Chapter Six: The Sun is Setting…
Hermione awoke to the sound of screams. They were not her own, though they sounded just as terrified. She hugged herself, wishing Harry would return. "I'm here," a voice in the dark said. It was calm, and she reached out for him immediately drawing her close. "It'll be alright."
"Harry?" Hermione said, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.
"It's me," he said, hugging her back.
"Tell me it as all a nightmare," she begged, but his silence told her the answer. Sobs overcame her body as she hid her face in his neck.
"It'll be fine, he won't hurt you again," Harry said. She looked up at him, the watch still in her hand.
"How do you know, you don' t even know who did….." her voice broke off into sobs again. She wanted to push away from his arms, thinking she was not worth him, but the push only caused him to hold her even more.
"Because the man guilty of this crime is laying strapped to the bed down the hall," Dumbledore said. Hermione looked out of the safety of Harry's arms to see the thrashing body of someone, his silenced screams showing on his face.
"What happened?" Hermione asked. Harry wiped away a stray tear on her face, causing her to blush.
"From what I understand, he had a confrontation with a bat, told him to turn himself in," Dumbledore said, a twinkle in his eye. "Now, I believe you need to rest." He put his hand on her shoulder. He gave her a soft smile before giving Harry a knowing look. Harry did not return it, instead only concentrating on her.
"You going to be okay?" He asked her, letting her rest against him once more.
"Maybe," she said, comforted once more. "Do you still like me? After what he…."
"Sssh," he said, putting his finger over her lips. "You're my friend, my best friend." Harry said, pulling her closer. "My only friend. I don't know what would happen if I lost you." He hugged her tightly. Her fears were temporarily forgotten as she looked at his sadden eyes. The darkness and sadness clouded him emerald eyes like the night covering the valley. Like a small child who had lost his parents…
"Thank you." She said, hugging him even tighter. "Can I still come over?" Hermione asked, looking ashamed at herself. She didn't want to impose upon him; he had already done so much for her.
"I don't think I could spend a holiday alone, knowing you were here by yourself," Harry said. "I've got to contact Alfred, have him prepare a room for you." He stood up, letting the safety ebb away. He took one look at the man tied up at the bed and scowled, ever so slightly, Hermione was unsure if he even did in the first place. He looked back at her and smiled. "Want to come with me, to our commons I mean?" She nodded, looking up at him slightly.
"Could you carry me? I don't feel like I've got much strength to walk," she said, the blush evident. He nodded, lifting her with ease. "How did you get so strong?" She asked, surprised at the little effort he put into carrying her.
"When you're alone most of your life, you find things to occupy your time," Harry said, not looking back at the strapped down, screaming man. "Reading and working out. Makes a man strong both in body and mind." Hermione smiled, and wrapped her arms around his neck, snuggling closer to him.
"Thank you Harry, for everything," Hermione said. "Thank you for being my hero." She said, letting her aching soul and body rest. She knew he'd be there for her in the morning, when the nightmare became too much.
I0I
Harold stood in front of his fireplace in his bedroom at the manor, staring up at the portrait of his parents. The break was hard on him, but more so on his best friend sleeping in the next room. Her nightmares were contained, for the most part, but every night she'd relieve a part of it, if not the worst part, only for a moment or two. She'd come find him, often his was up reading. Like he would to a small child, he opened his arms, accepting her into his lap. There she fell back asleep. Placing her on his bed, he'd leave he alone for the night. Except for tonight. Christmas Eve.
He looked back at the peaceful slumber that had fallen upon her. She was so peaceful and calm at the moment, often how she was whenever he was around. Sighing he looked back up at the portrait. He had exampled to her the party he was throwing for the Ministry, and she was his invited guest, though she had her doubts about attending, after he agreed not to leave her side for too long, she'd attend.
It had been made public what had happened to her, after the bastard, as Harold had taken to calling him, was taken to Azkaban, awaiting trial. He swiftly was sentenced, and there was an implosion of sympathy and cards for Hermione at Hogwarts. Luckily, they were not there.
She had taken to the library at the Manor like a duck takes to water, though Harold never said it like that around her. He had read most of them, but at the moment was content to reading them again. Hermione had mental regressed, as a self-defense mechanism to what happened. She had begun to act like a scared ten year old, in an effort to forget what happened. He did not want to involve the psychiatrist and psychologist he often employed, rather, working on it on his own.
He had come close to getting through to her, but had to pull back. It hurt him to see her in such pain. At the point when he should've pressed hard, and gotten through, the tears were unbearable to him. It was Christmas Eve now, and by the end of the break, he was going to push through to her, even if it meant canceling the party he was going to through.
He had consulted both Alfred and Dumbledore on this, not knowing what to do. For the first time, since the end of his childhood, he had no idea what to do. He never did around her; it made him feel lost, and other things he could not put a finger on. But tonight, his gift was the ending of her pain. Simply with a promise, one that he hoped she'd take.
"Why are you still up?" She asked, a childlike tone to her voice. He turned back and smiled. He walked over to his bed and sat down on the side. "You should be in bed." She scolded him now.
"I would, but I don't sleep much at night," he said. She looked at him for a moment before looking at the painting above the fireplace.
"Who are they?" She asked him, pointing to the portrait.
"They are my parents," Harold said. Hermione looked down at her hands, which had settled in her lap.
"Where are they?" she asked, pausing afterwards.
"They died, when I was younger," he said, looking back at the portrait. He felt two arms go around his neck. He turned back to see her hugging onto him tightly.
"I'm sorry Harry," she said. She pulled back; he could see it in her eyes. The mechanism is gone. She remembered everything, but was taking the moment to comfort him. "How did it happen?" She pulled him back onto the bed, so they were resting against the headboard. He looked at the portrait again, knowing he had to tell someone.
~Flashback~
Harold was in-between his parents as they walked along the streets of London. They had just come out of the theatre. This was their routine with him once a month. Dinner at his favorite restaurant. Movie of his choice. But that night was even more special. They had announced over dinner he would be attending London Academy for two years before moving onto Hogwarts.
"It's time to face the world," his father told him, while his mother fought back the inevitable tears. "There is just so long we can protect you from it."
That night they saw Zorro, and Harold could not remember a time that he was happier, not before at least……
"That was incredible! Those black and white movies are the best!" Harold said moving in front of his parents and air-sword fighting with pretend bad guys. "swish! Swish! I wanna be him! I wanna be Zorro!"
"Last week you wanted to be John Carter. And before that is was Sherlock Holmes," his mother said, laughingly
"Now Holmes - there's a role model I can approve of. A thinker of the first rank," his father said as they turned down an alley.
"Yeah, but Zorro's clothes are cooler," Harold said.
"He's got you there, dear," his mother said.
"You can't right wrongs with a fist or a sword, Harold. It just doesn't work that way," his father said as they turned another corner down the darkened alley.
Maybe not, but it sure would be great if it…did…?" Harold stopped mid-sentence as a thug of a man held up a gun to his face.
"Not a word." He articulated. Red burning eyes stared them down. "Itsss been a long time, Jamesss." The voice said in a snake's hiss. "Hiding out with the Mugglesss and Mudbloodsss?"
"What do you want?" his father stepped in front of them. The man lunged forward, knocking James for the ground. A stick was pointed at him as he grabbed the pearls around his mother's neck.
"Let her go!" his father screamed. He lunged at the glowing eyes of the man.
"Avada Kedarva!" The thug said, pointing a stick at his father. The thug ripped the pearls off his mother's neck as his father fell motionless to the ground. Before his mother had a chance to scream once more, she two was hit by the light of green. "I hate it when kids cry." He shot one more green bolt. "I hate it." There was a pause, as Harold felt the tears falling down his face. The bolt hit him, that much was sure, but he stood there, staring at the lifeless bodies of his parents.
"And I…..hate….you!" he said, moving his eye toward monster. A brilliant light shot forth from his body…that was all he remembered…
~End Flashback~
"An ambulance arrived, took them to the hospital," Harold said softly petting her hair. He watched the fire ahead of them, unconsciously keeping her close. "I grew up that night."
"I'm sorry," Hermione said, hugging him tightly. "I'm so sorry."
"It's okay, those demons don't haunt me much anymore," he said, returning the hug.
"You grew up a childhood alone," she said, looking up at him.
"I was never alone," Harold said, confused. "I had Alfred. He's always been there for me."
"But you had no friends, no one close to your age." She looked into the fire, tears falling slowly. "Did they ever find the man?" The tone of the conversation changed for a moment as Harold stared back into the fire.
"No, the only evidence that he was there was the stick, which I later learned was a wand." He looked over at the clock by his bed. "Come on, time to get up."
"Why?" Hermione asked, surprised at the sudden giddiness in his voice.
"Its Christmas," Harold said, confusion on his eyes. "We've got a great breakfast downstairs."
"That's correct, Master Harold," Alfred said. "I figured that you both would be up now, though why puzzles me."
"Because you know early to bed, early to rise, makes a man health strong and wise," Harold said.
"Ah, yes, that must be it," Alfred said, smirking slightly, causing Hermione to giggle.
"Come on, we're eating in the kitchen today," Harold said, pulling Hermione out of the bed. "Christmas is about family, and if you can't have it with yours, we're having it with mine."
"Alfred, everything set?" Harold called out to the butler who was ahead of them by several feet.
"Yes it is Master Harold," Alfred said. Harold turned and beamed at her. He began to pull her arm, as Alfred turned in another direction, toward the kitchen.
"Harry, what's gotten in to you?" Hermione said, giggling happily. "The kitchen's the other way."
"I know where it is," he said, still pulling on her arm. He stopped at the door to the den, where he kept a mountain of books on the shelves. "Close your eyes." He said.
"What?" He sighed and put his hands over her eyes, covering them.
"I don't want any peeking," Harry said, laughing lightly. He had not felt this good in years. It had taken a few days prep work, but he hoped she liked it. He had never really done this type of thing before, and only remembered what his mother and father did. "Ready?"
"Harold James Potter," she giggled, trying to be stern. She nodded her head, almost as giddy as he was.
"Ready," he said, trying to keep his breath even. He pushed open the door, careful to keep her eyes covered. Slowly he removed him, and moved around, letting her take everything. He could not help but let his heart leap as he watched her reaction. Her eyes glossed over slightly in tears as the sight before her.
He and Alfred had made up the den in a grand Christmas tree. He had given him the day off, though only after they both agreed he'd make the food. Although Harold wasn't bad at cooking, it just was easier for Alfred to make his way around the kitchen.
"I didn't over do it did I?" Harry asked, turning and looking at her. He looked over at the tree, unsure of what to say. "Alfred helped me with it, and I was unsure if we put enough lights on it, and then we had to decorate the rest of the room."
"It wonderful," Hermione said, holding her hands up to her heart. He looked back at the tree and could not help but smile once more, though uneasiness came over him. He ran his hand through his hair, and looked at the ground.
"I think I overdid it with the gifts," he said, scratching his neck. Hermione giggled, and he looked up at her. She nodded, but her smile was large.
"Its okay," she said. "Thank you." Hermione rushed him, but this time he was ready with open arms. He laughed as she did, the smiles plastered on both of their faces. He had never felt so alive.
"It me who should be thanking you." Harold pulled back, wiping a tear away from her "thank you for just being." They both laughed again, at the awkwardness of their position and the silliness of the statement. She hugged him once more.
"I don't think my present can match all this," Hermione pulled back and looked at the mound of presents directed toward her. His smile just grew larger.
"You being here, with me, is the only thing I asked for this year," Harold said, causing her to blush. He did not want life to change, not from that moment. Not ever.
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