mother over trying to get out of her room and nearly took a tumble down the stairs. She took the steps two a time, trying to get downstairs as fast as she could to find out what was going on.

What she saw when she got there, however, gave her tremendous pause.

The scene didn’t seem out of the ordinary, at first. There was no real big deal about her father standing in the living room, conversing with Remus Lupin.

It was a sight she could grow fond of, actually. It did her heart good to see her parents getting along with others that were important in her life.

But again, this wasn’t what stopped her in her tracks.

Rather, it was the enormous creature on the other end of the chain that her former professor was holding.

Sitting calmly on its haunches and idly watching the conversation between the two men was the biggest cat Hermione had ever seen.

It looked to be a black panther, its fur sleek and soft-looking but unmarred by any sort of spots or stripes. Hermione stepped back a little, frightened when the massive animal rose to its feet upon sensing her arrival. She noticed then that its shoulder was level with Remus’ hip. And while the former professor was not an extremely tall man, he was still much taller than her.

And it seemed he was well attuned to the beast’s actions, for he placed a hand on its head, receiving a calm look in reply before it settled back down.

He looked up and smiled at Hermione, a smile that she noticed was rather worn, making the few wrinkles on his otherwise handsome face more pronounced. He looked so tired. And so sad.

She felt sorry for this man, felt that he didn’t deserve the hand he was dealt in life.

“Hello Hermione. How have you been? I trust your summer is going well.”

She gave him her best smile, one that probably let him know she was feeling almost just as tired, almost just as sad.

“Yes, sir, it’s going fine. And I’ve been doing well, I guess. How are things with you?”

He smiled tiredly. “As well as can be expected under the circumstances. But I’m sure you don’t want to hear about an old man’s troubles, so I’ll just get to the point of my visit. I’ve come bearing gifts,” he said, giving his feline companion a hearty pat on the head.

“Um… I’m not exactly sure what you mean.” She was totally sure of what he meant, but she was hoping that she was wrong.

“Well you see, Hermione, I brought this handsome creature you see here for you. If I am correct, you were specifically chosen to take care of him over the summer.”

“Wait, what? Take care of him? How can I take care of him? There’s no room in such a small house for such a… an insanely large, predatory cat creature!”

"Calm down, Hermione, I understand what you’re saying, but this was not my idea. Headmaster Dumbledore requested that I bring him to you for safe-keeping. We found him wounded in the Forbidden Forest, not too far from Hagrid’s hut, and he immediately volunteered to nurse him back to health. Unfortunately, after he was healed, having something this big and potentially dangerous in the castle was not something Dumbledore wanted the Governors to find out about; we didn’t want a repeat of the Buckbeak incident. And most of us are too busy with the war to care for him, so the ever-creative Headmaster suggested he be brought to you. I truly hope this doesn’t inconvenience you. I know it’s a lot of responsibility, but that’s exactly why you were chosen as the most likely candidate.”

Well, his explanation seemed plausible enough. And this seemed exactly like some of the crazy things the Headmaster was known for, but still. Something didn’t quite click right.

If taking care of the animal had been so important, she would have at least gotten an owl about it instead of being put on the spot-wouldn’t she? Professor Dumbledore would have wanted to make sure she was fully prepared for this new arrival, for his convenience and hers. She considered that for a moment, then stifled a groan. Then again, this was the Headmaster she was thinking of.

Despite her suspicions, however, she would accept this new situation with grace and maturity. If nothing else, it would give her time to further investigate just exactly what was going on around here.

She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling an oncoming headache. “I suppose I don’t see a problem with it, Professor, as long as it’s okay with my parents.”

“Oh you don’t have to worry, darling. I’ve already spoken with Mr. Lupin about those matters, and it’s more than alright. Besides, I think it’ll be wonderful for you to have something to occupy yourself with, other than your homework,” her father said in a slightly teasing manner, which was totally out of place for this particular situation.

She smirked slightly and sighed as she looked down into a pair of oddly familiar green eyes.

This was definitely going to be an interesting summer…